Courtyard Houses: Starting with Li Yunlong's Comrades-in-Arms

Liu Yuheng sat for a while longer, then glanced at the clock on the wall; it was almost eight o'clock. He helped Liu Qingyan down from his lap, making her stand, and then stood up himself. He said to Wang Xiuhe, "Mother, we'll head back now. You should get some rest after you've finished tidying up."

He and Yao Qingwan walked to the door together. Before lifting the curtain, he glanced back. Liu Qingyan was standing on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her little hands clasped together, staring at him expectantly. Her little face clearly showed she was waiting for something.

Liu Yuheng stopped at the door, looked at Wang Xiuhe, then at the little girl, and said, "Why don't you come with me for a couple of days, and take Qingyan with you?"

Wang Xiuhe followed his gaze and glanced at Liu Qingyan. The little girl's eyes were bright and sparkling, and the corners of her mouth were turned up, as if she wanted to say, "I really want to go."

She sighed, shaking her head with a mixture of helplessness and amusement: "Alright, alright. Look at the look in that girl's eyes. If I don't let her go today, she'll make a scene all night." She turned to look at Liang Fangfang, "Fangfang, keep an eye on your dad and Erhe, don't let them drink too much."

Liang Fangfang immediately agreed: "Mom, don't worry, I'll keep an eye on things."

Liu Yuheng walked to the table again, bent down and patted Liu Yixuan's head: "Study hard, and come play at your uncle's place when you have a holiday."

Liu Yixuan raised his head and nodded seriously: "Yes, Uncle."

Liu Yuheng straightened up, waved to Yao Qingwan, nodded to Liang Fangfang and Liu Tingting, then lifted the curtain and went out.

The drinking was still going on at the table in the courtyard. Liu Shuanzhu was talking to Yi Zhonghai while holding a glass, Liu Haizhong chimed in from the side, and Yan Bugui was putting a piece of scrambled egg into his mouth.

Hearing the curtain rustle, everyone turned around again. Liu Yuheng nodded to them, but instead of going to the table, he stood at the door of the east wing and said to Liu Shuanzhu, "Father, I'm taking Mother and Qingyan to stay for a couple of days. You all drink, but don't drink too much."

Liu Shuanzhu put down his wine glass and waved to Liu Yuheng: "Alright, you guys go ahead. I'll have a couple more drinks with them and then we'll call it a day."

Liu Yuheng nodded to everyone again as a farewell, then turned and walked towards the courtyard gate.

The group crossed the front yard and exited through the gate. The black Volga was parked at the gate, and the driver had already opened the back door. Wang Xiuhe carried Liu Qingyan and got into the car first, followed by Yao Qingwan carrying Liu Zhiyuan.

Liu Yuheng walked around to the other side, opened the passenger door, bent down and got into the car, closed the door, and said to the driver, "Back to the north of the city."

The car started and slowly drove out of the alleyway of Nanluoguxiang, turned onto the main road, and headed towards the North City Courtyard.

After Liu Yuheng's Volga drove out of the alley, the wine table in the courtyard did not become cold despite the absence of a few people.

Yan Bugui sat diagonally opposite him, chopsticks in his hand, but his eyes never left Liu Shuanzhu's face.

"Unlike me. Jiecheng still doesn't have a formal job and just hangs around at home all day. It worries me. There are three little ones in school, and they all eat a lot. Tuition and books, everything costs money. My sister-in-law and I are just living on my 27.5 yuan a month. We barely make ends meet. At the end of the month, we even have to be careful with our cornmeal."

He sighed, put down the wine cup, and unconsciously poked at the plate with his chopsticks, as if he were genuinely worried about his family's livelihood.

Liu Shuanzhu's hand, holding the cup, froze in mid-air, and the corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily. He turned his head to look at Yan Bugui, a feeling of being both annoyed and amused rising within him.

Twenty-seven yuan and fifty cents? He had heard Yan Bugui's excuse for years. Ever since they moved into this courtyard, Yan Bugui had been saying "twenty-seven yuan and fifty cents" every day, complaining about being poor to the people in the courtyard and to the people on the street, as if he wanted the whole of Beijing to know that he, Yan Bugui, only earned that little bit of money a month.

But Liu Shuanzhu had lived in the courtyard for so many years and had been Yan Bugui's neighbor for so long. How could he not know the details? How many years had Yan Bugui worked at the primary school? If not a veteran, he was at least a proper, formal teacher.

The teacher next door, Mr. Li, had about the same length of service as Yan Bugui and earned over forty yuan a month. Yan Bugui taught Chinese and was also a homeroom teacher, so he couldn't possibly earn that much less. Forty yuan was the minimum he was guaranteed, and he might even earn more.

Yan Bugui cries poverty every day, and has been shouting about 27.5 yuan for so many years. What is he after? He just wants to gain a little advantage.

If someone in the neighborhood was cooking meat, he would go over and say, "I have a lot of children at home, and we're struggling financially," and they would politely offer him a piece of meat. When his workplace was distributing supplies, he was always the first to rush over, saying, "My family is large, and we're really having a hard time." And whenever there were any relief quotas available on the street, he was always the first to arrive.

Yan Bugui was a master at feigning poverty. Now, he'd brought it up again at this crucial moment, and Liu Shuanzhu understood perfectly well what he meant. He'd just retired, and the chef's position at the restaurant was now vacant.

What is Yan Bugui plotting? Isn't he just trying to get Yan Jiecheng to take his place? A restaurant cook's job may not be as good as a regular worker in a steel mill, but it's still a respectable job, earning about thirty yuan a month with a fixed quota. Yan Bugui has his eye on it.

Liu Shuanzhu put down his wine glass, ignoring Yan Bugui's words, and simply waved his hand at him: "Old Yan, you don't need to worry about it. I've already handed over my workstation to the neighborhood committee."

Yan Bugui stopped using his chopsticks: "Did you hand it over to the neighborhood committee?"

"Yes," Liu Shuanzhu nodded, picked up a piece of cornbread, and said, "When I was applying for retirement, the people from the neighborhood committee talked to me and said that there was a policy recently that if no one in the family could take over the job, the vacant positions would be uniformly allocated by the neighborhood committee, giving priority to unemployed youth and veterans from impoverished families. I thought about it, and since my family didn't need anyone to work, I handed over that job to the neighborhood committee and let them arrange it."

There was a moment of silence on the table.

Yan Bugui froze for two seconds, then clapped his hands, his face showing a pained expression, and his voice rose a half-octave: "Oh dear! Old Liu! Why didn't you say so sooner! It's such a waste to hand it over to the neighborhood committee!"

He leaned forward and started calculating for Liu Shuanzhu on his fingers: "Think about it, your job, although working in a restaurant, isn't as prestigious as working in a steel mill, but it's still a formal position in a joint public-private enterprise. You could easily sell that kind of job for three or five hundred yuan on the market!"

"If you don't want to sell, you could keep it for Jie Cheng. At least he has a proper job at the restaurant, which is better than staying at home. You, on the other hand, have handed it over to the neighborhood committee for nothing, without getting a single penny. Isn't that a huge loss?"

As Yan Bugui spoke, his facial expressions became increasingly exaggerated. His brows furrowed, his mouth gaped, and his hands were outstretched, making him look exactly like someone who had "lost several hundred yuan." He sighed, shook his head, picked up his wine cup, and took a swig, as if trying to suppress his heartache with the alcohol.

The atmosphere at the table became somewhat awkward. Yi Zhonghai, holding his wine glass, exchanged a glance with Xu Fugui beside him. Both men subtly pursed their lips, neither responding to Yan Bugui's words.

Yi Zhonghai was also considering his options. If he were to sell Liu Shuanzhu's workstation, it would certainly fetch three to five hundred yuan. But did the Liu family really need those three to five hundred yuan? Did they really need that workstation?

Liu Yuheng earns 370 or 380 yuan a month, which is more than all of them earn in a year. What does the Liu family want now? It's reputation, it's face, it's preventing people from gossiping.

Liu Yuheng is currently the Minister of the Second Ministry of Machine Building, an administrative level five. Standing in that position, countless eyes are watching him. If Liu Shuanzhu were to sell his retired workstation for money, even for just a penny, word would spread that "the minister's father is making money by selling his workstation." What good would that do Liu Yuheng?

Liu Shuanzhu's decision to hand over his work station to the neighborhood committee was a smart move. He did a favor, gained a good reputation, and avoided being targeted by people like Yan Bugui.

What are three or five hundred yuan to the Liu family? It's just a month's worth of money for Liu Yuheng. But reputation, once ruined, can't be bought back with any amount of money.

Yan Bugui, a shrewd man for half his life, just couldn't figure this out. He was so focused on those three or five hundred yuan that he forgot about the Liu family's social standing and status. They were simply not on the same level.

Xu Fugui stood silently beside him, holding his cup. His thoughts were similar to Yi Zhonghai's. The Liu family, in their current state, valued face, not money. Yan Bugui had spent most of his life complaining about being poor, trying to take advantage of everything, but some things can't be obtained through mere bargaining.

Sitting at the other end of the table, Jia Dongxu heard the entire conversation clearly. He kept his head down, his chopsticks rummaging through the leftover food in his bowl. His expression was hard to discern, but the regret in his eyes was impossible to hide.

He had a thought before. When Liu Shuanzhu's workstation became available, he considered asking about it on Qin Huairu's behalf. He didn't intend to let Liu Shuanzhu give it away for free. If he was willing to pay, whether it was three hundred or five hundred, he would grit his teeth, scrape together some money, borrow some from Yi Zhonghai, and ask others for some more. Maybe he could manage to make it.

Moreover, he had another plan in mind. How many tricks had Yi Zhonghai used behind the scenes to stop the Jia family from buying the workstations—he'd asked people to plead for them and made threats. But who was Liu Shuanzhu? He was Liu Yuheng's biological father.

Would Yi Zhonghai dare to report Liu Shuanzhu for selling workstations? If he did, Liu Yuheng would deal with him like crushing an ant.

Therefore, Jia Dongxu was confident that Yi Zhonghai would not dare to block Liu Shuanzhu's workstation. This was the only workstation he felt he had a chance of getting during this period.

As a result, Liu Shuanzhu simply donated the money to the neighborhood committee without even saying hello.

Jia Dongxu sighed inwardly, picked up the glass in front of him, and took a big gulp of liquor. The burning sensation of the liquor down his throat made his stomach feel like it was on fire. He suppressed the frustration, picked up a piece of cucumber salad with his chopsticks, and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing it with a crunching sound.

The conversation at the table cooled down for a little while, and no one mentioned the workstations again.