Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

Secretary Liu was startled and turned to leave.

The office fell silent. Director Yang picked up his teacup, slowly blew on it, and didn't even lift his eyelids. Yi Zhonghai stood there, his Adam's apple bobbing, his heart pounding in his throat.

He knew that this time, he had completely offended his boss. But more than losing his job, he feared never being able to go home again. He could keep his position as a senior fitter at the steel rolling mill even if he was unfairly treated; but if he went to the Northwest—he would lose his soul.

Not long after, Secretary Liu led two senior accountants from the finance department into the room. They were carrying a stack of signed payroll slips, their eyes sharp as knives.

Factory Director Yang slammed the application form on the table: "Compare carefully, is this signature written by Yi Zhonghai himself?"

The two accountants put on their glasses, first looking at the application form, then flipping through the pay slips, comparing them several times. Finally, the older one took off his glasses and sighed:

"Director Yang's handwriting is consistent. Every turn, pause, and ending stroke matches his usual signature perfectly. It's not a forgery or imitation; it's his own handwriting."

"Nonsense!" Yi Zhonghai stepped forward, his voice trembling. "I never signed it! Look again carefully!"

Another accountant rolled her eyes and handed him the application form and payslip side by side: "Master Yi, take a look for yourself. It's the same on the left, the same on the right, even the ink smudges are exactly the same—who else could it be?"

Yi Zhonghai stood frozen in place, his fingers trembling slightly.

He stared intently at those words, as if trying to dig out the truth from the paper.

"This...how is this possible..."

Yi Zhonghai took the payslip and glanced at it briefly. Actually, he already had a pretty good idea of ​​what was going on—the signature was most likely his. But he still wanted to have someone knowledgeable confirm it, since it was a big deal. In the end, even the factory's most senior accountant confirmed that it was his own handwriting. At that moment, his heart sank to the bottom.

"Alright, you guys can go back now."

Factory Director Yang spoke calmly, gesturing for the two accountants to take the materials away.

The office fell silent instantly, the air seemed to freeze. Factory Director Yang stared at Yi Zhonghai, his face as cold as ice: "Master Yi, what explanation do you have now?"

"Factory manager...this handwriting is definitely mine, but I really didn't sign it! Something must have gone wrong..."

Before he could finish speaking, a loud "bang!" rang out as Director Yang slammed his hand on the table, making the teacups jump wildly.

"Yi Zhonghai! Do you think the leaders are idiots? You wrote this, and you say you don't know? Then tell me, who signed it for you? Were they possessed by a god?" The voice suddenly rose, filled with barely suppressed anger. "I'm only asking you one question now: Did you sign this? Are you going to the Northwest aid project?"

Yi Zhonghai's forehead was covered in cold sweat, and his back was already soaked.

He knew all too well the consequences.

Going back on your word at this critical juncture is tantamount to desertion! A person labeled a "deserter" will not only lose their job, but may also be sent to a labor camp to do the dirtiest and most tiring work during the day, and write self-criticisms and undergo ideological reform at night... with no chance of ever turning their life around!

While the Northwest is harsh and desolate, and one might never return to Beijing, at least one is still a respectable worker, retaining the status of a level seven fitter and earning respect. This is far better than being reduced to the bottom of society, trampled into the mud.

In the blink of an eye, he realized he had no way out.

Finally, he slowly lowered his head, his voice hoarse, and he practically squeezed out a few words through clenched teeth: "Factory Director... I'm going to the Northwest to provide aid."

"Hmm." Factory Director Yang's expression softened slightly, and he waved his hand. "Since you've taken the initiative to express your opinion, let's consider today's matter closed. We'll let you know the specific departure time and arrangements soon. That's all, go back to work."

As the door closed, Director Yang sat in his chair and sighed softly.

He had initially thought highly of Yi Zhonghai—his skills were solid, his experience was extensive, and becoming an eighth-grade fitter in a few more years was not a dream. But after seeing him today, he realized that this guy lacked awareness.

You signed up yourself, took the benefits, and now you want to renege on your promise? What are you pretending to have amnesia for? Do you really think we leaders are blind? If you really didn't know, who signed your name? Is it possible for someone to forge a signature so well that even the old accountant couldn't tell the difference?

Had he known this would happen, he would have declined the nomination for advanced worker by Deputy Factory Director Li on the spot. Unfortunately, the news had already been broadcast and the report submitted, leaving him with no way out.

As soon as Yi Zhonghai returned to the workshop, the previously noisy machines seemed to fall silent for a moment. Everyone's eyes swept over him, and then someone started praising him.

"Wow, Master Yi is a real man!"

"Putting the greater good before personal interests, our Third Steel Rolling Mill is the first to do that!"

"She's not young anymore, but she's so responsible; she's much better than those hotheads!"

Even the usually strict workshop director didn't mention his absence that morning, only nodding in acknowledgment of his "awareness".

Jia Dongxu quickly stepped forward and asked in a low voice, "Master, what exactly happened? Why did you suddenly sign up to go to the Northwest?"

Yi Zhonghai looked sullen, his lips drooping: "We'll talk about it when we get home."

His expression now was completely different from the confident and smug look he had last night, when he boasted that he would crush He Yuzhu. The more arrogant he was then, the more dejected he was now.

He truly felt he had failed.

He'd been tricked, but he couldn't even figure out how he'd fallen for it. The only thing he could think of was the stack of documents he'd signed without carefully reading them when he got his paycheck yesterday... Aside from that time, he never actually wrote anything.

Either someone took advantage of the situation and tampered with it, or someone imitated it so realistically that even the old accountant who had worked in the factory for decades couldn't spot the flaws.

At lunchtime, he absentmindedly handed over his lunchbox. When he pulled his hand back, he almost didn't recognize it—the food was piled high, with layers of braised pork on top, glistening with oil, and the aroma was irresistible.

Yi Zhonghai was stunned: "This...did we give him too much?"

The canteen cook grinned: "Chef Yi, don't be surprised. Our director said that advanced workers must eat well so they have the strength to build the Great Northwest! Besides, this meal isn't reimbursed by the company; it's a personal treat from our director."

As he spoke, he actually pulled a meal ticket out of his pocket, waved it in front of everyone, and then neatly stuffed it into the ticket collection box.

Those behind immediately cheered, "Director He is amazing! This move is spot on!"

"That's incredibly generous! Director He is truly a man of honor. I'm telling you this—if I weren't so poor, I would definitely treat Chef Yi to a meal today!"

"That's right! Not only did he upgrade the cafeteria food, but he also paid out of his own pocket to give Chef Yi extra meals. Director He is truly a wonderful person!"

The canteen worker serving the food grinned, raised his voice, and shouted, "Listen up, everyone! Not just today! Director He said that as long as Chef Yi is still at the steel rolling mill, he'll get special meals every day before he goes to the Northwest! We want to make sure our factory's workers are well-fed and have the energy to support the construction of the Great Northwest!"

"Excellent!! Director He is kind and righteous, and Master Yi is even more of a hero!"

hero?

Yes, that's true. He's almost fifty, leaving his family behind to go thousands of miles away to help build in the Northwest, and he keeps complaining about his wife's poor health... This sacrifice deserves to be called an advanced worker.

He Yuzhu was a good choice in inviting people. Others might be envious, but to say they were jealous? Not really.

Should we send them instead? It's not that they can't get the same treatment, but who would be willing to leave their family and hometown behind? Only a hothead like Yi Zhonghai would be pushed into this position and then be unable to back down.

"He Yuzhu, it must be him who did this!"

Amidst the chorus of praise, only Yi Zhonghai felt a pang of unease, his face turning ashen. When did He Yuzhu become so enthusiastic? This wasn't flattery; it was putting him on the spot!

Before the Lunar New Year, he had threatened the deaf old lady, and he wondered why this silly Zhu had been so quiet for a month, not even bothering him with a simple spoon shake. He thought it was just a bluff and that the old lady wouldn't really do anything, but it turned out... she had something really up her sleeve.

"That idiot Zhu is so vicious, so ruthless!"

They used underhanded tactics to force him to go to the Northwest, and before he left, they managed to gain a good reputation, with everyone in the factory praising him for his righteousness. The most ingenious part was that even though Yi Zhonghai was clearly being schemed against, he couldn't utter a single word and could only swallow this bowl of "glory" with tears in his eyes.

Holding the plate of glistening meat and vegetables in his hand, Yi Zhonghai felt nauseous and couldn't swallow a single bite.

Standing at the cafeteria window, he almost wanted to smash the lunchbox in his hand and yell at He Yuzhu; but he clenched and unclenched his fists, ultimately lacking the courage. In the end, he could only hang his head, like a stray dog, and leave with his food, forcing out a face more painful than tears, and dryly saying, "Thank you, Director He."

Factory Director Yang acted swiftly, contacting the latest batch of aid teams that same day and directly including Yi Zhonghai's name in the list. The transfer order was delivered to him before the end of the workday that afternoon.

We're leaving in five days. The train tickets are all booked, and everything we need to prepare is clearly written down—a barren land in the northwest frontier, where a new industrial city is about to be built from scratch…

When Yi Zhonghai received the notice, his hands trembled. When he returned to the courtyard and stepped into the central courtyard, he heard Xu Damao making sarcastic noises.

"Aunt Yi, your family's awareness is truly remarkable! Compared to me and my dad running dozens of miles to the commune to show movies, it's like comparing heaven and earth! Uncle Yi, taking a step over a thousand kilometers to build a factory, that's real dedication!"

"Da Mao, stop talking nonsense! My husband, Lao Yi, never mentioned going to the Northwest!" The old woman waved her hands anxiously.

"Hey, do I need to make this up?" Xu Damao scoffed. "It was all over the factory's loudspeaker! It happened this afternoon, and Uncle Yi even got named an advanced worker!"

Xu Damao has now been promoted to Level 8 projectionist. This position is special; the highest level is 10, but he was promoted to Level 9 immediately upon becoming a regular employee, directly becoming a key talent being groomed by the factory. Furthermore, after his father passed away, he was the only one left responsible for film projection in the entire steel rolling mill—he was unique in this role.

Nowadays, he no longer needs to be mindful of Yi Zhonghai's feelings.