Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

When he was bored out of his mind, he went to Bai Danyu's house three times—ostensibly to visit, but he also cooked a few authentic home-style meals for her and her daughter.

When Bai Danyu saw him arrive, her heart fluttered like a little bird, but she kept a composed expression on her face. However, as they chatted about everyday things, the tenderness in her eyes could no longer be hidden; it grew stronger and stronger, almost overflowing. When she saw him wearing an apron and stirring the wok in the kitchen, she suddenly felt a pang in her heart—after all, she was a divorcee.

"Sister Bai, I see there are dark circles under your eyes. Remember to drink the medicinal wine I prepared on time. By the way, would you like me to give you a massage to loosen up your muscles..."

Before he finished speaking, Bai Danyu instinctively wanted to spit at him, but for some reason, she opened her mouth and nodded slightly.

When she lay down on the bed, the hand on her back pressed down firmly and powerfully, and she suddenly came to her senses—but her body was already beyond her control. Her tense shoulders and neck gradually thawed, like frozen earth meeting spring. Warmth climbed up her spine and spread throughout her body, making her feel so comfortable that her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep immediately.

She woke up when the lights were already on. She sat up, threw back the covers, and hurried out the door. Seeing Bai Ying squatting by the table doing a puzzle, she quickly asked, "Where's your Uncle He?"

"He left early! He told me not to wake you, and that dinner is in the pot, just heat it up and you can eat..."

Bai Ying chewed on the candy, looking satisfied. Normally, Bai Danyu would have already scooped her up and spanked her, but today she was absent-minded. She just stood there blankly for a while, sighed silently, and turned to go back into the house.

When He Yuzhu stepped into the courtyard, a large-scale meeting was in full swing.

When everyone saw him appear, they all breathed a sigh of relief, as if their pillar of support had returned. Yan Jiecheng glanced at him, and an uncontrollable fierceness surged in his eyes—he was heavily in debt and forced to hide in the countryside for a month, all thanks to the man in front of him.

Moreover, he had been unemployed at home for many years after graduation. Lou Xiao'e, who also graduated from high school, got a temporary job at the street office not long after leaving school. Although it was not a secure job, the blue uniform and the pen pinned to her chest were a symbol of a respectable person at the time.

As soon as He Yuzhu stepped into the courtyard, Yan Jiecheng immediately shouted at the top of his lungs, "Second Uncle! Look, the highest-ranking official in our courtyard—Director He—is back! We agreed last time to donate scrap metal, why don't you take the lead and set an example!"

He had already gotten the details out of his father: He Yuzhu hadn't gone to collect scrap metal at all. To really collect fifteen jin? Unless they smashed and melted down all the iron pots, enamel mugs, and aluminum teapots on the He family's stove, there was still no guarantee they'd have enough.

"Yan Jiecheng, what are you wailing about? Have you managed to gather your own ten pounds of iron? Have you gathered your whole family's ten pounds of iron? You've been riding your bike so much these past few days that the chain broke and the wheels are practically falling apart, right? Fine, perfect—even if it falls apart, it's still scrap metal, let's donate it all together!"

Those two hurtful words left Yan Jiecheng speechless, his face turning a deep shade of liver. He really did pedal his bicycle to the point of breaking the chain with a snap, adding another three yuan to his debt for repairs.

He Yuzhu found it all ridiculous that this insignificant character, who had neither ability nor influence, yet loved to jump out and bare his teeth.

But Liu Haizhong, who was standing in the courtyard, spoke up at this moment: "He Yuzhu, Yan Jiecheng is not wrong—you should make a statement first, take out the scrap metal you promised, and set an example?"

He had just been publicly humiliated by He Yuzhu a few days ago, and was even forbidden from using the nickname "Silly Zhu" anymore. Now, he was being polite on the surface, but in his heart, he was waiting to see He Yuzhu make a fool of himself—if He Yuzhu couldn't produce any iron, he wouldn't show him any mercy.

What secrets could there be in a courtyard house? Aside from whispering behind closed doors, everyone in the neighborhood could see exactly what someone was carrying out of the house and what they were bringing in.

He Yuzhu would stroll out empty-handed every morning and return empty-handed every evening, without fail for more than twenty days; on the other hand, Yan's eldest son would get up early and work late to collect scraps at the alley entrance, occasionally carrying back a few pieces of wire covered in dust.

"Wait."

He Yuzhu's lips curled into a smirk, and he turned to walk into the house. Jia Dongxu, Xu Damao, Yan Jiecheng, and the others exchanged glances, understanding each other perfectly—it was probably just a bluff. If he didn't come out soon, they would all knock on the door together.

But less than three minutes later, the courtyard gate creaked open, and He Yuzhu came out.

Everyone was stunned; there really was one!

In his left hand he carried two old, chipped iron pots, and in his right hand he held a complete set of knives—kitchen knives, cleavers, boning knives, fourteen in total, all gleaming coldly. Reaching the center of the yard, without a word, he picked up a hammer and began hammering at the wooden handles and prying off the rubber sleeves, leaving only the gleaming blades and the sturdy pot bodies.

Bystanders gasped in disbelief, and someone couldn't help but shout, "Zhu Zi, this knife is precious! It's such a waste to dismantle it!"

"It was a gift from my father-in-law. But the country needs iron for steelmaking, so we can't be stingy with this little bit."

He answered while tapping. Those two pots were obtained by trading his own new pots for them, and he also made one each with his master Li Yuanguo and his senior brother. He didn't care if they melted.

"Alright, let's weigh you."

Liu Haizhong had already set up the steelyard balance, and Yan Bugui also took out his notebook and pencil, weighing and recording as he went, to be handed over to the street office later.

The He family's iron was quickly weighed: two pots weighed six jin and four liang, and fourteen knives weighed nine jin and three liang, totaling fifteen jin and seven liang—seven liang more than agreed upon.

Some even clicked their tongues: "These fourteen knives, even without the handles, would fetch at least thirty or forty yuan secondhand!"

He Yuzhu glanced at Liu Haizhong and Yan Bugui, and sneered, "So? Whose turn is it now? The Liu family? Or the Yan family?"

The two men felt a tightness in their chests and were momentarily speechless. Liu Haizhong suddenly turned his head and yelled at his son, "What are you looking at! Hurry up and bring out the iron we've saved up!"

Liu Guangtian and Liu Guangfu were startled and ran home, carrying out all the iron nails, sheet metal, and iron bars that Liu Haizhong had secretly hidden away over the past few days.

Just as he was about to weigh it, He Yuzhu suddenly raised his hand: "Wait! Strip off all the strips of cloth wrapped around the knife handle and the grease stuck to the pot handle! Steelmaking requires pure materials, not clogs to the blast furnace!"

Liu Guangtian froze on the spot, his face suddenly turning bright red. He roared at his son, "Are you deaf? If it's not made of iron, tear it all off!"

The two sons then hurriedly tore strips of cloth and scraped off the grease—just as He Yuzhu had done. If Liu Haizhong had stubbornly refused to take it off, he would have been immediately inferior to the others.

After cleaning and weighing, the results were in:

Nine pounds and four ounces!

He Yuzhu shook his head and sighed, "Oh dear, Master Liu, you rallied everyone to donate ten jin, but you were short six liang yourself—this job...tsk tsk tsk!"

Before he could finish speaking, Liu Haizhong felt a throbbing pain in his temples, turned around, and strode towards his home.

Actually, if those pendants and edging were kept, the iron weight would definitely be enough to weigh ten pounds. But he insisted on putting on airs and made sure He Yuzhu showed up first, so the other party had no choice but to put on a real show for him.

Soon, the sounds of bowls and pots being smashed filled the room. A short while later, Liu Haizhong returned, carrying a blackened iron pot, his eyes red-rimmed, his voice hoarse: "Count this in too!"

The Liu family even brought out their cooking pots—it looks like they'll be cooking porridge in earthenware pots from now on!

The crowd watched silently, feeling uneasy: Why bother arguing with He Yuzhu? If someone breaks two pots, they still have one that works; Old Liu's family only has this one. Nowadays, ironware is scarce, and even with money and industrial ration coupons, you might not be able to buy it. From now on, they really will have to switch to cooking in earthenware pots.

Twelve catties and seven ounces!

This was the last amount the Liu family managed to scrape together. Although it couldn't compare to He Yuzhu's efforts, it was still a considerable amount of money. After all, before the public-private partnership, Liu Haizhong often took scraps from the factory home to supplement his income, which is how he managed to accumulate this little bit of wealth.

Now it was the Yan family's turn. Yan Jiecheng presented exactly ten jin (about 3.5 kg), not a single liang (about 30 grams) more or less.

However, the iron that the Yan family managed to scrape together was really meager, weighing only four pounds and three ounces!

It's more than half the ten pounds I promised back then.

Liu Haizhong's eyelids twitched, his face immediately darkened, and his gaze pierced Yan Bugui like a nail: "Old Yan, we agreed on this in front of everyone..."

"Oh, Lao Liu, I'm so sorry! Something went wrong, I really had no choice!" Yan Bugui hurriedly apologized, beads of sweat still glistening on his forehead. "This kid Jie Cheng, his legs are almost worn out from running around, he broke his bicycle chain twice, he searched through every scrap heap in the surrounding villages, but he still couldn't come up with the right amount!"

As he spoke, he bowed and clasped his hands in a gesture of extreme humility, as if he had truly been cornered. But only he knew what he was really thinking—he didn't want to be like Liu Haizhong, scraping off the iron pot that had been used for stewing for ten years just to get a hollow title of "manager."

Even if he were reinstated, would he be able to get a new pot from the neighborhood committee? Or would he be able to conjure up half a pound of kerosene and a foot of cloth coupons out of thin air?

After much deliberation, Yan Bugui made up his mind: he wouldn't get involved! He didn't want that hat anymore. He would donate four jin and three liang, not a penny more, not a liang less.

If it weren't for the eldest brother's loose tongue, making a fuss that everyone in the yard knew, he wouldn't have even had to pay for those four pounds and three ounces—the price was already clearly marked under Iron Eyes, and at the black market purchasing station, it sold for two yuan and three ounces per pound!

As soon as he finished speaking, he nimbly sat back down on the stool, took out a few crumpled banknotes, and fiddled with them while looking down. His eyes, however, were fixed on his little ledger like iron nails—no matter how much Liu Haizhong fussed and glared, he wouldn't add a single copper coin or a speck of iron.

As soon as the Yan family members sat down, it was the turn of the other residents of the courtyard. But then, no one brought out ten jin (5 kg).

Three jin and four liang, two jin and seven liang, four jin and one liang, five jin and three liang, three jin and three liang...

The Jia family was in the most predicament, as they only had one jin and two liang, almost not enough to make a round number. In the end, they managed to find a rusty iron rod and a chipped enamel mug to make do with.

The total amount from all 21 households was only three jin and four liang per household.

If it weren't for the efforts of He Yuzhu, the Liu family, and the Yan family to push things up, the average would have dropped even further; not to mention the ten jin that Liu Haizhong shouted, even the five jin minimum set by the street office would have been far off.

He Yuzhu remained silent throughout, leaning lazily against the doorframe, standing side by side with Lou Xiao'e, a slight smile playing on his lips, waiting to see how things would unfold.

Liu Haizhong slammed his hand on the table in anger, making the teacup bounce: "What are you doing? You're ignoring the instructions from the neighborhood committee? Are you all trying to hold the country back? Have you lost your conscience?"