Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

He Yuzhu's lips slowly curled up, the blade flashing as fast as a blur.

In this life, he will no longer be anyone's stepping stone, nor will he be an honest person who will be slaughtered at will.

He will use these hands to burn a path to heaven!

Anyone who gets in the way will die!

That's not a low price.

It should be noted that his master, Li Yuanguo, was only a first-class chef. Above him was a top-level chef, the kind who usually stayed in the Great Hall of the People and rarely appeared.

But given He Yuzhu's current momentum, it won't be long before he steps onto that line.

The thought had barely formed in his mind when he swung the knife even faster.

A handful of potatoes flew between his fingers, and in the blink of an eye, they were shaved into a pile of silver threads, each one uniform in size and thickness. If measured with a ruler, the width error would not exceed half a millimeter.

This knife skill was so impressive that even Li Yuanguo, who was drinking tea, couldn't sit still.

He slammed the enamel mug down, walked a few steps to the stove, raised his hand to signal to stop, and then picked up a small handful of shredded potatoes to examine them closely.

One chopstick, two chopsticks... after several rounds of eating, his brows finally relaxed and a smile appeared on his lips.

"You little rascal, you've given your master a pleasant surprise." He nodded. "Your knife skills are solid; it seems you've put in a lot of hard work at home."

But just being good at slicing isn't enough; the real skill lies in cooking it well.

He Yuzhu grinned: "Master, just keep your eyes wide open, I guarantee you'll be amazed."

Before he finished speaking, the pot was already hot.

As soon as the oil hits the pan, the dried chilies and garlic slices sizzle and release their aroma. Just as the fragrance of Sichuan peppercorns begins to rise, a handful of shredded potatoes slides into the pan like a snowfall.

With a flick of the wrist, the wok soared into the air, and the stir-frying motion was as smooth as flowing water.

A little over a minute later, vinegar was poured along the edge of the pot with a "sizzling" sound, instantly releasing a burst of sour aroma. Then, salt was sprinkled in, the pot was tossed a couple of times, and the pot was removed from the pot and plated. The movements were swift and decisive, without any hesitation.

Li Yuanguo, standing to the side, was shocked.

This isn't an apprentice; he's clearly a top-notch chef honed in the old kitchen!

He originally planned to have He Yuzhu go to Erzao first to practice his skills with his senior brother Zhang Deliang, to give him a warning, and to keep his temper in check for half a year before bringing up the matter of becoming a full-fledged employee.

But now that I look at it—this skill is incomparable.

His eyes flickered slightly, and he suddenly remembered someone: He Daqing, who was He Yuzhu's father.

In Beijing, many older chefs would know this name.

He was a big shot back then, but for some reason he ended up working as a cook in a steel mill.

If Li Yuanguo hadn't witnessed his work firsthand at several chef exchange meetings, he wouldn't have believed that someone who could make "braised pork belly" so tender it melts in your mouth would be content to just stir-fry cabbage and stew with glass noodles.

Young chefs these days would rather fight tooth and nail to get a job at a time-honored restaurant than suffer in a factory.

Why? First, promotion is limited; second, there's simply no chance to show off your skills—factory canteens prioritize speed, fillings, and cost-effectiveness, not the time to simmer soups or carve fish with fancy knives.

But He Yuzhu was different. He was like a knife hidden in a bag, usually silent, but when pulled out, it was gleaming with a cold light.

Just as the hot and sour shredded potatoes were served, Zhang Deliang quickly presented the Mapo Tofu.

With chili oil floating on the surface and the aroma of fermented black beans, the presentation was passable.

Li Yuanguo took a bite himself, then looked at his two apprentices and said, "You two should also taste it together, so you know what to expect."

The two looked at each other, each picked up a piece of the other's food with their chopsticks, and then took a bite of their own food.

Three seconds later, Zhang Deliang realized—it was over, his junior brother had thrown him into the ditch.

But there wasn't a trace of gloom on his face; instead, he laughed heartily, "Alright, junior brother, you're far superior to me. I admit defeat!"

He Yuzhu quickly waved his hand: "Not at all, Senior Brother's Mapo Tofu is spicy and fragrant, and the cooking time is just right."

If my dad hadn't made me practice my basic skills with a spatula since I was little, I would have been ruined long ago.

"Alright, alright, stop flattering each other," Li Yuanguo interrupted. "Liangzi, go back and work on your recipe."

From today onwards, you two will officially be assigned to the first and second kitchens respectively.

"Pillar, come out with me."

Walking to a secluded spot in the backyard, Li Yuanguo patted him on the shoulder, his tone unusually gentle: "You did well today."

With your skills, you're already qualified to graduate from your apprenticeship.

Find some time to take the cook certification exam, and you can get a permanent position when you come back.

You know the benefits—the second-class kitchen staff earns a total of 42.5 yuan including subsidies, lunch is provided, and you can take a box of hot food home in the evening.

Don't make a fuss about this yet...

In 1950, before the three-year period of hardship had arrived, the food and living conditions in state-owned enterprises were still decent.

For a time-honored brand like Fengzeyuan, a chef who was promoted to a regular position and had a second-class kitchen staff position was guaranteed two full meals a day, plus a salary of more than forty yuan, which was an enviable job at the time.

"Understood, Master. I'll register for the assessment in the next few days." He Yuzhu nodded in agreement.

The cook ranking system has only been in place for two years, and almost everyone below level four is a newcomer.

With his level, passing the CET-4 exam would be a piece of cake.

But thinking that his senior was still struggling at Level 5, he decided to keep a low profile for now—he would register for Level 5, which would provide enough salary without damaging his reputation, and he would have a five-year buffer period if he wanted to climb higher in the future.

After finishing work that evening, he didn't rest. He followed the others to wash vegetables and prepare ingredients, doing everything meticulously.

The following day at noon, Fengzeyuan welcomed its peak visitor flow.

Customers kept coming in, the stove fire never went out, and the smoke billowed out.

Although he was only in charge of the second stove, He Yuzhu's speed was astonishing. He cooked one dish after another, and managed to take on 70-80% of the orders for Zhang Deliang.

The kitchen only quieted down after nightfall and the last table of guests had left.

Li Yuanguo stopped He Yuzhu, who was about to leave, and handed him an aluminum lunchbox: "Take this, take it home to eat tonight."

Once you're officially hired, you'll be able to bring two boxes every day, and they'll be freshly cooked hot dishes.

He Yuzhu accepted the gift with both hands, his heart warmed: "Thank you, Master. See you tomorrow."

He Yuzhu responded respectfully, already having already made up his mind: he had to control his temper for the rest of his life.

A good reputation is more precious than gold these days, especially for the people in the courtyard houses. They're all short-sighted and petty, always looking for a bargain and eager to get their hands on something worthless. It's best to stay away from them.

……

"Hey! Silly Zhu's back? That lunchbox you're carrying, is it groceries from Fengzeyuan?"

As usual, Uncle Yan Bugui squatted at the entrance of the courtyard house, his small eyes like searchlights, and no one who came in or out could escape his sharp eyes.

Upon seeing someone carrying something, they would immediately approach and strike up a conversation, determined not to let go until they had gotten a little something out of them.

Even if you were carrying a load of manure past, he would still think twice before taking a spoonful back to "nourish" his flowers.

"Is Uncle San tending to your precious flowers again?" He Yuzhu grinned, his tone light. "You guessed wrong today. This lunchbox is empty. Where did the food come from? What could an apprentice like me take home? There wasn't even any leftover soup on the stove for me."

He gripped the lunchbox tightly, without using a net bag to carry it, so the weight could be concealed.

If Yan Bugui could see the heavy sheen of oil, the aroma of the twice-cooked pork would probably be detected by the old fox before it even entered the house, and he would definitely come over for a chat.

"I'm not going to say anything more, Uncle. I need to hurry back and check on the rain. I still need to start a fire and cook in a bit."

Before he finished speaking, He Yuzhu slipped away and turned to sneak towards Zhongyuan.

He neither hated nor felt close to Yan Bugui—this old Yan was notoriously stingy, never doing anything in return for gifts, and had even ruined his relationship with Teacher Ran back then.

But when the old man got old, his salary wasn't enough to live on, so he actually went to the streets to rummage through trash cans and collect scraps, which was heartbreaking to see.

The whole family is avid calculators; they make a lot of money when they start calculating.

Just don't get too close in normal circumstances.

The reason I fell out with him in my past life was partly due to his insatiable greed, but also because of my own loose tongue.

In this life, he did not want to repeat the same mistakes.

As soon as I stepped into the central garden, I heard the sound of running water from the tap, and Qin Huairu was squatting down washing clothes.

She had only been married into the Jia family for two or three years, but she was already recognized by the neighbors as a "virtuous daughter-in-law"—she knew how to manage a household and was sensible. Last year, she gave birth to a big, healthy baby boy named Jia Geng, which made her even more popular, and even the Jia family's ancestral graves seemed to be emitting auspicious smoke.

But this woman, who was praised to the skies, ruined his blind dates time and time again in his past life.

Under the guise of "helping orphans and widows," she treated him like a lifelong meal ticket, and didn't even say a word when she got an IUD. If it weren't for the later discovery of He Xiao, his He family bloodline would have been cut off by her long ago!

Even so, she still orchestrated a scheme to separate him from his own son, ensuring they would never see each other again.

"Hey, Sha Zhu's back?" Qin Huairu looked up and greeted him with a smile, her face full of warmth.

He Yuzhu simply nodded: "Yes, Sister-in-law Jia."

After saying that, he turned and walked away without even stopping.

Qin Huairu paused, and the soap bubbles in her hand burst open on the floor.

She was stunned—whenever He Yuzhu saw her before, he always smiled like a sunflower, called her "Sister Qin," and his eyes would dart around and steal glances at her, just like a silly boy just beginning to experience love.

What's wrong with us today? It's as cold as well water in the twelfth lunar month.

Without thinking much of it, she lowered her head and continued washing the clothes.

He's family had good food; the aroma of meat often wafted over the courtyard wall. But her family's food was just as good.

Nowadays, life is peaceful and stable. At most, the smell of meat makes one crave it, but it doesn't make one envious.

Besides, He Yuzhu is so young yet acts like an old man. Her mother-in-law, Jia Zhangshi, nags her every day: "That father and son next door are so stingy, they won't even give us a piece of fatty meat! He Yuzhu is just a simpleton!"

After hearing these words so many times, she couldn't help but look down on him a little.

She was polite on the surface, but the genuine intimacy was long gone—after all, she was a well-regarded daughter-in-law.

……

He Yuzhu closed the door, quickly lit the stove, and started steaming cornbread.