Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

The decrease in regular customers actually brought a sigh of relief to the kitchen staff.

They used to be so busy they barely had time to breathe, but now after noon, there are hardly any customers, and they basically close down at night.

The chefs were put on a shift system, and He Yuzhu only worked two night shifts a week, leaving on time the rest of the time, making his life much more comfortable.

The manager wasn't stupid; he knew that the restaurant's reputation depended on the skill of its chefs.

You can't afford to offend the head chef, otherwise the kitchen will go on strike and all the gourmets on the street will come knocking on your door.

So, He Yuzhu received all the face he was entitled to and all the conveniences he was entitled to—his life was stable and enjoyable, and he was quietly rising in status.

Putting everything else aside, if the food is seasoned even slightly, if it's too bland or too salty, Fengzeyuan's reputation will be ruined immediately.

But who would dare to do that? The chefs all knew perfectly well that they would rather sell everything they owned than ruin their reputation.

The company manager isn't stupid; as long as the red lines aren't crossed, he generally won't bother to get involved.

But the rules must be upheld: you used to be allowed to bring your own lunch, but not anymore; now you can bring "leftovers" home.

A single word makes all the difference.

The so-called "leftovers" are not hot, freshly cooked meat dishes, but rather untouched scraps, overcooked meat chunks, and oversteamed fish heads... To put it bluntly, it's about not letting things go to waste, and incidentally, giving people some face.

Their treatment was drastically reduced. He Yuzhu's original two boxes of meat and fish dishes were cut to one and a half boxes of meat and one box of vegetables. The others were in similar situations. Everyone felt insecure, but no one said a word.

It's good enough if they can even carry it, why are you being picky?

If you're lucky, you might even steal a whole box of chicken or meat, as long as you don't run into trouble and it goes unnoticed.

Last year, He Yuzhu passed the Level 2 Chef Certificate exam and is now ranked alongside his mentor Li Yuanguo as one of Fengzeyuan's top chefs.

A monthly salary of 80.5 yuan sounds respectable, but he is young and has no official title, so his actual salary is less than that of his master.

But none of that matters. With a skill in hand, life will always get better and better.

That day, while riding my bicycle back to the courtyard house, I bumped into Uncle Yan Bugui, who was dressed neatly and about to go out.

"Zhu Zi's back?" Yan Bugui's eyes lit up, his smile crinkling into wrinkles. "Want to go fishing this weekend? How about the two of us cast our lines?"

"Sure, Uncle, just call me when the time comes." He Yuzhu locked the car neatly. "Want to come over for a drink today? I just brought some braised pork knuckle."

"Oh dear, what a coincidence!" Yan Bugui declined verbally, almost swallowing his saliva. "I'm making a home visit today, another day, I'll definitely bother you another day!"

He really wanted to agree, but the eighth-level primary school teacher evaluation was imminent, and he couldn't afford to be careless.

Collecting tuition fees and making home visits—I had to do everything myself.

He got the promotion, and his salary increased to 37 yuan. Five yuan more may not seem like much, but it adds up to sixty yuan a year—he would be heartbroken if he lost that.

"Okay, then let's do it another day." He Yuzhu didn't insist and pushed the cart into the central garden with a smile.

As soon as the man left, Yan Jiecheng rushed out of the house, shouting, "Dad! If you're not going, can't I go? I'm the eldest son of the Yan family, what's wrong with representing you at a meal?"

"You?" Yan Bugui glanced sideways and sneered, "You call him 'Silly Zhu' all the time, but his name is He Yuzhu! With your character, you think you can eat his cooking? You'll have to wait another ten years!"

His tone was full of disdain.

The eldest son is becoming more and more useless as he grows up. He hangs out with Xu Damao and Jia Dongxu all day long, learning all sorts of slickness and not inheriting any of his father's shrewdness and calculating skills.

Someone gives you a piece of candy or a cigarette, and you're taken advantage of, even helping them count the money.

In the past two years, He Yuzhu has not even looked at him properly. He only gives candy to his younger siblings and never to him. Why doesn't he think about it himself?

In the courtyard of Zhongyuan, steam was rising from the stove.

He Yushui had already put the cornbread and steamed buns in the pot. Hearing the noise, she turned around and smiled, "Big brother, you're back. The food will be ready soon."

"Okay!" He Yuzhu took off the lunchbox and handed it over. "There's stewed beef today, heat it up."

He Yushui quickly took it and stuffed it into the steamer.

Since she started cooking for herself two months ago, she no longer has to wait for her older brother to pick her up from school, and she can even put the food on the table before he gets back.

The girl is about to enter junior high school, and her grades are consistently ranked first in her grade. He Yuzhu keeps a close eye on her, and she is living up to his expectations. At this rate, going to university in the future is not a dream.

The family lived a simple life, but it was warm and loving.

In contrast, the Jia family's house was as quiet as a coffin.

With the advent of the ration coupon era, their family plummeted to rock bottom.

Only Jia Dongxu in the family had an urban household registration and was entitled to a fixed amount of grain coupons.

Qin Huairu, Banggeng, and Jia Zhangshi all have rural household registrations. They initially got their money from the coarse grains distributed by the production team, but now it has all become a shackle.

Fine grains were unavailable, meat coupons were nowhere to be seen, and each day was more agonizing than the last.

On the table were a bowl of thin, dark cornbread, a dish of pickled vegetable dumplings, and a bowl of boiled cabbage with hardly any oil.

Even Jia Dongxu himself frowned as he ate, let alone the growing Banggeng and the elderly Jia Zhangshi.

"Qin Huairu!" Madam Jia slammed her hand on the table, her face long and drawn. "Cornmeal again? Not even a steamed bun made from a mixture of corn and water? How long has it been since we've had any meat? Are you trying to starve my grandson to death?!"

"Mom, we only have so little food at home, what can I do?" Qin Huairu asked, her head bowed and her voice trembling. "How about... I eat half a cornbread less today and save it for the corn stalks?"

After he finished speaking, the room fell into a deathly silence.

Qin Huairu bit her lip, her eyes slightly red: "The family's ration is entirely dependent on Dongxu's salary. It only amounts to a few dozen kilograms of grain, and the rest we have to buy from outside."

The cornmeal they bought, even with the cost of ration coupons, was outrageously expensive.

A pound with a ticket costs 9 cents, but when it reaches Jia Dongxu, it costs at least 20 cents per pound! That price is almost as high as that of Fuqiang flour.

Thirty jin is six yuan. The three of them, grandfather, grandmother and grandson, weigh at least eighty jin, so that alone would cost sixteen yuan.

This doesn't even include oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, firewood, rice, and coal—all of which cost money.

"Tomorrow... I'll go ask my master again to see if I can borrow any more..."

Jia Dongxu sighed softly.

I finally got promoted to a level three fitter a while ago and got a raise, but now I'm even more strapped for cash.

If it weren't for my master Yi Zhonghai's occasional financial assistance, I probably wouldn't even be able to afford cornmeal.

Just then, a rich aroma wafted from next door, and the oily bits seemed to drift into our nostrils on the breeze, making our stomachs rumble with anticipation.

Especially the little Bang Geng, whose small body was only four years old, immediately went wild upon smelling the meat: "I want to eat meat! Grandma! I want to eat meat! I haven't had it in so long! Waaah—"

Qin Huairu quickly coaxed, "Sweetie, we'll eat meat next month. Can we eat rice first? Daddy will buy it for you when he gets his salary!"

"No! You said the same thing last time!" Bang Geng's face turned bright red, and he stomped his feet and cried loudly, "I want to eat meat now! I want to eat it!"

"Shut up!" Jia Dongxu slammed his hand on the table, his voice low but filled with anger. "If you keep making a scene, you won't get any food!"

The child shuddered in fright and immediately fell silent, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his little mouth was pouting, and he absolutely refused to touch his chopsticks.

Madam Jia was heartbroken and sobbed. She hugged Bang Geng tightly and began to curse, "You wretched fool! Are you deliberately trying to annoy us? You enjoy the meat so much, but you insist on stewing it right under my window! You're jealous of my grandson's intelligence, so you use the smell of meat to tempt him! You childless wretch, you'll get your retribution sooner or later!"

He was cursing under his breath, but his nose was honestly sniffing out the window incessantly; the aroma was too tempting to resist.

She turned and yelled at Qin Huairu, "What are you standing there for? Hurry up and go borrow some meat from the He family! To satisfy my grandson's craving!"

Qin Huairu was taken aback: "Mom... Sha Zhu has completely ignored me these past two years, and the relationship between our two families is strained. If I go to borrow money, will they even lend it to me?"

"How will you know if you don't try?" Madam Jia rolled her eyes. "Go now! Otherwise, seeing my grandson starving like this will break my heart!"

Qin Huairu looked at Jia Dongxu for help: "Dongxu..."

Jia Dongxu lowered his head and rummaged through the pickled vegetable bits in his bowl, neither offering to help nor stopping them, just chewing silently with his eyes darting away.

Actually, he was also craving it.

He was penniless, so he could only hope his wife would try her luck.

Seeing that no one was there to support her, Qin Huairu had no choice but to put down her rice bowl, take a deep breath, and push open the door to go out.

-

Boom boom boom!

A knocking sounded abruptly at the door.

Inside the house, He Yuzhu was picking up a piece of braised pork with alternating layers of fat and lean meat and putting it into his mouth, the aroma exploding on his tongue.

Hearing the noise, he frowned, put down his chopsticks, and stood up.

"Who?"

When he opened the door, he saw Qin Huairu standing outside, her face pale, her eyes filled with embarrassment and pleading.

"Silly Zhu...look...could you spare some meat for our family? Bang Geng hasn't had any meat for a month or two, and when he smelled the aroma from your place today, he just couldn't resist...just a little bit will do."

Sister can do your laundry, you can do whatever you want with her...

"No," He Yuzhu interrupted coldly, his tone resolute. "I don't have any left, I won't lend any."

He stared at her, a feeling of disgust rising within him.

I've been avoiding you, and you still come knocking on my door?

He scoffed again: "Don't even mention washing clothes, can you even do it? You're too slow, and you won't even get them clean."

Besides, is your son lacking in oil and fat? Last week I saw Jia Zhangshi taking him to a steamed bun shop to eat meat buns, his mouth dripping with oil—and now he's pretending to be poor? Go back, don't stand here in the way."

Before he could finish speaking, he raised his hand to close the door.

Qin Huairu panicked, pressing her hand firmly against the door, her voice trembling: "Shazhu, please... just a little bit of meat, even just a drop of oil for the child to lick... he's really craving it..."

"I said, no!"

He Yuzhu shoved her hand away, slammed the door shut with a bang, and then bolted it shut with a quick and decisive motion.

Returning to the table, he picked up his chopsticks again, his expression cold and stern.