Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

That year, the courtyard also changed its appearance:

Liu Haizhong's youngest son, clutching his junior high school graduation certificate, signed up to be sent to the countryside without looking back. It wasn't in response to the call; it was purely out of avoidance—even looking at his father was unbearable.

Since 1955, the movement of educated youth to the countryside had been carried out sporadically; however, in 1966, the policy suddenly tightened: universities suspended enrollment and classes, and young people in the city who had graduated from junior or senior high school but had no jobs were all required to "accept re-education from poor and lower-middle peasants" and go to the countryside. The phrase "very necessary" led nearly a million young people to pack their bags and plunge into the Loess Plateau, the black soil, and the rice paddies.

Nationwide, high school graduates were uniformly allocated and sent to rural areas in batches.

Around 1971, however, the plight of educated youth in the countryside gradually surfaced: difficulties in obtaining residency, returning to the city, finding marriage partners, and accessing medical care... The cities finally loosened their grip and began "assigning" some positions to outstanding educated youth. However, those who were able to return to the city mostly relied on connections—worker-peasant-soldier universities, parents taking over retirement jobs, or asking others to intercede...

This nationwide migration of young people did not truly come to an end until 1977.

After they went to the countryside to support the construction, they could only look forward to returning home during the Spring Festival. Some of them could not go back at all—their families could not afford the travel expenses, and the letters they sent would be lost halfway. They stayed in the village for eight or ten years, and returning to the city gradually became a dream they dared not even think about. In the end, they simply settled down and put down roots by the field.

Liu Guangfu clutched the five yuan his brother Liu Guangtian had insisted on giving him, his palms damp with sweat. He then used the money to buy a hard-seat train ticket at the neighborhood office. He slung his faded canvas bag over his shoulder, his eyes burning with excitement, and boarded the green train bound for the countryside. As soon as the whistle sounded, a group of young men and women in the carriage began to sing in unison, their voices clear and reckless, making the windows vibrate as they sang "Ode to the Motherland."

His luck wasn't too bad—he was assigned to a village not too far from Beijing. As soon as the train came to a stop, comrades from the educated youth office were already waiting on the platform. They quickly led the group of young people, who hadn't even had a chance to warm up their red armbands, into a small courtyard, where the village leaders would arrive in oxcarts to pick them up.

When Liu Guangfu jumped onto the oxcart, three men and three women were already seated inside. Each of them had relaxed expressions and moved nimbly, exuding a vibrant energy, like newly sprouted wheat seedlings, green yet upright. The oxcart slowly swayed for more than three hours before rounding the last earthen slope, revealing a few old locust trees and a crooked fence at the village entrance.

Captain Wang jumped off the vehicle, dusted off his trousers, pointed to a row of gray-tiled houses, and said, "Look, the educated youth compound! Rest here for today, and I'll take you to the commune to settle your grain rations tomorrow." Before he finished speaking, he had already entrusted them to an old educated youth, and then, holding the cow rope, he slowly headed towards the cowshed.

That old educated youth was only in his early twenties, his skin was tanned dark and shiny, and his fingernails were stuck with dirt that couldn't be washed off. He worked more efficiently than the locals. For more than three years, he had never let go of his hoe, and his scholarly air had long been worn away by the smell of earth.

"Come in quickly! Men, come with me; women, go with Chunmei!" He called out in a loud voice, taking the luggage as he did so. "Put your bedding out and we'll start eating—today's feast is specially prepared for you; you can get to know each other while you eat!"

Pushing open the courtyard gate, a row of large brick and tile houses came into view, and Liu Guangfu felt relieved: it was much brighter than he had expected. Inside, there was a communal sleeping area with clean planks and freshly cut wheat straw underneath.

"You'll sleep here from now on." The old educated youth pointed to the corner of the wall. "Need a cabinet? Spend a dollar to have an old carpenter make a sturdy one; as for the lock, the supply and marketing cooperative has them ready-made, just buy one. Hurry up and get ready, your stomachs must be growling, right? It's been three or four hours coming from the county town, who isn't hungry?"

The dining table was set up in the center of the courtyard, with rough porcelain bowls filled with blanched shepherd's purse and purslane, and dozens of golden cornbread buns piled up beside them—all gathered by the group after a long day of work trekking over mountains and valleys. Several of the more affluent educated youth frowned, ate a few bites, and then went back inside to eat the white flour buns they had brought from home. Liu Guangfu, however, picked up a cornbread bun and took a sweet bite, feeling a warm glow in his heart: these were the flavors he had tasted since childhood.

He stood up and bowed solemnly to everyone: "Thank you all for your trouble! I'm new here and don't know anything, so please give me some pointers and take care of me in the future. This little something was brought by my second brother, please don't mind it, please have a taste."

Since Liu Guangtian separated from the family and moved away, Liu Guangfu's life has become increasingly difficult; but on this land, although he eats coarse grains and does heavy work, he feels for the first time that his chest is open and he can breathe freely—unlike in the courtyard house, where even a cough would be met with Liu Haizhong's nitpicking.

The next morning, he went to the fields without even knowing how to use a hoe, but he rolled up his trousers and rushed in, bending over, swinging the hoe, and stomping on the furrows without stopping. Captain Wang squatted on the edge of the field, finished half a pipe of cigarette, and nodded silently.

When he finished work, his palms were blistered in several places, with blood seeping into the blisters, but he had a smile on his face. The old educated youth handed him a salt water towel, and Captain Wang patted him on the shoulder and praised him for being "sincere". This warmth was more comforting than any full meal in the city.

The old educated youth spread out their account book at dinner: "From now on, cooking will be done in shifts, and you'll also be allowed to cook your own meals. Right now, we have 350 jin of grain rations. We'll give each person 50 jin first, and the rest will be deducted from their work points at the end of the year. It's easier to cook together, but it's more comfortable to cook alone. You can decide for yourselves."

Liu Guangfu chose to share a kitchen with a girl surnamed Li. He had been cooking since he was a child and was quick and efficient. That very evening, he followed her into the kitchen. He chopped vegetables, tended the stove, and cooked porridge with clean and efficient movements, which drew nods of approval from everyone—who wouldn't be afraid of encountering a few spoiled brats? They complained about the black pot, the cold water, and the bitter taste of wild vegetables, and would often throw down pots and pans.

As the year drew to a close, no one tried to slip him money for a train ticket. The educated youth compound was deserted, with even the sound of firecrackers being sparse. An old educated youth squatted on the threshold, puffing on his cigarette, and suddenly said, "Going back to the city? I'm afraid that's difficult..." That night, Liu Guangfu looked out the window at the falling snow, and a seed quietly fell in his heart: Why not stay here and put down roots?

Later, through Captain Wang's matchmaking, he married a girl from the east end of the village. The couple tidied up their small courtyard, raised chickens and grew vegetables, and lived a stable and fulfilling life.

……

It was 1970 in the blink of an eye. He Aijun was in the third grade, while the second and third children were in the second grade. That day, He Yuzhu carried Xiao Wu into the house and bumped into Qin Huairu squatting in the yard packing Bang Geng's luggage - the bundle was rolled up neatly, with fine stitches, showing that she had put a lot of effort into it.

Banggeng was sixteen. Because he started school early, he had just graduated from high school. Seeing his classmates signing up to go to the countryside, he secretly filled out the form too. By the time Qin Huairu and Xu Damao found out, the quota had already been submitted and couldn't be changed. Qin Huairu's eyes were red, and her hands trembled as she folded clothes; Xu Damao pulled Banggeng to the wall, lowered his voice and talked for a long time, finally stuffing him a crumpled fifty-yuan note: "Take care of yourself out there. Come back for the New Year, and we'll have a good drink together."

Nine-year-old He Aijun shuffled home, his face bruised and swollen, with dark red scabs on the corners of his mouth. Lou Xiao'e stared at her son's little face, her lips moved, but she didn't say anything in the end—ever since her second and third children started school, he had been fighting for his younger siblings every day. When other older brothers came to their door, he would grab a broom and rush to meet them. After the fight, he would not cry, nor would he complain. He would just silently wipe the mud off his school uniform.

Seeing his son's condition, He Yuzhu had originally planned to wait two more years to teach him Sanda (Chinese kickboxing)—a real skill he had repeatedly practiced in his spatial dimension. But now, looking at the still-wet bloodstains on his son's face, he felt a tightness in his throat and immediately hired a carpenter: an elm stake was erected in the backyard, with sandbags hanging from the frame, and before dawn, the father and son were already walking quickly in circles around it.

He then had Lou Xiao'e sew three sandbags overnight, which were tied to the ankles of the three children. They ran and kicked the sandbags, their panting mingling with the soft rustling of sand falling. He Yubing pouted and muttered, "Why drag me along when you're teaching my older brother to fight? I want to learn how to make Chinese knot buttons from Mom!"

The three children were covered in sweat and their legs were trembling, but He Yuzhu just squinted at them and didn't give them a drop of water. Skill in martial arts is never developed by pampering and feeding, but by having your muscles and bones hold on again and again, so that you can avoid being hit by a stick in the future.

……

Banggeng stepped into the educated youth compound, glanced at the wild vegetable buns on the table, and his brows immediately furrowed. He snorted coldly, "This is it? A new comrade has arrived, and they can't even serve him a decent meal?"

By the time Banggeng finished berating the old educated youth, the food bowls were already half empty. Anyone stuck with such a troublemaker was used to it—it wasn't the first time, and filling their stomachs was the priority. He wandered back to his resting place, munching on the hard bread Qin Huairu had given him. The others, having just washed their feet, returned one after another. But athlete's foot wasn't something that could be cured with a few rubs. A sour, rancid stench assaulted his senses, and he immediately gagged. Back home, he had a room to himself; Qin Huairu and Xu Damao shared one; Xiao Dang, Huaihua, and Jia Zhangshi squeezed into another—he'd never suffered such filth.

Banggeng: "Your feet look like thoroughly pickled pig's trotters! The stench is making my lungs ache!"

Zhu Daqiang: "Watch your mouth! Why didn't anyone else get choked? Do you think your nose is more sensitive than a dog's?"

Who didn't have their grievances? But the educated youth compound was so dilapidated that only four walls remained: one storage room was half collapsed, one kitchen leaked wind and rain, one was exclusively for female educated youth, and the remaining room was simply used as a temporary dormitory. Everyone gritted their teeth and swallowed their anger, but Bang Geng couldn't swallow his pride and swung his fist to smash it.

The crowd scrambled to separate the two men, and just as they managed to pull them apart, Banggeng turned and paced around the yard, his eyes landing on the dilapidated storage room. He grabbed a few old planks, nailed them together, and cobbled together a crooked bed frame, moving in that very night.

The next day, just as dawn broke, everyone was called to the brigade assembly to be assigned spring plowing tasks. Banggeng gripped his hoe, four blisters forming on his palms, wincing and hissing in pain. Returning to the courtyard, he saw others slurping down sweet potato porridge, but he felt this coarse food was beneath him. He turned and went into the storeroom, pulling out a steamed bun prepared by Qin Huairu and starting to eat. His throat was parched, and no one paid him any attention when he asked for some hot soup. Finally, he squatted under the eaves of the kitchen and gulped down half a ladle of cold water.