Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

At night, kerosene lamps were lit in the courtyard. Fang Yutong, an old educated youth, cleared his throat: "This is the new grain that the brigade has advanced, fifty catties per person. Whether you eat from the communal pot or cook your own meals, it's up to you."

Bang Geng didn't even lift his eyelids—he didn't trust these people, fearing that if he ate even a little more, the blame would fall on him.

There was only one stove and one iron pot in the courtyard. Those who returned first took charge of cooking, while those who returned later could only stand by and wait in line.

Fang Yutong added, "Tomorrow the brigade leader will lead the team to the commune. The fare is one cent. If you want to buy something, do it early so you don't miss the bus."

Banggeng's pockets were bulging with money—industrial coupons, cloth coupons, and grain coupons—all secretly given to him by Xu Damao. The next day, he carried the industrial coupons straight to the commune, bought a gleaming little iron pot, and casually picked up soap, an enamel mug, and a sewing kit. He then went to the grain station and carried back two bags of cornmeal. When he arrived at the assembly point, the brigade leader saw him carrying a whole bunch of things on his shoulders and in his hands, frowned, and charged him an extra 50 cents for the cart fare.

On the way back to the village, the educated youth stared intently at him, as if he were looking at a mobile general store. Banggeng entered the courtyard with his head held high and immediately started building a stove—setting up a hearth right at the entrance of the storage room so that he wouldn't have to wait or fight for things when he came back from work. He cleaned the house and put everything away properly; then he went to the village to hire a carpenter and ordered a new water vat, two willow buckets, and a sturdy bed board, spending a total of five yuan.

When he returned from work the next day, he stood at the door, stunned: the house had been ransacked, with only fifty pounds of corn left piled up forlornly in the corner. The newly bought iron pot was still there, but the money, ration coupons, grain, and new items had all vanished.

He frantically searched for the brigade leader and rushed to the commune that very night to report the case, but he couldn't recover a single thing. That night, he sat at his desk writing a letter home, his pen trembling—the things he brought to the countryside this time were all money his family had saved up for several years by tightening their belts. Even if he sent them immediately, it would take a full month for them to arrive.

Unable to endure hardship, he can only grit his teeth and bear it. Having offended everyone in the past, now everyone avoids him.

By June of the following year, he was overjoyed—his family had sent him more money and ration coupons. Over at the communal sleeping quarters, the stench of Zhu Daqiang's feet wafted out, causing several educated youths to cover their mouths and roll their eyes. Banggeng, legs crossed, chuckled: "Even though we get robbed here, at least we're comfortable!"

Only then did he truly understand why He Yuzhu had always looked at him with that kind of gaze—if that thief were really caught, he would break three of his legs! He Yuzhu had fed him feces back then, which was far too lenient... Now he especially missed his father, Xu. If he were still in the city, he would probably be gnawing on a braised chicken leg right now.

June weather is unpredictable. Several torrential downpours followed, and everyone was sound asleep in the middle of the night when a muffled boom, like thunder from the ground, suddenly rang out. Fang Yutong sat bolt upright in shock and rushed outside to find the storage room had collapsed!

Fang Yutong shouted at the top of his lungs, "Get up! Jia Banggeng is buried! Help!"

Braving the rain and mud, the group searched through the broken beams and rubble for half the night, finally managing to pull him out of the ruins. They carried him to bed and saw a bloody gash on his forehead, but he seemed quite energetic. Zhu Daqiang, soaked to the bone and panting heavily, looked down and saw the boy fast asleep. His anger flared instantly—how many times had he been bullied in the past seven or eight months? He kicked Banggeng in the thigh!

Banggeng sat up with a loud "Aww!" and, seeing that it was Zhu Daqiang, pounced on him again. This time, no one stopped him—everyone was so sleepy their eyelids were drooping, and they just let the two of them roll around in the mud. Banggeng was bruised and swollen, but he still glared at people with his neck stiff, looking like a defeated rooster that refused to admit defeat.

The next morning, the brigade leader called Banggeng over and gave him two choices: either move back to the communal sleeping area and live with everyone else, or pay for the renovation of the storage room himself. When he learned it would cost fifteen yuan, Banggeng didn't hesitate and immediately paid. For the next few days, he stayed at the brigade leader's house.

……

In the winter of 1977, a transfer order arrived, and He Yuzhu was directly transferred to the Third Branch of the Kyoto Party School for further study.

In recent years, the courtyard has changed drastically. Yi Jiye graduated in 1975 and was supposed to be sent to the countryside, but an old man used his connections to get him a job at a steel rolling mill. In 1976, Fangfang graduated and had difficulty finding work. Lou Xiao'e gave up her position without hesitation and let Yi Fangfang fill the vacancy—at least the child could stay with Yi Zhonghai and his wife.

During the devastating earthquake of 1976, the only family in the compound to fall out was Yan Bugui's: all their children moved out, leaving the elderly couple completely alone. The neighbors shook their heads and sighed, lamenting for a long time.

Now, Lou Xiao'e stays at home doing sewing. The children have all grown taller, and He Aijun's bicycle was long ago requisitioned by He Yubing; the new one they bought later was taken over by Lou Xiaosi.

He Aijun had originally applied to support agriculture, but a notice from above suddenly halted the policy.

The new car had only been bought for two days when Lou Xiaosi started sticking to He Yuzhu like a tail, always looking sullen, as if the whole world owed him a fortune. He Yuzhu couldn't take it anymore, so he had to give him the car to take Xiaowu to school, while he walked himself.

He Aijun is sixteen years old, He Aidang is fifteen years old, He Yubing is fifteen years old, Lou Mancang is thirteen years old, and Lou Yue is eleven years old.

When He Yuzhu pushed open the courtyard gate, he bumped into He Aijun hunched over a stack of yellowed old notebooks under the lamp—those were densely filled calculation sheets that He Yushui had written when preparing for the college entrance examination. This year, the college entrance examination was restarted, and He Aijun had made up his mind: he would enlist in the army as soon as he graduated from university. He Yuzhu had already explained it to him clearly: college students who join the army have a wide path to promotion, many opportunities, and a proper way of life. The boy's eyes lit up when he heard this, and even the scratching sound of his pen on the paper seemed extra forceful.

He turned and went into the inner room. Lou Xiao'e heard the footsteps and immediately got up from the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), her apron still draped over her arm, a smile already on her lips. She turned to go to the kitchen.

He Yuzhu grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her back onto the stool.

"Director Qiao gave me a succinct answer today," he said, his voice low but each word firm, "I'm very likely to be transferred next year. The organization has already decided on my destination. They want me to work diligently and do something that I can truly shoulder the responsibility for."

Lou Xiao'e didn't reply, but only gripped his hand tighter and nodded: "Just keep going forward, I'll take care of things here at home."

He pulled out a heavy brass key, its teeth marks still carrying the warmth of bygone days: "The neighborhood committee just returned the key to the Lou family's old house. The storm has passed, and things are getting better. I was thinking, you and the children should move back there—it's bright and quiet there, much better than here. Once we've saved up some money, we can buy a few more courtyard houses and slowly retire."

Lou Xiao'e stared at the key, her eyes suddenly reddening, tears falling onto the back of her hand, spreading a small dark patch. He Aijun looked up and saw his mother crying; his heart felt like it had been squeezed, a dull ache he couldn't quite describe, yet he didn't know why.

The fifth child rushed in with his schoolbag on his back, and upon seeing his mother's tears, he ran to her, his little arms tightly wrapped around Lou Xiao'e's waist, sobbing and coaxing, "Mom, don't cry! Mom, don't cry!"

The children, who had never seen their parents angry or heard a harsh word from them, were completely stunned. Tears streamed down their faces as they clutched their clothes, their little hands scrunched up in pain. He Yuzhu stared at the group of sobbing little heads before him, his heart sinking—he felt a sudden pang of dread, as if he were transported back to the winter of 1974, when the old lady, before she breathed her last, held his hand, leaving him the west room, stuffing the money she had saved into Yi Zhonghai's hands, and repeatedly murmuring, "The two families must stay together, don't let them fall apart..."

That day, he sat listlessly on the edge of the bed, listening to the howling north wind outside the window, feeling an emptiness in his heart, as if a piece of his flesh had been forcibly ripped out.

Later, He Yushui rushed back with her child. The family stayed at the mourning hall, burning paper money, offering incense, and keeping vigil, sending the old lady off with dignity.

……

Lou Xiao'e wiped her face with her hand, then smiled through her tears: "Silly children, Mom is happy! Look how scared you were—alright, wipe your faces, we'll go back to the old house together tomorrow."

After the children had gone to eat, she asked softly, "Zhu Zi, what about this yard...?"

He Yuzhu followed her gaze to the three north-facing rooms: "Aunt Yi has helped me so much over the years—taking care of the children, accompanying you during your postpartum period, she's been so attentive in everything. I feel at ease leaving these three rooms to Jiye."

Lou Xiao'e nodded, her voice soft but firm: "That's what I think too. The house back home is spacious, with room for one person and more. Repaying the debt of gratitude can't be done in a short time, but this favor must be repaid first."

"Okay." He agreed readily. "The old house hasn't been touched in all these years, even the window paper is old. Whenever you want to move, we'll move."

He had secretly returned everything he had taken from the Lou family to its original place—even the white mark on the enamel mug was placed perfectly in its old spot, hoping that she would recognize it the way it used to be the moment she opened the door.

This year, the crackdown on "speculation and profiteering" has been much more relaxed, and the wind is indeed shifting. However, He Yuzhu is still holding back from letting Lou Xiao'e open for business immediately, planning to wait until the policies stabilize next year, and then do some small-scale business, which will surely be safe.

The two walked side by side toward the Lou family's old house, their steps slow, their shadows trailing obliquely on the blue brick ground, as if they had returned to that clear evening after a snowfall in 1960: he was taking her home, she was wrapped in a blue cloth headscarf, her breath drifting in the cold wind, her nose red from the cold, yet she kept tiptoeing and looking toward the alley entrance, waiting for him to catch up.

The key clicked crisply into the lock. Pushing open the door, the room was exactly as it had been – the eight-immortal table, the long table, the faded New Year's pictures on the wall, even the withered jasmine vine on the windowsill was still there. Only the old locust tree in the yard had thickened its branches and cast much denser shadows. There was no sound of her father's cough, nor her mother's nagging words. Lou Xiao'e stood on the threshold, her throat tightening, and tears welled up again.

He Yuzhu silently removed the old silver bracelet from her wrist—the one Lou's mother had put on her before she died—and gently slipped it back onto her thin wrist. She swayed, finally unable to hold back her tears, which streamed down her face as she threw herself into his arms, repeatedly murmuring, "Thank you... Zhuzi, thank you..."