Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

The night before, the place was packed with people, and the two mistakenly thought they were catching the same bus that day, only to find that it had already left. Fortunately, they weren't the only ones lying down at the entrance; the whole area was filled with people clutching their tickets, waiting to return to the city. Who wanted to stay in the village for even a second longer? They wished they could just stuff their household registration booklets in their pockets and fly away.

"You little rascal, you've got something up your sleeve, haven't you? You just wandered over this morning, believe it or not, we'll pin you to the ground and give you a good beating!" Cheng Jianjun pretended to grab his neck, his eyes full of teasing.

"What goods could I possibly have? I'll just go door-to-door delivering some food coupons and needles and thread to thank the villagers for their help over the years. Unlike you guys, you take the coupons and run away as soon as you get them!" Xiao Yao made up the story without batting an eye—anyway, no one would go back to verify it.

As soon as the gate opened, the crowd erupted, rushing in like madmen, afraid that missing even an inch would mean never seeing the train again. Unfortunately, everyone was scrambling to get ahead, but they all ended up behind Xiao Yao. The moment the doors slammed open, he leaped forward and firmly secured the connecting area between the carriages—though the space was narrow, it was his private territory once he spread out his blanket, and since the doors didn't open there when getting on or off, he could get in and out smoothly.

When Han Chunming and his companion squeezed onto the train, their faces turned green: the aisle was packed with people, making it difficult to even turn around—it was even more crowded than during the Spring Festival rush for New Year's goods. Through the glass window, they saw Xiao Yao lying comfortably, so they quickly pushed through the gaps in the crowd, pried open the train door, and the three of them squeezed together, sprawling out haphazardly.

"Aren't you being a good friend? Aren't you going to wait for your brother?" Han Chunming pretended to have a stern face.

"Wait for you? I'll stand with you all the way to Beijing Station? This territory we fought tooth and nail for, and instead of thanking me, you're making sarcastic remarks?" Xiao Yao's eyes widened, even more agitated than him.

Cheng Jianjun shook out the quilt. The three of them were wrapped in one quilt. When they woke up, they would eat a few bites of dry food. When they were full, they would chat for a while. When they were sleepy, they would take a nap.

Two days later, the two were exhausted: they were so busy grabbing seats that they didn't bring enough food. They either emptied their pockets to buy expensive boxed meals from the dining car or went hungry—but how many meals could they afford with the little money in their pockets?

"How about asking Grandpa for a treat?" Xiao Yao swung her legs and grinned at the two of them.

"Hand it over now! I'll call you grandpa if you want!" Cheng Jianjun grabbed his sleeve, and Han Chunming immediately started rummaging through his bag.

When the package was opened, the jerky was glistening with oil, and the dry rations were thick and neatly stacked.

"Good heavens, you were all so secretive yesterday, was that what you were up to? You kept quiet all along, were you just waiting to see us make a fool of ourselves?" Han Chunming grabbed a piece of jerky and stuffed it into his mouth, and Cheng Jianjun reached out to snatch it away. The two of them quickly divided the jerky into portions, half for each of them.

"Consider it a loan, I'll pay you back as soon as I get back to the village!" Cheng Jianjun wiped his mouth.

Xiao Yao nodded: "Okay, just remember that—this little bit of stock I have is my lifeline to get me through next week."

"Don't worry! This is my savings from the past six months. It's 50 cents. I'll cover it first. If it's not enough, I'll make it up to you when we get back to the village!" Han Chunming pulled a crumpled banknote out of his inner pocket.

The three laughed and joked as the wheels rolled on, getting closer and closer to the final stop.

The three stepped out of the train station, pulled their collars tighter, and hurried home. The biting north wind stung their faces like knives, but their eagerness to get home drove the chill away. The house Xiao Yao was assigned by the system was right next to Su Meng's courtyard wall, separated only by a low fence—the newly built brick house, along with the small kitchen next to it, seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, but no one asked a question, as if it had always been there.

Pushing open the door, the room was bare, with only an old wardrobe, a kang (heated brick bed), an elm wood table, and two rickety stools; there was nothing else.

Xiao Yao turned and headed straight for the kitchen, quickly gathering firewood and starting a fire. The dry pine branches he had gathered from the mountains had already filled the space, and now they came in handy—the flames leaped up, and warmth gushed out from the stove.

韩家

The room was warm and cozy. The whole family gathered around Han Chunming, their smiles crinkling at the corners of their eyes. Su Meng leaned against the doorframe, gently waving to Han Chunming, her ponytail swaying with the movement.

Xiao Yao stood in front of the stove, shaking his head as he looked at the kitchen, which was even cleaner than the stove itself. Fortunately, he had brought back all his belongings from the educated youth compound: the iron pot was bought with his own money; the star anise, cinnamon, soy sauce, and vinegar were bought by the three brothers pooling their money—the two brothers refused to take them when he left, so he simply put them all into his spatial storage and laid them out on the cutting board one by one; fifty catties of sorghum rice were poured into a large vat, and of the thirty or so catties of lard he had taken from the second canteen, he only scooped out two catties and melted them in a bowl.

He had learned his lesson long ago—he always kept rice, flour, oil, salt, needles, thread, matches, soap, and coal briquettes in his space... Who knew when the system might suddenly act up again and kick him to some remote corner?

Snowflakes swirled outside the window, falling thicker and thicker. Xiao Yao lifted the pot lid, poured in oil, and added meat. The braised pork sizzled in the iron pot, the caramel-colored sauce coating the marbled chunks of meat, bubbling and steaming. The aroma wafted out through the window cracks, attracting neighbors to peek out: "Whose spendthrift son is this? The smell of this meat is making our mouths water!"

Han Chunming and Cheng Jianjun stepped through the door one after the other, each clutching a dollar in their hands, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey! You're so unfair—you didn't call us when there was good food?" Han Chunming sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) as if he knew his way around, his eyes glued to the pot.

"That's right! Let's go home!" Cheng Jianjun said, but his feet remained rooted to the spot.

"Okay, let's go back." Xiao Yao slowly stirred the pot. "I have a few bites left, enough for me to last the night."

"Where are you going? If you don't finish your food, you'll have wasted those two dollars!" Han Chunming and Cheng Jianjun immediately chimed in, putting on a show that was more convincing than the real thing—as if it wasn't them who were refusing to leave, but Xiao Yao who was practically begging them to stay.

"I don't have your bowls and chopsticks at home." Before Xiao Yao finished speaking, he had already grabbed the only set of bowls and chopsticks and stuffed it into his clothes. "I've steamed a whole tray of steamed buns. Want some? Hurry up and go home and get your bowls and chopsticks!"

The two darted out and rushed back, carrying a rough porcelain bowl and bamboo chopsticks, and also bringing two white flour buns—in those days, white flour buns were even rarer than braised pork.

"Confess!" Han Chunming picked up a trembling piece of pork belly, chewing as he poked Xiao Yao's forehead. "Cooking at the educated youth compound was always done in shifts, how come you suddenly become the head chef as soon as you get home? You were just hiding your skills before, you've gotten addicted to taking advantage, haven't you?"

"The past is the past, and the present is the present." Xiao Yao smiled and casually pulled out a green bottle. "Can't shut your mouth up? Come on, have a drink with me."

"Give it to me!" Han Chunming snatched the wine bottle and poured a bowl full of wine.

"Leave me a sip! This is Moutai—it sells for eight yuan at the department store. I used to only smell it when I passed by!" Cheng Jianjun snatched the bottle with lightning speed, tilted his head back and took a big gulp, panting heavily from the spiciness.

After a couple of drinks, Cheng Jianjun patted his chest and said confidently, "Don't worry about work. I'll ask my dad to pull some strings, and the three of us can get things arranged together!"

Han Chunming shook his head with a wry smile—if he had connections, why would he bother going to the countryside? Cheng Jianjun, on the other hand, went to the countryside with his childhood friend to "train" for the novelty of it all.

"The state-run restaurant is hiring, I'm thinking of giving it a try," Xiao Yao said slowly, picking up a piece of meat with his chopsticks.

"Great! This skill is no worse than that of a master craftsman!" Han Chunming gave a thumbs up.

"Of course! Why didn't you show off your skills before?" Cheng Jianjun reached out and grabbed his neck. "Stop pretending to be a lazy bum!"

"Back then, we ate cornbread every day. No matter how good your cooking skills were, you couldn't make something fancy," Xiao Yao laughed, dodging the question. "Besides, it's just for you guys to practice—you can't argue on an empty stomach when you get married, can you?"

A girl suddenly stood at the door, her cotton-padded jacket collar was fluffy, and her ponytail swung lightly.

"It's Jianjun looking for you," Xiao Yao said deliberately, raising his voice to prevent the hothead from later complaining that he was biased towards Han Chunming.

Su Meng smiled, pursing her lips, and stood outside the threshold without moving.

Cheng Jianjun went up to him: "Brother Xiao Yao, don't you recognize me? We grew up playing in the mud naked since we were kids! Would you miss out on any meat? Did you bring your bowl?"

Han Chunming had just run back to get a bowl when he casually called Su Meng over as well.

Before he finished speaking, his chopsticks were already in the pot, picking up a large piece of perfectly marbled meat and placing it in Su Meng's bowl. Han Chunming's eyelids twitched, and his chopsticks immediately followed, picking out the part she liked: "She loves this—fatty but not greasy, lean but not dry!"

Seeing the two of them scrambling for the food, turning the plates upside down and almost emptying the meat, Xiao Yao quickly dragged the pot towards herself: "Hey, leave me some broth! Plenty of shredded potatoes, perfect with drinks!"

"Brother Xiao Yao, I'll head back now." Su Meng smiled sweetly, her braid swaying slightly as she turned around.

Even a blind man could see that her gaze was fixed on Han Chunming, yet Cheng Jianjun was happily picking at his food, completely oblivious. "Those involved are often blinded, while bystanders see clearly"—Xiao Yao understood this perfectly, but in such matters, advice and directives were unnecessary; feigning ignorance was the safest course of action.

"Drive carefully, the snow is slippery." That was all he said.

With heavy snow blocking the roads, an extra reminder makes things much more convenient.

The three drank until the lamp wick crackled and popped before they staggered off. Xiao Yao saw them off, then turned and went into the kitchen to tend to the firewood—he needed to make sure it would burn until midnight, as he would have to go out again later, and if the stove was cold when he returned, he would have to start over.

The job the system assigned him was to work as a clerk in a garment factory. Xiao Yao still finds it mysterious: this system could probably even change a few lines in the King of Hell's Book of Life and Death.

The letter of introduction is in my pocket; I'll report for duty tomorrow. As for why I didn't tell Cheng Jianjun the truth? One should always be wary—what if he tries to sabotage me behind my back? It's not too late to speak up after I officially start working. Always leave room for maneuver; it's better to meet again in the future.

He took out several decent gifts from his spatial storage: two boxes of osmanthus cakes, a pack of cigarettes, and a tube of honey, which felt heavy in his hands. Only then did he push open the courtyard gate, stepping on the crunching snow, and head towards the garment factory—gifts are never just trivial matters, but rather the first hurdle to overcome in the days to come.

The gatekeeper took the letter of introduction from Xiao Yao, glanced at it briefly, and then gestured towards the end of the corridor: "The personnel department is in the third room over there." Before he finished speaking, he had already retreated into the duty room and closed the creaking iron door behind him—the north wind outside was blowing snowflakes straight down his neck, making his teeth chatter from the cold.