Courtyard House: Starting with a 28-inch motorcycle

We do heavy physical labor; our minds have to be quick, and our bodies have to keep up too.

He paused, as if remembering something, then his eyes suddenly lit up: "The braised lion's head meatballs you made a few days ago were crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, bursting with juice with every bite; and that cheese, beef, and tomato pizza, the creamy aroma mixed with the meaty fragrance, it made me want to kneel down and thank Lenin! Could you... make those again?"

He spoke with great enthusiasm, as if he weren't eating, but reminiscing about a culinary feast.

He Yuzhu gave a wry smile, sat down next to him, and lowered his voice: "You wish."

"I also want to cook you all nice dishes every day, but reality won't allow it." He sighed, his tone becoming a bit somber. "Originally, with a food allowance of ten yuan per person per day, buying meat, eggs, and milk wouldn't have been a problem."

But now... it's down to seven pieces.

Three yuan a day adds up to ninety yuan a month. What can I do? Vegetables are cheap, keep well, and keep you full, so I can only cook more dishes.

"Seven pieces?" Sharif looked up abruptly, his face flushed. "This is blatant torture! We traveled all this way to help you with your technical problems, and we can't even get a decent piece of meat? What is this? Is this some kind of pressure tactic?!"

"Hey, don't get excited." He Yuzhu raised his hand to signal him to be quiet, and after looking around, he continued, "You think ten yuan is a lot? Let me tell you the truth, our leader's monthly salary is only four hundred, and he supports his whole family with just that little money."

"Your combined income is a quarter of what others earn; any higher, and the treasury would have collapsed long ago."

This statement is obviously somewhat exaggerated—the actual allocation was far less than ten yuan, which would only amount to a little over three or four yuan per person.

But He Yuzhu's culinary skills are extraordinary. He can cut potato shreds into such fine, delicate pieces that they hang on the plate like silver threads. He drizzles them with sauce, arranges them in a decorative way, and makes it feel like a state banquet.

In addition, the ingredients are used very efficiently, and even scraps can be turned into treasures, turning their impoverished lives into a food documentary.

Not to mention that these people also receive extra allowances and subsidies from the state, but they are not accounted for through the canteen's accounts.

"I passed by the leadership office the other day and overheard them whispering," He Yuzhu said, narrowing his eyes with a meaningful tone. "They said someone complained that you're 'keeping your technology too secretive,' and the higher-ups are starting to consider lowering the excessive benefits back to normal... After all, you can't just keep people on the payroll for nothing, can you?"

Sharif's face twitched, and his ears turned slightly red.

He knew who he was talking about—himself.

He consistently evaded the question of the operational details of those precision machine tools, citing "national security concerns."

But now it seems that they don't care about excuses at all, they only care about the results.

Cutting food allowances? What is this if not a warning?

"It's not that bad, actually." Seeing that the time was right, He Yuzhu immediately changed to a gentle tone. "We can still have a hearty meal in the evening, and have a lighter lunch, just to be healthy."

Besides, try this dish—even without meat, I can confidently say it's ten times better than what you'd find in restaurants.

Sharif picked up a piece of the cold wood ear mushroom salad with some skepticism, and his pupils contracted slightly the moment it entered his mouth—it was crisp and chewy, with a strong garlic aroma, spicy but not overpowering, and even had a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste.

He then tried the braised winter melon, which was soft, tender, and flavorful, with a sauce so thick it clung to the spoon.

Indeed, every bite is made with care.

Everyone else nodded in agreement as they ate, but after several rounds of vegetarian dishes, their chopsticks all reached for the few remaining plates of meat—sweet and sour pork, twice-cooked pork, and braised chicken—and they were gone in the blink of an eye.

They understood the Russian conversation just now.

The reduced food portions were not unexpected.

What truly impressed them was the former luxury: cheese, butter, and imported canned goods were served one after another, making them wonder if they had traveled back in time to a high-class Moscow hotel.

In China, however, ordinary working-class families can only afford to eat meat a few times a year.

And what about them? They've been here for less than a month, and they've had meat at almost every meal, eating until they can barely walk.

It is reasonable to revert to the "normal standard" now.

After the meal, Sharif was still dissatisfied.

Knowing that this matter was under Li Huaide's jurisdiction, he went straight to the office.

Just as he reached the door, he heard the phone ringing inside. Li Huaide was speaking in a low voice in Chinese:

"...The treatment should be gradually reduced, as quietly as possible...Yes, let's start by testing their reaction with the food...and observe for a while longer..."

Sharif froze, pressed against the door, and dared not move.

He knows a little Chinese, and although he can't communicate fluently, he didn't miss a single key word.

"Reduce," "test," "observe"—each word pierced the ear like a nail.

It turns out that He Yuzhu wasn't lying.

They came here to carry out a mission for the White Bears, and they will be staying for several more months.

If every day is like this – bland food at noon and barely enough to recover in the evening – he'll accept it.

But what if I have to cut back on the meat I eat at night too?

That wouldn't be worth it.

He stood in the shadows of the corridor, silent for a long time, weighing the options repeatedly in his mind.

Perhaps... we could teach them some non-core technologies? Like basic tuning and routine maintenance procedures? That way, it wouldn't be considered a leak of secrets, and we could maintain their salaries...

Once the thought arose, it could no longer be suppressed.

Sometimes, what pries open someone's mouth isn't guns or orders, but a plate of braised pork that's been delayed in coming to the table.

As long as he doesn't hand over the paper design drawings, and only reveals some practical information bit by bit during his lectures, he can at least give his superiors an explanation.

The next day, Sharif enjoyed another delicious vegetarian feast, his stomach was full and his heart was also racing.

He bypassed the stern-faced Director Zhang from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and went straight to the steel rolling mill to find Li Huaide.

"Director Li," Sharif said bluntly, "I can talk about some core technologies of machine tools—but only in class, not in writing them down."

You can have the technicians come and listen; I will try my best to teach them clearly.

However... the food needs to be restored to what it used to be.

Upon hearing this, Li Huaide almost burst out laughing.

Good heavens, He Yuzhu's "using stomach to attack the heart" tactic really worked! It's only been a few days, and the polar bear can't take it anymore!

He remained outwardly calm, but his brows furrowed into a knot. He even pulled out a "directive document" stamped with a red seal and waved it around, then sighed in a mocking manner: "This matter... I need to meet with the factory leaders. I'll give you an answer before tonight."

He turned and called He Yuzhu over, lowering his voice to say, "Yuzhu, you're really clever! Sharif has backed down! Hahaha!"

If it weren't for this kid's idea of ​​using food as a bargaining chip, how could they have pried open the mouth of a Soviet expert? Now things are great. Once this group of people have mastered the technology, not only can they imitate it, but they might even be able to modify and upgrade it, directly propelling China's industry forward by a giant leap!

This equipment isn't top-of-the-line in White Bear Country, but here it's a real treasure.

If it weren't for the expansion of the Third Steel Rolling Mill, the Ministry of Industry wouldn't have been willing to allocate even one machine.

Other factories can only watch longingly, unable to even see it.

He Yuzhu grinned: "Director, you can handle it as you see fit. I'm ready to go anytime."

"You really deserve credit this time!" Li Huaide patted his shoulder, but his smile suddenly faded a bit. "But let me make this clear—this matter can't be leaked. We have to wait until the foreigners have all left before we talk about it."

"Understood." He Yuzhu nodded. "This kind of thing can only be done secretly; it can't be publicly commended."

Otherwise, if word gets out, it could cause a huge diplomatic incident.

My relationship with my older brother is still strained; we're on the surface friendly, but secretly we're competing.

If the higher-ups found out that they were scheming against Soviet engineers, even if it was just exchanging a few meals for some technology, they could be accused of "damaging friendship."

He had no intention of taking credit.

Wise people don't need fame to achieve success.

Afterwards, Li Huaide convened a small meeting with Factory Director Yang, Deputy Factory Director Zhou, and Wang Shushu.

Several leaders had long known about what He Yuzhu was up to behind the scenes—such a big operation couldn't be kept secret without some tacit understanding.

After a secret discussion, Sharif's group's meals were immediately improved, with more oil and meat, and even desserts were served.

He Yuzhu also pulled out all the stops, bringing out a plate of freshly baked cream cake, its aroma of milk filling the air and its melt-in-your-mouth texture irresistible.

Several Soviet experts took a bite, their eyes lit up, and they exclaimed, "Das Vedad! This is even better than the ones in Moscow restaurants!"

Unfortunately, milk is expensive, and the ration is too small, making it impossible to supply it every day.

The foreigners were sensible; they just smacked their lips and accepted it.

However, He Yuzhu secretly kept a few pieces of cake—he shouldn't have taken them, but then he thought: these days, who gets to see fresh milk? Ordinary people don't even have tickets, and they can't even get close to it without going to the pigeon market.

He gritted his teeth and brought it home for his family to try.

Two pieces were left at the Rainwater, two were given to Master Li Yuanguo, and the remaining two were given to Bai Danyu so that her child could also have a taste.

Bai Danyu initially declined, her face turning red, but in the end she accepted the lunchbox and whispered a thank you.

Although there are Western-style pastry shops in Beijing, those places are exclusively for foreign guests.

Even cadres might not get to sit inside even once, let alone eat there.

Even if you manage to eat it, the taste is nowhere near as good as what He Yuzhu makes by hand—soft as a cloud, sweet but not cloying, with a milky aroma that lingers on the tongue, making you feel like you're floating on air after just one bite.

After finishing his meal, Yu Shui jumped up and down, clutching his lunchbox, exclaiming, "Brother! I'm taking this to school tomorrow! I want them all to see it!"

He Yuzhu immediately reprimanded her: "Showing off is fine, but remember to share some with your close classmates."

Don't try to take it all by yourself; it'll only make others envious.

These days, the word "unity" is harder than a steel knife.

The middle school she attended wasn't particularly prestigious to begin with, and if she were to flaunt her rare possessions every day, who knows what trouble she might cause.

He actually wanted to teach her some martial arts skills, both to improve her health and to help her defend herself.

But Yu Shui is lazy by nature. He has to urge her to study, and she practices martial arts only sporadically, so all she ends up doing is loosening her muscles.

On a weekend morning, sunlight streamed into the yard as the family finished breakfast.

He Yushui wiped her mouth, then suddenly looked up at her brother: "Brother, you should be alright today, right?"

Today, He Yuzhu will mostly be free at home, flipping through a book on mechanical repair, and taking a good rest for a couple of days.

"Brother, didn't you say you'd make me some clothes? Why don't we go get them done today?"