Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

The once empty wasteland east of the Drum Tower has now been completely transformed. Dozens of roughly constructed "earthen houses" made of red bricks, yellow mud, and firebricks are scattered across the scorched ground, like giant beasts billowing smoke and flames.

The air was scorching and polluted, a mixture of strong sulfur smells, pungent smoke from burning coke, a burnt smell from smelting metal, and the sour smell of human sweat, creating a suffocating heat wave that swept over us.

The massive, manually operated blower emitted a deep, rumbling roar, forcibly blasting air into the furnace. The fire roared, and the scorching heat could be felt from a great distance.

The firelight illuminated faces covered in soot, drenched in sweat, and displaying a variety of expressions: some faces were flushed and excited by the firelight; some were numb and exhausted, working mechanically; and some, like Liu Haizhong, were trying to impress the street officials and pointing fingers.

"Quick! Over here! We're running out of scrap iron! Hurry up and bring over those lumps of iron we've collected over there!" "Power up the blowers! The fire isn't hot enough! How can we get molten iron if the temperature doesn't go up?" "Watch out, it's hot! Move aside! Slag is coming out!" All sorts of hoarse shouts, the clanging of metal clashing, the roar of the blowers, the crackling of burning firewood... all blended into a deafening symphony of the frenzied steelmaking campaign of 1958.

As soon as the people from the courtyard house arrived, they were immediately assigned tasks by the street office leaders. Three elderly men, Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui, were responsible for coordination and "supervision." Sha Zhu, Xu Damao, Wei Chen, and several other strong young men were assigned to the most arduous and demanding task: moving piles of scrap metal of various shapes and rusty textures—collected from various places and piled up at the edge of the site—to the various furnaces. Among these were quite a few still-usable iron pots, farm tools, and even door knockers.

Jia Dongxu and several other workers who had exhausted themselves in the workshop during the day were assigned to crank the blower or poke the furnace with a long iron spatula, which were also physically demanding jobs.

Wei Chen mingled in the crowd, hoisting a lump of cast iron that weighed at least a hundred pounds. It was heavy in his hands, and the sharp edges made his shoulders ache.

The scorching air burned my lungs as I inhaled it, and sweat instantly poured from my forehead and temples, streaming down my cheeks and stinging my eyes.

He secretly circulated a barely perceptible wisp of internal energy within his body, dispelling the unbearable heat, while simultaneously skillfully adjusting his breathing rhythm and muscle exertion.

On the surface, he appeared just like everyone else, his steps heavy, his back drenched in sweat, and he would occasionally wipe his face with his dirty sleeve. But in reality, his endurance, strength, and ability to regulate his body temperature far surpassed that of ordinary people. He deliberately controlled his speed and breathing, making himself appear "normally" tired so as not to stand out too much.

"Hey! You little brat! Watch where you're going!" Sha Zhu's gruff voice rang out from the side. He was carrying an even bigger iron weight, his steps steady, a testament to the arm and waist strength he'd developed from tossing ladles in the cafeteria. He glared at Xu Damao, who had almost bumped into him.

Xu Damao shrank back, his neck shrinking back at the insults. He was carrying a pile of small, scrap metal, lighter in weight, but more fragmented and uncomfortable. He was exhausted, but he still wouldn't back down: "Silly Zhu, what are you yelling about! If you're so capable, carry mine too!"

"With your physique like a little chick? You're panting like this after carrying two pieces of scrap metal? You're a disgrace!" Sha Zhu sneered disdainfully, deliberately quickening his pace to leave Xu Damao behind.

"You!" Xu Damao glared angrily, but there was nothing he could do. He could only mutter a few curses under his breath. He glanced at Wei Chen not far away and saw that he was engrossed in his work and did not seem to notice the argument. He felt a little disappointed, but also a little relieved that he had not lost face in front of his "potential ally".

Jia Dongxu's situation was even worse. He was in charge of operating an old-fashioned manual blower, which required him to continuously and forcefully crank the handle to drive the huge blades to blow air into the furnace.

After standing at the fitter's bench for eight hours during the day, his arms were already sore and weak, and now they felt like they were filled with lead. Sweat soaked through his thin work clothes, clinging tightly to his back. With each exertion of force, the muscles in his arms trembled uncontrollably. His face was pale, his lips were dry and cracked, and his eyes were somewhat unfocused.

The waves of heat emanating from the nearby stove scorched him, making him dizzy. Several times he wanted to stop and catch his breath, but the stern gaze of the street officials and the figure of Liu Haizhong with his hands behind his back "supervising" him forced him to grit his teeth and endure it.

Wei Chen worked silently, his gaze sweeping over the faces that, illuminated by the firelight, showed signs of weariness, numbness, excitement, or pain.

He saw Yi Zhonghai inspecting the various furnace rooms with a solemn expression, occasionally talking in hushed tones with the street cadres; he saw Liu Haizhong, with his belly protruding, pointing and gesturing seriously at a young man who was cranking a blower a little too slowly, talking with spittle flying as he talked about "revolutionary will" and "overcoming difficulties".

Uncle Yan Bugui had somehow slipped away to the relatively cooler supplies registration area, where he chatted idly with the old man in charge of registration, occasionally glancing symbolically at the busy crowd.

This is what 58 years have been like. This is what it means for ordinary people to be swept up by the tide of history.

The slogans were deafening, and the enthusiasm was like a furnace, but what supported this steel dream was the sweat and physical strength of countless ordinary people who overdrawn their energy.

The complex feelings in Wei Chen's heart became clearer. All he could do was try his best to protect his small, newly built nest, as well as his mother and sister who were far away in the countryside, in this torrent.

Carrying the iron block, he walked steadily toward the next "earthen basket" belching thick smoke, unloading the heavy burden on his shoulders, just as he would the responsibilities bestowed upon him by this absurd and heavy era, heavily beside the furnace.

Three hours, scorching from the furnace and pushing their physical limits, felt like an eternity. When the street office officials finally blew the whistle to signal the end of the workday, the entire steelmaking site seemed to have lost its backbone, collapsing instantly.

The previous clamor was replaced by a chorus of panting, coughing, and the clanging of metal mallets hitting the ground. No one cheered; there was only a deathly silence of relief and a weariness that permeated to the very core.

The people in the courtyard, like a group of shadows just crawling out of a coal pile, dragged their legs that seemed not to belong to them, silently gathered together, and led by three old men, embarked on their journey back to the courtyard, one step at a time.

No one spoke. Even the usually argumentative Sha Zhu and Xu Damao were silent, only able to catch their breath. Jia Dongxu was practically being dragged along, clinging to Wang Qiang's arm, his face ashen and his eyes vacant.

Wei Chen also deliberately slowed down, slightly hunched his back, and breathed a little heavily, perfectly blending into the exhausted group.

The dim streetlights cast long, then short, shadows of the silent, staggering group on the empty street. A night breeze blew, carrying a hint of coolness, but it couldn't dispel the heavy, mingled smell of smoke and sweat on their clothes.

Finally, the familiar gatehouse of Hongxing Courtyard came into view.

Reaching the main gate, Wei Chen stopped and addressed the three elderly men in charge, his voice tinged with just the right amount of hoarseness and weariness: "Uncle, Uncle, I won't go back to the courtyard yet. My house is newly built, still empty and dusty inside, and the carpentry work will take a few days, so it's uninhabitable. I'll have to go back to the factory dormitory for a few days this week."

Yi Zhonghai nodded, looking tired. "Okay, I got it. Be careful on the road." Liu Haizhong grunted in response, clearly still upset about being interrupted at the start of the journey, and didn't bother to reply.

Yan Bugui adjusted his glasses and asked with concern (or perhaps calculation), "Is the dormitory far? Do you want Zhuzi to give you a ride on his bike?"

"No need, no need, Uncle, it's not far. My bicycle is in the yard." Wei Chen quickly waved his hand to refuse.

Wei Chen returned to the east courtyard, took out his bicycle, bid farewell to everyone, and turned to ride towards the steel mill dormitory area. His figure quickly disappeared into the dim shadows of the streets and alleys.

He walked a few hundred meters and turned into a dead-end alleyway filled with debris and coal, devoid of streetlights. Wei Chen stopped and listened intently. The alley was deathly silent, save for the faint sound of wheels on the distant main street. He walked to the deepest corner, his mind instantly focusing. He entered the hunter's hut.

Silently, the dilapidated alleyway before him rippled and vanished like waves. The next moment, soft, bright light enveloped him. Beneath his feet lay smooth, warm solid wood flooring, and the air was filled with a fresh, delicate scent of herbs and trees. In an instant, he had switched from the sweltering, polluted summer night of Beijing to this tranquil space, warm and humid, imbued with a modern, technological feel.

The overwhelming fatigue receded like a tide. Wei Chen exhaled a long, incredibly comfortable breath, as if to completely expel the sulfur and soot remaining in his lungs.

He took off his work clothes, which were covered in black ash and smelled of sweat, and casually threw them into the automatic washing machine in the corner.

Barefoot, his feet touched the cool, smooth floor as he walked straight into the spacious, bright, modern bathroom. The motion-sensor lights turned on automatically, soft and not glaring.

He stood under the huge showerhead, too lazy to even press the switch—the water flow turned on automatically, the temperature was the most comfortable I could remember, and the strong and even water flow was like countless gentle fingers, washing away the black ash, sweat stains and that nauseating mixed smell clinging to his hair, neck and every inch of his skin.

The hot water washed away his fatigue and the heaviness brought on by witnessing the absurdity of the era. Wei Chen closed his eyes, feeling the comfort of the water flowing over his skin. This sanctuary, independent of the times, was his greatest reliance and the source of his clarity and strength.

After showering, Wei Chen wrapped himself in a soft, fluffy bathrobe and entered the spacious and tranquil bedroom. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the Hunter's Lodge system simulated a perpetually serene and beautiful forest night. The smart mattress automatically adjusted to provide the most comfortable support based on his body shape. He sank into the soft, fluffy down comforter, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Outside, it was the noisy, frenzied, and weary night of 1958. Here, however, was a tranquil, comfortable, and eternal haven that belonged only to him.

Wei Chen closed his eyelids, his consciousness quickly sinking into the dreamless darkness. Tomorrow, new challenges and the "daily life" of this era awaited him. But at this moment, he only wanted to fall into a deep, safe sleep in this sanctuary.