The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

Zhao Weiguo did not draw his gun.

He pulled a dark iron ruler out of his cotton-padded coat.

Snapped.

The iron ruler struck Jia Zhangshi's wrist with a crisp sound, like a frozen tile cracking.

Jia Zhangshi let out a scream, pulled her hand back to her chest, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"He's hitting someone! That brat from the Zhao family is hitting his elders!"

She plopped down on the ground, kicking her legs wildly, leaving sunflower seed shells stuck to her cotton trousers like a layer of dirty snow.

Several households in the courtyard suddenly appeared. Some were wearing cotton-padded coats, some were carrying bowls, and two neighbors squeezed into the courtyard gate to watch the commotion.

"Weiguo, why did you resort to violence, child?"

Yi Zhonghai entered through the hanging flower gate, carrying half a bundle of coal briquettes he had just bought. When he saw Jia Zhangshi on the ground and the iron ruler in Zhao Weiguo's hand, his brows immediately furrowed.

"Your Aunt Jia is an adult, and you're a child. If an adult says something to you, just listen."

Zhao Weiguo wiped the dust off the iron ruler onto the burlap sack.

"She struck first."

Jia Zhangshi clutched her wrist and raised her voice.

"I was teaching him! Is there no discipline in this place? Orphans are ill-mannered, I'm helping to discipline them, and he still dares to hit me!"

"Who gave you permission to interfere?"

Zhao Weiguo stared at her.

"Did I eat your food or live in your house?"

Jia Zhangshi paused for a moment, then slapped her thigh and howled.

Her son, Jia Dongxu, stood by the door, his face pale and thin, his fingers twisting the hem of his clothes, afraid to go forward.

Yan Bugui adjusted his tattered felt hat, his eyes darting between the faces of the group.

"Weiguo, you can't be so harsh. A close neighbor is worse than a distant relative. People in the same courtyard see each other all the time. If this blows up, it won't look good for anyone."

"Then don't reach out."

Zhao Weiguo put the sack down at his feet.

"Whoever reaches out, I'll hit them."

The courtyard was filled with the sound of gasps.

Yi Zhonghai put down the coal briquette and walked up to Zhao Weiguo. He was much taller than Zhao Weiguo, his blue cotton-padded jacket was covered in coal dust, and he had a stern look on his face.

"Weiguo, apologize to your Aunt Jia. Give her half of that bag of scrap metal. Let's call it even today."

Zhao Weiguo looked up, his gaze sweeping from Yi Zhonghai's chin to his eyes.

"What right do you have to take my things?"

Yi Zhonghai's face tightened.

"I'm doing this for your own good. You're young and don't understand social etiquette. We live in the same courtyard, so we should help each other out."

"Helping others is voluntary, not robbery."

Why are you so stubborn, kid?

Yi Zhonghai reached out to grab the opening of the sack.

The iron ruler clanged again.

This time, the blow landed on the back of Yi Zhonghai's hand.

Yi Zhonghai abruptly withdrew his hand, coal dust falling from his sleeve onto the blue brick floor. A bright red mark appeared on the back of his hand.

The courtyard was in complete chaos.

"They even hit the Yi family brat?"

"Has this kid from the Zhao family gone mad?!"

"Go call the police!"

Zhao Weiguo stood in front of the sack, his thin body blocking the pile of scrap iron. His cotton-padded coat was too short, and his exposed wrists were blue with cold, but he held the iron ruler firmly without shaking.

"Call."

He glanced at the courtyard gate.

"It's a good opportunity for the patrol officers to ask who stole the orphanage's belongings."

Yi Zhonghai's expression changed.

Jia Zhangshi's wailing also subsided by half.

Yan Bugui coughed and pulled back the foot he had just stepped out.

These days, street police don't meddle in other people's business, but when it comes to "orphan's property," nobody wants to get involved. Especially since the Zhao family's old house has a deed, and Zhao's father used to work in the Ordnance Bureau for a few years, the old folks in the neighborhood all know that the Zhao family isn't an outcast.

A series of pattering footsteps came from the front yard.

A short, stocky boy peeked out from the moon gate.

"What's all the noise about?"

He Yuzhu.

There was still a bit of oil on the corner of his mouth. When he saw Jia Zhangshi on the ground and then the iron ruler in Zhao Weiguo's hand, he immediately grinned.

"Hey, Zhao Weiguo, you're pretty arrogant."

Zhao Weiguo glanced at him.

"Go back and chop your scallions."

He Yuzhu stiffened his neck.

"It's none of your business! I just love watching the excitement."

"Excitement can lead to bloodshed."

He Yuzhu froze, the words stuck between his teeth. He gripped the scallion tightly, took a half step back, then felt ashamed and stopped abruptly.

"For this bag of scrap metal?"

"Even scrap metal is mine."

Zhao Weiguo hoisted the sack onto his shoulder.

He Yuzhu scratched his head.

"That's true. Whoever finds it keeps it."

Jia Zhangshi's eyes widened.

"You silly Zhu, have you gotten confused from eating noodles?"

"I'm not stupid!"

He Yuzhu's face turned red.

"My name is He Yuzhu!"

Someone in the courtyard chuckled, then immediately stifled it.

Zhao Weiguo didn't laugh. He walked past He Yuzhu, his shoe crushing a frozen sunflower seed shell.

"Remember what you said."

He Yuzhu frowned.

Which sentence?

"Whoever finds it keeps it."

Zhao Weiguo entered the north room of his house.

As the door opened, a musty smell wafted out. The window paper had three holes in it, a corner of the kang (a heated brick bed) had collapsed, and an old tool rack left by Zhao's father hung on the wall, containing files, a hand drill, and a small hammer with a broken handle, all covered in dust.

He dumped the sack on the ground.

The rusted iron shattered and crashed with a dull thud.

In my mind, the pale blue panel silently lit up.

[Scrap steel: 37.6 jin]

[Initial mission progress: 75%]

[Hint: Repairable tool detected - Hand-cranked grinder remnant]

Zhao Weiguo squatted down and dragged a wooden box out from under the bed. He opened the lid, and dust hit his face. Without blinking, he rummaged through a pile of old things and pulled out half a rusty grinding wheel holder.

Outside the courtyard, Jia Zhangshi was still cursing. Yi Zhonghai tried to persuade her in a low voice, while Yan Bugui was reprimanding her as if calculating.

Zhao Weiguo placed the grinding wheel stand on the table, then picked up the iron ruler, his eyes reflecting the shadowy figures moving outside the window paper.

"Are you done arguing?"

There was complete silence outside the door.

He pulled back the latch, and the door opened a hand's width.

"You came in as scrap metal before you finished arguing."