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

Several faces were squeezed through the crack in the door.

Jia Zhangshi's mouth was still open, but her throat seemed frozen. Yi Zhonghai covered the back of his hand, his eyes swept across the room, landing on the pile of scrap metal and old tools, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

Yan Bugui tucked his neck into his cotton collar and gave a dry laugh.

"Weiguo, it's just a child's talk, don't take it to heart. Everyone's just concerned about you."

Zhao Weiguo opened the door another half foot.

"If you're concerned, stand back a bit, don't block the light."

The dim daylight filtered through the torn window paper and shone on the grinding wheel holder on the table. The rusted bearing seat had a crack, the crank handle was missing, and only half of the grinding wheel remained, its edges chipped and broken.

He Yuzhu peeked out from between the people, his nose red from the cold.

"Why are you fixing this? To sharpen a knife?"

"Sharpen what needs sharpening."

Zhao Weiguo turned back to the table, poured a few iron nails into a broken bowl, and then picked out a thin shaft from the pile of scrap iron. His fingers were small but steady; his fingertips pressed against the broken edge of the iron piece, like a doctor feeling bone.

Yi Zhonghai couldn't resist taking a step inside the door.

"This shaft is ruined; the crack has gone inside. If you use it as a crank, it'll break after just two turns."

The iron ruler slammed against the edge of the table.

Yi Zhonghai stopped.

Zhao Weiguo did not look up.

"Is that how your master taught you?"

Yi Zhonghai blushed.

"Does this even need a master to teach it? Even a blind man could see it."

"A blind man can only see the surface."

Zhao Weiguo picked up the thin shaft, rubbed some black ash on the burnt wick of the oil lamp, and then scraped away the rust with a knife. A sliver of dark light shone through the gray-black surface, the fine lines resembling veins beneath a frozen river.

"This is axle material, not a door bolt. The outside is cracked, but the core is still usable."

There was a brief silence outside.

He Yuzhu blinked.

How did you know?

"look."

Zhao Weiguo handed the broken axle to the door, but didn't let go.

He Yuzhu craned his neck to look for a long time, his face completely bewildered.

"It still looks like iron to me."

Yan Bugui's lips twitched; he wanted to laugh but was afraid of the iron ruler.

Yi Zhonghai stared at the broken shaft, his initial disdain gradually fading. He reached out, about to touch it, when Zhao Weiguo pulled his wrist back.

"If you want to learn, trade something for it."

Yi Zhonghai's hand froze in mid-air.

"We're all in the same building, and you want me to charge you for asking a couple of questions?"

"When you offered to give me half a bag of iron, you didn't mention paying me."

Yi Zhonghai pursed his lips.

Jia Zhangshi snorted from behind.

"He's treating this piece of junk like it's a treasure. Dongxu, come on, don't be fooled by his monkey act."

Jia Dongxu stumbled slightly as she pulled him. He glanced back at the pile of tools on the table, a hint of reluctance in his eyes, before being quickly dragged back into the house by Jia Zhangshi.

Two people were missing from the doorway, but the cold wind seemed even harsher. Zhao Weiguo closed the door halfway, leaving only a crack for passing things through.

He disassembled the grinding wheel holder; the broken nut was stuck shut, having never been oiled in years, and tightening it felt like chewing sand. Zhao Weiguo took a small pinch of wood ash from the edge of the stove, mixed it with half a drop of lamp oil, smeared it on the threads, and gently tapped it three times with the back of an iron ruler.

Click.

The nut is loose.

He Yuzhu exclaimed "Whoa!"

"That's an interesting move."

Zhao Weiguo put the nut into the bowl.

"Is dinner ready at home?"

He Yuzhu slapped his forehead with his short hand.

"Oh no, my dad's going to beat me when he gets back!"

He ran a few steps, then turned back and stuffed half a hard, dry steamed bun into the crack in the door.

"You gave me a cookie earlier. Here, take this back."

Zhao Weiguo looked at the half-eaten steamed bun, which still had some chopped scallions on it. He didn't take it immediately.

He Yuzhu was embarrassed and raised his voice.

"Fine, then!"

Zhao Weiguo reached out and accepted it.

"The accounts are settled."

He Yuzhu grinned, turned around, and ran through the moon gate.

Yi Zhonghai was still standing.

He watched as Zhao Weiguo placed the half-eaten steamed bun on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and then noticed several nuts and bolts arranged in a straight line according to size on the table. His gaze darkened.

"Weiguo, you really know how to fix grinding wheels?"

Zhao Weiguo straightened a bent nail with a small hammer.

"We'll know once it's fixed."

"No one in your family taught you these things before."

"I have enough to keep me busy."

Yi Zhonghai stared at the old tool rack on the wall. The files there had different wear marks; coarse-toothed files and fine-toothed files hung on opposite sides, and half a yellowed sheet of paper was tucked next to the hand drill. The corner of the paper was torn by dampness, revealing only a few blurry dimension lines.

A slight itch flashed in Yi Zhonghai's eyes.

"Could I see that picture?"

Zhao Weiguo looked up.

"cannot."

"I'll just take a look."

"Even the eyes can steal things."

Yi Zhonghai's face darkened, the red mark on the back of his hand still burning. He took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, and pulled out two copper coins from his pocket, placing them on the threshold.

"I'll buy a pound of your scrap metal."

Zhao Weiguo glanced at it.

"One pound of iron, three pieces."

"The scrap yard outside only has two."

"Then go buy it outside."

Yi Zhonghai gritted his teeth, took out another coin, dropped it with a clink, and spun halfway around the threshold.

Zhao Weiguo picked out a piece of pot rim from the pile of scrap metal, weighed it in his hand, and handed it over.

"It's less than a pound, consider it an apology for what you just did."

Yi Zhonghai took the edge of the pot, his knuckles clenched white.

"You'll get what's coming to you sooner or later."

Zhao Weiguo sat back down at the table, picked up a small file, and the file teeth bit into the iron surface, making a fine rustling sound.

"Only those who suffer losses like to advise others to suffer losses."

Yi Zhonghai stood there for a few moments, then turned and left. The heads of those who had been watching the commotion in the courtyard also shrank back, though shadows still flickered behind the window paper.

Zhao Weiguo bolted the door.

The room was filled with the smells of iron filings, mold, and the sour wheat aroma of half a steamed bun. He took a bite of the bun, the hard crumbs grinding against his teeth, but his other hand didn't stop. He clamped the broken axle into the crack of the wooden stool and slowly filed out a new groove.

A blue panel appeared before my eyes.

[Repairable tool: Remnant of a hand-cranked grinder]

Materials needed: 5 kg of scrap steel, one usable shaft, and three fixing nuts.

[The following will be enabled after repair: Basic cold-working components]

Zhao Weiguo pushed the three nuts into the lamplight and looked at the pile of scrap metal. Suddenly, a bugle call came from afar outside the window, short and harsh, like a piece of metal scraping through the night.

He stopped filing and listened for two seconds.

Someone was banging heavily on the gate.

"Is Zhao Weiguo here? Company Commander Zhou from the 29th Army is looking for him!"