Courtyard Houses: The Great Masters of a Nation Hidden Within

Chapter 27, Part 1: Homesickness; A Girl Now Listens to Music in the Courtyard

After Gao Jianguo left Wang Tiezhu's place, Wang Tiezhu couldn't sit still at home and kept muttering to himself.

"No, we need to find a wife for the old platoon leader quickly. If we keep delaying, my daughter might end up with him."

Wan Yueying smiled and shook her head, helpless against her husband's childish temper.

Wang Tiezhu turned his head and asked Wan Yueying, "Hey, among the young teachers at your school, are there any suitable ones?"

Wan Yueying pondered for a while.

"There's a new high school student who's quite young, good-looking, and has a composed yet gentle personality... "

Wang Tiezhu got excited.

"Hmm, this is good. It's a good match for our old platoon leader. But what? You should at least say it all."

"The ingredients aren't very good."

Upon hearing the word "class status," Wang Tiezhu's initial enthusiasm vanished completely.

"Never mind then, we can't push the old platoon leader into the pit."

If Gao Jianguo were standing here, he would probably jump up in anger over this scene.

"Don't be like that, I actually like people with bad political backgrounds."

Early Sunday morning, Gao Jianguo was there for the lottery draw. After washing his hands, he silently chanted a prayer.

"System, draw a prize."

I pulled out that document from the repository and flipped through it. It was one of the military standards that the country would be using in the future, the kind that wasn't classified, and it didn't contain much information.

Gao Jianguo's eyes lit up more and more as he looked at the sample. He had just been thinking about trying one out when the sample was handed to him. This wasn't a lottery; it was practically free information.

After drawing the prize, Gao Jianguo combed his hair, slung his bag over his shoulder, and went out the door.

Today is Sunday, and he plans to go out and buy some things.

The broken radio I got from the consignment shop when I first came here has been sitting there untouched.

I took a moment to check and found that the primary winding of the transformer had burned out.

He could fix it himself, but this transformer has a shell-type iron core and is a step-down transformer. To remove the primary winding, he would have to completely remove the secondary winding, which would mean rewinding the entire transformer. It was too much trouble, and he was too lazy to put in the effort.

Gao Jianguo then thought of going out on the street to buy a ready-made transformer.

If you really can't find a suitable one, then find a usable capacitor and use the capacitor to step down the voltage instead of the transformer.

While I was at it, I also spent the bicycle ticket on it.

Buying a bicycle was straightforward, and the salesperson didn't give me a hard time or act arrogantly.

Back then, the words "No hitting or scolding customers" were actually printed in the sales clerk's handbook at the supply and marketing cooperative.

Getting the official stamp stamped was quick and easy; Xiao Liu from the police station led the way, and he was the one who registered Gao Jianguo's household registration.

The transformer purchase went smoothly; I found a perfect one at the electronics and hardware store in Dongzhimen.

Turning into the consignment shop, my eyes fell on the broken phonograph, and I was instantly glued to it.

He can extract the phonograph from the system, but if he tries to get a portable MP3 player from the system, this old relic will come out.

The root of the problem is still the issue of ration coupons; their illegitimate origins make them difficult to justify.

There were several records playing alongside the phonograph, one of which dragged Gao Jianguo's soul back to his previous life, stirring up an indescribable feeling in his heart.

I can never go back to that old home.

This record is Dvořák's Symphony No. 9 in E minor, titled "From the New World".

It's not that the piece truly touched his homesickness; to be honest, the work contains a mix of elements and isn't entirely about longing for home.

This song reminded him of the days in his past life when he would spend his time in front of the computer reading online novels.

Gao Jianguo was determined to acquire all the phonographs and records.

He couldn't say whether he wanted to cling to a trace of his past life or erect a monument to it; in any case, he just wanted to take it all back.

These two thoughts were swirling in my chest, impossible to distinguish.

Gao Jianguo paid the money and started pedaling his bicycle back home with the goods on it.

Yan Bugui called out to him from the courtyard, but he didn't even bother to reply and rushed into the house.

The door wasn't even properly closed. He fumbled around in his hands, winding up the gramophone and putting on the record of "From the New World."

Just then, a young woman walked over to the gate of Gao Jianguo's courtyard house.

She looked to be around twenty years old, wearing a light blue trench coat, with short hair and an oval face that looked both dignified and elegant.

His eyes were bright, but beneath the light lay an inexplicable bewilderment as he surveyed the courtyard.

The girl herself didn't understand how she ended up at the gate of this courtyard.

Ever since she found out that her mother had such thoughts about her marriage, her mind had been in turmoil. This was not the path she had wanted, but it was the path her mother thought she had chosen for her.

Her father shook his head at her mother's idea, which made the girl even more anxious.

She only wanted to clear her head, but her legs led her to this place she had only heard about from her mother once.

She didn't intend to meet the person her mother mentioned whom she didn't recognize; she just wanted to see what this place looked like.

This courtyard left her stunned. It wasn't the first time she'd been there; the world itself felt off to her, somehow somehow at odds with her own experiences.

In that moment of distraction, the phonograph played Dvořák's "From the New World".

The familiar melody drifted over, making the girl feel a little warm inside. Her feet involuntarily turned to the right, following the direction of the sound.

The door was ajar, and the girl pushed it open and went inside.

The room was warm and cozy, and I felt comfortable all over.

Looking inside, amidst the music, a tall, thin young man had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes slightly red.

The girl glanced at the album title, then at the young man's smug expression, and finally asked the question that had been weighing on her mind.

Are you homesick?

The young man was pulled out of his daze by the sudden voice. He turned around, a smile on his face, and looked at the girl, responding with a sound.

"Um."

His smile was warm and inviting, but his eyes were like knives.

The girl felt relieved, as if the courtyard wasn't so distant from her anymore, and her mischievous spirit resurfaced, causing her to tilt her head to one side.

"Really? It doesn't look like it."

"Why doesn't it look like it?"

"Shouldn't I listen to the second movement if I really miss home?"

"Because I just moved back, I haven't turned to the second movement yet."

"It's right here."

The girl was very skilled; she gently placed the needle at the beginning of the second movement.

That's right, this music can be played directly from wherever you want to hear it.

Neither of them said a word; they just stood there listening.

As the third movement began, the young man turned his face toward the girl.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it, where do you work?"

"From a steel rolling mill."