Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

When Aunt Zhang led the child into the courtyard, He Yuzhu was helping the deaf old lady air out her quilts. The sunlight made the quilts fluffy, and he raised his hand to pat them, the dust swirling in the beams of light.

She pushed the child forward and stood under the hanging flower gate. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

The child was five or six years old, thin, with large, almost empty eyes. He wore a faded white shirt with sleeves that were too short, revealing wrists as thin as hemp stalks.

"Zhu Zi, your aunt wants to say a few words to you."

He Yuzhu tucked the quilt in and dusted off his hands: "Aunt Zhang, come inside and sit down."

Aunt Zhang didn't move.

"Let's talk here." She glanced around. Yan Bugui was picking vegetables by the door, his ears perked up. She lowered her voice, but couldn't hide her slight tremor: "Your Uncle Zhang has been gone for five years. The factory's pension was kept by an old man who said he'd give it to him when the children are older. For the past five years, I've done odd jobs, swept the streets, pasted matchboxes, done all sorts of work. The children want some meat, and I..."

She swallowed hard, but didn't continue.

He Yuzhu looked at her.

"Where's the money?"

Aunt Zhang's eyes reddened: "I asked Uncle Zhang several times. He said he lent it to someone in the yard who needed it urgently, and it would be returned in two years. Last month, I couldn't bear it anymore, so I went to ask again, and he said..." She paused, swallowed, "He said the money was long gone, the Jia family borrowed it to build a house, and they haven't returned it in five years. He also said that your Uncle Zhang's workstation, which the factory was taking care of the families of martyrs, was originally supposed to be reserved for me, but Uncle Zhang decided to sell it, saying it was 'allocated' to Jia Dongxu."

He Yushui, who was picking vegetables nearby, stopped and looked up. There was a patch on the child's jacket, the stitches crooked and uneven.

Yu Shui stood up, walked to He Yuzhu's side, and tugged at his sleeve.

"elder brother."

He Yuzhu looked down at her. Her eyes were red.

"Take Aunt Zhang inside first," He Yuzhu said. "I'm going to the neighborhood office."

Old Sun from the neighborhood office spent a long time flipping through the files and finally pulled out a yellowed piece of paper from the bottom of the cabinet.

In March 1952, Zhang Aimin's death certificate was issued. Attached was a pension payment slip, the amount clearly stated: 3 yuan. Below was the recipient's signature, three crooked characters: Yi Zhonghai.

"This matter was coordinated by the hospital back then." Old Sun pushed the file over, "They said an old man would keep it for her and pay interest regularly. The martyr's family also agreed and signed the papers."

He Yuzhu stared at the paper.

"She was never in school. That signature was made by Yi Zhonghai, who had her put her fingerprint on it; he signed it on her behalf."

Old Sun didn't reply, but instead lit a cigarette.

"What about the workstation?"

Old Sun flipped through another document: "The workstations are for the families of martyrs, but the families must be able to work. Aunt Zhang was taking care of her child at the time, and the factory said she couldn't work, so they reassigned her to someone else. It's not written here who she was reassigned to."

He Yuzhu held the document to the window and took a picture with the miniature camera. The shutter clicked very softly, like a mouse gnawing on wood.

That evening, He Yuzhu went to Yi Zhonghai's house.

An old man was sitting at the octagonal table drinking tea, the enamel mug steaming. When he saw He Yuzhu come in, he paused for a moment, then quickly put on a smile.

"Zhu Zi is here? Sit down, sit down."

He Yuzhu did not sit down.

"Uncle, is Uncle Zhang's compensation of 370 yuan still there?"

Yi Zhonghai's expression changed, like a corner of an old cloth being lifted by the wind.

"That money was entrusted to me by Aunt Zhang for safekeeping back then. There's a rule in the courtyard that everything, big or small, should be discussed and decided together. That money was later lent to the Jia family because they needed it urgently to build a house. They said it would be a two-year loan with interest paid in full. Who knew it would be a five-year loan with not a single penny returned?"

He paused, picked up the jar, took a sip, and glanced at it from the edge.

"Zhu Zi, I'm doing this for the good of the courtyard. We can't just watch the Jia family have no place to live, can we? Our courtyard is a community, and helping each other is what we should do. You've just come back, so there are some things you don't understand yet. As the elder, I have to take care of these things."

He Yuzhu didn't speak, he just looked at him.

Yi Zhonghai put down the jar and tapped his fingers lightly on the table twice: "Besides, that money was a loan, not embezzlement. If the Jia family pays it back, I'll give Aunt Zhang every penny."

"Where's your workstation?"

Yi Zhonghai's hand paused.

"The workstation issue was a factory decision. Since Aunt Zhang couldn't work, the factory reassigned her to someone else. What does it have to do with me?"

He Yuzhu took the photo out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

"He was reassigned to Jia Dongxu. You signed the papers."

Yi Zhonghai glanced down, his face slowly stiffening. The sound of a child crying came from outside the window, but was quickly soothed.

After a long pause, he raised his head, his lips moved, and his voice lowered: "Zhuzi, you don't understand. If that workstation were vacant, the factory would have taken it back. Giving it to Jia Dongxu, at least it's still in our yard. You've seen the Jia family's situation; Jia Dongxu needs a job so his family can survive. As for Aunt Zhang… I was thinking of waiting until the Jia family recovered before making up for the money. Who knew…"

He didn't say anything more, resting his hands on his knees with his shoulders slumped.

He Yuzhu put the photo back into his pocket.

"There's a hospital-wide meeting tomorrow night. Sir, you can tell us then."

The next night, the courthouse was packed with people.

Aunt Zhang stood in the corner, holding her child. The child leaned against her legs, eyes wide open, watching the adults. He Yushui squatted on the edge of the steps, hugging her knees, silent.

Yi Zhonghai stood in the middle of the crowd, his face still bearing that "for the good of the hospital" expression, but the flesh at the corner of his eye was twitching involuntarily.

He Yuzhu stood opposite him.

He took out the stack of documents and read them aloud one by one. The certificate of sacrifice. The pension payment slip. Yi Zhonghai's signature. The date of the loan from the Jia family. The workstation reassignment document. All the signatures were Yi Zhonghai's.

After reading the last document, he put it down and looked at Yi Zhonghai.

"Sir, do you have anything else to say?"

The courtyard was so quiet you could hear the hum of the light bulbs.

Yi Zhonghai opened his mouth, then closed it again. He raised his head and looked around at the people—Yan Bugui, Liu Haizhong, Auntie San, and Old Sun from the backyard. Their gazes pressed down on him like a wall.

"I..." he began, his voice a little hoarse, "I, Yi Zhonghai, have been in this compound for twenty years and have never taken a single penny from the public. I did something foolish in this matter. But I was thinking that our compound is a collective, and we can't just stand by and watch one family in trouble without helping. The money was lent out, not pocketed by me. Aunt Zhang, I'm sorry."

He turned to Aunt Zhang and bent down.

Aunt Zhang didn't say anything, but hugged the child even tighter.

Yan Bugui, standing to the side, adjusted his glasses and said, "Uncle, you've done something wrong. How can you lend money to the families of martyrs so casually? Borrowing it for five years and not paying it back—what's the difference between that and corruption?"

Liu Haizhong snorted: "I knew it. One person can't make all the decisions in the courtyard."

Madam Jia Zhang squeezed through the crowd, her face flushed, and pointed at He Yuzhu: "Stop pretending to be a good person! That money was borrowed, it's not like I'm not going to pay it back! What do you, a mere brat, know about things in the courtyard?"

He Yuzhu looked at her.

"You've been paying it back for five years, have you finished?"

Jia Zhangshi choked.

"Well...isn't your family short of money? If you're so capable, why don't you pay it off for me?"

The deaf old woman stood up from the threshold and slammed her cane heavily on the ground.

"That's enough!"

The courtyard fell silent for a second.

The old lady looked at Yi Zhonghai, her voice not loud, but every word was firm and resolute.

"Old Yi, you've been a big shot in this compound for twenty years, and I respect you for being a capable person. But this time, did you even act like a human being? Zhang Aimin sacrificed himself for the factory; his money and his job were for his wife and children. What right do you have to use them to help others? If you're going to help others, use your own money!"

Yi Zhonghai's face turned a deep purplish-red, his lips trembled, and he remained silent.

Before Jia Zhangshi could speak, He Yuzhu turned around and looked at her.

"Return the money to Aunt Zhang within three days. Move out of the house from the Zhang family's. If you cause any more trouble, I'll send you to the police station."

Jia Zhangshi's mouth was open, but she didn't make a sound. She took a step back, then another, and disappeared into the crowd.

No one spoke in the courtyard.

Yi Zhonghai stood there with his head down, like an old tree struck by lightning. After a while, he slowly turned around and walked home. His steps were slow, and his back was hunched.

The crowd gradually dispersed. Yan Bugui patted He Yuzhu's arm as he left, saying nothing. Liu Haizhong walked away, hands behind his back, shaking his head.

He Yushui was still squatting on the steps, looking in the direction of Yi Zhonghai's house.

He Yuzhu walked over and squatted down next to her.

"What are you thinking about?"

He Yushui shook her head, and after a while said, "Brother, Grandpa wasn't like this before. When I was little, he used to give me candy."

He Yuzhu did not respond.

In the distance, the door to Yi Zhonghai's house was closed, and the lights were off.

That night, He Yuzhu sat in his room and watched the system interface pop up:

[Side Quest 2: Dignity of Martyrs' Families Completed]

[Mission Reward Points: +250,000]

[Current total points: 44,830,000]

He ignored that number.

Outside the window, the sound of things being smashed came from Jia Zhangshi's room, but no one went out to see what was happening.

He Yushui poked half her head in through the crack in the door.

"Brother, Aunt Zhang said thank you."

He Yuzhu nodded.

He Yushui looked at him, seemed to want to say something, but then didn't, and pulled her head back.

He sat there alone, and heard someone calling children home to sleep from the alleyway in the distance.