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

He Yuzhu placed the cloth bag on the table and stared at it for a long time.

When the old lady handed it to him last night, he was half asleep and didn't think much of it. Now it's broad daylight, and he's alone in the house. He opened the cloth bag.

There are two things inside.

A piece of paper, folded neatly into a square, with frayed edges. There were also three small rolls, tied with red ribbons, and they felt quite heavy in my hand.

He first opened the small scroll.

Silver dollar.

One roll contains fifty coins, three rolls contain one hundred and fifty coins. Some are blackened, some are still shiny, all printed with Yuan Shikai silver dollars, neatly stacked in concentric circles. He Yuzhu picked up a coin, weighed it in his hand; it was cool and heavy.

He put down the silver dollar and picked up the piece of paper.

Last night, the light was dim in the old lady's room, so he didn't look closely. Now, unfolding it, he saw calligraphy on it, in traditional characters, written vertically.

The property at No. 95 Nanluoguxiang belongs to the Wu family.

There was a red seal underneath, the date and month blurred by the fading, but the seal itself was still clearly visible.

That Wu family.

He Yuzhu was stunned. He had always known the old lady's surname was Wu. But this "that"...

He thought of that man surnamed Na from Jinzhong in Tianjin. He thought of those old-fashioned people in long gowns, those "feudal remnants" during the Liberation period, and the days when their homes were ransacked.

He folded the paper, put it back in the cloth bag, and took it to the old lady's house.

The old woman sat on the kang (a heated brick bed), sewing an old garment. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating her gray hair. She heard the door open, looked up, and put down her needle and thread.

"Have you seen it?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

The old lady looked at him but didn't say anything.

He Yuzhu placed the cloth bundle on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and remained silent for a while.

"Grandma, this 'that'..."

The old lady's gaze fell on the cloth bag, then shifted to the window.

"I used to work for that company."

He Yuzhu's heart skipped a beat. He remembered the denunciation meeting held on the street two years ago, the people dragged out of their old houses, the signs hanging around their necks, and the smashed chests and cabinets.

His hands clenched and unclenched along the seam of his trousers.

The old lady continued sewing the garment, her stitches fine and dense, one stitch at a time.

"That family is an old surname, Manchu. I was a maid in that family when I was young, and later... I became a concubine. This courtyard was given to me by the master of that family. I didn't buy it, it was given to me."

She put down her needlework and looked out the window. Children were running around in the yard, and their laughter drifted in faintly.

"The year of liberation, that family fell apart. The master ran away, the first wife ran away, and the children ran away too. Only I was left, along with this courtyard. I donated the courtyard, but the state didn't want it; instead, the steel mill rented it out. Those silver dollars were left behind by the master when he left, and I've kept them hidden ever since."

She turned her head and looked at He Yuzhu. The sunlight shone on her face, revealing deep wrinkles.

"I've kept these things for seven years. I'm giving them to you today."

He Yuzhu stood there, motionless. He looked at the old woman's large, calloused hands, hands that had served that master, sewed his own life, and were now mending clothes for the neighbor's child.

The old lady picked up the cloth bag and stuffed it into his hand.

"Take this. Yushui will be getting married in the future, and you need to save up a dowry for her. No matter how high your salary is, you can't save much on your own. These silver dollars are enough for her to have a grand wedding."

He Yuzhu gripped the cloth bag tightly in his hand. The silver coins were cold and hard against his palm.

"Grandma, you..."

The old lady waved her hand.

"I'm old, I don't have many years left. These things are useless to me. You take them, and I'll feel at ease."

He Yuzhu looked at her, at her gray hair, at the wrinkles on her face, at her eyes that could barely see. Her hands were still resting on the cloth bag, her knuckles protruding, her skin rough.

He suddenly knelt down.

His knee hit the ground with a thud.

The old lady was stunned.

He Yuzhu knelt there, his back straight.

"Grandma, don't worry. I will take care of you in your old age and see you off when you pass away. After you pass away, I will burn paper money for you and kowtow to you on holidays and festivals."

The old lady's hand trembled slightly.

She looked at him for a long time.

Then she reached out and placed her hand on his head.

His hands were cold, with large knuckles and calluses from years of hard work. She gently touched his hair.

"Good boy."

Her eyes welled up with tears after she said those three words.

He Yuzhu knelt there, motionless. He could feel the weight of that hand—heavy and warm.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on the two people and casting their shadows on the wall, where they overlapped.

After a long time, He Yuzhu stood up.

The old woman had already rolled up the silver dollars again and tied them with a red cloth strip. She handed the cloth bag to him.

"Keep it safe. Don't let anyone see it."

He Yuzhu took the cloth bag and thought for a moment.

"Grandma, this money is so heavy sitting in the house. I want to exchange some of it for some grain coupons and fine grains, and secretly give it to those families of martyrs on the street, and to Aunt Zhang's children in the courtyard who are so thin they look unrecognizable, in your name."

The old lady looked at him.

He Yuzhu continued, "This way, you'll have both money and good relationships. If anyone keeps an eye on our compound in the future, those who have been kind to us will remember your kindness. You'll feel more at ease living here."

The old lady stared at him for several seconds.

Then she laughed.

The smile was faint, but He Yuzhu saw it.

"Zhu Zi, you're even better than I thought. Go ahead, use it however you want, it's up to you. I don't care."

He Yuzhu put the cloth bag into his arms.

He walked to the door, then turned back.

The old woman had already picked up her needle and thread and continued sewing the old dress. The sunlight shone on her, gilding her gray hair with gold. The soft "snip" of the needle and thread cutting through the fabric echoed gently in the quiet room.

He gently closed the door.

He stood at the doorway, motionless. The hissing sound from inside the house came through the door, very faint, but he heard it clearly.

He stood there for a while, then walked away.

The bag of silver dollars in his arms was heavy, pressing against his chest.