Courtyard House: My Time Travel is a Bit Too Strong

"He Yuzhu, I'll ask you one last time—did you take Xu Damao's chickens?"

"...I'll take it."

What does "calculate" mean?

"I took it."

"Xu Damao, Lou Xiao'e, what do you want to do with them?"

"Losing money."

"How much compensation?"

Two pieces.

"Are you crazy? We lost a laying hen, seven eggs every ten days, raised for a year..."

"Xu Damao, how much do you want?"

"The half in the pot is mine, plus five yuan in compensation."

"Do you think this is highway robbery?"

Lin Quan thought for a moment, then took a few steps forward. His voice was not loud, but it immediately silenced the noise.

An elderly man named Yi Zhonghai looked up and asked, "Ah Quan, do you have something to say?"

"Uncle, Uncle, Uncle, and all my uncles and brothers, Yuzhu has lived in this courtyard for over ten years. Has he ever harmed anyone, not even a needle? No, right? We can't trample good people in the mud, nor can we let bad people take advantage of us, right?"

He walked to the center of the courtyard, his back straight, his gaze sweeping over familiar yet unfamiliar faces.

"That's right! Yuzhu is stubborn and reckless, and he talks like he has no clenched fist, but he has never stolen anything."

Because of his stubborn nature, Lin Quan often called him "Iron Pillar" in private.

"He's always quick to anger and quick to vent his frustrations. If he really wants to take something, it's because he's holding back his anger—not for profit, but for pride."

"Da Mao and Yu Zhu have been at odds for a long time, so it's not surprising that he took a chicken."

"Take it without asking? Isn't that stealing?"

A murmur of discussion immediately arose from the crowd.

Uncle Liu Haizhong slapped his thigh suddenly: "Shut up, all of you!"

"Something's not right with this pot—who cooks a chicken down to half a head?" Lin Quan reached out and lifted the lid.

"Oh my! It really is only half! Yuzhu, did you eat the other half?" Uncle Yan Bugui peeked out.

"Xu Damao, Lou Xiao'e, when you came in, was Yuzhu sitting in front of the stove eating a chicken leg?" Lin Quan asked, turning his head.

"No," Lou Xiao'e shook her head.

"I didn't see him eat it." Xu Damao frowned. He hated Sha Zhu, but he wouldn't lie through his teeth in front of everyone.

"Are there any chicken bones in that room?" Lin Quan asked again.

"I didn't see it," Lou Xiao'e replied simply.

"Yuzhu works as a cook in the canteen of the Third Machinery Factory. It's perfectly normal for him to bring some leftovers home, right?" Lin Quan smiled.

"Could it be... that half of the food in Sha Zhu's pot is leftovers from the factory?" Yan Bugui stroked his chin, seemingly lost in thought.

"Now that the truth about Yuzhu's chicken case has come to light, we need to quickly find out what happened to Xu Damao's missing chicken," Lin Quan continued.

"Ah Quan, what do you think happened to Xu Damao's chickens?" Yi Zhonghai asked.

"A chicken kept in a cage, without wings, just vanished into thin air? It must have been stolen." Lin Quan answered decisively.

As for whether Jia Geng was responsible, he had no idea.

The current situation is similar to that in the TV series "Full House of Love", but the chicken in Xu Damao's house may not have been taken away by the stick.

Before obtaining concrete evidence, Lin Quan was unwilling to falsely accuse someone.

The shrewd Yan Bugui immediately suggested calling all the children in the courtyard for questioning.

With chicken fat still on their clothes and their mouths still wet, how could Jia Dang and Jia Huaihua withstand the adults' repeated coaxing and bluffing?

They quickly got the truth out of him—they stole the chicken, burned it, and ate it among themselves.

Xu Damao, who lived in the same courtyard, didn't really intend to send Jia Geng to the police station; he only wanted Qin Huairu to pay compensation.

"Let me help everyone spread the word: Jia Geng is only twelve and still in elementary school. Everyone knows his family's financial situation. Xu Damao, don't just stick to a fixed price right away. Three yuan, is that enough?" Lin Quan said.

He grew up in the countryside in his previous life, and from the age of seven or eight, he would climb over the fence of his neighbors and steal watermelons, tomatoes, and pears from the trees.

Children from poor families have a sweet tooth; you pick a handful of green beans from my garden, and I'll pluck a bunch of grapes from yours.

When he got caught, he was scolded when he went out and beaten when he got home; later, when he was better off, people would force him to eat fruit, but he would complain that it was too much trouble to wash it and that he was too lazy to accept it.

Ultimately, it's not that my heart has changed, but that the little bit of hope I held onto back then is now worthless.

"Fine, three yuan it is." Xu Damao relented—if he asked for too much, he would only earn a reputation for bullying orphans and widows.

"Jia Geng made a mistake, so he has to take some responsibility. What do you think about making him clean the public toilets for a week?" Lin Quan added.

"Okay!" Yi Zhonghai nodded in agreement.

"That's how it should be done!" Liu Haizhong agreed verbally, but felt a pang of jealousy in his heart: this kid is even more dazzling than his own great-uncle.

"I agree," Yan Bugui immediately stated.

"Whoever sweeps for him once will get an extra day—a small theft will lead to a big one. I'm not punishing him, I'm helping him out," Lin Quan added.

The crowd agreed with his reasoning; Yi Zhonghai was always one to compromise, and Liu Haizhong, seeing him nod, didn't dare to disagree.

"Qin Huairu, pay up." Xu Damao held out his hand.

"Da Mao, I really can't afford it... I'll give it to you as soon as I get paid, okay?" Qin Huairu pleaded in a low voice.

"Sister Qin, I have some here." He Yuzhu took out three yuan and handed it over.

"Thank you!" Qin Huairu reached out and took it, then turned and handed it to Xu Damao.

"Let's all disperse, everyone disperse." Yi Zhonghai waved his hand.

The pretty girls in the compound were either widows or already married.

Lin Quan's parents died in the line of duty in another city, leaving him alone in Beijing at the age of 25, without a job or a partner.

These days, if he goes to another place, he can take over his parents' jobs.

With the pension, condolence money, and one-time subsidy combined, he had more than 800 yuan in his hand.

The old man is a level eight fitter, earning 99.5 yuan a month;

He Yuzhu works in the canteen and earns thirty-seven yuan and fifty cents.

Qin Huairu, who took her ex-husband's place in the factory, earns 27.5 yuan a month.

With over 800 yuan in his pocket, Lin Quan was considered quite well-off in this courtyard.

Unfortunately, back then you needed coupons to buy everything—a pound of grain coupons could be exchanged for two cents on the black market.

Back in his room, Lin Quan lay down on the bed and began to ponder the treasure basin.

In his past life, he accidentally became the master of a replica pot.

It was a basin-shaped treasure of chaos that could absorb and replicate everything in the world exactly as it appeared. He initially called it the Replication Basin, but later, finding it too rustic, he renamed it the Treasure Basin.

Initially, he specialized in replicating gold, and with his inexhaustible supply of gold ingots, he became a billionaire in just a few years.

After indulging in extravagance, his ambition grew, and he even used the treasure bowl to replicate the entire Milky Way.

If you rush things, you might die while copying something.

He had just locked the door and lay down on the bed when his figure vanished in an instant.

"It's too dark, you can't see your hand in front of your face. I need to go back and get a powerful flashlight."

The thought had barely formed in his mind when Lin Quan's figure vanished.

Carrying a military-grade high-powered flashlight, he stepped into the replica Earth once again.