Courtyard House: Starting as an eighth-grade worker, with too many wives.

The cafeteria had limited ingredients and not much meat, but he still managed to stir-fry it into something extraordinary. The heat, the knife skills, the seasoning—everything was just right; a little more would be too much, a little less would be lacking.

The experts ate without even looking up, their chopsticks flying, their bowls empty and then refilled, like starving ghosts reincarnated.

After finishing his meal, Li Jianguo went to the kitchen door to greet Nan Yi.

Nan Yi quickly came out to greet him, his face showing a mixture of respect and caution, as if afraid of offending someone. He wiped his hands on his apron, then wiped them again, before extending his hand.

"Director Li, have you finished eating?"

"good."

Li Jianguo nodded.

"Do a good job."

"Don't worry."

Nan Yi lowered his voice and leaned closer. You could smell the cooking oil and the aroma of scallions being stir-fried on him. The smells mixed together weren't unpleasant.

But there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes, as if he wanted to say something but dared not, his mouth opening and closing again.

Li Jianguo realized it.

"Speak your mind."

Nan Yi looked around twice to make sure no one was watching before pulling him to a corner. The corner was piled with junk, smelled musty, and had a sour, fermenting stench of rotten vegetable leaves.

"Director Li, there's something I've been thinking about all morning, but I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"explain."

This morning I checked the kitchen supplies—

Nan Yi lowered his voice even further, so low that it was like a mosquito humming; you couldn't hear it unless you got very close, and you could only hear the air swirling in his throat.

"We discovered that the quantities our kitchen reports to the purchasing department are always more than what we actually use. It happens every day, not much, but it's always more, like ants carrying house, moving things out little by little."

Li Jianguo's eyebrows twitched.

"Is someone profiting from this?"

Nan Yi nodded, so hard that his neck almost broke.

"It's done quite discreetly, and the quantity isn't large. But it happens every day, and little by little, it adds up to a considerable amount. I estimate that in a month, it could equal half a year's salary for me, maybe even more."

Li Jianguo remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he nodded.

"Understood."

He looked at Nan Yi, his gaze darkening, as if a heavy stone was pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe.

"Don't make a fuss about this yet. Go and investigate thoroughly, and solidify the evidence. Make sure there are witnesses and physical evidence, and that it's irrefutable and unassailable."

His voice was flat, but every word carried weight, so heavy it could leave a dent on the ground.

"We must make a decisive decision and not give others a chance to turn things around or allow them any room to maneuver."

Nan Yi nodded solemnly, nodding so vigorously it looked like a chicken pecking at rice, his head almost bobbing off.

"I understand, Director Li."

"Go."

Li Jianguo came out of the cafeteria under the blazing sun.

The sun was so strong you could hardly open your eyes, the ground was scorching hot, you could feel the heat even through your shoes. He squinted and took a step forward, a slow, deliberate smile spreading across his lips, like a slow-motion scene in a movie.

Silly Zhu, silly Zhu.

I haven't been able to find anything wrong with you.

Unexpectedly, this time, I delivered myself right to their doorstep.

He walked forward with light steps. After a few steps, he began to hum a little tune, a soft, off-key hum, but it was clear that he was happy and in a good mood.

In the distance, towards the smelting area, Sha Zhu was bent over, carrying ore. He bent over, picked up a piece of ore with both hands, straightened up, took a few steps, and put it down. Repeated this, and again, like a wound-up machine.

The sweat on my back soaked through my clothes again and again, drying and then getting wet, leaving white sweat stains like mountains and rivers drawn on a map.

He was unaware that something was pressing down on him. Like dark clouds on the horizon, like distant rumble of thunder, it drew closer and closer, growing heavier and heavier.

Yi Zhonghai was also there.

The two men, sharing the same plight, endured the backbreaking labor. Neither spoke, each doing their own thing, occasionally glancing up at each other before quickly looking away, as if they had done something shameful.

Today's work went more smoothly than yesterday, and I didn't end up with any injuries. I know how to apply force now, how to hold someone so they won't fall, and how to walk more efficiently.

But this job is really tiring.

Pure exhaustion. Exhausted to the bone, so tired I can't lift my arms, so tired I don't want to talk, so tired my brain can't even function.

Sha Zhu tossed a piece of ore into the truck with a loud crash, making the vehicle lurch and leaving two tire tracks on the ground. He gasped for breath and cursed, "Damn it, Li Jianguo's just getting revenge! Even Director Yang is on his side, why? Because he's good-looking?"

Yi Zhonghai didn't look up.

His hands moved without stopping, picking up a piece of ore, stacking it up, then picking up another. His voice was muffled, squeezed out from his chest, as if coming from underground: "They have the skills. We're nothing, just two dogs, we have to do whatever they tell us to do."

He stacked the ore, straightened up, and wiped away his sweat. The sweat beads fell to the ground, leaving dark spots that were quickly dried by the sun, leaving only a white ring.

"If you don't want to be fired like Jia Dongxu, just focus on your work. Stop thinking about useless things; it won't change anything."

Sha Zhu's words were stuck in his throat.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but didn't know what to say. He just bent down and continued moving things, like a wooden puppet.

As the sun began to set, Li Jianguo pushed open his door.

His hand paused on the door lock for a moment.

He left the house with the lock facing down. He remembered it clearly because he glanced down at it as he locked the door, thinking he'd be back early in the afternoon, if nothing was wrong.

Now, face up.

Someone came in.

Li Jianguo's eyes changed. They became sharp and wary, like a wild beast that had caught a whiff of an unfamiliar scent, its fur standing on end.

He didn't rush in; he stood at the doorway and glanced inside. He scanned slowly, from left to right, from top to bottom, not even missing a corner.

Everything was in its original place. The chairs were still there, the table was still there, and the cabinet doors were closed, just as they were when I left this morning.

He went inside, looking at each room carefully and attentively. He even peeked behind cabinets and under beds.

Nothing was lost.

When he pushed open the study door, he immediately saw the letter on the desk.

A white envelope, unsigned. It lay there quietly on the table, as if nothing had happened, as if it had always been waiting.

He walked over, sat down, and opened the envelope. He was very careful when tearing it, tearing it little by little so as not to damage it.

Her handwriting was delicate and graceful. The characters were soft, like a person, so soft you could squeeze water out of them.

The signature consisted of two characters: Huai Ru.

After reading it, Li Jianguo let out a cold smile.

Dating?

Should I ask him out tonight?

He tossed the letter onto the table and leaned back in his chair. The chair creaked, the sound particularly jarring in the quiet room.

Qin Huairu was indeed beautiful; she was considered a striking beauty these days. She had fair skin, large eyes, a slender waist, and walked with a swagger, her hips swaying as she moved—she was captivating.

But so what?

It's just a physical appearance.

He's seen far more beautiful women than he's ever seen a ore deposit, more than he's ever seen a person on the street.

He had no interest in such a scheming, scheming woman. He didn't want to touch her, didn't want to get involved with her at all; the farther away he was, the better.

He reached out to tear the letter.

The hand stopped in mid-air.

Is it too wasteful to just tear it up like that?

He glanced out the window.

There was hardly anyone in the yard. A few chickens were pawing at the corner of the wall, clucking and scratching at the ground with their claws. Sha Zhu and the others hadn't returned yet; the yard was empty.

Li Jianguo refolded the letter neatly, stuffed it back into the envelope, and sealed it tightly. He pressed it in once, then again, pressing it firmly until the seal was stuck together.

It looks like it's never been opened.

He took the letter and went out, walking to the door of Sha Zhu's room.

The door wasn't locked. It was ajar, with a crack showing, and it was pitch black inside.

He didn't go in either.

He simply bent down and slipped the letter through the crack in the door. The envelope slid in along the floor, making a soft rustling sound, like a mouse crawling.

Then he turned around and went back to his room.

As the sun completely set, Sha Zhu dragged his legs into the yard.

He walked very slowly, each step like a shuffling motion, as if his legs were strapped with sandbags. His legs felt like they were filled with lead, so heavy that he could hardly lift them, and he dragged them along the ground.

He didn't even bother to lift his hand; he used his head to push the door open. He pressed his head against the door, exerted force, and the door creaked open.

Looking down, I saw something on the ground.

It was white, and stood out in the dim light, as if it were glowing.

He picked it up and brought it to his eyes.

envelope.

He opened and unfolded the letter. The paper was a little wrinkled, from how he had crumpled it, creating creases.

After reading only three lines, my eyes almost popped out of their sockets, staring like copper bells.

"Holy shit!!"

His hand holding the letter trembled. It shook several times before it steadied, as if he'd been electrocuted. He brought the letter closer and read it again. After finishing, he read it again, word by word, afraid of making a mistake.

Then I carefully folded the letter, making it neat and square, and tucked it into my bosom, close to my chest. I could feel the letter digging into my flesh; it was a little cool, but my heart was warm.

I was exhausted just a moment ago, but suddenly I'm not tired anymore. All my energy has returned, my legs don't feel heavy, my back doesn't ache, and even my eyes are brighter than before.

He went back inside, found his razor, and carefully shaved his beard in front of the small mirror. He shaved slowly and meticulously, one stroke at a time, afraid of cutting his skin. He then filled a basin with water, washed his face thoroughly, and applied some face cream. After changing into clean clothes, he looked at himself in the mirror again and again, from left to right, turning around to admire his reflection.

It got dark.

Qin Huairu sat in the room, restless.

She glanced out the window every now and then, but it was pitch black outside, and she couldn't see anything except the rustling of leaves in the wind. Then she looked at the doorway, but there was no movement there either; it was completely dark. Her fingers twisted the hem of her dress, until it was all crumpled and wrinkled.

Madam Jia glanced at her sideways and chuckled.

"What? You really want to go by yourself?"

Qin Huairu blushed, her voice rising slightly, becoming high-pitched and thin: "Mom, what are you saying? Dongxu and I have been married for so long, and our child is already so big. How could I be that kind of person?"

Jia Zhangshi's lips twitched, forming an ambiguous smile that was neither genuine nor perceptible.

"Alright, I didn't say anything, why are you in such a hurry? What's the rush?"

She tossed the needle and thread into the basket and stood up. The chair wobbled as she did so, almost tipping over.

"You don't need to go tonight."

Qin Huairu was stunned.

"what?"

Jia Zhangshi glanced at her.

"I'll go."

Qin Huairu's eyes widened slightly.

"Mom, you're going... wouldn't everyone recognize you at a glance? At your age, with your looks and figure, who wouldn't recognize you?"

Jia Zhangshi waved her hand dismissively.

"In the dead of night, in complete darkness, who could possibly see? It's not like we're looking with a light on or a magnifying glass. It's all so blurry, who could possibly make out who it is?"

She paused, her voice lowered, carrying an indescribable tone—a mixture of reminiscence, anticipation, and shyness.

"That guy is good-looking; it's a shame to just leave him like this."

Qin Huairu's face turned even redder. It was as red as burning charcoal, as red as the sunset on the horizon.

She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. She just lowered her head and looked at her toes.

Jia Zhangshi had already begun to tidy herself up.

She gathered her hair, arranging it as Qin Huairu usually did, and looked at herself in the mirror, from left to right. She changed into a dark-colored dress, a deep blue one, so dark it was invisible in the night, blending into the darkness.

She looked at herself in the mirror again and again, then hummed a little tune as she went out. The tune was broken and off-key, but you could tell she was happy and content.

Sha Zhu was already waiting in the backyard.

Next to the chicken coop was the most inconspicuous corner of the entire compound. There was a smell of chicken manure, but no one would look this way, and no one would come this way.

He stood in the shadows, pressed against the wall, his eyes fixed on the front yard. His eyes ached from staring, but he dared not blink, afraid of missing a thing.

In the distance, a figure walked over.