Chapter 240

Sha Zhu had a son He Xiao, that proud, elated vigor need not be mentioned; walking he was full of vigor, seeing people he grinned, as if wanting to vent all the pent-up frustration of past years in one go.

That day, by the courtyard water trough, Sha Zhu ran into the listless Xu Damao fetching water; Sha Zhu instantly perked up, deliberately raising his voice as he shouted at his own window: "Ma Dongmei! Bring our little one out to bask in the sun! Let me, as father, properly cherish him! Oh dear, those little arms and legs, really strong! Follow me!"

Xu Damao heard Sha Zhu's smug vigor behind him, and caught sight of Ma Dongmei coming out with a swaddled baby; the fair, chubby child was especially eye‑catching in the sunlight. His heart felt as if a basin of boiling oil had been splashed on it, sizzling, both hot and painful.

He married a shrewish countrywoman, still dragging a heap of debt; let alone having a son, even daily life is chaotic like chickens flying and dogs jumping.

Looking at Sha Zhu instead, his wife is capable, his son healthy, and their modest life is visibly flourishing.

A surge of wicked fire mixed with jealousy shot straight to his head; he gripped the water bucket handle tightly, his nails digging in painfully, and he cursed venomously: "What's there to be proud of? Having a son isn't that great—who knows if he'll even grow up! Pah! Heaven really is blind!" He blackened his face, lifted half a bucket of water, and without looking back stalked back into his own house, slamming the door so hard it shook.

Inside, his wife Wang Cuihua was sitting cross‑legged on the kang cracking melon seeds; seeing his bad expression, she spat out the shells and rolled her eyes: "What's wrong? Again getting angry outside? Look at your pathetic prospects! If you're capable, take it out on outsiders; why put on a face at home?"

Wang Cuihua is no pushover—spiky and scheming; since marrying Xu Damao she's never given him a pleasant face, constantly brandishing the five hundred yuan and the IOU to keep him under her thumb. Xu Damao dares to be angry but not speak, only able to hold in his fury, sulking in a corner.

Amid the courtyard's chaotic hustle, some unusual movements once again aroused Li Ping'an's vigilance.

That day, Wang Dahu quietly came to the Head of the Security Department's office, closed the door tightly, and with a solemn expression reported: "Chief, the City Bureau has received word that the enemy spy radio station, which had been silent for a while, has become active again, and its signal source seems even more elusive, hard to track. They intercepted a few scattered code fragments; after decryption, the content points to…… it appears they are gathering material allocation and reserve intelligence for our northern industrial cities, especially the flow of grain and steel."

Li Ping'an's eyes narrowed, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop. "Material allocation…… that is indeed the current lifeline." "Looks like some people's thieving hearts aren't dead; they want to profit from the chaos, figure out our strengths and weaknesses, and find a weak spot."

"Furthermore," Wang Dahu lowered his voice, "our surveillance of the Trust Store clerk showed that a few nights ago, late at night, he had brief contact with a stranger at Nan Cheng's 'old tea house,' exchanging a small parcel. Our people lost the stranger."

"Old tea house……" Li Ping'an mused. That place in Nan Cheng is a mingling of all sorts, indicating the other side has strong counter‑surveillance awareness and likely activated a new, unknown contact channel.

"Keep watching, don't scare the snake. Focus on finding where that stranger went, and…… whether there have been any abnormal outsiders or unusual movements recently in the courtyard."

Wang Dahu obeyed and left. Li Ping'an walked to the window, gazing at the factory area's towering smokestacks. Internal hazards have not yet been fully cleared, while external probing has begun again.

This silent war has never halted due to material scarcity; on the contrary, it may intensify with the difficult circumstances. He must be more vigilant, needing to stabilize the factory's situation while guarding against hidden attacks.

In the siheyuan, life continued to struggle on the hunger line. The brief joy from the Steel Rolling Mill's fish distribution had long passed, and stomachs were again filled with thin soup and water. In the front courtyard, Yan Bu Gui's household had sunk to an icy atmosphere.

Several children gathered around the food table, looking at the vegetable leaf porridge in their bowls that was thick enough to reflect a face, then glancing at the occasional waft of light chicken soup from Sha Zhu's household in the central courtyard—meant to nourish the new mother, secretly supplied by Li Ping'an—each swallowing their saliva greedily.

The eldest son, Yan Jiecheng, finally couldn't hold back, put down his chopsticks, and complained: "Dad! When will this life ever improve? Those who work at the factory at least have tasted fish and smelled meat. Our family? We don't even see a speck of oil! I go out every day doing odd jobs, and my legs are weak!"

Yan Bu Gui also felt stifled; his son's words made him more irritable, and he shoved his bowl away: "Eat, eat, eat! All you know is to eat! I can't think of a way, and you can't even swallow this porridge! If you're capable, go earn fish and meat for yourselves!"

"Earn? What with?" Yan Jiecheng flushed and retorted, "That little monthly wage of mine—after handing over what's due at home, I can't even afford a pack of cigarettes! If you had pulled some strings back then to get me into the Steel Rolling Mill, I could be bringing back a fish now too!"

Those words hit Yan Bu Gui's sore spot. He trembled with rage, pointing at his son: "You…… get out!"

Yan Jiecheng stuck out his neck and stormed out, slamming the door. Yan Bu Gui watched his son's retreating back, then glanced at the thin soup and water porridge on the table, and for the first time felt a waver in his usual "careful calculation."

In these months when survival overwhelms everything, his scheme seems unable to bring genuine security to his family; instead, it makes kinship fragile in the face of hunger.

In the west wing courtyard, Li Ping'an kept outside turmoil and scheming out the door. He carefully attended to his wife and children, occasionally using spatial output and spirit spring water to supplement Lin Xueqing and Little Yaozong's nutrition, ensuring they could maintain health in these harsh times.

He also kept an eye on Sha Zhu's family, occasionally having Li Pingle deliver a small bowl of rice soup mixed with spirit spring water, said to promote lactation for the new mother, quietly lending a hand.

Looking at his chubby son changing day by day in his arms, then thinking of the newborn He Xiao in the courtyard, and of the Jia family's Bang Geng, who is struggling to grow up amid indulgence and scarcity, Li Ping'an felt a grave responsibility.

These children are the future's hope. He must not only guard the present peace, but also, for these tender lives, in this tumultuous era, carve out a space where they can grow.

However, the enemy lurking in the shadows is like a poisonous snake hidden in the grass, ready to flick its tongue at any moment.

If the factory's material allocation intelligence were stolen, the consequences would be unthinkable. Li Ping'an knows he must quicken his pace, and between the vague direction provided by Wang Daye and the existing clues, find that crucial link, ferreting out that Shopkeeper hidden deep down who constantly issues orders.

This struggle over survival and destruction has reached a more critical juncture. Every portion of grain, every inch of steel, concerns countless lives and also stirs the greedy, malicious gaze of the enemy lurking in the shadows. He cannot afford the slightest slack.