Chapter 277: Yan Jiecheng's Blind Date

The undercurrents beneath the courtyard walls never managed to stir up much trouble; life continued to drift slowly amid calculation and scarcity.

The Li family's steadiness in the west wing, the Jia family's lamenting poverty in the central courtyard, and Xu Damao's repressed frustration in the rear wing had become the constant background noise of this siheyuan.

As for the Yan Bu Gui household in the front courtyard, they continued to pour all their life's wisdom into those thick lenses and that little notebook filled with numbers.

That evening, Yan Bu Gui pushed up the spectacles whose temples were bound with tape, and spoke to San Dama, who was kneading cornbread dough by the stove under a dim light: "Mother, Jiecheng is no longer young."

San Dama's hand paused, she lifted her weary face: "He's not young, but nowadays… which family's daughter would be willing…"

"Man proposes, heaven disposes!" Yan Bu Gui interrupted her, tapping his notebook: "Our conditions may be poor, but Jiecheng has a good background and no baggage! The key is to know how to speak, to let the matchmaker see our 'sincerity' and 'potential'!"

"Sincerity?" San Dama blinked, bewildered.

Yan Bu Gui's face broke into a inscrutable smile as he lowered his voice: "I've been thinking, tomorrow I'll go see Matchmaker Wang on Back Street to have a word. Inviting a matchmaker over empty‑handed just isn't proper…"

At the mention of expense, San Dama's face tightened: "Well… what should we bring? We've only got a few eggs left…"

"Eggs? That's precious stuff—how could we just give them away?" Yan Bu Gui waved his hands, confident: "We'll bring nothing material, just a 'promise'!"

"A promise?"

"Exactly!" Yan Bu Gui adjusted his glasses, the small eyes behind the lenses glinting: "I'll tell Matchmaker Wang that if she manages to secure a good match for Jiecheng, once it's settled we'll thank her with ten eggs! Plus five mao as matchmaker's fee!"

San Dama sucked in a breath of cold air: "Ten eggs? Five mao? That… that's way too much!" In their household, that was practically a fortune!

"What do you know?" Yan Bu Gui scoffed, "It's the old saying—'no pain, no gain.' First we put the word out there to stir the matchmaker's enthusiasm; once it's really done, we can scrape together the eggs… and the five mao… we'll talk about it later!" Between the lines, those four words "once it's settled" were full of flexible elasticity.

San Dama opened her mouth, looked at her husband's transparently calculating face, and finally swallowed her words. In this household, Yan Bu Gui was the absolute "shopkeeper"; she had only to obey.

The next day, Yan Bu Gui indeed showed up empty‑handed, strolling to Matchmaker Wang's house on Back Street. He spoke fluently, praising his own son Yan Jiecheng as a flower—honest, hardworking, of good background, unencumbered, with limitless future potential. He especially emphasized the "generous" thank‑you gift, describing it vividly as if the ten eggs and five mao were already laid out before Matchmaker Wang.

Matchmaker Wang had seen all sorts in her half‑lifetime in this neighborhood; hearing Yan Bu Gui's flowery bragging and seeing him show up empty‑handed, not a hair out of place, she knew exactly what was up. She smiled and said she'd "keep it in mind" and "leave it to me," but inside she'd already slapped the Yan family with the label "iron rooster, big pie painter."

Whether it was Yan Bu Gui's eloquence that really worked or Matchmaker Wang's professional zeal to "hit the target whether there's a date or not," within a few days she actually found a girl for Yan Jiecheng—a girl from the Red Star Commune outside the city, named Tian Cui Lan, from an ordinary farming household, decent‑looking, and heard to be a capable hand at work.

Upon hearing that, Yan Bu Gui thought a farming background was good—honest, able to work, easy to control in the future—and immediately gave the go‑ahead, arranging for the girl to come to their home for a look‑see on the weekend.

On the day of the meeting, the Yan household went on a war footing. Yan Bu Gui directed everyone in a big clean‑up, really just brushing off the surface dust; the cobwebs and ingrained grime in the corners were naturally left unattended.

Yan Jiecheng was forced into the outfit he only wore when going out—a washed‑pale Zhongshan suit, buttoned up to the last, his whole body so tense he didn't know where to put his hands or feet.

San Dama rose before dawn to get busy preparing the noon meal. This was the crucial moment to display the family's "resources" and "sincerity."

At noon, Tian Cui Lan arrived accompanied by her aunt. The girl was indeed as Matchmaker Wang had said: sturdy build, dark skin, big hands and feet—clearly accustomed to farm work. She wore a semi‑new floral jacket; though she was reserved, her eyes showed the simple honesty and scrutiny of a country folk.

After the guests were seated and a few pleasantries exchanged, the main event—the lunch—was served.

In the centre of the table lay a large plate of stir‑fried cabbage, barely any oil visible. Beside it sat a basket of steamed corn‑meal buns, half yellow, half black. The "hardest" dish was a small dish of dried fish, blackened and shriveled from frying—altogether … ten pieces. Each was only the length of a finger, caught by Yan Bu Gui from some ditch, dried and hoarded as his "stock."

"Come on, Miss Tian, don't be shy, eat, eat!" Yan Bu Gui greeted enthusiastically, first picking up a piece of dried fish, popping it into his mouth and chewing with relish, as if savoring some mountain delicacy. "This fish is one I caught myself, fresh! You can't easily get this in the city."

Tian Cui Lan and her aunt stared at the table's "feast," their smiles turning stiff. Tian Cui Lan picked up a bun, took a bite, and felt her throat ache. She glanced at the plateful of countable, blackish dried fish, felt embarrassed to touch her chopsticks.

Yan Jiecheng kept his head down, only picking at the cabbage in his bowl, his face flushed red, wishing he could bury his head in the bowl.

This meal was eaten in that sort of awkwardness. Yan Bu Gui kept on talking at length about Yan Jiecheng's "bright future" at the factory (a temporary worker), about the advantages of urban household registration, and about how things would be… and so on.

Tian Cui Lan's aunt gave half‑hearted replies, but her eyes kept darting to the empty rice bin and the pile of junk in the corner. Tian Cui Lan herself barely spoke, only occasionally glancing up to take in the cramped room and this family of consummate calculators.

After the meal, they sat idly for a while, then Tian Cui Lan and her aunt rose to say goodbye. Yan Bu Gui still shouted after them enthusiastically: "Come visit often! Matchmaker Wang's side…"

Seeing them off, Yan Bu Gui swelled with pride, turned to San Dama and Yan Jiecheng and said: "I think this has a chance! That girl, one look and you can tell she'll manage a household well."

San Dama gazed at the hardly‑touched dish of dried fish and the remaining big plate of cabbage, hesitating before asking: "Dad, then… those ten eggs and five mao…"

Yan Bu Gui waved his hand grandly, as if victory were already in his grasp: "What's the rush? Let's wait till it's really settled before we talk! If we give it now and it falls through, we'd just be losing out."

However, just two days later Matchmaker Wang sent word, her tone polite but her meaning clear—the Tian family thought the two households … weren't really suited.

Holding that note, Yan Bu Gui stared blankly for a while before muttering: "Country girl, her standards are still high!" He seemed completely unaware that the problem lay in his own "carefully prepared" matchmaking banquet and that empty "big pie."

Upon hearing the news, Yan Jiecheng didn't react much—he seemed already used to his father's scheming and its various outcomes. He simply put away his Zhongshan suit quietly and went back to his day‑to‑day life as a temporary worker at the machine factory.

A carefully plotted matchmaking ended in farce this way. The Yan household saved those ten eggs and five mao, but thereby cemented their reputation as an "iron rooster."

In this siheyuan, the gossip that the Yan family's matchmaking only offered dried fish to eat became fresh fodder for the neighbors' after‑tea chatter.

Yet Yan Bu Gui kept on, tirelessly calculating the cost and profit of the next "deal" in his little notebook, utterly oblivious to the fact that some things can never be measured by the beads of an abacus.