Chapter 307: Rumors

The news of Qin Huairu's transfer to a logistics post was like a huge stone thrown into the seemingly calm stagnant water of the Siheyuan, its ripples overlapping one after another, lingering without settling for a long time.

The surface chatter may fade slowly with time, but the undercurrents beneath the water and the stirred waves in everyone's hearts are far from ending.

For Qin Huairu herself, the work environment of the logistics department is worlds apart from the noisy, greasy, iron‑smelling workshop.

The spacious, bright office lacks deafening machine roar, offering only the rustle of turning pages and colleagues speaking in lowered voices.

Her job is to register office‑supply requisitions and inventory counts; the workload is light, even somewhat leisurely. No longer smeared with oil and metal shavings, her nail beds are clean, and even her breathing seems much smoother.

The promotion in work grade and the resulting salary increase have tangibly eased the Jia family's tight financial situation.

At least this month, when buying grain and coal, she no longer has to split a single coin in half as before, nor must she thick‑skinnedly beg Yi Zhonghai or calculate the small favors of the workshop men.

Yet behind this "ease" and "affluence" lies a heavy shackling she bears constantly. Whenever a male colleague—especially one who knows her background and whose gaze carries curiosity and a hint of ambiguity—comes to collect items and feigns conversation, Qin Huairu feels as if she is being roasted over a fire.

She must force herself to stay composed, squeeze out a professional smile, and deal with those who may have no ill intent but inevitably remind her of Li Huaide's office glances and Speech.

Li Huaide does not seek her out frequently. He is a shrewd and cautious man who understands the value of steady, slow progress. Only on certain afternoons, when most people in the office building are drowsy, does he have his secretary come over and ask Qin Huairu to his office to "verify the logistics inventory report."

Each time she walks toward that door, Qin Huairu's heart feels gripped by an invisible hand, her steps become unsteady, and she seems to sense countless unseen, contemptuous and mocking gazes behind her.

A deal is a deal. She paid a price and received a return. Yet that return tastes bitter, like rice mixed with sand—each bite scraping the throat painfully.

When she is alone deep at night, the sense of violated humiliation and disgust with her own choices flood her like a tide.

But at daybreak, seeing the children manage a somewhat decent breakfast, and seeing Bang Geng's mischief temporarily curb because of a new pencil, she must again force all her emotions deep down, don the numb, obedient mask, and continue this life of drinking poison to quench thirst.

Within the Siheyuan, the rumors about her have never truly ceased. They have merely shifted from overt, brazen gossip to more covert whispers and meaning‑laden glances.

"Did you see? The Jia family daughter‑in‑law today wore a new cover‑shirt; even though it's cloth, the color is bright!"

"Logistics is lucrative, after just a few days her complexion has improved a lot."

"Hmph, that's what 'hard work' bought! No idea if she can even fall asleep at night!"

"Keep your voice down! Someone might hear! But that being said, if she truly can get by on Li, she does have 'skill'…"

These Speech, like invisible needles, prick Qin Huairu from time to time. She keeps her head down, quickens her steps, avoiding eye contact with those gossipy women. Mother‑in‑law Jia Zhangshi's attitude becomes even more contradictory and pragmatic.

On one hand, she enjoys the tangible benefits of her daughter‑in‑law's salary raise—more oily dishes on the table, and her secret money box is a bit fuller; on the other hand, she lives in constant, burning fear that Qin Huairu might become too powerful, or that Li Huaide might fully win her over and kick the Jia family's rotten mess aside to remarry.

Thus, Jia Zhangshi adopted a tighter 'monitoring' strategy. If Qin Huairu returns home a little later, she interrogates her for half a day; if Qin Huairu occasionally buys something, she probes the price, fearing she's hiding secret money. She no longer openly calls Qin Huairu 'unfilial', yet the vigilance and desire for control in her gaze suffocate more than any words.

Her sole insistence is repeatedly urging Qin Huairu to go to the Yi Yuan for a 'ring', as if that cold metal band could lock Qin Huairu's person and the Jia family's illusory 'reputation'.

Yi Zhonghai watches all this, feeling as if a jar of five flavors has been tipped over in his heart. Qin Huairu's departure from the workshop means she is out of his most direct sphere of influence.

He remains a respected eighth‑grade worker in the factory, yet in controlling the Siheyuan's layout, especially in handling the Jia family as a crucial piece, he feels an unprecedented powerlessness.

He once tried to speak with Qin Huairu, earnestly warning her to 'keep her feet on the ground' and 'mind the impact', but Qin Huairu only lowered her head, responded vaguely, her attitude clearly distant and perfunctory.

Yi Zhonghai knows he has lost an important 'support' target, and also lost part of the leverage he used to showcase his 'moral high ground' and maintain the courtyard's balance by aiding the Jia family. This leaves him rather depressed, and also breeds some resentment toward Li Huaide.

And in Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an remains the calmest presence amid the clamor and scheming. He turns a deaf ear to the Central Courtyard's turmoil, and ignores the factory's rumors. His world seems to consist of only that—work unit and family.

Each evening after work, he either accompanies his son Li Yaozong in the courtyard practicing horse‑stance squats, correcting the boy's slightly childish yet already somewhat formed punches and kicks; or he cradles his little daughter Nuanqing, strolling in the courtyard, pointing at the jujube tree and eaves, teaching her the names of things in a low, gentle voice. Lin Xueqing's health has recovered well, and she has returned to work at Union Hospital. In Xi Kua Yuan, a sense of orderly, warm tranquility always pervades.

Occasionally, Yan Bu Gui from the Front Courtyard or someone from the Central Courtyard tries to discuss Qin Huairu with him, their tone probing or seeking approval. Li Ping'an usually offers a faint smile, neither confirming nor denying, or simply steers the conversation away: "Third Elder, you'll need to watch your jasmine pot over winter." "Sha Zhu, today's Red Braised Pork really hits the spot."

His stance is clear and firm: no judgment, no involvement, no taking on tasks. As long as it doesn't touch his family, disturb the courtyard's basic stability, or require the Security Section to step in, the outside disputes are, to him, merely dust blown by the wind.

He has more important matters—to protect his wife and children, to educate his offspring, and in these shifting times, to raise a solid, warm sky for his family.

So, within this Siheyuan, by day Qin Huairu struggles between the polished façade and the torment of the logistics office; by night she gasps amid the Jia family's cramped rooms, oppression and scheming. Meanwhile, Yi Zhonghai plots in his disappointment, Jia Zhangshi controls in fear, and others satisfy their voyeuristic cravings through idle chatter.

Only in Xi Kua Yuan are the lights bright and warm, the youthful yet firm sounds of fists and feet, and the children's crisp, carefree laughter. That small little world seems self‑contained, shielding itself from external filth and turmoil, and in these sixty‑three years of winter, quietly radiates its own untarnished light and heat.