Chapter 332

When Xu Damao returned from the countryside, the two listless old hens and a small basket of dried mushrooms were like two stones thrown into a pond already roiling with undercurrents, once again stirring ripples in the Siheyuan. These ripples were small, yet enough to make the scheming and dissatisfaction in some people's hearts churn again.

In the Central Courtyard Jia household, Jia Zhangshi stared through the crack in the window at the direction of Xu Damao's home, watching Wang Cuihua gleefully stuff the two chickens into the coop, her murky old eyes almost spitting fire.

She spat forcefully, then muttered a curse: "Pah! A shameless, smoke‑raising thing! Who knows, maybe she swindled it from some country lover again! My family's Bang Geng didn't just take one of his chickens? Look at his smug look! He deserves to have his line cut off!"

She had completely forgotten the fact that her own grandson had stolen chickens, and felt that Xu Damao's current 'harvest' was especially glaring, as if he were deliberately slapping the Jia family in the face.

Bang Geng hid behind his grandmother, also peering out the window, his eyes mixed with dissatisfaction at being isolated and covetousness toward those two chickens.

Qin Huairu returned from work, hearing her mother‑in‑law's curses, she merely numb‑ly put down her bag and began preparing dinner. She had no interest in how Xu Damao got the chickens, only feeling exhausted.

At the factory, Li Huaide's demands on her had become more frequent, his hints increasingly blatant; she struggled between them, mentally and physically exhausted. At home, her son was isolated, her mother‑in‑law domineering, life felt stifled with no hope in sight. Those two chickens, to her, were merely someone else's liveliness, unrelated to her stagnant, dead‑water existence.

In the Front Courtyard Yan Bu‑gui household, the Third Elder pushed up his glasses, gazing toward Xu Damao's home, his inner abacus clicking again: 'Two chickens… and mushrooms… Xu Damao really has wild connections. It seems the projectionist's pickings are richer than imagined. Next time his family has something, perhaps we could… uh…'

He pondered how he could also get a share from Xu Damao's 'harvest', even if just a few flattering words for a few mushrooms.

And at this moment, the most infuriated was Sha Zhu.

He was flipping the wok in his own house when he heard a commotion outside; lifting the door curtain, he happened to see Xu Damao strutting about proudly. Sha Zhu's big face instantly fell.

"Hey! Grandson! What are you showing off here?" Sha Zhu tapped his spatula against the pot rim, making a harsh sound, "Who knows how you got those chickens? Didn't you steal them from the commune? Be careful or you'll be paraded through the streets!"

Xu Damao was feeling pleased, but Sha Zhu's jab made his anger flare; he turned and retorted: "Sha Zhu! You little brat, stop whining sour grapes because you can't eat them! This is a commendation from the commune leaders—open and aboveboard! Unlike some people who just sneak around stealing chickens and dogs in the courtyard!"

"Who the hell are you calling a chicken‑and‑dog thief?!" Sha Zhu hated hearing this brought up; although he hadn't done it this time, just hearing it made him furious, and he gripped his spatula, ready to charge out.

"Whoever answers is the one who said it!" Xu Damao didn't let him off verbally, but instinctively stepped back a pace—he really didn't want to come to blows with Sha Zhu again.

Seeing the two about to clash again, Yi Zhonghai walked over from the Central Courtyard with his hands behind his back, frowning and scolding: "Enough! Say a couple less! Damao just got back, Zhuzi, you stir‑fry your vegetables! All day the courtyard's noisy—what a sight!"

Sha Zhu stuck out his neck, glared hard at Xu Damao, spat, turned and went back inside, slamming the door with a bang. Xu Damao also snorted, straightened his collar proudly, feeling he had won the verbal exchange.

This little squabble was, to Li Ping'an at the gate of Xi Kua Yuan, just another boring farce. He had just gotten off work and was about to go in, taking in the whole scene. As for Xu Damao's 'harvest' and Sha Zhu's anger, he couldn't muster even a shred of extra expression.

Idiot. He gave them the same evaluation in his mind: one, with a little power, forgets his surname; the other, ignites at the slightest provocation, utterly lacking scheming.

He pushed the door open; warm light and the aroma of food instantly enveloped him. Lin Xueqing was tutoring Xiao Yaozong in writing, while Xiao Nuanqing babbled in the cradle. Outside, the clamor of chickens flying and dogs jumping, the petty squabbles, seemed shut off in another world.

"Back?" Lin Xueqing lifted her head and gave a gentle smile.

"Mm." Li Ping'an set down his briefcase, washed his hands, sat at the table, looked at his son's neat handwriting, and a genuine smile spread across his face: "How was today's homework?"

He gave not a thought to Xu Damao's chickens and mushrooms, nor to Sha Zhu's anger; he had more important things to consider.

At the factory, the struggle between Li Huaide and Yang Weiguo grew ever more heated; the workshop supervisor post remained undecided, both sides secretly exerting themselves, courting allies.

He had to more carefully maintain the independence of the Security Section, ensuring Li Huaide didn't think him useless, while also preventing Yang Weiguo from believing he had defected to the opposite side.

Moreover, the cache of Heshen's treasures he kept hidden in the Spiritual Spring Space also needed gradual sorting and planning. Those things were immense wealth, yet also immense risk, to be used only when the right moment came.

For now, he preferred to use the space's ability to silently improve his life—say, the occasional fish he'd 'catch', or vegetables and fruits of far‑superior quality to ordinary people's.

After dinner, he routinely checked his son's martial‑arts progress. Xiao Yaozong's horse stance grew ever steadier; a basic set of Small Frame Baji Quan was performed with proper form, though lacking power, his posture already grasped a bit of the essence.

Li Ping'an patiently corrected his movements, meanwhile calculating that after a while he could start teaching him more refined footwork and power techniques.

Late at night, the Siheyuan returned to silence. Xu Damao's household occasionally heard a few chicken cries; Sha Zhu's family had already turned off the lights; the Jia household seemed to still have low‑voiced arguments; the Front Courtyard Yan household was likely still calculating how to mooch some mushrooms tomorrow… but all of this had nothing to do with Xi Kua Yuan.

Li Ping'an stood by the window, gazing at the deep night outside. This small Siheyuan condenses the myriad aspects of the world: some bustle for petty gains before their eyes, some are tangled in family trivialities, and others, like him, beneath a calm façade silently amass strength for an unknown future.

He knew the present calm was only temporary. The factory's power struggles, societal shifts, and even the old grudges and new resentments built up in this courtyard would sooner or later erupt in a more intense fashion. All he could do was, before that, make himself and his family stronger, more unshakable.

He gently drew the curtains, shutting out the cold night and the courtyard's turmoil. Inside, the stove fire blazed, illuminating the peaceful faces of his wife and children. This was his entire world, worth protecting with everything he had.