Chapter 366: Schadenfreude

The next day, in the ward of the Steel Rolling Mill workers' hospital, the scent of disinfectant and a faint smell of blood lingered.

Xu Damao's one leg was wrapped in plaster and bandages, forming a huge white club, suspended high on a traction frame.

His complexion was waxen, his lips cracked and peeled, and a layer of cold sweat covered his forehead.

After the anesthetic wore off, the excruciating pain in his leg surged like tide after tide, tormenting him between life and death.

He whined and moaned, cursing Lao Sun Tou's ancestors up to the eighteenth generation in his mind, and also grumbling that Li Ping'an hadn't arrived quickly enough.

The ward door was gently pushed open.

Wang Cuihua carried a mesh basket holding two aluminum lunch boxes and slipped in quietly.

She changed into a half-new blue cotton robe, her hair neatly combed, her face wearing a deliberately posed look of worry and meekness.

Damao, feeling any better? It hurts a lot, right?

Wang Cuihua sat at the bedside, opened the lunch box, revealing a thin millet porridge and a small dish of finely sliced salty vegetables.

Here, have some porridge; I simmered it a bit longer on purpose, so it's easy to digest.

Xu Damao glanced at her sideways; instead of being moved, he felt a tinge of disgust.

After all these years of marriage, when had Wang Cuihua ever been this gentle and caring toward him?

Except for the early days after the wedding, when she pretended to be a virtuous daughter-in-law for a few days to cement her status.

Later her true nature resurfaced: petty, sharp‑tongued, and quick to blackmail him with that old trivial incident.

Seeing his miserable state now, Wang Cuihua must be worried he'll die or become crippled, leaving her without a steady source of meals.

She thought that, but her mouth stayed silent, too lazy to argue because of pain and weakness.

He let Wang Cuihua feed the warm porridge into his mouth with a small spoon.

The porridge was indeed well‑cooked, and the salty vegetables were crisp.

Xu Damao ate a little less than half a bowl, felt a bit of warmth in his body, and the pain seemed to ease somewhat.

Wang Cuihua, while feeding him, glanced around the ward with her peripheral vision.

It was a single room, with a guard stationed at the door.

Such treatment isn't something an ordinary work injury would merit.

She silently calculated that this time, Xu Damao might have actually earned some remarkable merit.

And then…

Damao, Wang Cuihua lowered her voice and leaned in, "Word's spread throughout the plant that you bravely fought a spy and were honorably wounded. Li Chief and the others—did they say they'd give you any reward? A promotion? Or a bonus?"

Upon hearing that, Xu Damao's spirit lifted a little.

He mumbled, "Rewards… there must be some. Li Chief said it's counted as merit. The specifics… we'll discuss once I'm healed."

Wang Cuihua's eyes brightened briefly, then she reverted to a worried expression.

You say you also did it, so dangerous—why charge forward? If something were to happen to you, how would I… how could I survive?

She said that while wiping away nonexistent tears.

From now on I won't dare take such risks! Staying safe is better than anything, don't you agree?

Xu Damao sneered inwardly.

It sounds nice now.

When she previously urged him to bring gifts to Li the Factory Director or to stir trouble in the Logistics Department, why didn't she say "just stay safe"?

But now he lacked the strength to argue, merely uttering a hum.

Seeing his mood low, Wang Cuihua stopped probing and carefully wiped his mouth corner.

She chatted a few more domestic remarks, urging him to recuperate, then packed the lunch box and left.

Stepping out of the ward, Wang Cuihua's meekness vanished instantly, replaced by a shrewd calculation.

She needed to investigate how big Xu Damao's "merit" really was and what benefits it could fetch.

She couldn't let him take this risk for nothing.

Under the dusk, Siheyuan No. 95 was at its noisiest, just before and after dinner.

Every household's doorway wafted different aromas of food.

Mixed with children's chatter and adults' scoldings.

In the front courtyard, Third Elder Yan Bu Gui finally finished tending his few Chrysanthemum Stamps, carried a tea kettle, and strolled into the central courtyard.

He ran into Second Elder Liu Haizhong, hands behind his back, a gloomy expression, walking from the central courtyard toward the back courtyard.

The two met briefly under the moon-shaped doorway.

Lao Yan, have you eaten? Liu Haizhong called out listlessly.

Not yet. Yan Bu Gui pushed his glasses, his gaze lingering on Liu Haizhong's sallow face, "Old Liu, who are you holding a grudge against this time?"

Liu Haizhong snorted through his nose, "Who else? Just thinking about it makes me angry!"

He didn't say it outright, but Yan Bu Gui immediately understood.

He must have thought of his elder son Liu Guangqi, who ran off with the money.

That matter is a perpetual thorn in Liu Haizhong's heart; mentioning it makes him explode.

Yan Bu Gui cleverly changed the subject.

Did you hear? In the back courtyard, Xu Damao finally showed his face! He bravely fought a spy and was seriously wounded! The whole plant is buzzing.

Liu Haizhong's attention was indeed drawn, and he pursed his lips.

Xu Damao? Him? Fighting a spy? Must be a blind cat meeting a dead mouse, getting beaten up, right? I heard his leg was almost broken in half!

His tone was laced with unabashed bitterness and schadenfreude.

His own son is useless, yet seeing others seemingly succeed makes his heart even more uneasy.

Yan Bu Gui let out a chuckle, full of implication.

No matter what, they're now lying in a single room at the Yi Yuan, with a security post at the door. This treatment, *tsk tsk*… maybe it's a blessing in disguise.

As the two were talking, the curtain of the Jia Zhangshi household in the Central Courtyard was pulled aside.

Jia Zhangshi stuck out half a body, still holding a shoe‑sole awl.

A sharp voice immediately joined the discussion.

Bah! That unscrupulous Xu Damao, what good luck could he have? He must have done plenty of immoral deeds and got his comeuppance! Fighting brave agents? I think it's the agents fighting him, that would be more fitting! Heaven has eyes!

Before she finished speaking, Qin Huairu, who was washing vegetables at the faucet nearby, quickly tugged at her sleeve and whispered, "Mother, say a little less."

Jia Zhangshi flicked her arm and glared at her daughter‑in‑law.

Did I say something wrong? What kind of creature is Xu Damao, who in the courtyard is known by everyone? And his wife Wang Cuihua is no good either! A pair of troublemakers!

Her voice was loud, prompting people from several other households in the courtyard to peek out.

Yi Zhonghai stepped out of his house with his hands behind his back; he is a First Elder of the courtyard, usually values fairness and likes to manage affairs.

He frowned upon hearing Jia Zhangshi's words.

Elder sister‑in‑law, you shouldn't speak like that. Damao was injured at the factory this time; the factory will have its own official judgment on the details. We're all from the same courtyard; now is not the time for cold remarks.

Jia Zhangshi still harbored some reservations toward Yi Zhonghai, muttering as she retreated back into the house, but her dissatisfied gaze could pierce through the window paper.

Yi Zhonghai sighed and said to Yan Bu Gui and Liu Haizhong, "The factory has been unsettled lately; our courtyard must stay united and not spread idle gossip."

Liu Haizhong turned his head away, unimpressed.

Yan Bu Gui chuckled, "Yes, yes, the First Elder is right." However, the agents have even caused trouble at the factory; that's truly audacious. Li Ping'an's Security Department bears great responsibility.

Just then, Sha Zhu shuffled in through the Hanging‑Flower Gate, carrying an empty lunch box, humming an off‑key little tune.

He had just gone to the canteen to brief his disciple Ma Hua on some matters and, in passing, grabbed some leftovers.

Seeing the scene in the Central Courtyard, he laughed.

Hey, are a few First Elders holding a full‑courtyard meeting here? Discussing state affairs?

Yan Bu Gui laughed, "Zhuzi is back. We were just talking about Xu Damao."

Sha Zhu's smile brightened even more at the mention of Xu Damao, showing unfiltered delight.

Xu Damao? Hah! I was wondering why magpies were chirping today, and it turns out this brat is unlucky! His leg broken? As it should! Let him leap and bound all day, currying favor with the leaders, scheming against this and that! That's what they call the wicked meeting their heavenly retribution; even Heaven can no longer stand his petty, triumphant grin!

His booming voice drew low chuckles from behind the windows of every household.

Xu Damao's popularity in the courtyard was indeed poor.

Yi Zhonghai frowned, "Zhuzi! Keep your tongue in check! Damao is at least a neighbor and has been injured."

Sha Zhu didn't care at all. "First Elder, I'm straightforward—I'll say whatever's on my mind. Did Xu Damao's deeds deserve a neighbor? Not to mention, just a few days ago, what inspection did he conduct at the factory, picking bones out of eggs, how many people did he trouble? Now he's lying down, and he doesn't even let everyone have a good laugh?"

His wife Ma Dongmei emerged from the house cradling her little son He Xiaodong, and, hearing the words, gently tugged at Sha Zhu.

Say a little less and go home for dinner.

Sha Zhu finally hushed, but the thrill on his face hadn't faded; he nodded to the several First Elders and followed his wife back inside.

Inside, the elder son He Xiao was doing his homework.

Sha Zhu placed the lunch box on the table, rubbing his hands, his eyebrows dancing as he said to Ma Dongmei, "Wife, did you hear? That Xu Damao brat broke his leg! Ha ha, that's karma! Tonight I'll drink two taels, celebrate!"

Ma Dongmei glared at him and shoved He Xiaodong into her arms.

Celebrate what? Someone got hurt, what's there to be happy about? Eat!

Even so, the corner of her mouth couldn't help but curve slightly.

Xu Damao hadn't been short of squeezing Sha Zhu before, and she remembered all of it.

In the Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an's family had just finished their meal.

Lin Xueqing was tidying the dishes, while Li Yaozong continued writing his study reflections under the lamp.

Li Ping'an sat on a chair cradling his little daughter, sipping tea slowly.

The courtyard wall couldn't block the faint murmurs of discussion coming from the Central Courtyard.

Those gloating misfortunes, those cold words, that unabashed jealousy and exhilaration drifted in thread by thread.

This is the Siheyuan, a miniature world of humanity.

There is outward harmony, and hidden rivalry.

There is genuine compassion, and also narrow scheming.

Is anyone truly concerned about Xu Damao's injury?

Perhaps Wang Cuihua has a little, but most of it is calculation for her own future life.

The others mostly watch the spectacle, even feeling a sense of vented anger.

Li Ping'an was not surprised.

These are the people of Courtyard No. 95, who have no sense of warmth or cold in human relations.

Against greater storms, these petty grudges and words appear tiny and laughable.

But they are also real.

It is another side of life he must face and understand.

He set down his teacup.

No matter how the courtyard folk discuss, whether Xu Damao's injury is self‑inflicted or a result of merit.

The Shopkeeper's shadow has not faded.

The hand behind the City Bureau's high wall still lurks in the mist.

The factory's guard must not be relaxed.

The household's peace must also be guarded.

He glanced at his son, who was focused on writing, then looked toward his wife bustling in the kitchen.

The light was warm, the fireworks ordinary.

This may be the meaning of Li Ping'an's battle with that phantom.

For more people, to be able to have such an ordinary yet precious night.

Even if the corners of this night still hide whispers that are not so beautiful.

Night deepens.

The Siheyuan finally quiets down slowly.

Only the wind passes through the narrow alley.

And, from the direction of the distant Steel Rolling Mill, a faint, never‑ending machine roar can be heard.

That roar is like the heartbeat of this massive city.

Steady, powerful.

Yet it also masks countless conspiracies and schemes that are growing or fading in the darkness.

Li Ping'an blew out the lamp.

Lying on the bed, Li Ping'an closed their eyes.

Tomorrow, more things await Li Ping'an.

In the factory.

Also in the courtyard.