Chapter 59

November 1962, South Gong and Drum Alley Courtyard House in the Forty-Ninth City.

Hou Weiguo lay on the bed, wearing only a patched cotton jacket, the cuffs worn so thin the original color could no longer be seen.

His eyes dull, staring at the ceiling, like a soulless corpse.

The bone-chilling cold wind seeped in through the cracks of the window, its wailing sound like ghosts calling.

It added a touch of gloom to the already icy room; today is the second day since he transmigrated into this world.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains into the room; Hou Weiguo habitually reached toward the pillow.

His right hand groped the pillow, finding only emptiness; he was still unaccustomed to days without a phone.

Hou Weiguo got up from the bed, put on his clothes, stood by the window watching the drifting snowflakes outside, and recalled the original owner's memories.

The original owner was also named Hou Weiguo; a few days before his nineteenth birthday, his parents died in an accidental car crash, and unable to bear the blow, the original owner fell into depression and died.

This also gave Hou Weiguo the chance to transmigrate; in his previous life, Hou Weiguo was a reconnaissance soldier in a certain military district. Because of a mission mistake that led to the death of a teammate carrying out the mission together, Hou Weiguo blamed himself intensely and thus decided to retire and leave the army.

But his heart could never find peace; the faces of his comrades constantly appeared in his mind. After retiring, Hou Weiguo entered a state-owned grain warehouse to guard the gate, and alone he reached middle age becoming a good-for-nothing old loafer who knew a little about everything but mastered nothing.

The knocking pulled Hou Weiguo's thoughts back; he opened the door to see a familiar face—'Is that Yi Zhonghai?' The original owner's memories surged into Hou Weiguo's mind like a tide.

Hou Weiguo knew he had transmigrated into the world of 'Courtyard House Full of Poultry,' and also understood why Yi Zhonghai had come knocking.

His parents had both been workers at Yagangchang before their deaths; while returning to their hometown to visit Hou Weiguo's grandmother, they met with a car accident, and of the three, only Hou Weiguo survived.

"Elder Uncle, you've come," Hou Weiguo said with a smile on his face, but hunger gave his smile a sickly tinge.

Yi Zhonghai looked at Hou Weiguo's face showing concern and said, "Weiguo, what's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

Hou Weiguo replied, "Nothing, Elder Uncle; we ran out of grain at home yesterday, and after a day without food I feel a bit weak."

Before Hou Weiguo's transmigration, the original owner had already collapsed on the bed, unconscious from excessive grief and from busy funeral arrangements for his parents over the past few days. When Hou Weiguo transmigrated over, his first sensation was hunger; he got up and began searching for food, staring at the empty rice bin, and helplessly could only drink a pot of water before lying back down on the bed.

Yi Zhonghai said, "Weiguo, I went to the factory today to ask about your taking over the position, but don't get your hopes up too high, after all your parents died in a car accident."

Hou Weiguo nodded and said, "Thank you for the trouble, Elder Uncle."

Seeing Hou Weiguo swaying on the verge of collapse, Yi Zhonghai muttered, "Weiguo, I'll bring you two steamed buns later to tide you over; although your parents are gone, if you have any matters in the future you can come find me."

Hou Weiguo thanked him, Yi Zhonghai turned and went back to the central courtyard; after Yi Zhonghai left, Hou Weiguo closed the room door, sat on a chair, and looked at his own room.

Hou Weiguo's lodging was the east wing room opposite the house of Third Elder Yan Fuguai in the front courtyard; a three-room unit of about fifty to sixty square meters was divided into three rooms, with the living room in the middle and Hou Weiguo's and his parents' rooms on the left and right.

Looking at the coal-ball stove leaning against the window, a blackened iron bucket extended from the stove body out the window; Hou Weiguo walked to the stove and found the fire had long been extinguished.

From beside the stove, he used iron chopsticks to pick up a piece of honeycomb coal and knocked on the door of Yan Fuguai's house opposite.

"Third Elder, my stove went out; I'd like to exchange a piece of coal with you."

Yan Fuguai looked at the intact piece of honeycomb coal in Hou Weiguo's hand, smiled, and said, "Weiguo, give me the coal; I'll go get you an exchange." Having said that, he took the coal from Hou Weiguo's hand and went inside.

Not long after, Yan Fuguai came out holding a piece of coal almost burned through, placed it on the ground, and said, "Weiguo, sorry, your Third Aunt forgot to seal the stove; take a look at this piece, is it okay?"

"All right, Third Elder, just need a piece to light the fire; thank you," Hou Weiguo said, picking up the coal and turning back to the house.

Just as Hou Weiguo finished fixing the coal-ball stove, Yi Zhonghai pushed the door open and entered, holding a bowl with two steamed buns inside, saying, "Weiguo, tide yourself over with these; I'm heading to the factory now." After speaking, he placed the buns on the square table, closed the room door, and walked out of the courtyard.

Hou Weiguo was already starving; as soon as Yi Zhonghai left, he snatched the steamed buns from the table and shoved them into his mouth. The cold, coarse-grained buns made his throat feel scratchy as he swallowed, reminding him of the warehouse where he worked in his previous life, just as he was thinking about that warehouse.

Feeling a wave of dizziness, which he thought was from hunger, Hou Weiguo closed his eyes; after a long while he opened them to find the scene before him changed.

He had returned to the guardroom of the warehouse he had been looking at earlier; Hou Weiguo looked at the half-eaten steamed bun in his hand and then at the familiar guardroom, feeling a bit dazed for a moment.

"Am I back again?" Hou Weiguo said, placing the bun on the table, standing up, and walking out of the guardroom; but at this moment he discovered a problem.

Earlier the warehouse was piled full of grain; why is it now empty? He walked to the door intending to open it, but the door seemed welded shut by something and would not budge.

Peering through the crack, he saw a pitch-black expanse with not a glimmer of light.

Helpless, Hou Weiguo returned to the guardroom, sat on the chair, picked up the steamed bun, and continued gnawing on it.

Suddenly Hou Weiguo recalled that, because he often worked overtime, he had bought a box of instant noodles and placed it in the wardrobe; he stood, opened the wardrobe, and found it empty—an unopened box of instant noodles lay inside.

He took out the instant noodle box and opened it; tightly packed red plastic bags appeared, showing a pleasing color.

Hou Weiguo pulled out a bag, took the rice cooker from the table, opened it, and poured in one bag; just as he was about to pick up the kettle to pour hot water, only a little water came out of the pot. Helpless, he could only pick up the instant noodles and eat them dry, because in the grain warehouse, aside from phone charging, the guardroom cannot have any other high-power appliances.

Hou Weiguo also couldn't boil water to drink; while thinking about how to get back, he suddenly felt another wave of dizziness, opened his eyes, and found himself back in the living room.

Still holding the instant noodle he had just taken a bite of, Hou Weiguo stared at the noodles in his hand, his eyes widening and his breathing becoming somewhat hurried.

By now he understood: the warehouse had indeed come along with him through the transmigration, except the grain inside had vanished into thin air.

After a while, Hou Weiguo calmed his mind; with a thought he returned to the warehouse, took another packet of instant noodles, picked up a pot, poured in some hot water, placed it on the stove, and soon the water boiled.

Hou Weiguo opened the instant noodle block, added it together with the half-eaten noodles he had already chewed into the pot, poured in the seasoning, and shortly the aroma drifted out through the window cracks.

Outside, a boy named Bargeng from the Hou household, on his way to school, was drawn by the scent, pushed open the Hou family's door, and said, "Uncle Weiguo, what delicious thing are you making at home?"

Hou Weiguo looked at Bargeng pushing the door in, and memories surfaced in his mind.

Is this the Bargeng from Qin Huairu's family? What a little white-eyed wolf.

Hou Weiguo stopped stirring with his chopsticks and said, "Nothing special, just noodles with some five-spice powder."

Bargeng smelled the fragrance, stepped forward, and said, "Uncle Weiguo, may I have a taste?"

"You want to eat?"

"Yes," Bargeng nodded vigorously, his eyes full of anticipation.

"If you want to eat, have your mother make it for you," Hou Weiguo said, then ignored Bargeng, walked to the cupboard, took a porcelain basin, and began scooping noodles into it.

Seeing Hou Weiguo ignore him, Bargeng cursed, "Choke on it," and darted out of the Hou household in a flash.

Watching Bargeng run off, Hou Weiguo closed the door, had no time to be angry with him, lifted the porcelain basin, closed the door, and slurped a mouthful of instant noodles.

A warm current entered his stomach; Hou Weiguo felt he had finally come to his senses, "Fragrant, truly fucking fragrant."

He broke the remaining steamed buns into several pieces, tossed them into the instant noodles, mixed them thoroughly, and thus the noodles went into his stomach.

After finishing his meal, Hou Weiguo sat on the stool, habitually reached into his pockets preparing to smoke a cigarette, felt all his pockets, and found only a few grain coupons and nothing else.

He sighed, walked to his parents' room, opened the wardrobe, took out an iron tin containing biscuits, and poured its contents onto the bed.

Over twelve hundred yuan plus some scattered coupons; of this money, one thousand yuan was compensation paid by the factory to Hou Weiguo's parents from the driver responsible for the accident, and in those days two lives were worth only a thousand yuan.