Chapter 39

That night, Yi Zhonghai sat at the desk, clutching an unfinished slip of paper in his hand, on which was written in a shaky hand: 'Jia Dongxu, if you obey, in the future……'

The pen tip suddenly stalled, his chest felt a sudden tightness, his throat turned sweet, and a mouthful of blood 'pfft' sprayed onto the paper, bright red and glaring.

When the aunt rushed in, he was holding the desk edge, panting, his face ashen.

"What is this…?"

"Zhao Jianguo…" Yi Zhonghai gritted his teeth, voice trembling, "He schemed against me… he ruined me…"

"Say less!" the aunt panicked, "Lie down quick, I'll go fetch a doctor!"

Yi Zhonghai grabbed her wrist in one motion: "No… I have to… I have to…"

Before he finished speaking, another mouthful of blood surged up, splashing onto the oil lamp shade at the desk corner, then slowly sliding down the glass like a red earthworm.

At dawn, as the first light tinged the horizon with a pale fish‑belly white, Zhao Jianguo set out carrying a packet of snow‑white crystal sugar and two catties of precious premium flour, like an agent on a secret mission. He did not take the proper main gate but, like a seasoned guerrilla, slipped into the back alley. Among the mountain‑high pile of bricks, he fished out several firecrackers carefully wrapped in red paper, as if they were priceless treasures, and tucked them gently into his pocket.

Last night's pouring rain seemed as if the heavens had dumped a huge basin of water, soaking the ground until it was soft as loam. With each step Zhao Jianguo took, his shoe soles clung to black mud like magnets, leaving deep footprints on the earth, like a mysterious code guiding him toward the main house of the central courtyard.

The main room's door was half‑closed, as if yawning lazily. Zhao Jianguo gave it a gentle push, and it creaked open with a 'squeak'. Inside, Sha Zhu stood before the mirror, fussing over a hat like a model preparing for a runway. The collar was pulled tight, making his face flush as red as a ripe tomato, as if it might burst at any moment.

"Hey, are you trying to strangle yourself into a boiled egg?" Zhao Jianguo joked while setting down what he held on the table in a swift, practiced motion, like an experienced chef arranging ingredients, "Today you're the groom, not off to the execution ground—don't be so nervous!"

Sha Zhu turned and saw Zhao Jianguo, as if spotting an oasis in the desert, he exhaled in relief, his voice tinged with anxiety: 'You finally came; I can't get this collar right no matter how I tie it—quick, help me check.'

"Got it!" Zhao Jianguo rolled up his sleeves like a master tailor, in a few quick moves smoothed the collar flat. He then opened the packet of white sugar, which glittered like fine diamonds in the sunlight. He scooped a spoonful into the small bowl on the stove, his motion graceful as a bartender's, "This pot of sweet tangyuan must be sweet enough to reach the heart!"

Sha Zhu stared at the spoonful of sugar, his throat constricted as if blocked, tears of emotion glimmering in his eyes, he stammered: 'This… this is something fine… where did you get it?'

"Never mind where it came from—I'm no thief." Zhao Jianguo patted Sha Zhu's shoulder with just the right force, as if injecting him with strength, "Your dad didn't make it in time for your wedding; my dad said he'd take the old man's seat at the head table. I've also invited the deaf granny, so all we're waiting for is you, the groom, to start the feast!"

Sha Zhu said nothing, just lowered his head, his fingers lightly rubbing the desk edge, as if recalling something. Zhao Jianguo saw his expression and understood his thoughts. Yesterday Sha Zhu had stood in the courtyard reading directives, his solemn demeanor like an official announcing an imperial edict; today he had transformed into a groom, a change as swift as a roller coaster—anyone would need a moment to catch their breath.

"Let's go, stop dawdling." Zhao Jianguo hoisted the firecrackers like a commander, "A few people have already arrived; if you keep hesitating, the sun will scorch your backside!"

Indeed, a few people had gathered in the courtyard, like actors waiting for their cue. Jia Dongxu crouched by the door peeling scallions like a diligent bee, his movements practiced and focused; He Yushui stood at the stove, stirring the big pot of braised meat like a chef fine‑tuning a delicious dish, the aroma drifting about like mischievous sprites; Qin Huairu cradled her child beneath the eaves, like a gentle statue, and when she saw Zhao Jianguo emerge she gave a slight, graceful nod.

Yet the courtyard remained silent, no one speaking, no one offering congratulations, as if everyone had turned mute. Zhao Jianguo glanced around, his mind clear as a mirror. These people weren't denying the marriage; they feared trouble. The image of Yi Zhonghai's blood still lingered like a shadow in everyone's heart, so nobody dared speak first, like a flock of timid mice unwilling to show their heads.

Zhao Jianguo wasn't in a hurry either; he hung the firecrackers on the bamboo pole at the Dong'erfang gate like a magician, then struck a match with a 'pop' to light the fuse. Instantly, the 'crackle‑pop' of the firecrackers rang through the heavens, like a flock of joyful birds singing, while shreds of red paper fell like snowflakes, covering the ground and turning the courtyard into a festive fairy‑tale world.

Zhao Jianguo clapped his hands, stepped to the center of the courtyard like a host, and spoke loudly and clearly: 'Folks and neighbors, today is the great joyous day of Sha Zhu and Ma Dongmei! We won't bow to heaven or earth, just to the old neighbors of our siheyuan! The deaf granny takes the seat of honor, my father Zhao Erniu represents the elders, and now the newlyweds shall begin the rites!'

As his words faded, Sha Zhu emerged from the house leading Ma Dongmei like a brave knight. Ma Dongmei wore a washed‑white blue‑cloth jacket, its color as pure as the sky; a red headband was tied in her hair like a blooming red flower, she kept her head down, clutching Sha Zhu's sleeve tightly, like a startled fawn.

The two walked up to the deaf granny and bowed together, the motion neat and solemn. The granny, toothless, grinned like a blooming chrysanthemum, nodding repeatedly, an utterly endearing sight.

Next they bowed to Zhao Jianguo's father; the old man was so happy he waved his hands like a child, his voice full of joy: 'Hurry up, rise, from now on we're one family!'

After the round of rites, no one obstructed or jeered; the whole courtyard was filled with a harmonious atmosphere. Jia Dongxu approached carrying a plate of fried eggs, the plate like a golden disc, he set it on the table and said boldly: 'Zhuzi, brother has no other talent—just this cooking skill—to add a dish for you!'

He Yushui also came over like a lively little rabbit, holding a bunch of vermicelli, and said teasingly: 'My foster mother sent me with a handful of vermicelli, saying it'll make the braised meat fragrant when added!'

Qin Huairu, holding her child, spoke in a voice as soft as a spring breeze: 'Wishing you harmony and happiness.'

Although everyone spoke little, they had all opened up, like parched land greeting a spring rain. Zhao Jianguo stood to the side, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned like a crescent moon, knowing that after this meal Sha Zhu would truly no longer be the pliable 'Sha Zhu' others could push around; he would embark on a new journey in life.

Just then, the sound of a cane tapping the ground came from the courtyard gate—'thud, thud, thud'—like heavy drumbeats striking people's hearts. It was Yi Zhonghai arriving.

He wore an old gray‑cloth shirt, the color of a dull sky, his face pallid, the dried bloodstain at the corner of his mouth still an ugly scar unwashed, his gait lame and faltering like an injured bird; the aunt supported him like a flower guardian, walking extremely slowly, each step visibly arduous.

Upon seeing him, everyone's voices dropped at once, as if an invisible hand had muffled their mouths. Zhao Jianguo, however, acted as if he hadn't noticed, turned and ladled a bowl of hot soup from the pot— the broth like a warm river—and handed it to Sha Zhu, saying solicitously: 'Drink it while it's hot; you'll need to speak during the toast later, don't let your throat dry out.'

Yi Zhonghai walked into the courtyard, panting twice like a broken bellows, intending to head for the main table. Zhao Jianguo raised his voice like a stern general issuing orders: 'Today we celebrate only the newcomers, we do not pay respects to the elders! Uncle, you're not well—don't tire yourself; there's a chair over there, please rest first.'

By 'over there' he meant the farthest corner from the main table, where a lone little stool sat, like a forgotten child. Yi Zhonghai's steps halted, his eyes bulging like copper bells as he glared, wanting to protest, but as soon as he opened his mouth he coughed like a broken‑down machine, bending over so hard his cane nearly slipped from his grip.

Aunt Jia hurried to help him sit, muttering under her breath: 'What is this… after all, he's still an elder…' but no one responded; everyone stood silent like statues.

Sha Zhu held the soup bowl, glanced at Yi Zhonghai, then neither approached nor offered a toast, simply standing still. Ma Dongmei tugged his sleeve; he nodded and went back to the stove, like a soldier returning to his battlefield.

After three rounds of wine and seven dishes, the courtyard's atmosphere finally warmed, like a brazier in winter. Children swarmed the table like a troop of lively monkeys, snatching sugar and eliciting amused smiles; the adults also began to chat and laugh, their voices like pleasant musical notes drifting in the air.

Zhao Jianguo sat in the corner, clutching a small packet of dried sweet potato like a collector with a precious treasure. He rose and went to a few children, handing each a small handful like Santa Claus, smiling: 'Today's a happy occasion—this sweetness must not be cut off!'

The children grinned wide, their smiles like blooming bright flowers. Xu Da Mao approached with his bowl, complaining like a grumbling old man: 'It's joyous, alright, but word just came from above that next month's food rations will be cut by ten percent. Life is getting tighter and tighter!'

Liu Haizhong ate with his head down, like a focused diner, indifferent: 'A ten percent cut is just ten percent—after all, we don't have much fat to trim anyway.'

Zhao Jianguo didn't reply, merely packing the remaining dried sweet potato carefully away like a guardian of treasure, then turned and sat beside Jia Dongxu. He said quietly: 'Your family of four gets only one ration—life is hard. I have an idea; I'll tell you the details later.'

Jia Dongxu's chopsticks paused, as if time had suddenly stopped; he lifted his gaze to Zhao Jianguo, eyes full of anticipation: 'You've got another connection, huh?'

Zhao Jianguo didn't answer, just smiled warmly like spring sunshine: 'First we must survive the winter; other matters we'll take slowly.'

Jia Dongxu stared at him for two seconds, then finally nodded like a general making a momentous decision.

Then footsteps sounded at the courtyard gate again, like a mysterious breeze. Yanbugui entered, swaying drunkenly while holding an empty wine jar, set it on the table, and brazenly said: 'I heard Sha Zhu's taking a wife; as a neighbor I ought to come mooch a drink, right?'

But no one paid him any mind; everyone acted as if he weren't there. Finding it boring, he picked up the jar and headed out, muttering: 'Everyone's recognizing this refugee woman…'

Zhao Jianguo watched his retreating back, silent, his eyes betraying a hint of helplessness.

Sha Zhu approached with a wine cup, like a grateful devotee, and said gratefully: 'Jianguo, thank you. Without you, this day… I couldn't even imagine it.'

"What for?" Zhao Jianguo waved his hand like a bold hero, "You've earned it yourself. From now on you're nobody's son, nobody's pawn—you are Sha Zhu, you are your own master!'

Sha Zhu grinned, the corners of his eyes slightly reddened as if sand had blown in; he raised his cup and declared boldly: 'Come, let's have a drink!'

They clinked cups, the clear ring like a joyful melody, then drained them in one gulp, like two warriors toasting on the battlefield.

Zhao Jianguo set down his cup, his gaze sweeping the courtyard like radar. The deaf granny dozed, resembling a sleeping Buddha; Qin Huairu soothed her child like a gentle angel; Jia Dongxu ate his rice like a diligent farmer; Xu Da Mao muttered as he walked away, like a disheartened poet; Liu Haizhong silently cleared the dishes, like a conscientious steward.

Yi Zhonghai still sat in the corner, head bowed, hand on his cane, like a solitary statue, as if asleep.

Zhao Jianguo rose, walking like an explorer to the old locust tree in the courtyard. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket, the book like a mysterious treasure chest, opened a page, and with a pencil, like a historian recording events, wrote a few lines: 'White sugar two catties, premium flour three catties, dried sweet potato five catties, coal balls eighty catties, two jars of pickled vegetables…'

He closed the notebook and slipped it back into his pocket like a guardian of secrets, then lifted his gaze to the freshly painted green door of the Dong'erfang— it seemed like a brand‑new world—and then to Yi Zhonghai's tightly shut room door, which looked like a mysterious black hole.

Suddenly the courtyard fell silent, as if an invisible hand had pressed the mute button. Sha Zhu and Ma Dongmei stood at the doorway, moving things into the new room. Ma Dongmei hugged a quilt like a bearer of hope; Sha Zhu led the way, inserting the key twice before it finally aligned with the lock— his action resembled a puzzle‑solver seeking the answer.

Zhao Jianguo was about to go help when a sudden thud sounded behind him, like an exploding bomb at his ear. He turned and saw Yi Zhonghai's cane toppled, the man slumped on the bench, his hands shaking violently like leaves in the wind, his lips purple, his throat emitting a hoarse 'huh‑huh' like a machine about to break down.

The aunt panicked, squawking like a startled hen: 'Old Yi! Old Yi, what's wrong with you?'

Zhao Jianguo hurried over, crouched like an emergency medic, and felt his pulse. He sensed the heartbeat racing like a tangled skein, the breath short and feeble like a dying flame.

"Fetch a doctor quick!" he shouted at He Yushui, his voice like an urgent command.

He Yushui bolted like an arrow released from a bow. Zhao Jianguo helped Yi Zhonghai sit up, patting his back as a friend would steady a fallen comrade.

Yi Zhonghai opened his eyes, his gaze like a murky pool, locked onto Zhao Jianguo. His lips moved, his voice barely audible: "You… you insist on… destroying me?"

Zhao Jianguo didn't answer; he just steadied him, like a sentinel holding his post, and said softly, "First survive, then think of anything else."

Yi Zhonghai's throat tightened, and he coughed like an old engine, his body lurching as his head nearly struck the table corner. Zhao Jianguo caught the back of his head in one hand, like someone cradling hope for life.

Just then, a 'click' came from the main room, like the gate to a new world swinging open. The lock released; Sha Zhu took Ma Dongmei's hand, like partners stepping toward the future together, crossed the threshold and entered the bridal chamber. The door shut, like a chapter of a story closing.

Zhao Jianguo supported Yi Zhonghai, lifted his gaze to the green‑painted door, his eyes filled with complex feeling. In the courtyard, only the coughing and the rustle of wind‑blown scraps of paper remained, like a mournful symphony.