Chapter 15: The Courtyard

"That day the courtyard held a meeting and asked Yi Zhonghai to return 100 yuan; on the first day we sold fish for 60 yuan, on the second day fish sold 60 plus 70 equals 130, plus today's fish sales of 100, Yi Zhonghai sent over 96, we now have 100+60+130+100+96 = 486, plus the 2.6 yuan you already had and the 5 yuan I earned at the street office making paper boxes, we have 493.6 yuan in hand."

Chen Hong took the money Yang Qing handed over, counted on her fingers, and found that they were now wealthy.

She had never held so much money before; her body trembled uncontrollably.

"Is... is this too much?"

Yang Qing, feeling sorry, gave her a hug, but only managed to hold her waist.

Being held by Yang Qing steadied Chen Hong's emotions; the lingering anxiety from having married a man as timid as a mouse vanished completely.

The man's excellence exceeded her expectations, and the two unexpectedly clicked, cooperating smoothly.

Involuntarily, a hint of affection rose in her heart, and her hand reached up to Yang Qing's head, gently stroking it.

The drawback of being short appeared; it felt less like consolation and more like begging for it.

Yang Qing said.

"This isn't much money; which household doesn't have a few hundred yuan?"

"Don't be fooled by the people in this courtyard; they all cry poverty and claim they can't get by, but every family actually has savings."

"Take the Jia Family, the hardest case: Jia Dongxu may look like a third‑grade worker, yet he earns 51 yuan a month, more than enough to support five people."

"Moreover, Yi Zhonghai is an eighth‑grade worker with a salary of 111 yuan; each month he also gives his apprentices some surplus tickets and food as a subsidy."

"He Yuzhu often brings meals from the canteen to support the Jia Family."

"The Jia Family even skimmed off my food allotment."

"Before the disaster, Jia Dongxu was a second‑grade worker; the Jia Family could save 10 yuan each month. After the disaster he was promoted to third‑grade, which raised his food expenses, but with others' help they could still save 10 yuan."

"Jia Dongxu's father died during the early 1953 Peninsula War while rushing work. The factory not only gave a house to the Jia Family and a workstation to Jia Dongxu, but also provided the Jia Family with funeral compensation of half a year's salary—350 yuan—and death compensation of two years' salary—1500 yuan."

"All together, the Jia Family has 1,850 yuan."

"Moreover, Jia Dongxu took over his father's position directly, without an apprenticeship, receiving the regular worker's salary of 22 yuan."

"Over the years, the Jia Family has saved at least 2,500 yuan."

After Yang Qing did the math, Chen Hong no longer felt nervous; she was judging the money by the village's standards.

Little did she know, this is Jingcheng, the region with the best national benefits, and most residents of this Siheyuan work at the steel‑rolling mill.

And the steel‑rolling mill is a huge plant.

How could people here possibly be poor?

It's downright a joke—if they were poor, would the countryside be living in hell?

Their consolation worked; Chen Hong steadied, rolled the money and slipped it into her trouser pocket.

"In that case, our little money doesn't matter at all."

Yang Qing said as if it were obvious.

"Of course; the people in our courtyard don't lack money, they lack tickets, so their cash can't be spent at all."

"Here it's not like the countryside, where a quick turn with neighbors lets you buy food and vegetables."

"Here it doesn't work; food rations are fixed, there's no surplus, and everything requires tickets."

"Naturally, a lot of money remains because it can't be spent."

Chen Hong suddenly felt the money wasn't as appealing.

"What about us?"

She thought her rural household registration was holding Yang Qing back; everything needs tickets, but as a rural registrant she has no food quota, thus no food tickets, only cloth tickets.

Without food tickets, even if they have money, life is hard to improve.

Don't be fooled that they don't lack food now, but what about the future? Keep doing things covertly?

Does that mean they'd even dare not eat food, like Yang Qing, starving like a mouse?

Yang Qing seemed to see her inner turmoil.

"Didn't I tell Aunt Wang about changing household registration?"

"Once the registration is changed, you'll have a job; everything else won't be a problem."

Chen Hong squeezed Yang Qing's hand tightly, wondering if changing registration could be that easy.

Their family seemed to have walked into a dead end.

Yang Qing, with an urban registration, can't obtain a job, and even though they qualify for work, they are a rural registrant, so a job never comes to a rural registrant.

Unless they buy a workstation, but buying one now isn't that simple; it must be through acquaintances who know the ins and outs—this is called workstation transfer.

Workstations at the steel‑rolling mill mostly transfer internally, rarely flowing out.

Those that do flow out must pass the mill's scrutiny; you also have to arrange the right contacts. For someone like Yang Qing, it's almost impossible—otherwise those old‑timers would already be workers, and how could they end up surviving in the pigeon market or black market?

And to give one to Chen Hong, whose registration is in Chenjia Gou, not a capital or nearby registration, such a workstation would be hard to provide.

(The novel is just nonsense; jobs aren't bought and sold at will—outsiders find it hard to acquire local workstations.)

That's why Yang Qing wants to swap registrations with Chen Hong.

Chen Hong needs a Jingcheng registration; with it her future would be bright.

Consequently, Yang Qing could also reap great benefit, gaining Chen Hong's protection.

Status matters; a worker‑status Chen Hong is naturally distinct from a destitute peasant.

From Aunt Wang's attitude, Chen Hong could tell that this matter wasn't simple.

"Changing registration is hard, right? If everyone could do it, it would be chaos, wouldn't it?"

Yang Qing nodded, affirming the point, but then added.

"Others can't do it, but I can. Rest assured, I'll see this through."

Yang Qing looked toward the darkness outside, their gaze especially resolute.

Chen Hong took Yang Qing's words as consolation, steadied her emotions, not wanting Yang Qing to worry about her any more.

All right, let's eat. After we eat, let's hurry up and sleep; we still have to get up in the middle of the night to fish, then.

Only after we sell the fish will our surface money increase a little; we also need to get someone to fix these three rooms, otherwise the house will rot completely.

Yang Qing nodded, patted Chen Hong's butt, then turned and went to start the pot.

Chen Hong's face flushed instantly; such an intimate move was still her first time.

Even though they slept together, they had never done anything intimate.

In this icy snow, they merely held each other to keep warm.

As time passed, the people in the courtyard began to gather; besides Jia Zhangshi and the children, several dozen people clustered together and started walking out of the courtyard gate.

Someone said.

Aren't they called Yang Qing and his wife?

Yi Zhonghai glanced inside.

"They're not like us; I can't manage them right now."

After the crowd left, Yang Qing's household also turned off the lights and went to bed.