Chapter 309: Never Be a Burden to the Child

Yu Xiufen and Zou Mengcheng took a liking to Li Ye's courtyard and immediately started cleaning it.

They wiped windows, swept the yard, moved the few pieces of furniture back and forth, and bustled about all day in the freezing winter cold.

Li Ye only helped for half an hour before quitting.

It wasn't that he was lazy—he just couldn't stand how obsessively thorough the three of them were; after he finished cleaning, they'd clean it all over again.

Especially Wang Zhiyuan, who never spoke for half a day, seemed determined to polish the cement floor until it shone—even cleaner than Sister Yu Xiufen.

Li Ye knew he wasn't a messy person, but compared to them—

【What's the point of comparing cleanliness with them? I'm the landlord. As long as I don't show up in boxers and flip-flops, I'm doing fine.】

"I'm leaving the keys here. I'll go arrange workers for you—next few days they'll build a bathroom and fix the toilet."

Li Ye tossed down the keys and turned to leave—he'd rather pull a rickshaw for two hours than clean for one.

"Where are you going? Dinner's ready."

"I'm not eating. I ate too much at the banquet at noon—I'm still full."

Yu Xiufen dropped her rag and chased after him. "Li Ye, don't bother—we have showers at our unit, and there's a public toilet right at the alley entrance. Don't waste money."

"What do you mean waste money?" Li Ye said as he stepped out the door. "This is serving tenants wholeheartedly—that's basic integrity for a landlord. Enough, Sister, don't see me off—I'm leaving."

Outside the courtyard, Li Ye drove to Zhongguancun.

Jiang Hong's group of ex-soldiers mostly lived in houses in Zhongguancun, and among them were a few skilled craftsmen—

carpenters, masons, even a paper-artist who made paper figures; they'd built the bathroom at Zaojunmiao during their spare time.

When Li Ye arrived in Zhongguancun, dusk was falling, and the biting wind left the streets nearly empty.

As his car turned into the village, the road narrowed. Ahead, a short girl struggled to drag a thick, dead branch.

The branch had been blown down by the wind, its tangled limbs blocking most of the path.

The freezing north wind bit hard, making the girl hunch her neck; she had no gloves and kept switching hands to blow on them.

Yet no matter how hard it was, she refused to abandon the branch.

Firewood in winter was more precious than the chapped cuts on a child's hands.

"Beep-beep."

Li Ye honked, signaling her to move aside—otherwise, if he drove over her firewood, he'd hear plenty of scolding from her elders later.

But the girl, startled like a rabbit, dropped the branch instantly and pressed herself against the roadside.

Li Ye felt apologetic—car horns in 1983 were too effective; one beep and pedestrians cleared the way, unlike decades later, when the more you honked, the less they moved, and eventually they'd just lie down in front of your car, and you'd end up paying damages in court.

But as Li Ye turned the steering wheel to steer left and pass, he noticed the girl waving excitedly at him.

"It's just a car. Why so excited? This isn't some remote mountain area."

Li Ye drove past the branch, but after only ten meters, he slammed on the brakes, shifted into reverse, and backed up.

The girl's floral padded jacket looked familiar.

He'd seen his sister making a similar jacket at Zaojunmiao just days ago.

Li Ye reversed the car, opened the door, and stepped out.

The girl stammered nervously: "S-sorry, I—I mistook you for someone else."

Hearing her Shanxi accent, Li Ye immediately guessed the truth.

Yang Yumin was from Shanxi; even after three years in Beijing, he still spoke with a trace of the old dialect.

So Li Ye smiled and asked the girl: "You're surnamed Yang, right?"

The girl nodded timidly, eyeing Li Ye with uncertainty.

Li Ye pointed to his Volga: "Do you recognize this car?"

The girl nodded again.

Li Ye added: "I'm your brother's classmate. My name is Li Ye."

The girl's face lit up like blooming flowers: "You're Little Yue's brother? Little Yue and my brother were talking about you yesterday!"

So now she called her "Little Yue" too—what was he supposed to do?

Li Ye asked: "How far is your home? Let me help you drag the firewood back."

The girl quickly shook her head: "No, no, it's not far—I can manage. Don't dirty your clothes."

"I won't use my hands."

Li Ye wore a tailored wool coat—clearly unsuitable for labor—but he had a car.

He opened the trunk and found a rope.

In those days, cars often broke down on the road, so nearly everyone carried a tow rope.

Li Ye tied one end to the branch and hooked the other to the Volga's rear hitch.

"Get in. Show me the way."

"Yes, yes."

The girl opened the door and climbed in; Li Ye noticed her posture—she'd ridden in this car many times.

"Turn left at the next intersection, then right at the third alley, third house."

"Did my sister come to your house yesterday?"

"Yes, Little Yue brought us a lot of vegetables yesterday."

"When did you come to Beijing?"

"We've been here over a month. My brother says Little Yue helped us buy this house. My mother has asked him many times to invite you over to thank you, but Little Yue said you're too busy."

The girl had no suspicion of Li Ye—she answered every question freely, and soon everything was clear.

She was Yang Yumin's younger sister, Yang Yujiao, and had come from their Shanxi hometown with their mother, Yang Huaifang.

His sister Li Yue visited about once a week, so she was already very familiar with Yang Yujiao.

"Sigh~"

Watching the chatty Yang Yujiao, Li Ye felt a pang of regret.

If only Yang Yumin looked half as good as Yang Yujiao.

If Yang Yujiao's beauty scored 8. , Yang Yumin barely scraped 7.

And Li Ye's sister, Li Yue, looked just like Li Ye—a flawless 9. beauty; no wonder she kept failing matchmaking in Qingshui County, and Grandma Wu Juying called her "picky."

Add to that, as Li Ye's sister, Li Yue was the ultimate white, rich, and beautiful.

But Li Ye knew well—if judged rationally—Yang Yumin, an 80-point Peking University student, was also a promising "gold son-in-law."

………

Yang Yujiao's home was not far from Li Ye's Zhongguancun house—just over two hundred meters away.

At the door, Yang Yujiao didn't wait for Li Ye—she untied the rope and dragged the branch inside, shouting as she went:

"Mama, my brother's classmate is here—he's Little Yue's brother!"

Li Ye helped carry the branch into the courtyard and saw a middle-aged woman in a gray cotton-padded jacket step out of the main room—Yang Huaifang, Yang Yumin's mother.

Seeing Li Ye, Yang Huaifang smiled warmly: "Boy, don't bother—come inside, have a bowl of knife-cut noodles to warm up. It's freezing out here!"

Li Ye smiled: "No thank you, Auntie. I just came by to recognize the place—I'll come back with Yang Yumin another day."

"That won't do! Once you step through the door, you must eat. We don't have that custom."

Yang Huaifang stepped forward, grabbed Li Ye's arm, and pulled him into the main room.

Li Ye couldn't refuse, so he followed her inside.

The interior was simple—nowhere near as grand as Li Ye's Zaojunmiao Sihe Academy—but spotlessly clean.

The pot of noodle broth was boiling, the dough rested nearby, and mushrooms, chili peppers, and green garlic were all ready—Li Ye had arrived at the perfect time.

Yang Huaifang picked up the dough and began slicing noodles into the pot, while outside, the sound of "crackling" echoed—Yang Yujiao was breaking up the branch.

Li Ye wanted to help, but Yang Huaifang wouldn't let him.

"It's just firewood—Yujiao will finish in a moment. She's quick!"

Li Ye had noticed when he entered—the corner of the courtyard held a neat stack of firewood, likely gathered bit by bit by this little squirrel of a girl.

The mother and daughter worked fast; within ten minutes, the noodles were ready, and Yang Yujiao came in to wash her hands, then sat properly at the small table.

Three bowls of knife-cut noodles were served; Yang Huaifang prepared all the seasonings for Li Ye.

"Boy, taste it—everyone says Beijingers eat refined food, but we in our hometown value practicality. Give me your opinion."

Li Ye couldn't refuse—he slurped down a whole bowl and found it truly delicious.

Especially the old Shanxi vinegar—it was authentic.

"Auntie, your noodles are excellent. Open a noodle shop in Beijing—you'd be packed."

"What's packed or not? As long as it covers my daughter's and my food, that's enough. If it doesn't, we'll go back home—we won't take a single cent of Yumin's salary."

Li Ye heard her words and sensed something off. He smiled and said: "Auntie, that's not right. The saying goes, 'Raise sons to guard you in old age.' You raised Yang Yumin—spending a little of his money is only natural."

"No, no," Yang Huaifang waved her hands urgently. "Yumin getting into Beijing University is his fortune. We women don't envy him—we won't drag him down."

"."

Seeing Yang Huaifang's tense expression, Li Ye finally understood.

She was making a statement to him.

It was like the marriage demands decades later—"Car? House? Fine. But no parents. Once the son marries, the mother steps out of the wall."

But in the 1980s, such thinking was rare; most mothers-in-law dominated their sons and daughters-in-law.

If you didn't support your son's wife, people would gossip behind your back.

Li Ye smiled and said nothing. He asked Yang Yujiao for another bowl of noodles, ate it heartily, and only then did Yang Huaifang's tension fully fade.

After the meal, Li Ye rose to leave, and the girl Yang Yujiao walked him to the door.

At the door, as they got into the car, Li Ye suddenly asked her: "Yu Jiao, why haven't I seen your father?"

"."

Yang YuJiao blinked, then whispered: "He's farming back home!"

The night was dark, and Li Ye couldn't see what was in Yang YuJiao's eyes, but he sensed her unease.

"Oh, that's good too."

Li Ye hurried into the car, started the engine, and sped off.