Siheyuan: I just came across and wanted to chase me away

Yi Zhonghai sat at the table, rubbing his throbbing temples hard, his fingertips aching from the pressure, but he couldn't untangle the tangled mess in his mind. The hangover headache throbbed like needles, drilling into the top of his head. He watched as Aunt Tan came out of the kitchen carrying bowls and chopsticks, the porcelain clinking crisply, before finally speaking in a hoarse voice, dry as sandpaper scraping wood: "How...how did I get home last night?" His memory of the previous night seemed to have been abruptly cut off; he only remembered drinking one glass after another with his old buddies at the distillery, and after that, everything was a blank, he couldn't even remember how he stepped into the courtyard house.

Aunt Tan placed a bowl of thick millet porridge in front of him, a thin layer of rice oil floating on the surface, still warm. She glanced at Yi Zhonghai, her eyes carrying an undisguised reproach: "How else could you have come back? Drunk and disheveled, like a lump of mud, unable to even stand, slurring your words and spouting nonsense. Luckily, Qin Huairu happened to pass by and lent a hand, otherwise you'd probably have slept under that old locust tree by the gate until dawn, soaked to the bone by the dew." She put down her chopsticks and sighed, the wrinkles on her apron revealing her helplessness. "Drink less in the future, you're already this age. Drinking too much damages your liver and stomach, it's no good for your health at all. If something really happens to you, who will care?"

Yi Zhonghai opened his mouth, wanting to ask something more—like whether he had said anything incoherent or offended anyone while he was so drunk—but Aunt Tan had already turned around and started clearing the empty bowls from the table, stacking them neatly in her hands. "Make it light this morning, have some porridge to soothe your stomach," she said without turning her head. "I'm going to see if the deaf old lady is awake yet. She was talking about wanting to eat Zhang's sweet cakes at the street corner yesterday, I'll buy a couple on my way back." After saying that, she walked straight out of the courtyard, her steps decisive, not giving him a chance to ask any more questions.

Yi Zhonghai stared at the steaming bowl of millet porridge, the white grains of rice settling at the bottom, his appetite whetted. He forced two spoonfuls into his mouth, the bland taste making him frown. He put down his chopsticks after a couple of sips. A void filled his heart, as if a piece had been ripped out, accompanied by an inexplicable restlessness. What frustrated him even more was his current predicament—he was originally a level-five fitter, a respected figure in the steel rolling mill, managing two apprentices, and the young workers all respectfully addressed him as "Master Yi." He was determined to climb the ranks, eyeing the level-eight fitter assessment slots while secretly competing with Deputy Factory Director Li, hoping to use the recent factory personnel reshuffle to secure that deputy director position, or at least a workshop foreman position.

But now? Deputy Factory Director Li has been arrested by the police. The sight of the handcuffs clicking onto his wrists still makes his heart clench, and whether he can ever recover is uncertain. He himself is in a worse situation. Because he helped Deputy Factory Director Li spread rumors about Gu Nan, he was investigated and demoted from a level 5 fitter to a level 4. This fall was so severe, it was like falling from halfway up a mountain into a ditch. It's shameful to even talk about it. Just thinking about going to the factory and facing the pointing fingers and whispers from his colleagues—"Look, that's Yi Zhonghai, who tried to climb the social ladder but failed"—makes him feel uneasy, his neck burns, and he even has thoughts of not wanting to go to work. He just wants to stay at home, out of sight, out of mind.

But then he thought again. Gu Nan was now the deputy factory director. That young man had climbed to such a high position at such a young age, and they had never gotten along. They had even argued before in the workshop over technical issues. Now that he was in power, who knew how he would be looking for any mistakes Gu Nan might make? If he dared to skip work now, Gu Nan would probably be grinning from ear to ear, and would use that as an excuse to accuse him of "passive resistance." At that point, he wouldn't even be allowed to enter the factory, let alone become a fourth-level fitter.

Yi Zhonghai gritted his teeth, his molars grinding together. Fine, he'd go to work anyway. Even if people laughed at him, even if his apprentice gossiped behind his back, it was better than having Gu Nan catch him red-handed and leaving him with no place to stand. He picked up his work jacket draped over the back of his chair. The jacket was faded from washing, the cuffs frayed, much like his current predicament. He walked slowly towards the door, his steps heavy as lead, each step making a "thump, thump" sound on the blue bricks of the courtyard. Life was getting more and more suffocating, like being stuffed into a sealed gourd, even breathing felt like a struggle.

Yi Zhonghai, seething with resentment, shuffled slowly out of the courtyard like a defeated rooster. His heart was heavy, his steps felt heavy, each one like walking on cotton, unsteady. He planned to go to work at the factory, but the thought of his current status as a level four fitter, and the whispers and pointing fingers behind his back from the younger workers he used to look down on, made his face burn with shame. Just as he reached the screen wall, he bumped into Qin Huairu, who was also on her way to work. She was carrying a bulging blue cloth bag, probably containing lunch, and was walking hurriedly, as if she had urgent business.

When Qin Huairu saw him, she paused for a moment, hesitated, and then walked over with a cautious concern on her face: "Uncle Yi, why did you drink so much yesterday? When you came back late at night, you were unsteady on your feet. Aunt Tan had a hard time supporting you by herself. I had to lend a hand to get you back to your house."

Yi Zhonghai sighed, his head drooping even lower, his neck almost tucked into his collar, his tone full of dejection: "What do you think? I'm just a level four fitter now, I've done this my whole life, and at the end, I've almost lost all face. I feel so suffocated, how can I get through this without a drink?" He paused, his eyes slightly unfocused, and then pressed on: "By the way, I drank too much yesterday, I didn't say anything incoherent, did I?"

Qin Huairu's eyes flickered, and the little scheme in her heart resurfaced. However, she recited his drunken ramblings from yesterday in full—things like "Why is Gu Nan so successful?" and "If I were twenty years younger, he wouldn't be able to boss people around in the factory." Finally, she feigned concern and advised, "Uncle Yi, you should drink less. It's bad for your health, and who knows how much Aunt Tan heard what you said yesterday? She'll probably cause you trouble again. It's not worth it."

Yi Zhonghai waved his hand, feigning indifference, but inwardly he felt a little guilty—how could he let Aunt Tan know about the nonsense he'd uttered while drunk, thinking about Qin Huairu? He could only mumble, "Never mind, never mind, it was just drunken ramblings, don't take it seriously. Let her listen if she wants, I don't care anyway." He glanced at Qin Huairu, then changed the subject, "By the way, you specifically stopped me, there must be something wrong, right?"