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

The truck started with a clang, its engine emitting a dull roar. Qin Huairu instinctively ran after it, her cloth shoes splashing mud all over her trouser legs as she stepped on the potholed dirt road. Only when the dust kicked up by the wheels covered her face and blurred her vision did she abruptly stop, covering her mouth and squatting on the ground. The sobs she had suppressed for so long finally escaped, like crumpled cotton wool drifting in the wind.

Although she wasn't imprisoned, she'd heard from neighbors recently about the rural area she was to be sent to—it was all barren, earthen slopes where you'd have to dig all day long, the sun would burn your skin, rain would leave you covered in mud, and winter would freeze you so badly you'd have to stomp your feet. Banggeng had been spoiled rotten in the yard since he was little; he couldn't lift a finger. The other day, she forced him to learn to hoe, and the boy's hands were blistered from holding the hoe; he couldn't even dig up a clod of earth. How could he possibly be suited for the hardships of rural life?

Once the truck's shadow had completely disappeared around the corner of the alley and even the smell of exhaust fumes had dissipated, Qin Huairu stood up with red eyes, turned around and grabbed Jia Zhangshi's arm, who was about to walk back, her knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists: "Mom, you were exchanging glances with Banggeng just now, were you hiding something from me? Don't think I didn't see the look in your eyes!"

Jia Zhangshi forcefully shook off her hand and walked towards her own house, her steps quick and hurried, her voice low as if afraid of being overheard: "What could I possibly say to him? I just told him to be smart when he gets there, to talk less and work more, and if he gets bullied, to run away when he should, instead of stupidly putting up with it."

Qin Huairu panicked upon hearing this, her voice trembling with tears: "Mom, are you crazy? Didn't you see the two cadres in the car? I heard that when we get to the countryside, there are people in the village watching us, taking attendance every day! If he dares to run away, he'll be beaten to death when he's caught! He might even be charged with escape, which would leave a criminal record!"

Jia Zhangshi turned around and glared at her, her neck stiff and her face full of disdain: "What do you know? Bang Geng is a smart kid! Once he gets there, he'll get to know the locals first, then seize the opportunity to disappear into the deep mountains. Who can find him? It's better than him being worked to death there! I even packed two pounds of dry food in his luggage, enough for him to run for two days."

Qin Huairu was speechless, frozen in place, her heart feeling as if it were being squeezed tightly. Deep down, she also hoped Banggeng could escape. Even if he ran away and hid under a bridge in the city, doing odd jobs and begging for food, it would be better than suffering in the countryside. But the thought was too risky, like walking a tightrope; one wrong step and it would be all over. She dared not think about it, dared not speak of it, and could only suppress that sliver of hope deep in her heart.

The courtyard house finally quieted down. The children who were supposed to leave had all been picked up, and the front of each house was empty. Even the most boisterous teenagers were nowhere to be seen—with Bang Geng gone, no one was climbing over the wall to steal things anymore; with Yan Jiefang gone, no one was competing with others anymore; and with Liu Guangtian gone, his parents had no reason to argue.

Yet, beneath this tranquility lay an indescribable oppressive atmosphere, like the prelude to a summer thunderstorm, suffocating and unbearable. No one was happy; only a few wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys, and the kitchens were cold and deserted. After all, they were their own flesh and blood; the thought of not seeing them for three to five years, perhaps not even being able to go home for the New Year, weighed heavily on their hearts, like a piece of waterlogged cotton, both heavy and swollen.

Dusk, like ink, slowly seeped into the courtyard and climbed onto the windowsills of each house. The wind blew through the old locust tree in the corner of the yard, the leaves rustling and sobbing, like someone crying softly in the dark, crying for the children who had gone far away, crying for the unspeakable bitterness of these days.

Gu Nan's home, however, exuded the same tranquility as always, undisturbed by the outside world. The roses in the courtyard were in full bloom, pink, yellow, and red flowers crowding together, their petals still glistening with evening dew, shimmering softly in the twilight. On the coal stove in the corner sat an enamel kettle, water bubbling gently, white steam rising from the spout, carrying a faint scent of coal smoke. Ran Qiuye sat on a bamboo chair by the window, mending Gu Nan's work clothes with needle and thread. The worn cuffs were neatly folded, and in the bamboo basket on her lap, balls of thread rolled around, occasionally falling onto the blue brick floor with a soft thud. Everything was as usual—after all, the quarrels outside the courtyard and the undercurrents in the steel mill were like watching the storm through a thick pane of glass; no matter how loud the thunder, it couldn't penetrate this window, and had nothing to do with this little family. They just need to live their own little lives and cherish the peace and stability of their daily routines.

But Gu Nan knew in his heart that things weren't so simple. He leaned against the doorframe, watching his wife's profile as she mended her clothes, not saying a word to Ran Qiuye—afraid she'd worry and lose sleep. But the subtle glances from the factory, the way Zhu Tao always looked at him during production meetings, pierced his heart like needles, revealing an indescribable strangeness. He knew Zhu Tao was always looking for trouble with him, like a wolf eyeing its prey, only not yet knowing how to pounce.

Gu Nan remained calm. Everything he did at the steel rolling mill was done properly—the improved precision machine tools tripled the parts qualification rate, and his proposed scrap recycling plan saved the factory over two hundred yuan last month. Even Grandpa Wang from the union often patted him on the shoulder, saying, "Little Gu is a man of action, unlike some people who just talk the talk." He hadn't skimmed a penny off the top; the numbers on his material requisition forms were clearer than abacus beads. He hadn't stepped on anyone's shoulders; when it came to awarding merit, he always gave the spots to veteran workers. Even if Zhu Tao wanted to nitpick, he probably wouldn't find a single reason to criticize him.

He wondered to himself, could it be that he had offended the new factory manager somewhere in the past? But after searching his memory, from the workshop when he was an apprentice to the later technical team, he couldn't recall ever having any interaction with Zhu Tao. "Whatever." Gu Nan tugged at the corner of his mouth, a hint of frankness flashing in his eyes—he had always acted uprightly and honestly, and had never been afraid of anyone since the day he entered the factory, and certainly not now.

These days, Gu Nan still goes to get off work and comes home on time, arriving at the workshop just in time to sit with the veteran workers, blueprints in hand, discussing the technology alongside them at the machine tools. They'd talk about which gear was meshing too tightly, which cutting tool angle was wrong—they'd forget to eat when they got engrossed. After work, he'd rush home to help Ran Qiuye chop firewood and fetch water, filling the water tank to the brim and stacking the chopped firewood neatly. If he ran into Zhu Tao at the factory, he'd simply nod and greet him with a respectful "Hello, Factory Manager," without uttering a single unnecessary word. In his view, let the other man do what he wanted; no amount of talk was worthwhile compared to tightening a few more screws. He'd done his job; the rest was just waiting.