Fusion System: Rebirth in a Courtyard - Bird Fighting Chronicles

Chapter 91: The Account Book Scandal Unfolds in the Family, Schemes Ultimately Lead to Heartbreak Am

On the morning of the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, a light frost enveloped the Hongxing courtyard. Just as a sliver of light pierced the paper window of Yan Bugui's house in the front yard, a crisp "rustling" sound of pages turning mingled with Yan Bugui's unique, abacus-bead-like muttering: "Jiecheng borrowed fifty cents last month to buy soap, still owed; Jiefang secretly drank half a bowl of sesame oil, worth one and a half cents; Jiekuang used three erasers, worth three cents at market price..."

Yan Jiecheng, clutching his temporary worker's pay slip from the neighborhood committee, stood frozen at the doorway of the main room for a long while. He had just finished his three-month probationary period as a temporary worker, and today he needed to pay a five-yuan deposit to become a permanent employee. He had intended to ask his father for a loan, but instead stumbled upon his father hunched over the eight-immortal table, meticulously checking accounts in a yellowed ledger. The dim kerosene lamp cast Yan Jiecheng's shadow on the wall, making him look like a hunched-over crow, his fingers tapping across the ledger, the sounds of calculations from his mouth more biting than the winter wind.

"Dad," Yan Jiecheng swallowed hard, pressing the pay slip he was holding in his pocket even tighter, "I need to pay a five-yuan deposit to become a permanent employee. Could you lend me some first? I'll pay you back next month when I get paid."

Yan Bugui's pen paused on the ledger, the ink staining a small black dot. He slowly raised his head, his eyes behind his glasses narrowing into slits, as if weighing some valuable item: "Five yuan? Do you know how much five yuan can buy? Twenty catties of coarse grain, or fifty bars of soap, enough for our family to eat for half a month." He slammed the ledger on the table, the rustling of the pages startling dust from the roof beams. "Besides, you haven't settled your debts with me yet. Last spring you borrowed two yuan to buy sneakers, and in the fall you borrowed one yuan and twenty cents to buy gloves, totaling three yuan and twenty cents. With interest, that's four yuan and fifty cents, and now you want to borrow five more?"

Yan Jiecheng's face flushed instantly, his fingers clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white: "Dad, those are all for home use! The sneakers were worn out from work, and the gloves were issued by the workshop and were useless. How can you calculate interest on them?" He took two steps forward and glimpsed a string of numbers densely written after the three characters "Yan Jiecheng" on the ledger, even marking "stealing half a cornbread" as "owing half a grain coupon, to be repaid".

"How can it not count?" Yan Bugui suddenly stood up, the octagonal table shaking as it was struck, the abacus beads clattering loudly. "I raised you for twenty years, the delivery fee was three qian of silver, the money from your full-month celebration was one yuan and thirty cents in cash, the school supplies totaled seventeen yuan and fifty cents, even the cost of the patched clothes you wore as a child! Now it's only fair that you pay some interest!" He said, flipping through the first few pages of the account book, the pages rustling. "Look, it's all recorded, every single item is clear!"

"It's not that I don't want to pay it back!" Yan Jiecheng's voice trembled with anxiety. "But the deposit for becoming a full-time employee is urgent; if I'm late, the spot will be gone! Can't you lend it to me first, and I'll pay back all the previous debts together, without interest?"

Yan Bugui took out a new notebook from the drawer, opened a blank page, and picked up a pen: "I can lend it, but we have to sign a written agreement. The monthly interest is one percent, and it has to be paid off in six months. The principal is five yuan, so the interest for six months is three mao (0.3 yuan), and the total amount due is five yuan and three jiao (0.3 yuan)." He pushed the paper and pen in front of Yan Jiecheng, and the pen tip poked a small indentation in the paper. "Sign and put your fingerprint on it, or there's no point in talking."

"One percent interest per month?" Yan Jiecheng looked at his father in disbelief. "Even loan sharks outside only charge one percent! You're my father!" He remembered when he was a child, his younger brother Jie Kuang stole a sweet potato when he was hungry, and his father chased him for three blocks, finally forcing him to write an IOU for "one sweet potato, half a grain coupon"; he remembered when his younger sister Jie Di needed five cents to buy a notebook for school, and his father made her borrow it from a classmate, then made her wash clothes for the classmate for a month to pay off the debt. At that time, he thought his father was just afraid of poverty, but only today did he realize that his father's shrewdness was ingrained in his bones.

"Your father is poor because he has to support the four of you!" Yan Bugui slammed his pen on the table, splashing ink onto the account book. "My monthly salary is thirty-eight yuan and fifty cents. How can I survive if I don't live frugally? Do you think it's easy being a father?" His voice grew louder and louder, startling Aunt Yan in the inner room and Yan Jiefang and Yan Jiekuang, who had just gotten up.

Aunt Yan came out wearing a cotton-padded coat. Seeing the tense atmosphere between the father and son, she quickly advised, "Dad, Jie Cheng's official promotion is a big deal. Let's lend him the money first. We're all family. Why bother with interest?"

"What do you know!" Yan Bugui turned and glared at his wife. "It's because you're always soft-hearted that they keep taking advantage of us! Jiefang still hasn't paid back the three yuan he borrowed from the factory, and last time Jiekuang broke the neighbor's soy sauce bottle, I had to pay five cents for it. We need to settle all of that!"

Yan Jiefang had just returned from get off work when he heard this, and his face darkened. "Dad, that three yuan was a wedding gift from a colleague in the workshop. I gave it to you as soon as I got back. Why are you still remembering it?" He walked to the table, snatched the account book, and started flipping through it, getting angrier with each page. "The scarf I bought you last year, you wrote it as 'Yan Jiefang owes a scarf, worth one yuan and twenty cents'? That was my filial piety gift to you!"

"What's wrong with filial piety? Does filial piety not require money?" Yan Bugui reached out to grab the ledger. "I raised you all these years, and you're not even allowed to give me a scarf? Besides, that scarf is of poor quality, worth at most eight cents, and I even over-recorded four cents!"

"This is utterly absurd!" Yan Jiecheng trembled with anger. He pointed to the words "Yan Jiecheng owes 128.3 yuan in child support" in the ledger. "If you calculate it this way, I'll never be able to pay you back in my lifetime! I'm not going to work this day!" He turned around abruptly, knocked over a stool by the door, and slammed the door shut as he left.

"You dare!" Yan Bugui chased after Yan Jiecheng to the door and shouted at his back, "Don't come back after you leave! You won't get a penny less of what you owe me!" After shouting, he turned around and saw Yan Jiefang and Yan Jiekuang looking at him with cold eyes. Yan Jiekuang whispered, "Dad, brother is right. You're too calculating."

"Scheming? I'm doing this for the family!" Yan Bugui slammed the account book on the octagonal table, plopped down in a chair, and his chest heaved violently. Aunt Yan looked at the scattered pages of the account book and secretly wiped away tears—she remembered when they first got married, Yan Bugui was frugal, but not this outrageous. Since having four children, he seemed like a different person, treating each child as an "investment" to recoup his investment.

The argument was like a thunderclap, echoing throughout the quiet courtyard in the early morning. Lin Chen, who was fetching water in the middle courtyard, heard the commotion from the front yard. Just as he reached the corner, he saw Yan Jiecheng storming out of the yard, his face flushed red and his eyes red-rimmed. "Jiecheng, what's wrong?" Lin Chen stopped him.

When Yan Jiecheng saw Lin Chen, he finally couldn't hold back his pent-up grievances any longer. He recounted how the deposit had been charged interest, and finally pulled out his pay slip from his pocket, his voice trembling with tears: "Master Lin, what kind of father treats his son like this? How can I keep my job?"

Lin Chen frowned. He had long known about Yan Bugui's scheming. Last time, when Yan Jiedi didn't have money to buy textbooks, he had given her an old one. At the time, he thought Yan Bugui was too harsh on the children, but he hadn't expected him to be this harsh. "Don't worry about the deposit," Lin Chen patted his shoulder. "I'll lend you five yuan first, and you can pay me back next month when you get your salary, no interest." He took out five yuan from his pocket; it was the technical subsidy he had just received. "Getting a permanent position is the most important thing; don't let this ruin your future."

Yan Jiecheng took the money, his hands trembling slightly: "Master Lin, this... how can I accept this?"

"We're neighbors, it's only right to help each other out." Lin Chen smiled. "Go and complete the formalities first, then talk to your dad properly later. He's probably just afraid of being poor, he didn't do it on purpose."

Yan Jiecheng nodded, thanked him profusely, and left. Lin Chen was about to return to the backyard when he saw Yan Bugui standing at the front gate, staring at him with a livid face, clearly having overheard the conversation. "Master Lin, you're so kind," Yan Bugui said sarcastically, "meddling in our family affairs now?"

"I'm just helping him out as an emergency," Lin Chen said calmly. "It's a good thing that he's getting a permanent position. He'll be able to earn more money in the future, which will also benefit your family." He looked at the account book in Yan Bugui's hand. "Teacher Yan, children grow up and have to save face. Accounting has to be done at the right time and in the right situation. Family ties aren't just numbers in an account book."

"I don't need you to teach me how to raise my son!" Yan Bugui retorted, "I've worked so hard to raise them, what's wrong with settling accounts? It'll save us from having to pay up later!" He turned and went back into the house, slamming the door shut, shutting out Lin Chen's words and the frosty air outside the courtyard.

At lunchtime, the atmosphere in the Yan family home was so oppressive it could be squeezed out of you. Four dishes of pickled vegetables were laid out on the eight-immortal table, each served in a small dish, and each person had a bowl of thin porridge in front of them, with only a handful of grains of rice. Yan Bugui picked up his chopsticks, took a piece of pickled vegetable, glanced at his three sons, and said nothing.

"Father, about Brother Jiecheng..." Yan Jiekuang had just started to speak when Yan Bugui glared at him and stopped him.

"Eat!" Yan Bugui slammed his chopsticks on his bowl. "Anyone who mentions the debt again won't be eating today!"

Yan Jiefang put down his chopsticks and said coldly, "I'm moving to the factory dormitory this afternoon, and I won't be coming back often anymore." He took out three yuan from his pocket and put it on the table. "This is what I owe you. We're even now."

"You're leaving too?" Yan Bugui's voice trembled slightly. "The factory dorms are so run-down, isn't it better to come back and live here?"

"Do I have to pay rent for coming back to stay? Do I have to pay for meals?" Yan Jiefang stood up. "I'm afraid I can't afford your interest." He turned and went into the inner room to pack his luggage. His movements were swift and decisive, without a trace of reluctance.

As Aunt Yan watched her youngest son's retreating figure, tears fell into her porridge bowl: "Husband, can't you say less? The children are leaving, this family is going to fall apart!"

"We won't break up!" Yan Bugui stubbornly insisted, but his chopsticks were slipping from his grasp. He looked at the pickled vegetables on the table and recalled the early days when he and his wife were newly married. Although they were poor, they would occasionally buy a piece of meat for the children to enjoy. The way the children laughed around the table back then was much better than the numbers on the account book now. But he didn't know when it started, but he began to treat the account book as his lifeline and each child as a creditor who had to repay the "cost of raising" them.

In the afternoon, when Yan Jiefang was moving his luggage, the neighbors in the courtyard all came to watch the spectacle. Liu Haizhong stood in the middle courtyard holding his grandson, looking at the roll of bedding in Yan Jiefang's hands, and shook his head: "Why is Old Yan doing this? Does his own son really expect him to pay back his debts?" Qin Huairu, who was standing next to him, had just returned from the tailor shop, still holding the small clothes she had made for her child, and sighed: "I used to think that being careful with food rations was enough to survive, but now I realize that people's hearts are more precious than food. If you're too calculating, you won't even keep your own family."

Lin Chen helped Yan Jiefang carry his luggage to the gate of the courtyard and watched him get on the factory shuttle bus, feeling a pang of emotion. He turned around and saw Yan Bugui standing at the gate, secretly wiping his eyes, still clutching the yellowed ledger in his hand, his knuckles white from the force.

That night, the lights at the Yan family's house stayed on until late. When Lin Chen got up to use the bathroom, he saw Yan Bugui's shadow on the paper window in the front yard, squatting on the ground, carefully picking up the account book pages that had been scattered during the day, as if he were picking up some rare treasure. Beside him, Aunt Yan's shadow leaned against the door frame, motionless, as if she were asleep, or as if she were silently weeping.

Two days later, Yan Jiecheng returned with his official employment notice. As soon as he entered the courtyard, he saw his father sitting on a small stool by the door, holding a cloth bag. "Jiecheng," Yan Bugui stood up, his voice a little hoarse, "this is two yuan I've saved. Take it and buy two jin of meat to nourish yourself. The work in the workshop is heavy." He handed him the cloth bag, on which was embroidered a crooked "Fu" character, which his mother had embroidered when she was young.

Yan Jiecheng paused, then didn't answer. He noticed that his father's hair seemed to have turned quite a bit white overnight, and the eyes behind his glasses had lost their former shrewdness, replaced only by weariness and confusion.

"I've looked through the ledgers," Yan Bugui said, rubbing his hands together. "The old accounts... we'll leave them out. Just focus on your work and take care of yourself." He paused, then added, "The interest is out of the question too."

Yan Jiecheng's eyes suddenly reddened. He took the cloth bag; the two yuan inside were neatly folded and still smelled of kerosene from his father. "Dad," he said, choking back tears, "I'll buy you a bottle of good wine when I get my salary next month."

Yan Bugui's eyes lit up, then quickly dimmed again: "Don't buy wine, save money to get married." He turned and went back into the house, but stopped after taking a few steps. "Come back for dinner tonight, your mother made radish soup."

That night, the lights in the Yan family's house stayed on very late. There was no more clattering of abacus beads, no more arguing, only the occasional cough and the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks. Lin Chen stood in the backyard, looking at the lights in the front yard, and remembered how Yan Bugui had secretly torn out the page from the account book that said "Yan Jiecheng owes 128.3 yuan in child support," crumpled it up, and stuffed it into the stove. When the flames leaped up, he thought he saw his father's shoulders tremble.

The next morning, the neighbors in the courtyard noticed that Yan Bugui had moved the small stool from the doorway to the stone table in the courtyard. He was no longer carrying an account book, but an arithmetic textbook, explaining problems to several children in the courtyard. The sunlight shone on him, casting a long shadow, and his brow, which was always furrowed, seemed to have relaxed a bit.

Liu Haizhong, carrying his grandson, passed by and called out with a smile, "Old Yan, tell my grandson some stories too, so he can become the top math scholar in the future!"

Yan Bugui raised his head, smiled—a somewhat stiff smile, but more sincere than ever before: "Sure, let the child come over, I'll teach him properly."

Lin Chen watched this scene and nodded inwardly.