Siheyuan: Twelve Years Old, Obtained the Intermediate Translation Certificate

Life in the courtyard was extremely poor, with corn cakes and gruel, and no smell of meat for ten and a half days. Twelve-year-old Fang Qingyun was unwilling to give in. Relying on his photographic memory, he dived into the pile of Russian books in the library. The letters of recommendation from the street office, the papers from the Tsinghua University examination room, and the professional questions thrown by the examiner on the spot were all studied one by one. When the intermediate translation certificate with dark blue cover actually fell into the palm of his hand, the young man's fingers holding the certificate were trembling - which diploma was missing at home? What is missing is the confidence to save my father from staying up late to catch up on work and my mother from having to worry about two cents. But the people in the courtyard have very sharp eyes. Yi Zhonghai tested with a smile, while Yan Bugui stared at the meat in his hand. Fang Qingyun hid the certificate at the bottom of the box, stuffed the royalties into the pile of old clothes, and even dared to open the lid of the stew pot until late at night. The days went on as usual, but there were more and more oil stars on the Fang family's stove. And the blue leather certificate hidden under the winter coat is waiting to be turned into real money and fall into the hands of a family the next time the door is closed late at night. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.