Siheyuan: This Cook Won't Be a Chump

Winter, 1965. Courtyard No. 95, Nanluoguxiang.

The day He Yuzhu opened his eyes, everyone in the courtyard knew he was a sucker.

His monthly salary was 37.5 yuan, and every last cent went to feeding the Jia family next door. They raised three plump children while he ate cornmeal buns. He even pawned his padded trousers without realizing it.

Whenever Qin Huairu called him "Zhuzi, your sister's having a hard time," he had to turn out his pockets and show her everything.

He Yuzhu warmed his hands over the stove.

Fine. Starting today, I'm not going to make things easy for anyone.

A pot of stewed chicken sent its fragrance halfway down the alley.

Bang Geng kicked in the door. Jia Zhangshi sat on the ground, slapping her thigh, while the First Master slammed the table and demanded a courtyard-wide meeting.

He Yuzhu set his bowl down on the table.

"I bought the meat, and the ration coupons are in my pocket. If anyone has a problem with that, let's invite the neighborhood committee over and say it in front of the whole courtyard."

Back then, it wasn't easy to be a good person.

But I, He Yuzhu, was determined to be a good person nobody could push around.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. Do not imitate anything in this story.