In the spring of 1958, Lin Yuan, a Grade Eight fitter at a steel mill, is transferred from the Northeast to Beijing and assigned a side room in the courtyard's western wing.
On his first day, the south courtyard erupts: Xu Damao insists Silly Zhu broke a projector part, Qin Huairu stands there red-eyed and silent, and Yi Zhonghai, the senior uncle, is trying to smooth things over again. Everyone waits to see which side the newcomer will take, and whose favor he'll owe.
Lin Yuan picks up the part and takes one look. “That kind of pressure comes from a fitter's hand, not a cook's.”
At once, Xu Damao turns green, Silly Zhu freezes, but Third Uncle Yan Bugui breaks into a smile.
But Lin Yuan hasn't come here to play peacemaker.
In his previous life, watching the show had left him fuming. The cruelest thing in this courtyard wasn't stealing or robbing. It was “helping you.” They helped until you couldn't back out, until they drained you dry, and then expected you to say thank you. Silly Zhu had been “helped” his whole life, until everyone took it for granted.
This time, Lin Yuan will do only two things:
At the steel mill, he'll use his skills to keep No. 3 rolling mill running so smoothly that even Director Li has to show him respect.
In the courtyard, he'll put up a “Neighborhood Mutual Aid Ledger”: who helps whom, how much they help, and who signs for it. Everything will be posted on the notice board, clear as day. Xu Damao frames him? The wrench is evidence; take it to the security office. Qin Huairu knocks on his door late at night? He can offer help without owing her affection or taking on her debts.
He won't take Silly Zhu's ladle, marry Qin Huairu's tears, or become another person everyone thinks they can take for granted.
He will stand firm in this predatory courtyard, a man no one can tie down.
And the senior uncle, the Qin family, and even Xu Damao, who hasn't quite given up yet, still don't understand:
This time, a Grade Eight worker knows how to measure more than parts. He knows how to measure people's hearts.
Who can continue to read this? I have watched too many AI articles and short dramas. What is wrong with me? Is it better to imitate how they talk?