The Good Man of the Siheyuan

A line of numbers floats above everyone's head. The more evil someone harbors in their heart, the higher their number. Beijing, 1958. In a traditional courtyard home, Li Qiang thought he was there to observe the people around him. It took him two and a half years to understand: those numbers weren't above other people's heads. They were in his own eyes. There are no good people in this courtyard. There never were. And the price is that he's slowly becoming the very sort of person they despise most. A story that turns the traditional courtyard genre on its head: no more groveling neighbors, just an ordinary man slowly consumed by the malice in his own eyes.