bigabreads Chapter 146 Old debts burned away, warmth lingers in the cold courtyard
Chapter 146 Old debts burned away, warmth lingers in the cold courtyard
On the third morning after Jia Dang started school, before the scent of mint from the Hongxing Courtyard could even reach the middle courtyard, heart-wrenching cries of Aunt Yan echoed from the front yard. Lin Chen had just buttoned up his work clothes and was about to go to work when he heard the crying. He quickened his pace toward the front yard and saw from afar that the wooden door of the Yan family's house was ajar. The old bamboo curtain hanging on the door frame was swaying wildly in the wind, revealing the figures moving about inside.
"Teacher Yan is gone." Old Wang from next door squatted by the doorstep, smoking his pipe. The pipe tapped against the sole of his shoe, the sound as deep as the bluestone slabs in the corner of the yard. "He passed away in the middle of the night. Aunt Yan said she would go to call him for some porridge at dawn, but he was already cold." Lin Chen followed Old Wang's gaze and saw that the rattan chair that Yan Bugui often sat in was still under the window, with his faded blue teacher's jacket draped over the back of the chair, the frayed edges of the cuffs trembling gently in the wind.
A number of neighbors had already gathered in the courtyard. Qin Huairu walked in carrying freshly steamed white flour buns. Seeing the straw mat spread in the center of the Yan family's main room, her eyes instantly reddened. She placed the buns on the edge of the kang (heated brick bed) and pulled at Aunt Yan, who was sobbing uncontrollably, saying, "Auntie, don't worry, eat something first. We'll all help with the funeral arrangements." Aunt Yan gripped Qin Huairu's hand tightly, her knuckles turning white from the pressure, repeatedly murmuring, "He said just the other day he'd give Jie Kuang a dowry, how could he be gone..."
When Lin Chen entered the main room, he saw Yan Bugui huddled on a straw mat, his face covered with a piece of yellow paper. He was still wearing the same old cotton-padded jacket with three patches, and he was tightly clutching an oilcloth bag in his hand. The corners of the bag were worn shiny, clearly something he always carried with him. Lin Chen recognized the bag; Yan Bugui used to hide it under the kang mat. Once, when he went to borrow an abacus, he happened to glimpse the corner of an account book peeking out—Yan Bugui's "life account book," which he had kept for half his life.
"Don't touch anything, let's wait for his children to arrive." Lin Chen stopped Aunt Liu, who was about to change Yan Bugui's clothes, and turned to the neighbor at the door, saying, "Uncle Wang, could you please go to the street office to report this? Liu Guangtian, could you please send a message to Yan's four children, telling them that Teacher Yan has passed away and asking them to come back as soon as possible?" Liu Guangtian had just responded when he heard a series of hurried footsteps coming from the courtyard gate. The brothers Yan Jiecheng and Yan Jiefang rode back on their bicycles, with their wives on the back seats.
Yan Jiecheng went straight to the main room as soon as he entered the courtyard. Seeing his father on the straw mat, he froze for a full three seconds before suddenly squatting down and bursting into tears. His wife stood to the side, frowning as she surveyed the Yan family's house. Her gaze swept over the "District-Level Outstanding Teacher" certificate on the wall, then landed on the oilcloth bundle peeking out from under the kang mat. She quietly tugged at Yan Jiecheng's sleeve. Yan Jiefang, on the other hand, appeared much calmer. He went into the house, kowtowed three times to his father, then stood up and asked Aunt Yan, "Did my father say anything when he passed away? Where are the savings book and food coupons?"
The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly turned cold upon hearing this. Qin Huairu brought over a cup of water and coughed lightly, "Jiefang, let's cleanse and change your father's clothes first. We can talk about this after the funeral." Yan Jiefang didn't take the water cup. Instead, he stepped forward, lifted the kang mat, and took out the oilcloth bundle, saying, "This is my father's account book. It must contain the family's savings. My father was calculating all his life; he couldn't let us die in ignorance." As he spoke, he was about to unwrap the oilcloth bundle when Lin Chen stopped him.
"Teacher Yan just passed away, let him rest in peace first." Lin Chen's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable force. "It doesn't matter when we look at the account books, the most important thing now is to arrange Teacher Yan's funeral. He was an elder in the compound, we can't let him leave in such a shabby way." Yan Jiecheng also stood up to agree: "Second brother is right, let's arrange the funeral first. We four brothers will split my father's funeral expenses equally." Yan Jiefang pursed his lips, reluctantly placing the oilcloth package on the kang table, but kept staring at the package, his eyes full of calculation.
Over the next two days, the neighbors all came to help. Sha Zhu brought half a pig from the canteen and even hired the canteen's head chef to cook it; Qin Huairu and several female neighbors sewed a funeral shroud, and she specially chose a piece of dark blue coarse cloth, saying that Teacher Yan loved to be presentable all his life, and wearing dark blue would make him look dignified; Lin Chen was in charge of contacting the funeral home and the cemetery, running around handling all the procedures. Yan's four children seemed to have become outsiders. Apart from Yan Jiecheng occasionally lending a hand, the other three stayed in the main room, their eyes always fixed on the oilcloth bundle on the kang table.
The night before the funeral, all the neighbors had left, leaving only the four brothers and their wives in the main room of the Yan family home. Lin Chen had just reached the courtyard gate when he heard an argument erupting inside. "My father spent eighty yuan on your wedding, but only fifty yuan on mine, so you should contribute more to the funeral expenses!" Yan Jiefang's voice rose eight octaves. "And his pension—thirty yuan last month—it's definitely hidden in the accounts!"
"Why should I get more?" Yan Jiecheng was also agitated. "In the first few years after I started working, I had to hand over half of my monthly salary, and he still keeps the records for me! Besides, my father favors the third son. Last year, when Jiekuang got married, he secretly slipped him twenty yuan. Did you know about that?" Immediately afterward, there was the sound of a table being overturned. Lin Chen quickly pushed the door open and saw that the oilcloth bundle had been torn open, and the account books inside were scattered all over the floor. The Yan brothers were fighting, and their wives were taking sides and cursing them.
"Stop!" Lin Chen shouted, stepping forward to pull the group apart. The account books on the ground were covered in footprints. One yellowed account book was open, with the words "Jie Cheng stole half a cornbread and owes half a tael of grain coupons" written in small regular script. The date was twenty years ago. Lin Chen picked up the account book and looked at the dense handwriting. He felt a mix of emotions. Yan Bugui had kept a record of every income and expense in the family and every "debt" his children had incurred throughout his life, yet in the end, he couldn't even afford a decent funeral.
Sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at the mess on the floor, Aunt Yan suddenly burst into tears: "You bunch of ungrateful wretches! When your father was alive, he scrimped and saved, refusing to light a kerosene lamp in winter, reading by the light from the neighbor's lamp at night; he would patch up your clothes again and again rather than buy new cloth; he saved all his pension money for you, except for medicine, and now you're fighting over that little bit of money!" She grabbed an account book and threw it on the ground, "What's so interesting about this tattered account book? He kept accounts his whole life, and he still couldn't find a happy ending for our family!"
The Yan brothers, their faces flushed red from the scolding, lowered their heads and remained silent. Lin Chen picked up the account books one by one, gently dusting them off. "I've already applied for hardship assistance from the neighborhood committee for Teacher Yan's funeral expenses; they can reimburse part of it. As for the rest, Sha Zhu, Qin Huairu, and I chipped in some money; you don't need to pay a cent." He placed the account books on the kang table. "If you find these account books an eyesore, just burn them. Teacher Yan is gone; these old debts should be settled."
The funeral was held the next day, and all the neighbors in the courtyard came to see Yan Bugui off on his final journey. Yan Jiecheng carried his father's urn at the front, followed by Yan's children and neighbors. No one spoke along the way; only the wind rustled through the poplar trees lining the road. When they arrived at the public cemetery on the outskirts of the city, Lin Chen had already had a grave dug and bought a very simple tombstone with the words "Tomb of Yan Bugui" engraved on it.
At the burial, Yan Jiecheng suddenly pulled out the thickest account book from his pocket, set it on fire, and threw it into the pit. The flames spread along the pages, burning all the writing to ashes. "Father, your son is unfilial," Yan Jiecheng said, choking back tears. "We've burned all the old accounts. Live well over there, and don't hold grudges anymore." His other children also cried, their tears filled with guilt and relief.
After returning from the cemetery, Yan's children began sorting through Yan Bugui's belongings. Grandma Yan neatly folded the blue cloth teacher's jacket that Yan Bugui often wore and put it in an old wooden box: "Keep this garment, so you can look at it when you miss him." Yan Jiecheng put away his father's abacus and reading glasses. The abacus, used for decades, had beads worn smooth and shiny; it was Yan Bugui's most cherished possession.
As evening approached and the Yan family children prepared to go home, Yan Jiecheng suddenly walked up to Lin Chen and bowed deeply: "Brother Lin, thank you so much this time. Without you, I don't know how chaotic my father's funeral arrangements would have been." Lin Chen quickly helped him up: "We're neighbors, helping each other is only right. Aunt Yan is getting old, so please come back and visit her often." Yan Jiecheng nodded, his eyes filled with shame: "I used to think my father was calculating, but now I understand, he was afraid of being alone in his old age. From now on, the four of us brothers will take turns caring for my mother, so she won't be lonely anymore."
After the Yan family's children left, Qin Huairu brought a bowl of steaming millet porridge into the Yan family home: "Auntie, have some porridge to warm yourself up." Aunt Yan took the porridge, looked at Qin Huairu, and suddenly sighed: "When your family was struggling before, my husband, Old Yan, always hesitated to lend you grain. Thinking about it now, it was really wrong of him." Qin Huairu smiled and shook her head: "It's all in the past, Auntie. Teacher Yan was just trying to support his family back then; I understand."
Lin Chen followed her in, carrying a brand-new thermos: "Auntie, please use this thermos. It'll be convenient for drinking water in winter. If you need anything in the future, just call us. Don't be shy." Aunt Yan touched the pattern on the thermos, and tears streamed down her face again: "You are all good people. It's just that my husband, Old Yan, is unlucky. He used to always be scheming against you."
Leaving the Yan family home, Lin Chen and Qin Huairu walked along the stone path in the courtyard. Moonlight cast long shadows on them. "I never imagined that Teacher Yan would end up like this," Qin Huairu sighed. "He kept such meticulous accounts throughout his life, yet in the end, he couldn't take anything with him." Lin Chen nodded. "In this life, the most important thing to keep track of isn't money, but emotions. When feelings run deep, life naturally becomes warmer."
A few days later, on a weekend, Yan Jiecheng returned with his wife and children, bringing a lot of nutritional supplements. He made a special trip to Shazhu's canteen, bought some meat and vegetables, and cooked a large meal at Yan's house, inviting neighbors such as Lin Chen and Qin Huairu over. At the dinner table, Yan Jiecheng poured everyone a glass of wine: "We were ignorant as children before. We will come back often in the future and visit everyone more often."
Sha Zhu took a sip of his drink and said with a smile, "That's right! We're all neighbors in the same courtyard, even if our bones are broken, they're still connected. We'll take care of Aunt Yan from now on, so you can go to work without worry." Liu Guangtian added, "If Aunt Yan needs any physical work, just call me, I'm strong enough." Aunt Yan looked at the table full of food and the lively crowd, and a long-lost smile appeared on her face, with warmth hidden in the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
During dinner, Yan Jiecheng's son suddenly pointed to the abacus on the wall and asked, "Grandpa, why aren't you using your abacus? I want to learn abacus calculation." Yan Jiecheng was taken aback for a moment, then smiled and said, "Okay, Dad will teach you. Your grandpa will be so happy if he knows you want to learn abacus calculation." He took the abacus out of the house, placed it in front of the child, and patiently taught him how to move the beads. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on the abacus and casting a warm glow.
Watching this scene, Lin Chen suddenly understood that the most precious things Yan Bugui left behind were never the account books and savings, but the fatherly love hidden behind the calculations and the unbreakable neighborly bond in this courtyard. Just like the account book that was burned, although the writing was gone, the concern hidden between the lines took root in the hearts of his children; just like the lively atmosphere of this courtyard, although there were calculations and disputes, there was more support in times of difficulty and warmth over the years.
As evening fell, the neighbors gradually returned home. Yan Jiecheng was teaching his child abacus in the courtyard; the clatter of the abacus and the child's laughter mingled, filling the entire courtyard. Grandma Yan sat in a wicker chair, basking in the sun, knitting a sweater with a satisfied smile on her face. From Qin Huairu's sewing shop came the rhythmic clatter of a sewing machine; she was making a new sweater for Grandma Yan, the stitches fine and neat.
Standing at the courtyard gate, Lin Chen watched the lively scene, his heart filled with satisfaction. He recalled that cold winter night when he was first reborn, the image of Jia Zhangshi stealing grain, Liu Haizhong's irritability, and Yi Zhonghai's scheming. Looking at the courtyard now, he suddenly felt that it was all worthwhile. Those past conflicts and disputes, like the ice and snow of winter, gradually melted away under the warm spring sun, leaving behind the most sincere neighborly affection and the warmest atmosphere of everyday life.
A gentle evening breeze rustled through the Chinese toon tree in the corner of the courtyard, bringing with it the sweet fragrance of newly sprouted buds. Lin Chen knew that Yan Bugui's story had come to an end, but the story of the courtyard continued. The lingering attachments hidden in the old accounts, the relief after burning the ledgers, the mutual support among neighbors—all these, like the tender buds of the Chinese toon tree, would, nourished by the years, grow new hope and bloom with the warmest flowers. And everyone in this courtyard would slowly understand, amidst the warmth of everyday life, that the most precious things are never calculated gains, but rather the warmth hidden in their hearts and the steadfast commitment to sincerity.