This book is a realistic novel by the young novelist Da Mi. It spans stories from the late seventies to the mid-nineties， a period of rapid development of the country’s reform society， and tells the story of two generations of two families in a small courtyard in Suzhou， the Zhuang family， and the Lin family， in such a great change of the times.

Da Mi

Da Mi is a signed author of coral literature under Fantasy Works， and is good at creating realistic themes with a delicate style.

The cotton mill renovated an old house in an alley， allotting it as dormitories for the workers.

Before the housing distribution list was published， an explosive rumor emerged at the cotton mill: In the dead of night， the beauty from Workshop 2 knocked on the secretary’s door with her son， and the half-awake neighbors vaguely heard， “There’s no room at home. If you don’t give us a house， I’m leaving my son with you.”

As the rumor spread rapidly towards a scandalous affair， a follow-up clarified it into a domestic drama.

After work， the secretary saw the lady’s son calmly sitting on a stool， waiting for dinner. Infuriated， he kicked the stool away.

The stool flipped， and the little boy fell to the ground， bursting into tears. “You kicked me! You had my dad get a fridge for the factory guesthouse， you won’t give my mom a house， and you still kick me.”

The boy’s genuine and heartfelt cries were heard across several buildings， quickly vindicating the secretary.

As the surrounding colleagues were praising the secretary’s dedication to public duty， the boy shouted again， “Last night， your wife asked why you don’t get one for your home too， and you said you couldn’t let your mother know about the money you saved because she would take it. Uncle， my dad really can’t get you a fridge.”

That night， as the boy cried， pandemonium broke out in the secretary’s home， with his mother and wife coming to blows.

Both were evenly matched， but their fight was a stalemate. The next day， the secretary’s mother went to the factory hospital to get medication for high blood pressure. Being a rural resident without medical benefits， the secretary had to pay the medical bill with his hard-earned private money.

The secretary’s wife fiercely criticized her mother-in-law for faking illness and stormed back to her parents’ home angrily.

With all factory workers pulling strings， comparing their clout， and resorting to underhanded tactics， by late October， the factory finally announced the housing allocation and posted the list outside the office building. Huang Ling stood in front of the notice board with mixed feelings. She was happy to have been allocated two bedrooms but worried because she and the lady’s family were assigned to the same courtyard， sharing one kitchen.

In a single room housing a family of four， with the children already asleep and the lights off， Huang Ling and her husband， Zhuang Chaoying， sat at the small dining table， whispering excitedly in the dark.

The soundproofing in the apartment building was poor， and footsteps in the hallway and the neighbors’ snoring were audible. In the dim moonlight， both spouses could see the uncontrollable smiles on each other’s faces. Zhuang Chaoying advised his wife， “We’re the only family on this floor to get a house， and we need to keep a low profile， extremely low profile!”

Huang Ling， trying not to wake the children， dared not laugh， but her lips curled up. “No need to tell me. I’ve already warned the kids not to talk too much at school.”

Zhuang Chaoying said， “It’s hard to keep it secret. Just don’t be too smug about it， as it attracts resentment.”

Huang Ling softly said， “I never expected this.”

Huang Ling’s words were cryptic， but Zhuang Chaoying fully understood the underlying meaning. “You’re a long-standing employee， always a model of production. By seniority and title， the factory’s decision to give you a house sets an example.” Huang Ling nodded in agreement.

Zhuang Chaoying then asked， “Oh， we’re sharing a yard with another family. Do you know who our neighbors will be?”

Huang Ling hesitated before answering， “Song Ying， she’s from a different workshop， not very familiar.”

Zhuang Chaoying sensed there was more to her words， asking， “Trouble?”

Huang Ling replied， “She was known as the factory’s beauty in her youth， always looking pretty and stylish. She’s famously sharp-tongued and feisty. Her son is in Xiaoting’s class， and he says he’s quite the troublemaker and often gets reprimanded by teachers.”

On the big bed， Zhuang Xiaoting turned over， seemingly awakened by the noise， and the couple immediately fell silent.

Zhuang Xiaoting turned over again and fell back into a deep sleep.

Huang Ling lowered her voice even quieter， “She’s the one who dumped her son at the secretary’s doorstep.”

The incident of the lady leaving her son at the secretary’s was well-known throughout the cotton mill， and Zhuang Chaoying gasped in realization.