Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

Chen Feng nodded, a satisfied expression on his face: "The apartment is very nice, Mrs. Chen. The rent is eighty yuan a month, two months' deposit and one month's rent in advance, is that right?"

"Yes, the deposit is 160 yuan, plus this month's rent of 80 yuan, totaling 240 yuan. Water and electricity are metered, and you pay monthly after the meter reading," Chen Tai said quickly. "However, I can tell you're from out of town, so you might not be familiar with the rules here. Let me be clear from the start: you can't bring back any shady characters, you can't be too noisy and disturb the neighbors, you can't..."

Chen Feng patiently listened to her various "no's," then took out three HK$100 bills from his pocket and handed them to Mrs. Chen.

"Mrs. Chen, here's three hundred yuan. Two hundred and forty is the rent and deposit. Could you please help me with the remaining sixty yuan?" Chen Feng asked earnestly. "My brother and I are new here and don't know anyone. We'd like to ask you to recommend a reliable grocery store where we can buy some bedding, pots and pans, and other daily necessities. Also, if you know where we can register for temporary residence nearby, please let us know."

He deliberately gave more money, partly to show that he "knew the rules," and partly to quickly learn about the surrounding environment and the information he needed to survive through this local landlord.

Mrs. Chen took the banknotes, her smile becoming much more genuine. She skillfully counted the money to confirm it was genuine, then deftly pulled out two hundred-yuan bills and one forty-yuan bill and put them in her pocket, keeping the remaining sixty-yuan bill in her hand.

"Oh, Mr. Chen, you're too kind." Her tone became noticeably warmer. "Bedding and pots and pans can be bought at 'Xiang Ji Grocery Store' around the corner downstairs. The prices are fair. The owner's surname is Li. Just say you were recommended by my wife, and he'll give you a discount. As for the residency registration... you have ID cards, right?"

Chen Feng quickly took out the two ID cards bearing the names "Chen Guodong" and "Chen Xiaoyun".

Mrs. Chan took it and examined it carefully—the document was crudely made but the format was correct, and the photo looked plausible. In those days, Hong Kong Island's household registration management was chaotic, with a large influx of refugees and immigrants. This level of fake document was actually quite common, and as long as one didn't encounter a police check, one could usually get away with it.

"With an ID card, things will be easy." Mrs. Chan returned the document to Chan Fung. "You can register for temporary residence at the Sham Shui Po Police Station, but there's a queue, and they might ask a lot of questions. I suggest you settle down first and then go register later. Anyway, with me as your landlord, there shouldn't be any problems for now."

She paused, then lowered her voice and said, "But I've heard things aren't very peaceful lately, the police are cracking down hard. Try to stay home as much as possible at night, especially your younger brother who's still young, don't let him wander around."

Chen Feng's heart skipped a beat, knowing she was referring to the impact of the incident on the beach, but he remained outwardly calm, simply nodding repeatedly: "Thank you for the reminder, Mrs. Chen. We will definitely be careful."

Mrs. Chen nodded in satisfaction, took two keys from her keychain, and handed them to Chen Feng: "Here, these are the front door keys. The water and electricity meters are behind the door; please remember the readings. I live downstairs in apartment 303; feel free to contact me if you need anything. By the way, when are you moving in?"

"Can I move in today?" Chen Feng asked.

"Sure, sure, the house was empty anyway," Mrs. Chen said readily. "I'll go downstairs now, you guys can tidy up yourselves. If you want to buy daily necessities, Cheung Kee Grocery Store closes at 5:30, so hurry up."

After seeing Empress Dowager Chen off, Chen Feng closed the door and locked it.

He leaned against the door and let out a long sigh of relief.

The first step can be considered a success.

With this independent place to live, he and Xiaoyu had a basic foothold.

"Xiaoyu," he turned to his sister, "we're safe for now."

Xiaoyu took off her hat, and a look of relief finally appeared on her pale face. She looked around the small living room, which, although simple, was clean, enclosed, and private—this was the first real "home" they had had since they fled.

"Brother, does this place... really belong to us?" she asked softly, her voice filled with disbelief.

"It's temporary." Chen Feng walked over and ruffled her hair. "At least for the time being, we can live here."

He remained vigilant. Although he had rented a house, safety was far from guaranteed. He needed to familiarize himself with the surroundings as soon as possible, establish a safety early warning system, and at the same time create a relatively normal "surface identity" for both Xiaoyu and himself.

"Let's go buy some things first." Chen Feng checked the time; it was a little past four in the afternoon. "Before it gets dark."

The two went downstairs again. This time, Chen Feng made a point of observing the structure of the stairwell, possible escape routes, the neighbors' house numbers, and their general situation.

Following Mrs. Chan's directions, they found "Xiang Ji Grocery Store" around the corner. It was a typical neighborhood grocery store, with a small storefront and shelves densely packed with all kinds of daily necessities. The owner was a thin, frail old man in his sixties, wearing reading glasses and reading a newspaper.

Chen Feng, speaking in broken Cantonese mixed with Mandarin, announced Mrs. Chen's name. The shopkeeper, as expected, was very friendly and began to introduce her to the owner.

Chen Feng bought the most basic necessities: two quilts, two pillows, sheets, towels, toothpaste and toothbrush, soap, two enamel basins, and a thermos. Then came the kitchen utensils: a small iron pot, two bowls, two pairs of chopsticks, a kitchen knife, a cutting board, oil, salt, soy sauce, vinegar, a small bag of rice, several packets of noodles, a few eggs, a bunch of greens, and a small piece of pork.

Seeing that he bought a lot, the shop owner gave him two extra plastic buckets and a mop as a gift.

After buying everything, the shopkeeper helped tie it up with hemp rope. Chen Feng paid the bill—it cost less than thirty Hong Kong dollars in total, cheaper than expected.

He carried the heavy package in one hand and held Xiaoyu's hand in the other, returning to 132 Fu Rong Street.

After going up and down the stairs several times, I finally managed to move all my things into the room.

The moment he closed the door, Chen Feng locked it again, then moved the folding table over and placed it behind the door—it was a simple warning device; if someone forced the door open from the outside, the table would be pushed and make a sound.

After doing all that, he began tidying up the room.

He left the bedroom for Xiaoyu. He made the bed for her, hung up the towels, and put her change of clothes in the closet.

The living room served as his living space. He laid out another quilt in the corner of the living room, which became his sleeping area. The kitchen and bathroom were given a simple cleaning to ensure they were usable.

By the time he had placed the last bucket down, it was already dark. The sounds of stir-frying and television from a nearby tea restaurant drifted in from outside the window, along with the aroma of food.

Chen Feng walked into the cramped kitchen and turned on the gas stove.

The blue flames shot up with a "whoosh," warm and real.

He boiled a pot of water, and once it boiled, he added the noodles. In another small pot, he fried two eggs in lard he had bought, then stir-fried some greens and sliced ​​meat. The seasoning was simple, just salt and a little soy sauce.

But the aroma of food permeated the small space, bringing a long-lost warmth that belonged to "home".

Once the noodles were cooked, Chen Feng scooped them into two bowls, topped them with fried eggs, vegetables, and sliced ​​meat, and then poured some hot soup over them.

"Xiaoyu, dinner's ready." He carried the bowl into the living room.

He had moved the folding table back to its original place, with two bowls of steaming noodles on it.