The Fitter Master in the Courtyard: Surrounded by Dead Men

As he passed by Yi Zhonghai and Jia Dongxu, a glance at their unpleasant expressions deepened the smile on his lips.

Receiving such a generous salary for the first time was truly an extraordinary experience.

These days, an ordinary worker earns only thirty-three yuan a month, but his salary is equivalent to the wages of ten other people.

He returned to the workshop shortly afterward.

A little while later, Xie Quancai and the others returned one after another.

Although their skills were comparable to those of a level six or seven fitter, they were still at the level five or six when they were officially classified. Their monthly salary fluctuated around fifty or sixty dollars, which was still incomparable to Yang Ping's salary.

The crowd, who were initially filled with the joy of receiving their salaries, couldn't help but feel a sense of gloom when they thought of Yang Ping's staggering sum.

"Everyone, put in your best effort. There's still a long way to go. One day, you'll all be able to earn more than three hundred a month."

Yang Ping spoke up to encourage everyone.

The others remained silent, but Xie Quancai shook his head and continued, "Yang Ping, don't try to coax us with nice words."

Look around you, everyone in this factory, who has your skills and can earn over three hundred yuan a month?

"hehe."

Yang Ping smiled, but was momentarily speechless.

Indeed, in the current situation, no one has such ability.

Earning such a generous reward in one go is by no means easy.

At least among the current group of workers, none of them can compare to him yet.

Yang Ping smiled, but his tone carried an undeniable weight: "Don't forget, I'm now an eighth-level fitter."

"As long as I get you out of here, you'll still get a monthly salary of ninety-nine yuan after the next evaluation—that's not a small amount."

As soon as he finished speaking, the workers' eyes lit up.

A barrage of burning gazes were fixed on Yang Ping, like sharks that had caught a whiff of blood and were itching to pounce. Even the usually composed Xie Quancai held his breath, a look of the same longing on his face.

Don't look at me like that.

Yang Ping felt a little uncomfortable under her gaze, cleared her throat, and asked again, "So, do you still want to give it your all?"

"think!"

Everyone spoke in unison.

That money seemed within reach.

Who wouldn't wish to be like Yi Zhonghai, steadily earning ninety-nine yuan a month? Yang Ping glanced at the flushed faces, and finally a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

"Okay, everyone take a break, get ready to leave work soon."

"Okay!"

The workers dispersed and returned to their workstations to sit idly.

As the sun began to set, the announcement signaling the end of the workday came on time.

Yang Ping walked toward the bicycle shed as usual.

Gao Yue was already waiting at the usual spot, leaning against the mottled brick wall.

"Shall we go to Fengzeyuan tonight?"

He pushed his bicycle closer, saying, "It's been a while since I've been there."

"I'm not going."

Gao Yue answered crisply, without even lifting her eyelids.

"Really not going?"

Yang Ping stopped in her tracks.

"Um."

She turned to leave.

Yang Ping shook his head helplessly.

He was actually hoping that familiar headache would return—but unfortunately, his body wouldn't cooperate.

He had no choice but to unlock the car with a click, push the car, and silently follow.

Instead of returning directly to his residence, he turned his car around and headed towards Qianmen Street.

He planned to go to Lou Xiao'e's place and have dinner there, saving himself the trouble of cooking.

Before long, he arrived at Lou Xiao'e's house.

Just then, she was eating, so Yang Ping naturally took a set of chopsticks and sat down.

"What brings you here today?"

Lou Xiao'e looked up and asked him.

"I feel a bit more relaxed after getting paid, but I'm too lazy to cook for myself, so I'll just come over here for a meal."

Yang Ping spoke the truth without adding any fancy words.

"You can come every day from now on, I'll wait for you to eat together."

Lou Xiao'e spoke bluntly, leaving no room for negotiation.

Yang Ping's heart tightened.

If that's the case, I'll be tied down.

He quickly shook his head: "Don't wait for me, Xiao'e."

When I get busy, I might work until very late. How can your stomach handle waiting on an empty stomach? You'll definitely develop health problems in the long run, and I don't want that for you.

He frowned, his expression full of worry, as if he were thinking of her wholeheartedly.

In fact, Yang Ping had never worked overtime that late, but the words had to be spoken in a more serious tone to make the concern seem substantial.

"Oh well."

Lou Xiao'e softened and had no choice but to agree not to wait for him anymore.

"Don't worry, as long as I can find the time, I'll definitely try my best to come and have dinner with you."

Yang Ping continued to speak sweet words, making up whatever was most heartwarming.

"Um."

Lou Xiao'e's eyes welled up with tears as she listened.

Seeing her like this, Yang Ping was just thinking of finding an excuse about having a headache so he could go inside and rest with her for a while.

"Knock knock!"

"Knock knock!"

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

As soon as you hear that noise, you know that the old lady who takes care of Lou Xiao'e has returned.

He had no choice but to suppress his thoughts and silently sit back down at the table.

The night outside the window was already deep. Lou Xiao'e leaned against the door, her fingertips still feeling the coolness of her touch on the door.

As she watched the man ride away on his bicycle, a quiet unease stirred within her—life was long ahead, and the entanglements and stirrings of the future would inevitably come knocking again.

The aroma of peach shortbread still lingered in the air; it was brought over by Yao Fengze through a neighbor.

When the kind-hearted woman saw Yang Ping there, she simply put down her things, gave Lou Xiao'e a knowing smile, and then turned and went back to the next room.

The words that were about to burst forth just now were interrupted by this little incident.

Yang Ping wasn't in a hurry; some things need to wait until the right time to take root.

He sat in the house for a while longer, chatting about everyday things, before getting up to say goodbye.

The wheels creaked softly as they rolled over the bluestone pavement.

When Yang Ping turned around, he saw Lou Xiao'e closing the wooden door. The sliver of warm light gradually narrowed and finally faded into silence.

He got on his bike and headed towards the courtyard.

"Bang--!"

A sharp crack shattered the tranquility of the night, like an icicle suddenly exploding.

Yang Ping slammed on the brakes, rolled off the car, and pressed his back against the cold brick wall.

He held his breath, his ears trembling slightly—the gunshot came from the same alley, not far from Lou Xiao'e's courtyard, probably the house he passed on his way to Chen Xueru's.

Chen Xueru.

His pupils constricted suddenly when the name flashed through his mind.

Isn't that courtyard right behind Chen Xueru's house?

How could there be a gunshot?

He quickly locked the car and stealthily moved forward like a night owl.

In any case, Lou Xiao'e lived nearby, and he couldn't let danger lurk in the shadows.

With the flow of internal energy, the muscles and bones throughout the body become as relaxed and soft as a feather, and one can walk without making a sound.

He pressed himself against the courtyard wall, peering inside from the shadows.

In the courtyard, a middle-aged man carrying a drawing board held a short gun, the muzzle pointed at a young police officer curled up on the ground—the man's leg was already stained with a dark patch.

A few steps away, a policewoman stood facing off with a gun, her finger tightly gripping the trigger, her knuckles white.

"Put the gun down."

The middle-aged man's voice was low, but every word was chilling: "Otherwise, I'll blow your companion's head out of shape."

The male police officer was shot in the leg and his face turned ashen.

The cold muzzle of the gun pressed against his temple, and fear overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

Not far away, the young policewoman gripped her gun tightly with both hands, the muzzle trembling as she pointed it at the middle-aged man.

Her face was filled with struggle and helplessness, and cold sweat soaked her forehead.

Should they continue the standoff, or abandon their weapons to give their comrades a chance to survive? This sudden life-or-death decision threw her, with her limited experience, into a state of utter confusion.

"I'll count to three!"

The middle-aged man's voice was hoarse, and a ruthless glint flashed in his eyes. "If he doesn't throw the gun, I'll shoot him first! We might as well both die—"

He lowered his voice and began to count down:

"three!"

"—Smack!"

The policewoman bit her lower lip, but eventually let go.

The sound of the gun hitting the ground was particularly jarring in the silence.

The middle-aged man immediately bent down, picked up the gun, and quickly stuffed it into his backpack, finally relaxing his tense shoulders a little.

"Oh……"

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. "Little girl, you're still too green."

Now that you've caught me in the act, how could I possibly let you leave alive?

Before he finished speaking, he had already raised the muzzle of his gun again, aiming it steadily at the policewoman's forehead.

At that very moment—

"Shh, shh..."

Suddenly, a soft, rustling sound came from outside the courtyard gate.

"Who?!"

The middle-aged man reacted extremely quickly, instantly turning the gun towards the courtyard gate.

"call out--!"

A piece of gravel flew through the air and struck his wrist, which was holding the gun, with pinpoint accuracy.

The weapon fell from his hand.

Immediately afterwards, a cloud of sand rose up in the wind and covered his eyes.

This middle-aged man had clearly weathered many storms; despite his obstructed view, his movements were fluid and unhindered, his left hand swiftly reaching inside his backpack—

"Snapped!"

Another pebble came flying like a locust, hitting his left finger bone hard.

In the midst of the excruciating pain, the second gun hidden in the bag also slipped to the ground.

He bent down to pick it up, despite the pain, but a dark shadow had already swept in front of him.

The newcomer kicked the object on the ground aside, then spun around and punched him squarely in the back of the head.

"Well--!"

With a muffled groan, the middle-aged man collapsed forward and fell silent.

The middle-aged man finally couldn't hold on any longer and collapsed to the ground, losing consciousness.

Yang Ping let out a long breath.

This was the first time he had experienced such a scene, and his palms were already soaked with cold sweat.

Composing himself, he turned to the policewoman standing there dumbfounded, his voice carrying an undeniable force: "What are you all standing there for? Quickly find a rope and tie him up!"

"Ah...yes!"

The policewoman snapped out of her daze and hurriedly found a piece of thick hemp rope in the yard, using it to firmly bind the unconscious middle-aged man.

After finishing all that, she looked up at Yang Ping, her eyes still filled with shock: "Yang Ping, what are you doing here?"

"I happened to be on Qianmen Street running some errands when I heard the gunshots, so I came over to check it out."

Yang Ping replied.

This policewoman is Zhou Xiaobai.

The moment Yang Ping stepped into the courtyard and recognized her, she also realized the middle-aged man's identity—a hidden enemy agent who posed a serious threat to national security.

This made him act without hesitation.

Of course, Lou Xiao'e lived nearby, and Zhou Xiaobai was Gao Yue's friend, which also influenced his decision to some extent.

But even if it weren't Zhou Xiaobai, as long as a police officer is in danger and the other party is an enemy who endangers the country, he would still step forward.

It is only right and proper to do one's part for the country.

As for the unpleasantness between him and Zhou Xiaobai in the past, he had long since put it behind him.

"Thank you."

Zhou Xiaobai said in a low voice, her voice still trembling.

If Yang Ping hadn't appeared in time, she would probably be in grave danger by now.

She remembered this life-saving grace.

"Don't thank me yet, quickly treat your colleague's wound."

I went to the neighborhood to get backup.

Yang Ping's gaze swept over the injured male police officer lying on the ground to the side.

Zhou Xiaobai's face turned pale. He rushed to his colleague's side to check on his injuries, then tore off a strip of cloth from his shirt and tightly tied it around his bleeding thigh to stop the bleeding.

Yang Ping didn't linger any longer and turned to walk out of the courtyard.

In the darkness, he subconsciously glanced in the direction of Lou Xiao'e's courtyard—the windows were pitch black, and the lights were off.

He then started walking towards where the bicycles were parked.

As the setting sun sank into the buildings, it turned the asphalt in the parking lot a dark gold.

Yang Ping propped his bicycle up with one foot and looked up to see Gao Yue walking out of the drab little building that was the propaganda department.

She walked briskly, her ponytail bouncing on her shoulder.

Yang Ping stepped on the pedal, allowing the car to slowly glide to her side.

"Gao Yue, come up here."

Gao Yue took a few quick steps, sat sideways on the back seat, and naturally placed her hand on his waist. "Yang Ping,"

Her voice was filled with excitement, "We won't be eating at home tonight."

"Oh?"