Courtyard House: Starting in 1938, kill enemies and loot equipment.

Under the regulation of the Shou'an Society, Beiping's black market was no longer as chaotic as it once was. At the largest black market trading point in the southern part of the city, stalls were now neatly arranged, and while merchants still hurried about, the previous disputes and looting had subsided, replaced by the low murmurs of bargaining echoing in the morning mist. Old Ma, leaning on his cane, stood at the street corner, followed by two key members of the Shou'an Society. His gaze swept over each stall, ensuring no one dared to hoard goods or inflate prices—this was Zhou Ye's ironclad rule, the foundation upon which he had established channels for selling grain.

An unassuming mule cart slowly entered the black market. The curtain was drawn low, and the driver was an old member of the Shou'an Society, with a faint scar on his face. He was one of Scarface Qiang's henchmen, whom Zhou Ye had once subdued. The mule cart stopped in a secluded corner deep within the black market. Old Matou stepped forward and knocked on the cart's side. The driver lifted the curtain, revealing bulging burlap sacks inside. Golden corn kernels peeked out from the gaps in the sacks, emitting a fresh, earthy aroma.

"As instructed by Mr. Zhou, this time we brought 500 catties of corn and 300 catties of millet, all of which are good grains that have been dried and winnowed," the driver said in a low voice, his tone full of awe. He only knew that these grains were transported by Mr. Zhou from a "secret grain source in the countryside," but he did not know that this so-called "grain source" was actually the mountain of produce piled up in Zhou Ye's space farm—the high-yield grains in the space were not affected by the external climate and were harvested one after another, which had long since piled up into a grain mountain, and now there was finally a safe channel for delivery.

Old Ma nodded, signaling his men to begin unloading: "Follow the rules. Corn is two silver dollars a pound, millet is three dollars a pound. No more than a cent, and no shortchanging. Priority should be given to small vendors and poor people. Grain merchants can only get a maximum of 30% of the goods. We absolutely cannot allow them to hoard and raise prices."

The men responded in unison, untied the sacks, and golden grain poured out, piling up into small heaps that immediately attracted the attention of surrounding merchants and commoners. "There's so much good grain!" "The price is more than half cheaper than before!" The crowd gasped in surprise, gathering around, but no one dared to fight over it. The members of the Shou'an Association maintained order, and everyone lined up, buying grain one by one with their cloth bags, their faces filled with a long-lost sense of security.

Zhou Ye stood at the alley entrance not far away, dressed in a simple coarse cloth robe, mingling in the crowd. Watching the people's relieved smiles after buying the grain, a warm feeling welled up inside him. He spread his spiritual sense to confirm that the entire transaction was orderly, without any unruly soldiers or troublemakers, before quietly turning to leave. He wasn't pursuing high profits with this grain; the price was only slightly higher than the cost (space cultivation has almost no cost, it's just a symbolic calculation), his aim being to alleviate the food shortage in Beiping and ensure the people had enough to eat.

This was just the beginning. In the following days, the Shou'an Association's mule carts appeared at the black market daily, bringing different kinds of grain—corn, millet, dried sweet potatoes, and occasionally small amounts of flour and rice. With the continuous supply of grain, the price of grain on the Beiping black market steadily declined. Grain merchants who had previously hoarded grain, seeing no profit to be made, were forced to lower their prices, and the food shortage crisis in Beiping gradually eased. The neighbors in the courtyard also benefited greatly. When Huizhen went to the black market to buy grain, she bought a full bag of millet for only half the price she had before. Upon returning, she excitedly told the people in the courtyard, "Now the grain on the black market is plentiful and cheap; it really saved us from our emergency!"

Just as Zhou Ye was steadily shipping goods through the Shou'an Association, an unexpected contact came knocking. That night, Old Ma quietly came to Zhou Ye's east wing and said with a solemn expression, "Mr. Zhou, a group of people have come to me. They say they want to buy a large amount of grain from us, and they're offering a very fair price, but their condition is... the grain must be delivered to a designated hidden location, and we can't ask where it goes."

Zhou Ye raised an eyebrow: "Who is it? Is they reliable?"

"It's hard to say," Old Ma shook his head. "The leader is a man in his thirties named Old Chen. He looks like a scholar, but he has a strong sense of tenacity. He said they are fighting for 'brothers on the front lines,' and that he knows the rules of our Shou'an Society. He said they would never do anything immoral or cause us any trouble."

Zhou Ye's heart skipped a beat. "Brothers fighting on the front lines," "hidden locations"—these clues reminded him of the underground Communist Party organization in Beiping. With the civil war raging, the front lines in the liberated areas desperately needed food supplies, and the underground party must be searching for stable sources of sustenance. He pondered for a moment: "Arrange a time for me to meet him."

Two days later, late at night, Zhou Ye met Old Chen in an abandoned brick kiln in the south of the city. Old Chen was wearing a short jacket, his face was dark, and his eyes were bright and determined. Upon seeing Zhou Ye, he didn't exchange many pleasantries and went straight to the point: "Mr. Zhou, I know that the Shou'an Society is genuinely working for the people, and I also know that you have a stable source of grain. We are the underground organization of the Chinese Communist Party in Beiping, and we want to purchase grain from you to send to the Jizhong Liberated Area to support the soldiers on the front lines. We can pay at the fair black market price, and we can guarantee that the handover will be absolutely confidential and will not bring any risk to you or the Shou'an Society."

Looking into Old Chen's sincere eyes, Zhou Ye subtly probed him with his spiritual sense and found no malice in him, but rather a sincere dedication to his ideals. He didn't immediately agree, but instead asked, "How many do you need? How often?"

"We need at least 5,000 catties per month, the more the better," Old Chen said urgently. "The soldiers on the front lines often fight on empty stomachs. Every catty of grain increases our chances of victory. We will send reliable comrades to make the handover, paying with silver dollars or exchanging it for the supplies you need."

Zhou Ye remained silent for a moment, having already made his decision. His grain was originally intended to relieve the people and safeguard peace; now, being able to support the front lines and contribute to the liberation cause perfectly aligned with his original aspirations. Moreover, cooperating with the underground Party organization would not only allow the grain in the space to play a greater role but also enable him to better conceal his grain sources with the help of the Party organization—a win-win situation.

"Okay." Zhou Ye nodded slowly. "I can supply the grain, and the price will be half of the black market price. You don't need to pay in silver dollars."

Old Chen was stunned, clearly not expecting Zhou Ye to make such a condition: "Mr. Zhou, this... how can we accept this? You're risking your life to supply us with grain, we can't let you suffer a loss."

"I'm not taking a loss," Zhou Ye smiled. "I just want the grain to be used where it's truly needed. The soldiers shed blood and sacrificed their lives on the front lines so that more people could live peaceful lives. My little bit of grain is nothing." He paused, then added, "You can decide on the handover method. I will have the Guardian Association cooperate to ensure the grain is delivered safely. But there's one condition: my identity cannot be exposed, and no one outside the Guardian Association can be involved."

Old Chen's eyes reddened slightly as he tightly grasped Zhou Ye's hand: "Mr. Zhou, thank you! We will remember your kindness! Please rest assured, we will absolutely keep our promise and will not leak any information!"

From then on, the food supply from the Shou'an Society remained stable in the black market of Beiping, alleviating the city's food shortage. Meanwhile, in the hidden alleys at night, mule carts carrying grain from the Space Farm quietly drove out of the city, delivering it to the front lines of the Jizhong Liberated Area through the underground party's secret transportation lines. This earthy grain not only filled the stomachs of the people but also brought warmth and strength to the soldiers on the front lines.

In the courtyard, Xiulan's belly grew larger and larger, her pregnancy symptoms disappeared, and she could eat a proper meal every day; Xiaocao no longer had to worry about going hungry, and her smiles became more frequent; He Daqing's shop gradually improved its business thanks to stable grain prices; even the usually sharp-tongued Jia Zhangshi rarely complained about not having enough food. The atmosphere in the courtyard grew warmer, and the relationships between neighbors became more harmonious. No one knew that behind all of this, Zhou Ye was silently supporting them.

Zhou Ye remained low-key, working by day as a craftsman sorting herbs and taking pulses, and by night using his spiritual sense to monitor the shipment and transportation of grain, ensuring that every step was foolproof. He knew that his power was limited, but he was willing to use his space as a warehouse and his influence as a bridge to protect the peace of his small courtyard in this chaotic world, and to help his family and country usher in the dawn as soon as possible.

Food continued to flow out of the space, the black market remained orderly, and the soldiers on the front lines were able to eat their fill. Zhou Ye stood by the window of the east wing, looking at the dim oil lamp in the courtyard, his heart filled with peace. He knew that the storms of this chaotic world had not yet subsided, but as long as food continued, hope remained; as long as people's hearts remained united, dawn would eventually arrive. And he would continue to move steadily forward on this path of protection.