Courtyard House: Ten-year-old Master Zhu reorganizes the entire courtyard

Inside the dilapidated temple, the dim oil lamp illuminated the family's faces. He Daqing clutched Tan Jingyao's business card tightly, his knuckles white, the fear from earlier still lingering. He looked at He Yuzhu, his eyes filled with complex emotions—a mixture of dependence and deep-seated awe. Chen Lanxiang held He Yushui, silently weeping; a weight had been lifted from her heart, only to be replaced by a new fear. Tan Jingyao, this "big tree," was clearly a poisonous one; the consequences of rejection were far more dangerous than acceptance.

He Yuzhu remained unusually calm. The Military Intelligence Bureau, indeed, was the Military Intelligence Bureau. This coincided with his fragmented memories from his previous life. He knew that in that era, someone like Tan Jingyao would never give up easily once rejected. However, fear was useless; the important thing was how to deal with it.

He helped He Daqing up, his voice low but strong: "Dad, don't be afraid. We'll deal with whatever comes our way. If he wants to play, we'll play along. But we need to feed ourselves first so we'll have the energy to play with him."

He Daqing was stunned for a moment, looking at his son who was no more than ten years old, yet he spoke such mature words, and his heart trembled again. He wanted to ask "How do you play?", but looking at He Yuzhu's deep eyes that were not like those of a child, he swallowed his words.

The primary problem facing He Yuzhu was still money. Despite rejecting Tan Jingyao's high salary offer, the family's expenses remained a bottomless pit. His sister's medical bills, the family's food rations, and the reserve fund for future crises were all pressing. More importantly, he needed money to fulfill his promise to Wang Kui and completely settle the previous case.

He knew the dilapidated temple was no place to linger. Every trip into the city, every transaction, every interaction was like dancing on a knife's edge. He needed a more stable and discreet channel for supplies and intelligence to effectively convert the "strange" stockpiles in his system space into capital for survival and expanding his influence. And this channel could only be found in the old ghost of the Ghost Market.

In the dead of night, the north wind howled, and the moonlight was obscured by dark clouds. He Yuzhu quietly left home again. He took out several cans of Japanese army beef, several strips of compressed biscuits specially supplied by the Japanese army, and a few Japanese military scrips of small denomination from his system space, and wrapped them in an oilcloth. These things might attract attention in the city, but in the ghost market, they could serve as scarce hard currency.

His enhanced body moved like a nimble raccoon in the night, avoiding all possible patrols and checkpoints, and slipped straight into the depths of the western suburban cemetery. The ghost market was still bustling with people, torches flickering, and the sounds of bargaining rising and falling. He Yuzhu didn't look around; he knew that in this kind of place, shifty eyes meant a guilty conscience. He went straight to the old ghost's inconspicuous, dilapidated shack.

Old Gui was fiddling with his abacus when he saw He Yuzhu. His shrewd, triangular eyes narrowed into slits, and a barely perceptible smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Hey, young brother, it's been a while. What good stuff have you brought today?" His tone carried a hint of mercenary warmth, yet also a scrutinizing edge.

Without a word, He Yuzhu placed the oilcloth package in front of Lao Gui and gently opened it. Under the dim oil lamp, several cans of military green beef with Japanese writing on them, along with several tightly packaged compressed biscuits and several military notes with the Rising Sun flag pattern, instantly caught Lao Gui's eye.

Old Gui's eye twitched. He picked up a can of food, then a military stamp, examining them closely. These were things ordinary people could never obtain. Even on the black market, it was extremely rare to see Japanese strategic supplies in such pristine condition. A storm raged within him. Just how powerful were this kid's connections?

"Where...where did this come from?" Old Ghost's voice was lowered, trembling slightly. Although he was a middleman in the Ghost Market, he always kept his distance from the source of goods and never asked too many questions. But this time, the goods were just too conspicuous, so conspicuous that his greed and fear swelled up at the same time.

He Yuzhu remained expressionless, his eyes devoid of any emotion. "Old ghost, you know the rules. Genuine product, no questions asked about its origin. This kind of thing isn't commonly seen on the market, is it?" His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable certainty.

Old Gui remained silent for a moment, ultimately deciding not to press the matter. He knew it would be pointless to ask. This kid's mouth was tighter than any seasoned veteran he'd ever met. He weighed the canned goods in his hand, then felt the texture of the military notes, greed gradually taking over his eyes. These things, if resold, could make him a fortune.

"The condition is good, but these Japanese things are being heavily inspected lately." Old Gui sighed pretentiously, trying to lower the price.

He Yuzhu gave a cold laugh, a laugh that looked somewhat eerie in the dim light. "Old ghost, you've been in business for so long, don't you know that the tighter the crackdown, the scarcer and more valuable this stuff becomes? Besides, I came to you because you have wide connections and good skills, and you can turn these hot potatoes into real money, right?"

He took a small ingot of silver from his pocket and placed it on the table. "Keep these. I need to exchange this batch of goods for silver dollars. Also, help me find out some information that's hard to find on the market. For example, are there any 'big shots' in the city looking for 'special goods' lately, or are there any 'teams' looking for 'special channels'?"

Old Gui picked up the loose silver, bit it, and then rubbed it between his fingers, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes. He looked at He Yuzhu; this kid was becoming increasingly unfathomable. His sources were mysterious, his audacity astounding, and his appetite ever-growing. What he wanted wasn't just money, but also intelligence, and… a deeper level of cooperation.

"You can find all sorts of information in the ghost market, it just depends on what price you're willing to pay." Old Gui rubbed his hands together, already calculating in his mind. He carefully put away the canned goods and biscuits, then counted the military-issued banknotes. "This batch, I'll give you twenty silver dollars, how about it?"

He Yuzhu shook his head and held up three fingers. "Thirty. You can make at least double the money by reselling these things. Give me thirty, and I'll come back to you later." He knew Lao Gui's bottom line and wasn't afraid of him cheating him, because he had more to offer.

Old Gui hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said, "Fine! Thirty it is! But, young man, will you be able to have this again in the future?" His voice was even lower, and his eyes were full of expectation.

He Yuzhu's lips curled slightly upwards. Instead of answering directly, he asked, "Old Ghost, answer me first. Have you made any progress on the information I just asked you about?"

Old Gui understood immediately; he knew He Yuzhu was trying to pique his interest. He wasn't annoyed, but instead cheerfully picked up a bowl of hot tea and slowly sipped it. "There is some news. Recently, a group of 'friends from Shanxi' have quietly slipped into Pingxi's territory. They're not like ordinary bandits; they have strict rules. I heard they've been inquiring about reliable ways to buy some 'storable and filling grain.' And they want large quantities, and good quality grain."

"Friends from Shanxi..." He Yuzhu's heart skipped a beat. He knew that these "friends from Shanxi" were most likely liaisons for the guerrillas in the Jin-Cha-Ji Border Region. They needed food, and it had to be "satisfying and easy to store," which was exactly the perfect place for those Japanese compressed biscuits in the system space. These things were high in calories, small in size, and easy to carry, which was exactly what the guerrillas needed.

This is an opportunity. An opportunity to connect with underground forces and gain more stable and stronger support.

He Yuzhu remained calm and casually asked, "Oh? Is there anything special about this grain? Aren't there coarse grains available on the market?"

Old Gui chuckled: "Young man, you've hit the nail on the head. Those friends aren't looking for ordinary coarse grains. They want the kind of... good stuff that can keep them from getting hungry for days and doesn't spoil easily. It's hard to find on the market." He gave He Yuzhu a meaningful look, as if to say: Are you hiding some good stuff in your oilcloth bag?

He Yuzhu understood. He pretended to ponder for a moment, then said, "Oh... I do have a way to get some of this good stuff, maybe. But the quantity won't be large, and it'll be a rare commodity." He deliberately spoke ambiguously, neither confirming nor denying.

Old Gui's eyes lit up instantly. He no longer hid his excitement, slamming his hands on the table with a sharp crack. "Good lad! I knew you were keeping it a secret! Your methods are truly unconventional! Compressed rations? That's a real bargain! If those friends from Shanxi could get their hands on some of that, they'd treat you like royalty!"

He squinted his triangular eyes, sizing He Yuzhu up and down as if he were seeing him for the first time. This kid was truly a mystery. Where did he get these rare items? Who was behind him? But he knew he couldn't ask these questions. He only needed to be his middleman and earn his commission.

"Young man, you've got guts, and your methods are quite unconventional." Old Gui's tone carried a mix of admiration and shrewd calculation. "I'll make the connections for you, but you two handle the negotiations yourselves. I won't get involved. Any problems that arise are none of my concern." He emphasized "not getting involved" to distance himself from the situation and as a form of self-protection. He knew that dealing with guerrillas was far too risky.

He Yuzhu nodded; he knew Lao Gui's bottom line. "I understand Lao Gui's rules. You just act as the go-between; I'll handle the rest."

Old Gui's face lit up with a smile upon hearing this. "Great! That's a good idea! I'll bring them next time at the Ghost Market. Get your goods ready, and we'll see you there!"

He Yuzhu stood up and carefully put away the thirty silver dollars that Lao Gui had exchanged. His steps were steady and firm; in the night, his thin figure seemed to contain immense power. He knew that he had taken another solid step into that turbulent era. Contact with the guerrillas would be a crucial part of his future plans. He needed more than just money; he needed connections, intelligence, and a foundation to stand firm in the chaotic world.

Stepping out of the ghost market, a cold wind blew past, yet He Yuzhu felt a surge of passion coursing through his chest. He knew that from this moment forward, he would no longer be a mere avenger, but a participant. His choice would truly begin to change this era.