Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

Just after nine o'clock at night, figures began to gather in the archway at Deshengmen. There were no lights, only a few scattered kerosene lamps on the ground, their dim yellow light barely illuminating a small area. Figures moved around the edge of the light, and the rustling of their low conversations mingled with the chirping of night insects.

This is the black market. Things that can't be seen in the daytime all surface here at night. Grain coupons, industrial vouchers, chipped porcelain, old clothes of unknown origin, and occasionally someone will ask in a low voice, "Do you have any yellow croakers?" The air is filled with the smells of sweat, dust, and a faint musty smell and the aroma of boiled potatoes.

He Yuzhu tugged at his worn-out cotton hat, the brim pressing down to his brow bone, and pulled his scarf up, revealing only his eyes. His patched old cotton-padded coat was inconspicuous here.

He clutched two silver dollars in his hand—newly issued by the system, with sharp serrated edges. These were more valuable on the black market than the recently issued Renminbi.

He squatted down in front of several stalls, looked at the cotton-padded coats that were supposedly "military-grade," and touched the paper-thin "new cotton," but didn't say a word. Finally, he stopped in front of an old man huddled against a wall.

In front of the old man was only a tattered oilcloth with a small pile of dusty cotton and a few pairs of worn-out shoes. He stood with his hands behind his back, his eyelids drooping, and he didn't call out.

He Yuzhu squatted down, grabbed a handful of cotton, and rubbed it. It was dry and elastic, last year's cotton. Although it wasn't white, it was really warm.

"How do I change it?" he asked in a low voice, his throat a little hoarse.

The old man raised his eyelids, held up three fingers, then flipped them over, making them four.

"Forty pounds of cornmeal coupons, or one dollar and twenty cents."

He Yuzhu didn't haggle. His gaze fell on a pair of dark brown women's leather shoes—the uppers had some scratches, but the leather was sturdy and the soles were thick. Yu Shui's cloth shoes were practically showing her toes. This size should fit her perfectly.

"Where are your shoes?"

The old man glanced at it: "Good leather. One dollar and fifty cents, no bargaining."

He Yuzhu remained silent for a moment. The price was a bit high, but not outrageously so. He didn't want to linger here any longer.

"I need twenty catties of cotton, plus these shoes." He spread his hands, and two silver dollars lay quietly in his palm, gleaming faintly in the dim light.

The old man's eyes lit up. He quickly grabbed the silver coin, bit the edge with his teeth, and then brought it close to the lamp to examine the pattern closely. Finally, a wrinkled smile appeared on his face.

"Alright, young man, you're very straightforward."

He deftly filled an old burlap sack with cotton, wrapped his leather shoes in newspaper, stuffed them inside, and pushed them all to He Yuzhu.

He Yuzhu picked up the sack, weighed it in his hand, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to leave. His steps were unhurried, but his eyes scanned his surroundings out of the corner of his eye.

In places like the black market, you have to take what you need and leave quickly.

As soon as he stepped out of the shadow of the city wall and turned into a narrow alley, he heard several footsteps following behind him—not too fast, not too slow, just keeping a proper distance.

He Yuzhu's heart sank. He didn't turn around, but just gripped the rope of the burlap sack tightly.

There was a right fork in the alley ahead, even darker, the entrance to a dead end. He had just reached the fork when the footsteps behind him suddenly quickened.

Three people came up from behind and the side, blocking his way back to the main road and forcing him into a dark fork in the road.

"Hey buddy, don't be in such a hurry to leave." The leader was a tall, thin guy with a hat askew, his face hidden in the shadows. His voice was sleazy. "What's that on your shoulder? Let us see?"

The other two approached from the left and right, one short and stocky, the other hunchbacked, their hands empty, but their stance was one of encirclement.

He Yuzhu slowly turned around and unloaded the sack, placing it at his feet. He shrank back, his voice trembling with the fear typical of a young man: "Sir... brothers, I just bought some cotton to make a padded jacket for my sister..."

"Cotton?" The tall, thin man scoffed, taking a step forward. "I saw you gave me silver dollars! You've got some money to burn, kid. You still have some on you? Hand it over, we'll buy a pack of cigarettes, and that'll be the end of it."

"Yes, take it out!" the short, stocky man echoed in a deep voice, rubbing his hands together.

He Yuzhu seemed startled, his hand slowly reaching into his robes, his shoulders trembling slightly. His eyes quickly scanned the three men: the tall, thin one was closest, staring at his hand as he pulled out his money; the short, stocky one was on the left, his attention somewhat distracted; and the hunchbacked one was on the right, slightly behind.

Right now.

His hand, which was reaching for his money, suddenly stopped. He pressed down hard on his waist, and at the same time, his right leg shot forward without warning, kicking the side of the tall, thin man's left knee hard!

The tall, thin man cried out "Ouch!" as his left leg buckled and he slumped to the right. He Yuzhu's kick landed, and he used the momentum to rotate to the left, his left elbow striking the short, stocky man squarely in the stomach.

"Ugh!" The short, stocky man groaned, the sharp pain from the blow to his stomach causing him to bend over instantly, like a boiled shrimp.

The hunchback finally realized what was happening, cursed, and threw a punch. He Yuzhu didn't dodge. He twisted his body, stretched out his right hand, slid it up along the inside of the other man's arm, his five fingers like hooks, and grabbed the side of the other man's neck. His thumb and forefinger pressed precisely on a certain spot and squeezed hard.

Before the hunchbacked man's fist could even touch He Yuzhu, he was completely paralyzed, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed limply.

From the moment the attack began until the three men collapsed, only seven or eight seconds passed. The alleyway was filled only with heavy breathing and suppressed groans.

He Yuzhu's breathing quickened, and his heart pounded. The knowledge of basic combat was theoretical; putting it into practice was another matter entirely. But his placement and timing were aimed at incapacitating his opponent as quickly as possible—clean and ruthless.

He crouched down and first searched the tall, thin man. A cloth-handled dagger was tucked into his waistband; the blade was short but sharp. He also carried a small cloth bag containing a few loose bills and coins. Another crude dagger was found on the short, stocky man and the hunchback; the total value was less than a dollar.

He Yuzhu put away the money and the two daggers. He walked up to the tall, thin man who was groaning while clutching his knee, and squatted down.

The tall, thin man raised his head, his face showing both pain and fear.

He Yuzhu reached out, not to hit him, but to straighten his askew hat, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Do you recognize me?" He Yuzhu asked, his voice low and chilling in the dark alley.

The tall, thin man shook his head instinctively.

"It's good that you don't know him," He Yuzhu said. "Go back and tell your supervisor, or... tell Scarface Liu who always hangs out around Gulou." He paused, looking at the tall, thin man's eyes widen in an instant, knowing he might have guessed right. "Just say that I was short on cash today and borrowed some pocket money from you. Tell him not to make a fuss, and I'll treat him to tea another day."

After saying that, he picked up the sack, slung it over his shoulder, and without looking at the three people on the ground again, turned around and walked out of the fork in the road, his figure disappearing into the deeper darkness of the main alley.

The tall, thin man clutched his knee, wincing in pain. Scarface Liu? That's the ruthless gang leader from Gulou, his older brother? Who's this kid? That skill, that tone…

The short, stocky man struggled to his feet: "Three Bald Guys, should we chase after them or not?"

"Go to hell!" the tall, thin man cursed, aggravating his injury and gasping for breath. "Help me up... let's go back first... we need to ask about this..."

He Yuzhu carried the sack, quickening his pace and deliberately choosing to walk in the shadows. Only when he could see the outline of the entrance to Nanluoguxiang in the distance did his heart relax a little.

His shoulders ached from the burlap sack, and the dagger and loose change tucked into his pocket felt uncomfortable. He knew his bluff wouldn't last long. If Scarface Liu was truly someone important, he'd eventually find out someone was impersonating him. But that didn't matter—he just needed a little time, a little time when people couldn't figure him out and wouldn't dare cause trouble again.

I can't go to the black market anymore in the short term.

He touched the stiff leather shoes and fluffy cotton in the sack. He got the goods; the price wasn't too high.

Back in the courtyard, it was quiet; all the lights were off. He slipped into the west wing like a cat, closed the door, and bolted it shut.

He carefully stuffed the sack into an inconspicuous corner next to the stove, partially covering it with some old furniture. He thought for a moment: keep one dagger for self-defense, and hide the other and the change for now. There were two daggers and some loose change.

After doing all this, he sat on the cold edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and realized that cold sweat had soaked his clothes.

A pale blue light curtain unfolded before my eyes.

Points Balance: 9890 (Unchanged)

[Note: The host's proficiency in basic combat has slightly increased after experiencing and winning a low-intensity conflict. Real combat is the best way to master skills.]

There were no extra points rewards, nor any "merit" notifications. It seems that dealing with a few roadside thugs doesn't qualify as a "major evil" offense.

He Yuzhu twitched the corners of his mouth, unsure whether to feel fortunate or disappointed.

He blew out the small oil lamp on the table, plunging the room into darkness. Only the distant, ceaseless hum of the vast city could be heard from outside the window.

Tomorrow, I have to go to Fengzeyuan again. I can't afford to lose my apprentice work points and rations right now.

Before closing his eyes, he reviewed the day's achievements in his mind: he had settled the rainwater, exchanged it for cotton and shoes for his sister, experienced his first real conflict and gained the upper hand, although it caused some potential trouble.

The road is forged step by step like this.