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

Chen Feng walked very slowly.

From Wangjiazhuang to the capital, a distance of over twenty li (approximately 10 kilometers), he walked for a whole day. When he was hungry, he would nibble on a few bites of hard bread; when he was thirsty, he would drink a few sips of cold water. His tattered cloth shoes were worn through, and blisters formed on the soles of his feet, making every step excruciatingly painful. But he didn't feel it, or rather, the pain had become insignificant.

There was only one thing on my mind: kill them all.

Everyone who participated in the frame-up that night, everyone who took advantage of the Chen family's misfortune, everyone who seized the Chen family's property—not a single one will be spared.

Jia Dongxu is dead, but that's not enough. Qin Huairu is dead, Yi Zhonghai is crippled, Director Wang is dead, but so many people are still alive, living with peace of mind and carefree ease.

On what grounds?

Why were his parents burned to death, his sister killed, and his family destroyed, while those beasts are still alive and well?

A cold smile curled at the corners of Chen Feng's lips. It wouldn't be long. Soon, they would meet on the road to the underworld.

As evening fell, he returned to Beijing. He didn't dare use the city gate, but instead went around to a collapsed gap in the city wall on the east side and crawled through. It was late, and the streets were deserted; only the occasional worker hurrying past on their bicycle after work.

He first went to the abandoned church in the north of the city. It was still the same as before, dusty and covered with cobwebs. Chen Feng found his hidden bundle in a corner, which contained some money, food coupons, and the unfinished bottle of malted milk powder.

He opened the malted milk powder, poured a little into his palm, and licked it. The sweetness melted in his mouth, carrying a milky aroma. This was the best thing he could eat, but he found it utterly tasteless.

After finishing his meal, he leaned against the wall to rest. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide, but he dared not sleep. When he closed his eyes, he saw Xiaoyu's face, his parents' cries for help in the fire, and Jia Dongxu's wide-open eyes before he died.

He forced himself to think about the next step.

What are the people in the courtyard doing now? They know Jia Dongxu is missing. Has Qin Huairu's funeral been held?

Chen Feng suddenly remembered that today was Qin Huairu's funeral. According to custom, the body was kept for three days, and today was the day for burial.

He stood up and decided to go and see. Not to take action, but to observe and see the true colors of those people.

At the same time, a special funeral was being held in the courtyard.

Because Jia Dongxu ran away, Qin Huairu's funeral arrangements lost their central figure. Logically, with her husband gone, the matter should have been put on hold. But Jia Zhangshi refused; she was eager to finish the funeral so she could legitimately receive the monetary gifts from various families.

"The person is dead, we can't just leave them lying there!" Jia Zhangshi shouted in the courtyard. "Dongxu had to go back to his hometown on urgent business, but the funeral still needs to be held! I can't be an old woman like you carrying the coffin, can I?"

Yi Zhonghai had been staying indoors since returning from the hospital, but he was asked to come out today. He sat in a chair, his right hand wrapped in thick gauze, his face pale and his spirits low.

"Old sister-in-law is right," Yi Zhonghai said weakly. "Death is the greatest event, and burial brings peace. Dongxu is not here, so the people in our compound will help take care of things."

Liu Haizhong, heavily pregnant, nodded: "That makes sense. Our courtyard has always been united; if one family is in trouble, the whole courtyard helps. Now that the Jia family is in this situation, we can't just ignore it."

Yan Bugui adjusted his glasses but remained silent. He was calculating in his mind—helping was fine, but the Jia family had to pay for it. He couldn't work for free.

After discussion, it was decided that several young people from the courtyard would carry the coffin, with Sha Zhu taking Jia Dongxu's place, holding the portrait and smashing the earthenware pot. Jia Zhangshi, as an elder, would follow behind, wailing.

"Zhu Zi, I'm entrusting this matter to you," Yi Zhonghai said to Sha Zhu. "When Huai Ru was alive, you were the closest to her. If you see her off on her final journey, she will be grateful to you in the afterlife."

Sha Zhu nodded, his eyes red-rimmed: "Uncle Yi, don't worry. Sister Qin's matter is my matter."

He was indeed heartbroken. When Qin Huairu was alive, she treated him very well. Knowing he lived alone, she often mended his clothes and cooked him nice meals. Although he knew Qin Huairu might have ulterior motives for being kind to him, that warmth was genuine.

Now that Qin Huairu is dead, and her death was so tragic, he wants to see her off on her final journey, as a way of repaying this debt of gratitude.

And so, a strange funeral began.

She had no husband, no children (Bang Geng was too young and was being cared for by the three older women), only a group of neighbors carrying a thin coffin out of the courtyard.

Sha Zhu walked at the front, carrying Qin Huairu's portrait. The photo was black and white, showing Qin Huairu smiling gently, her eyes curving into crescents. It was taken when she was just over twenty, fresh out of college, after her wedding.

Now, she lies in a coffin, her body slashed more than a dozen times, her flesh mangled and bloody.

Behind them were four young men carrying the coffin—Liu Guangtian, Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiecheng, and Yan Jiefang. The coffin wasn't heavy, but the four men carried it shakily, not because they lacked physical strength, but because they were terrified. Carrying someone who had been hacked to death felt like bad luck.

Behind her was Jia Zhangshi. She was draped in white cloth, weeping uncontrollably: "My daughter-in-law—how could you leave like this—how are we, a widow and orphans, going to live—"

She cried with genuine emotion, but her triangular eyes kept glancing to either side, observing the reactions of the onlookers. What she cared about wasn't Qin Huairu's death, but rather how much money she could collect in gifts and how much sympathy she could garner from this funeral.

Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui, three elderly men, followed at the back, all dressed in dark clothes with solemn expressions. But each of them harbored their own secrets—Yi Zhonghai was worried about his own safety, Liu Haizhong was thinking about how to establish his authority, and Yan Bugui was calculating the expenses and income of the funeral.

Xu Damao also arrived, walking along the edge of the crowd, his neck hunched, his eyes darting around. He was afraid, afraid that Chen Feng would suddenly rush out from some corner and kill him like he killed Qin Huairu.

The funeral procession left the alley and entered the main street. Passersby turned to look, pointing and whispering.

"Whose family is holding a funeral?"

"It seems to be the Jia family's courtyard house; their daughter-in-law has died."

"How could he die so young?"

"I heard he was hacked to death, it was a terrible sight..."

The murmurs reached the group, and the young men carrying the coffin turned even paler. They quickened their pace, eager to get the coffin to the cemetery outside the city and settle the matter.

After leaving the city gate and walking three or four miles, we arrived at the mass grave outside the city. Most of the people buried there were poor; the graves were one after another, some without even a tombstone.

The Jia family couldn't afford a proper burial plot, so they could only dig a hole here and bury him. Sha Zhu found a relatively flat spot, and several young men began digging the hole.

Madam Jia sat on a rock, still crying: "Huai Ru—you have such a hard life—you must be well over there—if you need anything, tell your mother in a dream—"

Despite her tears, she still clutched a cloth bag in her hand, containing the monetary gifts she had received that day. She secretly counted them; it totaled eighty-three yuan and sixty cents, enough for her and her grandson to live on for a while.

The pit was dug, and the coffin was placed inside. Sha Zhu scooped up a handful of soil and sprinkled it on the coffin. The soil landed on the wooden planks with a dull thud.

"Sister Qin, may you rest in peace," Sha Zhu said softly.

The others also scooped up soil and sprinkled it on. Soon, the coffin was covered with soil, forming a small mound. There was no tombstone, only a wooden stick stuck in the mound with the words "Tomb of Qin Huairu" written on it in ink.

"Alright, let's go back," Yi Zhonghai said.

The group turned and left, no one looking back at the new grave. To them, it was just a ceremony they had to attend; once it was over, it was over.

Only Shazhu took a few steps and then looked back. The grave mound stood there all alone, looking particularly desolate in the twilight.

He remembered what Qin Huairu looked like when she was alive, her gentle smile, and the sound of her calling him "Zhuzi".

"Don't worry, Sister Qin," Sha Zhu thought to himself, "I will definitely avenge you. That bastard Chen Feng, I will kill him."

But he didn't know that Chen Feng was quietly watching all of this from a grove of trees not far away.

Chen Feng crouched behind a withered tree, watching the group leave. He arrived late and only witnessed the final stages of the burial.

Looking at the new grave and the indifferent backs of those people, Chen Feng felt no emotion. Qin Huairu deserved to die; she framed him, ruined his life, and deserved to die.

But those people—the pallbearers, the funeral procession, those who had ulterior motives at the funeral—they also deserved to die.

Chen Feng counted: Sha Zhu, Liu Guangtian, Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiecheng, Yan Jiefang, Xu Damao, Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, Yan Bugui, and Jia Zhangshi.

Ten people. In addition to Qin Huairu, Jia Dongxu, and Director Wang, who are already dead, and Yi Zhonghai, who has lost one hand.

not enough.

Chen Feng stood up and quietly followed the funeral procession. They didn't return directly to the city, but instead went around to a small restaurant in the west of the city. According to custom, after the funeral, a "cleansing wine" was served to thank those who helped.

The restaurant wasn't big; they had booked two tables. The dishes were simple: a plate of peanuts, a plate of stir-fried cabbage, a plate of tofu, and a few cornbread buns. The liquor was bulk white wine, served in large bowls.

"Thank you all for your hard work today." Yi Zhonghai raised the bowl, his right hand useless, but he managed to hold it with his left. "On behalf of the Jia family, thank you all."

Everyone raised their bowls, but Jia Zhangshi remained seated, her eyes fixed on the dishes on the table, calculating in her mind how much the meal would cost.

"You're too kind, sir," Liu Haizhong said, taking a sip of his drink. "It's only right for people in our compound to help each other out."

"That's right," Yan Bugui said, picking up a piece of cabbage with his chopsticks. "A close neighbor is worse than a distant relative."

Sha Zhu drank silently, not uttering a word. Xu Damao also kept his head down, not daring to speak. The other young people were even more silent, burying their heads in their food.

The atmosphere was oppressive. Everyone thought of Chen Feng and those murder cases. They ate the meal with bated breath, fearing that Chen Feng would suddenly burst in from outside.

"Don't worry, everyone," Yi Zhonghai said, forcing a smile as he noticed the unease among the crowd. "The police are already searching for Chen Feng throughout the city. He won't be able to escape for more than a few days. We've increased security in our compound, with shifts on night watch. Nothing will happen."

"That old man is right," Liu Haizhong chimed in, "With so many of us, why are we afraid of just one guy?"

That's what they said, but no one was truly certain. Chen Feng was in the shadows, while they were in the open. Chen Feng was ruthless and showed no mercy. Who knew who would be next?

Suddenly, Jia Zhangshi spoke up: "I say, we can't just wait for the police to arrest people. We have to take the initiative."

"How can we take the initiative?" Yan Bugui asked.

"Chen Feng is definitely still in the city," said Jia Zhangshi. "His parents and sister are all here; he can't have run away. Let's get everyone involved to look for him. I'll give fifty yuan to anyone who finds a clue!"

Fifty yuan! That's no small sum. The eyes of several young people lit up.

"Aunt Jia is right," Liu Guangtian said. "We can't just sit here and wait to die. Starting tomorrow, we'll split up and search. We'll search abandoned factories, under bridges, and dilapidated temples—all those places."

"And there are shantytowns," Yan Bugui added, "where all sorts of people mingle, making it easy for people to hide."

The crowd began to discuss animatedly, and the atmosphere became more lively. With money to be made and a major threat eliminated, why not?

Only Sha Zhu didn't participate in the discussion. He held his bowl, staring at the dark street outside, lost in thought.

Chen Feng hid in the alley opposite the restaurant, listening to the conversation from across the street.

Take the initiative? Find him? Fifty yuan reward?

Chen Feng sneered. "Come on, all of you come on." He wanted to see who found whom first.

He turned and left, disappearing into the night. He wouldn't go to the courtyard house tonight, nor would he kill anyone. He wanted to get a good night's sleep and recharge.

Tomorrow, the hunt will officially begin.

Those who seek him out will know what true fear is.

Those who owe his family will know what it means to pay for a blood debt.

Not a single one will be left.

Chen Feng returned to the abandoned church and lay down in a corner. He closed his eyes and this time fell asleep quickly.

In his dream, he saw Xiaoyu. Xiaoyu stood by the river, wearing that floral cotton-padded jacket, smiling and waving at him: "Brother, I'm here."

He tried to run, but he couldn't reach it. Suddenly, the river rose and submerged Xiaoyu. He shouted, but no sound came out.

I woke up with a start; it was still dark. I was covered in cold sweat, and my heart was pounding.

Chen Feng sat up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He pulled out a dagger from his pocket and held it in his hand. The cold touch calmed him down a little.

"Xiaoyu, wait a little longer," he whispered. "Wait until your brother sends those beasts down to keep you company."

Its daybreak.

A new day, a new killing, is about to begin.