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

The courtyard house spent a few days in unease.

Sha Zhu still didn't return, vanished without a trace, like a drop of water evaporating. The steel mill sent two people; the first was to inquire, the second was to issue a dismissal notice—three consecutive days of absence without leave, dealt with according to factory rules, he'd lose his job.

No one dared to go looking for Sha Zhu. Everyone in the courtyard knew in their hearts that Sha Zhu was most likely dead, killed by Chen Feng, killed in their hired murder plot. But no one dared to say it aloud, still clinging to a sliver of hope—what if? What if Sha Zhu was just hiding? What if he suddenly came back one day?

This kind of luck is like a thin layer of window paper; it can be easily broken with a single poke, but no one dares to poke it.

The deaf old woman has been restless these past few days. She can't eat, can't sleep, and spends all night fiddling with her prayer beads, muttering incantations, but Buddha seems not to hear her. Sha Zhu is gone, and the money she paid to hire someone to kill him is gone—three hundred yuan, pooled together by everyone in the courtyard. Now the man is dead, the job is done, and the money is gone forever.

Many people in the courtyard began to complain.

"Our family contributed ten yuan, which is half a month's worth of groceries."

"Exactly! We spent the money, but we didn't even see the person. What kind of situation is this?"

"Didn't the old lady say it would be foolproof?"

The complaints weren't loud, but they buzzed like flies, annoying everyone. The deaf old woman knew this matter had to be resolved, otherwise people's hearts would break. And if people's hearts broke, her authority as the "ancestor" would be gone.

She called Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and Yan Bugui into the house.

The atmosphere was even more oppressive than before. All three had their heads down, their faces increasingly grim. Yi Zhonghai's right sleeve was empty, Liu Haizhong's belly seemed to have gotten even thinner, and Yan Bugui's calculating eyes behind his glasses had lost their luster.

"Grandma," Yi Zhonghai spoke first, his voice hoarse, "everyone in the courtyard is watching. Money was spent, nothing was done, and Sha Zhu is gone too. Everyone's uneasy, asking, what's going to happen?"

Liu Haizhong continued, "Yes, old lady, we can't just let this go. Everyone in the courtyard paid money, and now the money is gone, and the people are gone too. We need an explanation."

Yan Bugui adjusted his glasses and began to do the math: "Three hundred and twenty yuan, paid by more than twenty households. Now the money is gone, the matter wasn't resolved, and Shazhu is gone too. If we just let it go like this, the people in the courtyard definitely won't stand for it. If things escalate, none of us can afford the consequences."

The deaf old woman listened, her fingers tightening their grip on the prayer beads. She knew these three men were right; this matter couldn't be left like this. But how to proceed? Hire someone else? Where would the money come from? Would the other residents of the nursing home still contribute?

"Grandma," Yi Zhonghai said when she didn't speak, "that bastard Chen Feng has already killed seven people. Sha Zhu is dead, and we might be next. If we don't kill him, none of us will have peace."

The deaf old woman finally spoke, her voice cold: "Where's the money? If we hire more people, where will the money come from? Will the people in the community still contribute?"

The three men looked at each other, bewildered. Yes, money was the biggest problem. It was already difficult enough to scrape together three hundred yuan last time; who would be willing to do it again?

Yan Bugui thought for a moment and said, "Grandma, how about... we talk to everyone again and explain the stakes? If Chen Feng doesn't die, everyone will die. To save your lives, everyone should be willing to pay again."

"What if they don't want to?" the deaf old woman asked.

"They're unwilling..." Yan Bugui gritted his teeth, "Then force them to pay! Whoever doesn't contribute can forget about any help from the hospital if anything happens in the future!"

These words were harsh, but effective. Now everyone in the hospital is on edge, and no one dares to be the one who "doesn't contribute money."

The deaf old woman was silent for a moment, then nodded: "Okay, let's do it that way. Go and talk to everyone again, raise the money again. This time... raise more, and hire even more capable people."

"How much?" Liu Haizhong asked.

"Five hundred," the deaf old woman said. "Hire five men, one hundred each. They need to be armed and ruthless."

Five hundred yuan! All three of them gasped. There were more than twenty households in the courtyard. Last time, they pooled together three hundred and twenty yuan, averaging fifteen yuan per household. This time, they needed to pool five hundred yuan, which meant an average of twenty-five yuan per household! This was no small amount; an average worker's monthly salary was only twenty or thirty yuan.

"So much?" Yan Bugui subconsciously started calculating. "Some families in the courtyard are struggling financially and might not be able to afford this much."

"You have to pay, whether you can or not!" The deaf old woman glared at him. "Is your life more important or your money? Go and tell them this is what I said. Whoever doesn't pay can forget about living in this courtyard!"

That's even harsher. Not living in this courtyard? Where else can you live? Moving out now will only make you die faster.

The three of them knew there was no room for discussion.

"Okay," Yi Zhonghai said, "we'll go talk to them right away."

"Wait," the deaf old woman called out to them, "This time, I'm going to the black market myself."

All three of them were stunned. The old lady was going herself? She was almost ninety years old and had difficulty walking; how could she go?

"Grandma, this..." Liu Haizhong tried to persuade her.

“I know an old man in the black market,” the deaf old woman said. “We used to travel the world together when we were young, and we have a good relationship. I’ll go to him; he can find more reliable people. If you go, they might not trust you.”

She has a point. The person we hired last time was unreliable; we need to find someone more reliable this time.

"Then...when are we going?" Yan Bugui asked.

"Tonight," the deaf old woman said, "you'll come with me. There are fewer people at the black market at night, it'll be safer."

The three of them looked at each other and none of them objected. Given the situation, this was the only way to proceed.

In the evening, the sound of gongs rang out again in the courtyard.

Yan Bugui was still banging on the door, shouting as he did so: "Meeting time! Meeting time! Assemble at the Intermediate People's Court! At least one person from each court must come!"

People gradually emerged from the courtyard, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. For the past few days, they hadn't slept or eaten well, constantly on edge, terrified that Chen Feng would suddenly burst out from some corner.

Inside the courtyard, Yi Zhonghai sat in a wheelchair, Liu Haizhong stood in the middle, and Yan Bugui held a notebook and pen. The deaf old woman didn't come out, but everyone knew that this meeting was definitely related to her.

Everyone was there. Liu Guangfu, Yan Jiefang, Jia Zhangshi, Auntie Yi, Auntie Er, Auntie San, and other residents of the courtyard, totaling less than thirty people—a few had already secretly moved out, too afraid to live here anymore.

Yi Zhonghai cleared his throat and began, "Neighbors, I've called you all here today to discuss something important. As you all know, Sha Zhu... might be in trouble. That bastard Chen Feng has already killed seven people. Last time we pooled our money to hire someone, but it didn't work out, and the money went down the drain."

He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse, but every word struck a chord in everyone's hearts.

"Now, we can't wait any longer," Yi Zhonghai continued. "If Chen Feng doesn't die, we'll all die. So, the old lady has decided to hire more people, even more skilled ones, armed ones, to take care of Chen Feng once and for all."

A commotion arose in the crowd.

"Hiring again?" the third woman whispered. "All the money we spent last time was wasted..."

"Exactly, where would we get any money?" someone complained.

Liu Haizhong stepped forward and roared, "Is money more important than your lives? Do you want to wait to die? Wait for Chen Feng to kill us all one by one?"

No one spoke. Yes, life was at stake.

Yan Bugui began to calculate: "This time we're hiring five people, one hundred yuan each, for a total of five hundred yuan. There are also twenty households in the courtyard, each contributing twenty-five yuan. Those who contributed last time should contribute less this time, and those who didn't contribute enough last time should make up the difference. I have the accounts here; I'll calculate it for each household one by one."

He began reading out names and amounts of money. Those whose names were called lowered their heads, not daring to utter a sound, but their hearts were bleeding. Twenty-five yuan! Enough to feed a family for a month.

"Our family... really can't afford that much," an old man said softly. "My son is gone, and I'm relying on my meager pension..."

"You have to pay, whether you can or not!" Yi Zhonghai said coldly. "This is for everyone's lives. If anyone doesn't contribute, don't blame us for not helping if something happens later."

These words were so true that the old man fell silent, only wiping away his tears.

One by one, the amount of money was settled. Liu Guangfu contributed twenty, Yan Jiefang contributed twenty, Jia Zhangshi contributed fifteen (she absolutely refused to contribute more), Xu Fugui contributed thirty (he hated Chen Feng to the bone and was willing to contribute more), and the other families basically contributed twenty-five.

The total came to 520 yuan, 20 yuan more than that.

Yan Bugui carefully kept track of the money, put it in his cloth bag, and said, "The money is all raised. The old lady can take care of the rest. Everyone go back and wait for news. This time, we must take care of Chen Feng!"

The crowd gradually dispersed, but everyone was filled with anxiety. Another five hundred yuan—would it work this time? What if it failed again? What if the money went down the drain again?

But no one dared to ask. Given the current situation, they had no choice but to take a gamble.

It's late at night, 11 p.m.

The back door of the courtyard quietly opened, and four figures emerged.

The deaf old woman walked in the middle, leaning on a cane, her steps slow but steady. Yi Zhonghai sat in a wheelchair, being pushed by an older woman. Liu Haizhong led the way, while Yan Bugui brought up the rear, clutching a cloth bag full of money tightly in his hands.

The streets were deserted, save for a few streetlights casting a dim yellow glow. A cold wind blew, swirling up fallen leaves and making a rustling sound. The four people wrapped their coats tighter, lowered their heads, and walked quickly.

The black market was in the west of the city, about three or four miles from the courtyard house. It usually took them twenty minutes to walk there, but today they were extra careful, taking several detours and spending more than half an hour to get there.

The entrance to the black market was in an alley, guarded by two "security guards." Upon seeing four people, one of them stopped them.

"What do you do?"

"Find someone," Liu Haizhong said in a low voice, "Find Lao Dao."

"Old Dao?" The security guard sized them up. "You know him?"

"I know her," the deaf old woman said, her voice aged but strong. "Tell her that the old woman from the south of the city has arrived."

The security guard glanced at the deaf old woman, nodded, and turned to enter the alley. A few minutes later, he returned, waving, "Go in, the third door."

Four people walked into the alley. The alley was narrow, with dilapidated houses on both sides; some windows were lit, while others were dark. The third door was ajar, letting in a dim, yellowish light.

Liu Haizhong pushed open the door, and the four people went inside.

The room was small, containing only a table, two chairs, and a stove. Water was boiling on the stove, steaming. Behind the table sat an old man, over sixty years old, with gray hair and a scar on his face that ran diagonally from his forehead to his chin, making him look quite ferocious.

This is Lao Dao, a middleman in the black market who specializes in introducing "business".

Old Dao looked up, saw the deaf old woman, smiled, revealing a set of yellow teeth: "Old woman, long time no see."

"Old Dao," the deaf old woman sat down in the chair, "I have a business deal I need your help with."

"What kind of business?" Old Dao asked.

"Kill someone," the deaf old woman said. "The price is negotiable."

Old Dao glanced at the three people behind her, then at the deaf old woman: "Who should we kill?"

"Chen Feng," the deaf old woman said, "the fugitive from the south of the city."

Old Dao's eyes narrowed: "Chen Feng? The Chen Feng who killed seven people?"

"right."

Old Dao was silent for a moment, then shook his head: "This business isn't easy. That kid's ruthless. He killed those three people at the local temple yesterday, didn't he?"

The deaf old woman was startled, but remained calm and said, "Yes."

"That's even more difficult," Old Knife said. "To dare kill three people and then burn their bodies, that's no ordinary act of ruthlessness. To kill him, we'll need to find a true master."

"Money is not a problem," the deaf old woman said. "Five hundred dollars to hire five people, one hundred dollars each. They need to be armed and ruthless."

"Five hundred?" Old Dao thought for a moment. "Okay, I'll help you make the contact. But you have to pay a deposit first, two hundred and fifty, and the other half after it's done."

The deaf old woman looked at Yan Bugui. Yan Bugui opened the cloth bag, counted out two hundred and fifty yuan, and placed it on the table.

Old Dao took the money, counted it, and nodded: "Tomorrow night, still at the Earth God Temple, take some men there. Send someone to make contact and inspect the goods."

"Want to inspect the goods?"

"You have to assess the person," Lao Dao said. "Once you've made your assessment, then we can discuss the specific plans."

The deaf old woman thought for a moment and nodded: "Okay, tomorrow night at eight o'clock, at the Earth God Temple."

"Okay," Old Knife said, "See you then."

When the four people left the black market and returned to the courtyard house, it was already one o'clock in the morning.

No one slept well that night.

The deaf old woman lay on the bed, her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Five hundred yuan—this time it had to work. If not, she was finished, and this whole courtyard was finished.

Yi Zhonghai sat in his wheelchair, gazing at the pitch-black night outside the window. His empty right sleeve fluttered in the wind like a banner summoning a spirit. He remembered Chen Feng's cold eyes, and the scythe that had been swung down.

Liu Haizhong lay on the bed, tossing and turning. Five hundred yuan, pooled together by the people in the courtyard; this time, he was determined to kill Chen Feng. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to explain himself.

Yan Bugui was good at accounting. Five hundred and twenty yuan, two hundred and fifty had been spent, leaving two hundred and seventy. After the job was done, another two hundred and fifty would be owed, leaving twenty yuan short. Where would that twenty yuan come from? He had to figure something out…

Four people, four different thoughts, but they all shared one idea—to kill Chen Feng.

at all costs.

Meanwhile, Chen Feng was sharpening his knife in a small room behind the restaurant.

The blade was very sharp, gleaming coldly under the light.

He is waiting.

Wait for the next opportunity.

Let those people come to their deaths.