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

Inside the dilapidated house, Chen Feng sat in the corner, holding a whetstone and sharpening his rusty sickle. The scraping sound of the blade against the stone was particularly jarring in the quiet night.

This house, located in an abandoned shantytown in the south of the city, was one he discovered while on the run. The roof had large holes, the walls were crooked, and it looked like it could collapse at any moment. But for Chen Feng, it was safe here for the time being. At least here, no one knew him, no one knew he was a fugitive.

The sharpening of the knife was mechanical and focused. Chen Feng's mind was racing, replaying the tasks he needed to complete the next day.

He had been following Qin Huairu for three days. This woman's daily life was very regular: she would get up at seven in the morning to cook for Jia Zhangshi and Banggeng; at eight o'clock, she would take Banggeng to the neighborhood daycare; then she would go to the vegetable market to pick up some rotten vegetable leaves; she would go home to cook at noon; in the afternoon, she would either sew shoe soles at home or go to the neighborhood to get some work making matchboxes.

But the 15th of each month is different.

The 15th was the day the grain station distributed grain. Qin Huairu would take the Jia family's grain ration book to the grain station in the west of the city to collect her monthly ration. From the courtyard house to the grain station, one had to pass through three alleys, one of which was called "Old Locust Tree Alley," which was usually deserted.

Chen Feng had calculated it; tomorrow was the 15th.

The blade grew shinier with each sharpening, gleaming coldly in the dim moonlight. Chen Feng tested the edge with his finger; it was very sharp, capable of cutting through skin with a light stroke.

He carefully wrapped the sickle in a rag and tucked it into his clothes. Then he lay down on the ground and closed his eyes.

Sleep wouldn't come. His parents' faces, his sister's smile, and the fire kept flashing through his mind. He could imagine the flames engulfing the house, the despair of his parents trapped in the fire, and the fear of his sister's disappearance.

It all started with Qin Huairu's false accusation that night.

If it weren't for that incident, he would still be working in the factory, able to come home every day to a hot meal cooked by his mother, and hear his younger sister chattering about what happened at school.

If that hadn't happened, my father wouldn't have been begging people everywhere, and my mother wouldn't have been crying her eyes out.

If that incident hadn't happened, their family wouldn't have become the public enemy of the entire courtyard.

Qin Huairu.

Chen Feng silently repeated the name, his teeth grinding together.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking.

Chen Feng emerged from the dilapidated house, wrapped himself in a tattered cotton-padded coat he'd salvaged from a garbage dump, and smeared some coal dust on his face, making him look like an ordinary homeless man. He walked along the alleyway leading to the old locust tree.

The alley is short, with low courtyard walls on both sides, topped with withered grass. Because of its remote location and the cold winters, few people usually walk this road. In the middle of the alley stands an old locust tree, its bare branches stretching towards the sky like a withered hand.

Chen Feng squatted down at a corner at the entrance of the alley, a spot where he could see the way he came from but wouldn't be easily spotted. He took out a sickle from his pocket and held it in his hand.

Time passed second by second.

The wind was biting cold, and Chen Feng's hands were frozen stiff, but he remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the alley entrance.

Around nine o'clock in the morning, a figure appeared.

She wore a floral cotton-padded jacket, a blue headscarf, and carried an empty cloth bag. It was Qin Huairu.

Chen Feng's heart suddenly raced. He held his breath, watching the woman approach.

Qin Huairu seemed to be in a good mood today, even with a hint of smugness on her face. No wonder, this month the Jia family received two more catties of coarse grain than last month, and Jia Zhangshi promised to save her half a catty of white flour so she could make dumplings. Thinking of Banggeng's happy face when he ate dumplings, Qin Huairu's steps became lighter.

She walked into the old locust tree alley, humming a little tune.

Just then, a figure suddenly rushed out from around the corner!

Before Qin Huairu could react, a cold sickle was already at her neck.

"Ah—" she cried out in surprise, dropping the cloth bag from her hand to the ground.

"Don't move." A hoarse voice rang in her ear. "If you dare to scream, I'll slit your throat."

Qin Huairu froze, feeling the blade pressed against her skin; the icy touch sent chills down her spine. She slowly turned her head and saw the person behind her.

His face was covered in coal dust, but she recognized his eyes—cold, hateful, like two knives.

"Brother Chen... Brother Chen Feng..." Qin Huairu's voice trembled, "You... what are you doing here..."

"What do you think?" Chen Feng's voice was soft, but every word was like an icicle piercing the heart. "Qin Huairu, it's time we settled the score."

"Brother Chen Feng, listen to me, what happened that night... it was all Dongxu's idea!" Qin Huairu said incoherently, "He made me do it! He said that as long as I got rid of you, I could..."

"What can you do?" Chen Feng's hand tightened, the blade pressed into his skin, and a bloody mark seeped out.

"Ah! No! Don't kill me!" Qin Huairu was terrified. "I'll talk! I'll tell you everything! Dongxu said... said your family occupies two south-facing rooms, which is such a waste... If we take you away, the house can be..."

"So it can belong to you?" Chen Feng finished her sentence for her.

Qin Huairu nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face: "Brother Chen Feng, I had no choice! Dongxu forced me! If I didn't do as he said, he would beat me... Look!"

She pulled her collar open a little, revealing an old scar on her neck.

But Chen Feng didn't even look: "Where's my sister?"

"What?"

"My sister, Chen Xiaoyu. Where was she on the night of the fire?"

Qin Huairu's eyes flickered. "I...I don't know. Nobody has seen her since the fire...Really! I'm not lying to you!"

Chen Feng stared into her eyes and saw signs of lying in her flickering gaze.

"Qin Huairu, are you still trying to lie to me?" His voice was even colder. "I'll ask you one more time, where is my sister?"

"I really don't know!" Qin Huairu cried. "Brother Chen Feng, please let me go! I'll give you money! I have money on me! I'll even give you my ration book! You can have anything you want!"

She hurriedly pulled a cloth bag from her bosom, inside which were several crumpled small bills and grain coupons, as well as the Jia family's grain ration book.

Chen Feng didn't even glance at those things: "Stop with your tricks. Do you think I'm a three-year-old?"

His voice suddenly became unusually calm: "Qin Huairu, you must die."

As soon as he finished speaking, Chen Feng raised his sickle.

Qin Huairu's pupils contracted sharply, and her survival instinct made her jerk backward!

The sickle didn't strike her neck, but instead cut her back!

"Ah—" A heart-wrenching scream echoed through the alley.

A large tear was ripped in her floral cotton-padded jacket, and blood gushed out instantly, staining the cotton wadding red. Qin Huairu was in so much pain that she almost fainted, but she knew she couldn't stop; if she stopped, she would really die.

Despite the excruciating pain, she ran forward desperately, shouting, "Help! Help!"

Chen Feng chased after him and slashed down with his sword again!

This time, the blow struck her shoulder, the bone visible. Qin Huairu stumbled and fell to the ground, but continued to crawl forward, leaving a trail of blood behind her.

"Help...me..." Her voice grew weaker and weaker.

Chen Feng stood before her, looking down at the woman who had once destroyed everything he had. Qin Huairu lay on the ground, blood streaming from her back and shoulders, her face deathly pale, her eyes filled with fear and pleading.

"Chen Feng...please...I still have a child...Bang Geng is only three years old..." she said with difficulty, and with each word she spoke, a mouthful of bloody foam gushed from her mouth.

Chen Feng thought of his younger sister. Xiaoyu was only fifteen years old. When she begged for mercy, did anyone spare her?

He didn't answer, he just raised his sickle.

The third cut.

The fourth cut.

Qin Huairu's pleas for mercy gradually subsided, and she stopped struggling. She lay on the ground, her eyes still open, but lifeless.

Chen Feng, panting heavily, stared at the corpse on the ground. Blood spread across the yellow earth like a strange flower.

He crouched down, took the cloth bag from Qin Huairu's arms, and picked up the grain ration book and cloth bag that had fallen to the ground. Then he stood up, took one last look at Qin Huairu's body, and turned to leave.

The alleyway returned to silence, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the branches of the old locust tree.

Chen Feng didn't go straight back to the dilapidated house. He circled the city several times to make sure no one was following him before cautiously climbing into the house through the back window.

As soon as he entered the house, he slid down to the ground against the wall, and the sickle in his hand fell to the ground with a "clang".

My hands are shaking.

He killed someone.

He shook his head, forcing himself not to think about it.

Opening the cloth bag taken from Qin Huairu, they found two yuan and thirty cents, three jin of grain coupons, and the Jia family's grain ration book. The ration book listed the Jia family's rations for the month: Jia Dongxu 28 jin, Qin Huairu 25 jin, Jia Zhangshi 22 jin, and corn cob 8 jin. The total was 83 jin, of which 65 jin were coarse grains and 18 jin were refined grains.

Chen Feng tossed the ration book aside. It was useless to him, and holding it would only be dangerous.

He put away the money and food coupons. He needed them for his escape.

He walked to the corner of the room, where there was a broken earthenware pot containing a little water. Chen Feng put his hands in and scrubbed them vigorously. The bloodstains on his hands slowly washed away, but the sticky feeling seemed to linger.

He then pulled a tattered cloth from his pocket and carefully wiped the sickle. The blade was covered in blood, some of which had dried and formed dark red scabs. He wiped it meticulously, leaving no inch of the blade untouched.

After wiping the knife, he threw the rag into the broken stove in the corner and lit a match. The firelight illuminated his face, which remained expressionless.

After doing all this, Chen Feng lay back down in the corner and closed his eyes.

He wanted to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he saw Qin Huairu bleeding. He had no choice but to open his eyes and look at the hole in the roof. Through the hole, he could see a small patch of gray sky.

I don't know how much time had passed when I heard a commotion outside.

Chen Feng immediately became alert, walked along the wall to the window, and looked out through the gap in the torn window paper.

Several people who looked like neighborhood officials hurried past, their faces grave. Their conversation could be faintly heard:

"...Someone died in Old Locust Tree Alley..."

"...The daughter-in-law of the Jia family..."

"...It's terrible, he's covered in injuries..."

"...Report this to the police station immediately..."

Chen Feng retreated to the corner and sat down against the wall.

The news spread really fast.

He wasn't worried about being discovered. Old Locust Tree Alley was in a secluded location, rarely frequented by anyone. He had checked that no one was around before he acted, and he took a detour when he left, so he figured no one would see him.

Even assuming someone suspects him, there's no evidence. A fugitive, already homeless, who would expect him to dare return to the city and kill someone?

Chen Feng took out the whetstone from his pocket and began sharpening the knife again.

"Whoosh...whoosh...whoosh..."

The sickle was already sharp enough, but he kept sharpening it. This action calmed him down and prevented him from thinking about things he shouldn't be thinking about.

Amidst the sound of sharpening his knife, he silently planned his next move.

Qin Huairu is dead, but the matter is not over yet.

Jia Dongxu is still alive, Yi Zhonghai is still alive, Sha Zhu is still alive, and everyone who participated in the framing that night is still alive.

And what about my sister?

Qin Huairu's flickering eyes before her death suggested she knew something. But now that she's dead, the trail has gone cold.

Chen Feng stopped sharpening the knife and stared at his reflection on the blade.

Who else could possibly know Xiaoyu's whereabouts?

Jia Dongxu? Yi Zhonghai? Or...?

Chen Feng gripped the sickle tightly.

He will find out whoever it is.

Not a single one will be left.

Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened. There was no light in the dilapidated house, and Chen Feng sat in the darkness like a stone statue.

A whistle sounded in the distance, growing closer and then fading away.

The courtyard must be in complete chaos right now.

What will Jia Dongxu's expression be when he discovers his wife is dead? How much will Jia Zhangshi cry? How will Yi Zhonghai comfort everyone? Will Sha Zhu start shouting again that he wants to "eliminate the scourge for the people"?

A cold smile appeared on Chen Feng's lips.

This is just the beginning.

He lay down again, this time closing his eyes.

Sleepiness finally came. Before sinking completely into darkness, the last thing he thought of was his sister's face.

Xiaoyu, your brother will definitely find you.

No matter where you are, no matter what price you have to pay.

wait for me.