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

Morning light filtered through the gaps in the torn window paper, casting dappled beams of light on the floor of the main room. Chen Feng opened his eyes, remaining motionless in his lying position, his ears immediately picking up on the sounds outside.

There were scattered voices in the alley—early risers were emptying chamber pots, slop collectors were calling out as they pushed their carts past, and the cries of vendors selling soy milk and fried dough sticks drifted from afar. Everything seemed normal, as if the scarred-faced Wang who died last night had nothing to do with this little courtyard.

Chen Feng then sat up. The injury to his right shoulder had healed considerably, and it only ached slightly when moved. He got off the kang (a heated brick bed), walked to the window, and looked out through a hole in the window paper.

The courtyard was still the same as last night, a complete mess. The jujube tree cast a long, thin shadow in the morning light, and a few sparrows hopped and chirped on its branches.

Safety.

Chen Feng returned to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), took out Wang Ba Lian's bunch of keys from his pocket, and examined them carefully again. Of the five keys, three for the door locks had already been used, one for the small cabinet, and the smallest one had remained unused.

He re-examined the small cabinet, feeling it inside and out, but found no hidden compartments. He also checked the edge of the kang (heated brick bed), the walls, and the floor; everything was solid.

Finally, his gaze fell on the octagonal table in the main room.

The table was old, the paint was peeling, and all four legs were wobbly. Chen Feng squatted down and carefully examined the bottom of the table. Near the right front leg, he felt a protrusion—not a knot in wood, but a piece of metal.

He scratched at it with his fingernail, and a wooden board loosened. He lifted it up, revealing a hidden compartment about the size of a palm.

Inside the hidden compartment were several items: a stack of banknotes wrapped in oil paper, which Chen Feng counted—a full five hundred yuan; a smaller key, like one for opening a safe; and several sheets of paper with numbers and names written on them, like an account book.

Most importantly, there is also a bronze seal.

The seal was about the size of a thumb, square, made of brass, and engraved with intricate patterns, with the character "王" (king) in the center. Chen Feng picked it up and examined it closely; the bottom of the seal was engraved with the four seal characters "疤脸信印" (Scarface Seal).

This is Wang Scarface's identification document. In places like the black market, sometimes a seal is more useful than a face—a face can be disguised, but a seal cannot be forged.

Chen Feng packed everything away, stuffed the banknotes into his pocket, wrapped the seal and key in cloth and kept them close to his body, and burned the account book—it might involve a lot of people, keeping it would only cause trouble.

After doing all that, he sat in the armchair and began to think about his next step.

Finding Xiaoyu alone would be too difficult. Beijing is such a vast city; for a young girl to try and hide is like a drop of water merging into the ocean.

But what if you have help?

With Scarface Wang dead, his men are now leaderless and in their most fearful state. In a place like the black market, without a boss to protect them, men can quickly be swallowed up or even silenced.

What if Wang Ba Lian's "brother" appeared at this moment?

As Chen Feng looked at the bronze seal in his hand, a plan slowly took shape in his mind.

He stood up and began rummaging through the room. There were several pieces of Wang Scarface's clothing in the wardrobe, all reeking of smoke and sweat. He picked out a relatively clean black jacket and found an old felt hat.

After changing his clothes and putting on a hat, Chen Feng walked to a broken mirror in the corner of the main room.

The person in the mirror looked different again. The black jacket made him look like an ordinary craftsman, and the old felt hat was pulled low, obscuring his forehead and eyes. He turned up his collar and deliberately hunched his back, making him look several years older.

Most importantly, it's about temperament. What should Wang Ba Lian's brother be like?

Chen Feng recalled the old workers he had met at the steel rolling mill—they had worked hard all year round, their backs were hunched, their eyes were cloudy but occasionally flashed with a sharp light, they spoke with a heavy accent, and their tone was rough but they were loyal.

He practiced his expressions in front of the mirror: when he frowned, the wrinkles on his forehead should be deep, his eyes should be fierce yet weathered, and the corners of his mouth should habitually turn down to make him look unapproachable.

After practicing for about half an hour, he felt he had almost mastered it.

Next comes making up stories.

Why did Wang Ba Lian's brother suddenly appear? His younger brother died, so he came to handle the funeral arrangements and take over his brother's "business," which makes perfect sense.

But how to convince those subordinates? A seal alone is not enough; details are needed—Wang Scarface's past, their hometown, and their family situation.

Chen Feng recalled what he had found on Wang Scarface the night before. Besides money, there was also a crumpled photograph—a picture of an elderly couple.

These must be Wang Scarface's parents. The photo is very old, with the edges worn white, indicating that Wang Scarface always carried it with him and cherished it.

Chen Feng took out the photo and looked at it carefully. The elderly couple were probably in their sixties, wearing coarse cloth clothes, and the background was an adobe house, typical of rural elderly people.

Okay, now we have a story.

He is Wang Dagang, the older brother of Wang Scarface. Wang Scarface's real name is Wang Dali, and his older brother's name is Dagang. Their hometown is a village in Hebei Province, and their parents are still alive. His younger brother works in the black market, while he farms at home and only contacts his brother occasionally. Upon hearing that his brother was in trouble, he rushed over overnight to avenge his brother and take over his brother's business.

Chen Feng went through the story in his mind to make sure there were no loopholes. Then he began to prepare the "token".

The bronze seal was the main item, as were the photographs. He also found a pocket watch in Wang Scarface's wardrobe, with "Wang Dali" engraved on the inside of the cover.

This is a good prop.

Chen Feng tucked the pocket watch into his pocket and checked his equipment again: the Type 54 pistol was on his waist, the magazine full; the dagger was tucked into his boot; the money was divided into several pockets, with the important items kept close to his body.

Everything is ready.

But he didn't go out immediately. It would be too conspicuous during the day; he would wait until night.

Chen Feng went back to the kang (a heated brick bed) and lay down to rest. He needed to rest, but more importantly, he needed to memorize the story and portray the character convincingly.

He lay there for most of the day. At noon, he ate some compressed biscuits and drank some water, then continued to lie down, rehearsing the conversation from the evening in his mind.

Time passed slowly. The light outside changed from bright to dim, and then to dark.

As evening approached, Chen Feng got up. He changed into his clothes, checked himself one last time in the mirror to make sure everything was in order, and then went out the door.

The alley was already dark, with only a few scattered windows letting in the light of kerosene lamps. Chen Feng, hunched over and head down, hurried out.

His target was the black market in the south of the city—not the teahouse from last time, but another, larger place behind the secondhand market, which only opened at night.

By the time he reached the street, it was completely dark. The streetlights were dim, and there were few pedestrians. Chen Feng walked along the wall, avoiding car headlights and flashlight beams.

After walking for about forty minutes, he arrived at the flea market. During the day, it sells secondhand goods, and at night it becomes a black market, selling everything from medicine and food to cloth and even weapons.

Chen Feng had been here a few times before and knew the rules. He entered through the side door. There were two lookouts at the door who glanced at him but didn't stop him—his attire clearly indicated he was a regular.

It was much livelier inside than outside. A narrow alley was lined with stalls on both sides, and the stall owners only lit a small kerosene lamp, making the light dim and obscuring their faces. Customers came and went in a hurry, talking in hushed tones, and transactions were completed quickly.

Chen Feng didn't stop and walked straight into the depths of the alley. He knew where Wang Scarface's men usually hung out—at the very back of the alley, there was a dilapidated warehouse, usually used to store miscellaneous items, but which became their meeting place at night.

He stopped at the warehouse door and knocked.

Three long and two short. That's the code.

There was silence inside for a few seconds, then the door opened a crack, and a pair of eyes peered out warily.

"Who?"

"Wang Dali's brother," Chen Feng said in a low voice, with a heavy Hebei accent, "is the person who came looking for my brother."

The door opened. Chen Feng walked in, and the door immediately closed behind him.

The warehouse was large and empty, with only a dimly lit kerosene lamp in the middle. Seven or eight people, men and women, all in their twenties or thirties, sat around the lamp, their faces solemn.

When Chen Feng entered, everyone stood up and reached for their waists—where weapons were tucked.

"Who do you say you are?" A tall, thin man stepped forward, staring fiercely at Chen Feng.

"Wang Dali's older brother, Wang Dagang," Chen Feng said calmly, pulling a copper seal from his pocket. "It's my brother's. Recognize it?"

The tall, thin man took the seal, examined it closely under the light, and then passed it on to the others. Everyone looked at it once, and finally the seal returned to Chen Feng.

"It really is Scarface's mark," said a short, fat man, his tone softening. "But Scarface never said he had an older brother."

"There's no need to go around talking about family matters," Chen Feng sneered, pulling out the photo. "These are my parents. Dali sends money back home every year. I rushed here overnight when I heard he had an accident."

The photo was passed around among the people. It was a picture of the elderly couple, with a rural mud house in the background—it couldn't be faked.

"What should I call you, brother?" the tall, thin man asked, his tone becoming more respectful.

"Wang Dagang," Chen Feng said. "The eldest son in the family is named Dagang, and the second son is named Dali. The parents are not educated, so they thought the names sounded strong and would make the children easier to raise."

This explanation is reasonable. In those days, it was not uncommon for brothers in a rural family to have such names.

"Big Steel," the tall, thin man changed his address, "you know about Scarface's situation...?"

"I've heard about it," Chen Feng said in a low, sorrowful voice. "My brother died a terrible death. This revenge must be taken."

"Our enemy is Chen Feng," the short, fat man gritted his teeth. "That kid killed Scarface and three of his brothers. The police are after him, but we're going to find him too—alive or dead!"

Chen Feng sneered inwardly, but remained outwardly calm: "I've heard about Chen Feng's affairs. But I'm here not only for revenge, but also to find someone my brother left behind."

"Who is it?"

"A girl," Chen Feng described Xiaoyu's appearance, "about fifteen or sixteen years old, with a mole on her neck and wearing a red string necklace. My brother was looking for her before he died, saying that this girl was very important."

Everyone looked at each other.

"Scarface is indeed looking for this person," a young woman said. "He said it was Yi Zhonghai's dying wish that finding this girl would lure out Chen Feng."

"Did you find it?" Chen Feng asked.

"No," the tall, thin man shook his head. "We searched the entire city of Beijing, but we didn't find a single clue. Last night, Scarface got a tip that it might be in a mass grave, so he led his men there, but..."

His voice choked up, and he couldn't continue.

Chen Feng's heart sank. If even Wang Scarface's men couldn't be found, where had Xiao Yu gone?

But he couldn't show it. He took a deep breath, his voice firm: "What my brother didn't finish, I will finish. The search for the people will continue, and the revenge will be taken. From today onwards, I'm taking over my brother's business. Does anyone have any objections?"

He scanned the crowd with a fierce look in his eyes.

No one dared to meet their eyes. With Scarface Wang dead, the group was leaderless. The arrival of a "big brother" at this time, though sudden, provided some stability. More importantly, he had the seal, the photograph, and the accent—everything matched.

"No objections," the tall, thin man was the first to speak up. "Brother Da Gang, we'll all listen to you from now on."

"Listen to Brother Da Gang!" the others chimed in.

Chen Feng nodded: "Okay. First, continue searching for that girl. We can increase the reward; anyone with leads will receive a hefty reward. Second, find out Chen Feng's whereabouts; I want to avenge my brother myself. Third..."

He paused for a moment, then said, "My brother's business can't stop; it needs to continue. But things are tense lately, so be careful and don't cause any trouble."

"clear!"

Chen Feng gave a few more instructions and inquired about the current business situation—mainly the resale of grain coupons, medicines, and sporadic black market transactions. The scale was not large, but it was enough to support these people.

Finally, he asked, "You know where my brother lives, right?"

"I know, it's the one at the very end of Tofu Alley," the short, fat man said, "but the police might already be watching it, Brother Da Gang, you'd better not go."

"I have to go check," Chen Feng said. "I need to pack up my brother's belongings. Don't contact me for now. I'll contact you if anything comes up. Just go about your business as usual and wait for my message."

After giving his instructions, Chen Feng left the warehouse. As he walked out of the flea market, his back straightened slightly, but he quickly hunched over again and disappeared into the night.

It was almost midnight when I got back to the courtyard in Tofu Alley.

Chen Feng closed the door, bolted it, returned to the main room, and lit the kerosene lamp.

The first step was a success. He had a new identity and some helpers, who, although they wanted to kill him, were at least useful.

Next, we'll use these people to find Xiaoyu. We'll increase the reward and send out more informants; eventually, we'll find some leads.

At the same time, he also had to continue his plan—none of the enemies in the courtyard house could be left alive.

But how to kill him? Now that he has a new identity, perhaps we can try a different approach.

Chen Feng sat in the armchair, watching the flickering lamplight, and a more insane plan slowly formed in his mind.

Using the identity of Wang Scarface's brother, he got close to the people in the courtyard, and then...

A cold smile appeared on his lips.

The night is still long. The road to revenge is also still long.

But at least now, he is no longer alone.

Even though he was surrounded by a group of people who wanted to kill him.

It's ironic, but also very funny.

Chen Feng blew out the lamp and lay down on the kang (a heated brick bed). He slept soundly that night.

Because we know that tomorrow will be a new beginning.