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

The man before me, though dressed plainly, possessed a composed demeanor and sharp eyes, unlike any ordinary fisherman or sailor, much less a typical black market broker. Moreover, he spoke of "yellow goods," and in considerable quantities ("not too big" in this context often implies a substantial amount), suggesting he might genuinely have connections in Hong Kong or overseas. Such clients present a high risk, but the potential profits could also be substantial.

"We have the goods," the fat boss finally spoke, "gold bars, small gold bars (referring to small gold bars weighing one tael each), with a purity of over 90%. Clean origin, 'parallel imports' from customs, no markings."

"Let's take a look at the goods," Chen Feng said.

The portly boss stood up, walked to an inconspicuous tea box in the corner, moved the box aside, revealing a hidden compartment in the wall behind it. He took out another key, opened the compartment, and took out a heavy little wooden box wrapped in red silk.

Returning to the table, I opened the wooden box. Inside, lined with black velvet, were ten small, bright yellow gold bars, each about the thickness of a finger, gleaming alluringly under the light.

Chen Feng picked up a piece, weighed it in his hand, and carefully examined its color and markings. It was indeed pure gold, with good purity, and a smooth surface. There were no obvious casting marks or serial numbers, making it a relatively "clean" piece of illicit gold.

"What's the price?" Chen Feng asked, putting down the gold bars.

"The black market price is eight yuan and fifty cents per gram," the chubby shopkeeper quoted. "There are about three hundred grams here, so it'll be two thousand five hundred yuan, rounded down to the nearest whole number. No receipt required."

This price was nearly three times higher than the official price, but it was considered the market price on the black market. Chen Feng had enough cash on hand, but he didn't want to appear too generous and arouse suspicion.

"Too expensive," Chen Feng shook his head. "I've inquired, and the going rate here was only eight yuan a while ago."

"The past is the past," the portly shopkeeper said unhurriedly, "Now the inspections are stricter, the supply is scarce, the risk is high, so the price has naturally gone up. If Comrade Wang is really interested, it's two thousand four hundred and fifty, no lower than that. This is genuinely good stuff; you can take it south and resell it for a profit."

Chen Feng feigned hesitation, seemingly weighing his options. After a moment, he nodded: "Okay, two thousand four hundred and fifty. But I only want the gold bars, nothing else. Also..." He stared at the fat boss, "I have something else I'd like to ask you, boss."

"Oh? What is it?" the fat boss asked as he carefully put the gold bars back into the wooden box.

"My relative in Hong Kong not only wants to exchange 'yellow goods,' but also wants to... take a boat trip down south to take a look," Chen Feng said in a low voice. "Not a passenger ship, but a cargo ship. A quiet, safe route. I wonder if the boss... has any connections in that area?"

The fat boss paused for a moment, then slowly closed the wooden box lid. He looked up, his gaze towards Chen Feng becoming unusually sharp and wary.

"Take a boat? To the south?" he repeated slowly, the businessman's smile completely vanishing from his face. "Comrade Wang, this... is a different matter altogether."

"I know," Chen Feng said calmly. "I know the rules. The matchmaking fee, the introduction fee, the boat fare—all the due amounts will be paid. As long as it's safe and reliable."

The portly boss didn't speak, but simply lit another cigarette, taking a deep drag. Smoke swirled around his face, obscuring his expression. For a moment, only the faint sound of burning cigarettes filled the room.

After a long silence, he finally spoke slowly: "Comrade Wang, this matter of yours... is too risky. You know what the situation is like right now. There's been a huge uproar in Beijing, and the investigation here is as tight as an iron barrel. Every cargo ship that goes to sea has to register, and the crew has to be vetted. The kind of 'quiet' ship you're talking about..." He shook his head, "Difficult, extremely difficult."

"Difficult doesn't mean impossible," Chen Feng said, pulling out a wad of cash wrapped in newspaper that he had prepared beforehand and pushing it in front of the fat shopkeeper. "This is a five-hundred-yuan deposit. If we find a reliable connection and someone who can make the decision, there will be a generous reward later. My relatives are not short of money."

The portly owner stared at the thick wad of banknotes, his eyes flashing intensely. Five hundred yuan! That was almost half a year's profit from his teahouse! And judging from his tone, there was more to come…

The lure of enormous profits and the extreme risks clashed fiercely in his mind.

Ultimately, greed slightly outweighed caution.

He reached out and slowly moved the stack of money in front of him, not immediately putting it away. Instead, he looked at Chen Feng and said in a very low voice, "I do know a little about the connections... but whether it will work out is not up to me. It depends on whether the people over there are willing to meet you and dare to take on your 'goods'."

"Understood," Chen Feng nodded. "Please help me with the introduction, boss."

The portly boss gritted his teeth, as if making a huge decision: "Come back tomorrow night, around this time. I'll take you to see someone. Remember, come alone, don't bring any weapons, and don't try anything funny. The people over there... are more cautious and more difficult to deal with than you think."

"Don't worry," Chen Feng stood up, "I know the rules. See you tomorrow."

The deal was done. Chen Feng exchanged 2,450 yuan in cash for the ten heavy gold bars. The portly shopkeeper wrapped the gold bars again in red silk, put them in an inconspicuous canvas bag, and handed them to Chen Feng.

Chen Feng took the bag, weighed it in his hand, and found it to be quite heavy. He carefully tucked the bag into a specially made lining of his work clothes, making it almost invisible from the outside.

"I'll wait for your news tomorrow," Chen Feng said one last thing, then turned and opened the door, walking out.

The portly boss sat behind the table, looking at the door that had closed again, then at the five hundred yuan deposit on the table, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty. He took a few deep drags on his cigarette and stubbed it out hard in the ashtray.

"Damn it... fortune favors the bold..." he muttered under his breath, but his eyes gleamed with excitement and greed.

Outside the corridor, Chen Feng had already left the Fuhai Teahouse and re-entered the dim and noisy night of Catfish Alley. The gold bars in his arms pressed heavily against his chest, bringing a cold sense of security. But more important was the meeting promised by the fat boss tomorrow night.

That could be a ticket to freedom, or it could be another deadly trap.

The sea breeze grew colder, carrying the unfathomable scent of the distant ocean.

Chen Feng looked up and gazed in the direction of the guesthouse. Xiao Yu was still there waiting for him.

He quickened his pace. Whether the path ahead led to survival or certain doom, he had to keep going.

For my sister, and also for... the name that hasn't been crossed off the list in the oilcloth.