Kill the beasts in the courtyard, I fled to Hong Kong, surrounded by beauties on both sides.

Before dawn, white cloths had already been hung in the courtyard.

At the entrance of the Jia family's house, two bamboo poles held up a white banner with the word "funeral" scrawled on it in ink. White paper was pasted on the door frame, and white lanterns hung under the eaves—all hastily made the night before, rough and simple, yet exuding a heavy aura of death.

From inside came Jia Zhangshi's heart-wrenching wails: "My darling—how could you leave like this—my precious darling—"

The sound was like a dull knife cutting flesh, echoing in the silence of the early morning, sending chills down one's spine.

Qin Huairu's cries were much more suppressed, the kind of sobs squeezed out from deep in her throat, intermittent, as if she might stop breathing at any moment. Occasionally, she would utter two hoarse cries of "Bang Geng... my son..."

In the courtyard, early risers moved quietly and spoke in hushed tones.

"The Jia family is in deep trouble now; their only son is gone..."

"Who can argue with that? Banggeng may be mischievous, but he is, after all, the only male heir of the Jia family."

"I heard he fell into an ice hole yesterday. Chen Fei rescued him, but he couldn't save him..."

"Chen Fei is just unlucky to have run into this."

Chen Fei listened to the commotion outside from inside the house, his face expressionless.

He got up later than usual today, deliberately waiting until people were active in the yard before getting out of bed. The moment he pushed open the door, he composed himself—pale, exhausted, with red and swollen eyes, as if he had been crying all night.

When he went to fetch water with his bucket, several neighbors saw him and gave him complicated looks.

"Xiao Chen..." The Ma family's daughter-in-law in the front yard hesitated, "You... take care."

Chen Fei nodded, said nothing, and lowered his head to fetch water.

He played slowly and stiffly, as if he hadn't recovered from yesterday's setback.

In fact, he was indeed "recovering"—not mentally, but physically. Last night, 10% of his resentment dissipated, and he gained 100% control over his body, but this also meant that the residual emotions of the original body had completely merged. Now he was both the transmigrator Chen Fei and the original Chen Fei, with two kinds of memories and two kinds of emotions intertwined.

The feeling was strange. Thinking of Bang Geng's death, he felt both the pleasure of revenge and a trace of the original owner's lingering, complex emotions towards the child he had watched grow up.

But soon, the thrill of revenge overwhelmed everything.

Bang Geng deserves to die. Pushing Xiaoyu into the water, stealing things, calling Xiaoyu a "worthless good-for-nothing"... any one of these is enough to get him killed.

Chen Fei filled the bucket with water and carried it back. As he passed the courtyard, he saw Sha Zhu standing at the Jia family's door, looking like he wanted to go in but hesitated.

"Brother Zhuzi," Chen Fei greeted him in a low voice.

Sha Zhu turned his head and saw him, his eyes filled with complicated emotions: "Xiao Chen, are you... alright?"

"I'm fine," Chen Fei shook his head, "I'm just feeling down. If only I had arrived sooner..."

"It's not your fault," Sha Zhu sighed. "In that situation, it was good enough that you were able to go and save them."

The two remained silent for a while.

Inside the house, Jia Zhangshi's wailing rang out again: "Bang Geng—how am I supposed to live now—"

Sha Zhu glanced into the room and lowered his voice, "Sister Qin cried all night; her eyes are swollen. Aunt Jia fainted three times, and cried every time she woke up."

Chen Fei lowered his head and remained silent.

Sha Zhu hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Xiao Chen, what exactly happened yesterday? How did the stick end up in the ice hole?"

They're here. Chen Fei's heart tightened, but he remained outwardly calm.

"I don't know either," he said in a hoarse voice. "When I got there, Banggeng had already fallen in. The other kids said he was chasing Er Gouzi and skating too fast, so he didn't notice the thin ice."

"Ice thin?" Sha Zhu frowned. "That kid Bang Geng is shrewd; he knows where he can skate and where he can't."

"Maybe... it melted early this year," Chen Fei said. "I didn't expect it either. The ice looked quite thick, but it cracked as soon as I stepped on it."

Sha Zhu stopped talking, but there was still doubt in his eyes.

Chen Fei knew that although Sha Zhu was simple-minded, he wasn't stupid. He understood Bang Geng better than anyone else in the compound. Bang Geng was indeed shrewd; he knew which places to avoid.

But that's precisely why the death of the hamster seems even more "unexpected"—even the shrewd hamster didn't notice, who could have imagined it?

"Brother Zhu, I'm going back now," Chen Fei said. "I'm not feeling well."

"Okay, you should go back and rest."

Chen Fei carried the bucket back into the house, closed the door, and leaned against it.

Sha Zhu became suspicious. Although it was only a vague suspicion, it was a sign.

He must be more careful.

Morning: Yi Zhonghai's arrangements and Liu Hai's fear

At nine o'clock in the morning, Yi Zhonghai chaired a brief meeting in the Jia family's house because the Jia family was holding a funeral and needed help from the courtyard.

The room was crammed with more than a dozen people: three elderly men, several strong laborers, and a few women. Chen Fei also arrived, looking "weak," and sat in a corner.

Madam Jia lay on the bed, her face ashen, her eyes swollen like walnuts, still sobbing softly. Qin Huairu sat by the bedside, her eyes vacant, as if her soul had left her body.

"Everyone knows about the Jia family's affair," Yi Zhonghai said in a heavy voice. "Bang Geng... sigh, I won't say anymore. The most important thing now is to handle the funeral properly."

He paused, then began to give instructions: "Old Yan, you can read, so write the elegiac couplets and keep the accounts. Old Liu, take a few young men to get a coffin—I've already spoken to the neighborhood committee, and they can get a simple coffin. Zhu Zi, you run errands and buy incense and paper money. Second Aunt and Ma's wife, you help with the vigil and cooking..."

The arrangements were made one by one, in a very orderly manner.

But Chen Fei noticed that Yi Zhonghai's eyes were cold when he was making arrangements for Liu Haizhong. Liu Haizhong kept his head down, not daring to look at Yi Zhonghai.

It seems that the conflict between Yi Zhonghai and Liu Haizhong has become completely public.

After making the arrangements, Yi Zhonghai looked at Jia Zhangshi and asked, "Aunt Jia, do you think this is alright?"

Jia Zhangshi said weakly, "It's fine as long as Uncle makes the arrangements... I only have one request: Banggeng must have a grand burial... We can't let him suffer..."

"Don't worry," Yi Zhonghai said, "everyone in the hospital will help."

After the meeting, Chen Fei walked out "weakly." Just as he reached the door, he heard Yi Zhonghai call out to Liu Haizhong from behind: "Old Liu, stay for a moment."

Chen Fei paused for a moment, then slowly walked out, but his ears perked up.

Inside the room, Yi Zhonghai lowered his voice: "Old Liu, what's your opinion on the matter of the sticks?"

"What...what can I possibly say?" Liu Haizhong's voice was somewhat flustered. "An accident...it's just an accident..."

"An accident?" Yi Zhonghai sneered. "I don't think it's that simple. Banggeng is a very shrewd kid. In previous years, even before the ice had fully melted, he knew where he could skate and where he couldn't. How did he fall in this year?"

"This...may have been an oversight..."

"Negligence?" Yi Zhonghai stared at him. "Old Liu, tell me the truth, is this related to you or not?"

Liu Haizhong was startled: "Old Yi, what do you mean by that? What does Bang Geng's death have to do with me?"

"Then why have you been acting so suspiciously lately?" Yi Zhonghai pressed. "You went to the factory to see Deputy Factory Director Li yesterday, didn't you? What did you say?"

Liu Haizhong's face turned deathly pale: "I...I just went to report on my work..."

"Reporting on work?" Yi Zhonghai pulled a piece of paper from his pocket—not the whistleblower letter, but the note Chen Fei had left. "And this one? 'Yi Zhonghai has received the whistleblower letter and is going to get you'—who wrote that?"

When Liu Haizhong saw the note, his legs went weak: "This...I don't know..."

"You don't know?" Yi Zhonghai slammed the note on the table. "Old Liu, let me tell you, Deputy Factory Director Li is furious. You want to get back at him? Don't you know your place?"

"I didn't..." Liu Haizhong was almost in tears. "Old Yi, you have to believe me, that whistleblower letter... I didn't write that whistleblower letter!"

"The handwriting is yours. If it wasn't you, then who was?" Yi Zhonghai sneered. "Old Liu, we've known each other for so many years, I never thought you were this kind of person. Two-faced, trying to bring down my backer, and even trying to frame me with those despicable photos..."

"Photos? What photos?" Liu Haizhong was dumbfounded.

"Still pretending?" Yi Zhonghai stared at him. "That prohibited photo in my book, wasn't it you who put it there?"

"I really didn't!" Liu Haizhong stamped his feet anxiously. "Old Yi, I, Liu Haizhong, swear to God, if I ever put that kind of thing in your house, may I be struck by lightning!"

Yi Zhonghai saw that he didn't seem to be faking it, and he began to have doubts.

Could it be... that it really isn't Liu Haizhong?

Who is that?

Both of them fell silent.

Outside, Chen Fei curled a cold smile at the corner of his mouth and quietly left.

Dogs fight, let them bite, the harder the better.

Noon: Yan Bugui's Little Calculation

At noon, Chen Fei was eating cornmeal porridge in his room when he heard a knock on the door.

The door opened, and there stood Yan Bugui. He held an account book in his hand, his face bearing the usual calculating smile, but today that smile held a hint of feigned sympathy.

"Xiao Chen, are you eating?" Yan Bugui peeked at the porridge on the table. "Is this all you're eating? It's not good for your health."

"Uncle, is there something you need?" Chen Fei asked.

"Something's up, something's up," Yan Bugui said as he entered the room, sat down in a chair, and opened the account book. "It's about that thing from last time. Your family owes me 1.42 yuan, you see..."

Chen Fei sneered inwardly. Bang Geng had just died, the Jia family was holding a funeral, and this old bastard came to collect debts—perfect timing.

"Uncle, I really have no money right now," Chen Fei said. "Look, what about the Jia family..."

"The Jia family is the Jia family, and your family is your family," Yan Bugui waved his hand. "Little Chen, it's not that your third uncle is unreasonable, it's just that your third uncle's family is also in trouble. Look, my family has four children, tuition, book fees, food expenses... everything costs money. This 1.42 yuan is a small amount for you, but for my family, it can cover half a month's food expenses."

Here we go again. Chen Fei patiently said, "Third Uncle, I know you're having difficulties. But I really have no money right now. My father's pension is with First Uncle, and I can't get it. I don't have a job myself..."

"Why don't you go find some work?" Yan Bugui said. "Doesn't the neighborhood office have temporary workers? You could work there for a few days and get paid, right?"

"I'm sick," Chen Fei coughed twice. "Look at me, how can I work?"

Yan Bugui sized him up. Chen Fei was pale and had red, swollen eyes; he certainly looked sick.

"Then... then what do you suggest we do?" Yan Bugui frowned. "We can't just keep dragging this on, can we?"

Chen Fei thought for a moment and said, "Third Uncle, how about this? You return some of my family's grain coupons first, and I'll use them to exchange for some money on the black market to return part of it to you."