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

"What should we do then?"

"Keep an eye on him," Yi Zhonghai said. "If he really has a problem, he'll eventually slip up."

Chen Fei withdrew his thoughts, a cold smile playing on his lips.

Yi Zhonghai did indeed suspect him.

But suspicion is one thing, without evidence, nothing else matters.

Moreover, Yi Zhonghai himself was also facing numerous troubles. There were Xu Damao's threats, Liu Haizhong's whistleblower letter, and those mysterious notes…

That's enough to give him a headache.

Chen Fei felt relieved and began to eat.

After finishing his meal, he lay on the bed and closed his eyes to rest.

Tonight's operation must be flawless.

Afternoon: Qin Huairu's discovery

In the afternoon, while sorting through Bang Geng's belongings, Qin Huairu discovered something amiss.

In Banggeng's schoolbag, besides textbooks and notebooks, there were a few things that shouldn't have been there: a small knife, a box of matches, and... a crumpled food coupon.

The grain coupons were city grain coupons, one jin in face value, and they had already expired—they were from last year.

Qin Huairu was stunned as she held the grain coupon.

Where did the ration coupons for the sorghum come from? And why did it hide them so well?

She remembered that Jia Zhangshi had lost money and grain coupons, and her heart sank.

Could it be... that it was really stolen by Bang Geng?

No, that's impossible. Even though the pheasant is mischievous, it wouldn't steal anything from home.

But... the evidence is right in front of us.

Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at the grain coupon, and tears welled up in her eyes again.

If it really was stolen by Bang Geng, then Jia Zhangshi's curses were not unfounded.

If Bang Geng really stole it, then his usual well-behaved behavior was all an act?

Qin Huairu dared not think any further.

She put the grain coupons away without telling Jia Zhangshi—Jia Zhangshi was emotionally unstable at the moment, and knowing would only drive her crazier.

But her impression of Bang Geng began to waver.

Evening: Chaos in the Black Market

At six o'clock in the evening, Coffin Alley began to "live".

Several vendors arrived one after another, pushing carts and pulling goods, setting up their stalls in the alley. There were vendors selling grain, meat, cloth, and groceries... Although it was all black market trading, it looked quite orderly.

Suddenly, a stall owner found a note at the entrance of the alley.

He opened it and his face changed: "The police station is raiding the place tonight? Really?"

People nearby crowded around to look and panicked: "Who wrote this?"

"I don't know, just leave it here."

"Could this be a prank?"

"It's better to be safe than sorry. What if they really do come to investigate?"

The news spread quickly. The entire alley was in an uproar.

The stall owners began packing up, preparing to leave. The customers panicked, making their transactions hastily and leaving in a rush.

In the black market courtyard, Old Zhang—the one who sold opium paste—also heard the news.

"Seizure?" He frowned. "I haven't heard of any recent operations."

"Brother Zhang, what should we do?" his subordinate asked.

"Let's see," Old Zhang said. "If they really investigate, we'll have to leave."

He walked to the courtyard gate and looked outside. The alley was in chaos; the stall owners were packing up their stalls.

It seems it's not fake.

"Pack your things," Old Zhang ordered. "We're not open for business tonight."

"That old woman from the Jia family..."

"Never mind," Old Zhang said, "Let her come again tomorrow."

The men began packing. Opium paste, money, account books... everything was packed into boxes, ready for relocation.

Outside the alley, Chen Fei hid in the shadows, watching all this with a cold smile on his lips.

Step one, done.

The black market was chaotic, and attention was scattered. Even when Jia Zhangshi arrived, she couldn't buy anything and had to leave disappointed.

But her way home was her way to death.

Evening: Attending the Appointment

At 7:30 p.m., Jia Zhangshi went out.

She wore a dark blue cotton-padded coat—her best piece of clothing, one she rarely wore. In her pocket were twenty yuan—her last savings, originally intended for retirement, now used to buy opium paste.

Banggeng died, and she didn't want to live anymore. But before she died, she had to take one last puff.

"Mom, come back soon." Qin Huairu saw her to the door.

"Yes," Madam Jia nodded, "You have high hopes for Xiao Dang and Huaihua."

After saying that, she turned and left.

As night deepened, the streets became deserted. Jia Zhangshi walked quickly, her steps unsteady—she was experiencing withdrawal symptoms, and her hands began to tremble.

She has to get there quickly, buy it quickly, and smoke it quickly.

When she reached Coffin Alley, she froze.

The alley was deserted, not a soul in sight. Usually at this time, it would be bustling with activity, vendors calling out their wares, and buyers haggling over prices.

But now, all that can be heard is the sound of the wind blowing through the broken window.

"What happened?" Jia Zhangshi's heart sank.

She walked to the door of Zhang's Grocery Store and knocked—three long knocks followed by two short ones.

No one answered.

I knocked again, but still no one answered.

"Old Zhang? Old Zhang?" she called in a low voice.

The door suddenly opened a crack, and a man poked his head out: "Who's there?"

"I am Jia Zhangshi," Jia Zhangshi said hurriedly, "I've come to buy goods."

"We're closed tonight," the man said. "Come back tomorrow."

"No, please!" Jia Zhangshi cried out anxiously. "I've come all this way, and I'm suffering from withdrawal symptoms."

The man looked at her, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Wait."

The door closed again.

Jia Zhangshi and the others waited outside the door, their hearts pounding with anxiety.

After a while, the door opened, and the man handed over a small paper packet: "Ten yuan."

Jia Zhangshi quickly took out her money, counted out ten yuan, handed it over, took the paper packet, and put it into her bosom.

"Let's go," the man said, "It's not going to be safe tonight."

"Thank you, thank you." Madam Jia turned and left.

She walked very fast, almost jogging. The paper package in her arms was as hot as burning coals; she wished she could take a puff right then and there.

But she knew she couldn't. She had to go home, close the door, and sneak a smoke.

As she walked through the wasteland, she suddenly heard footsteps behind her.

It's very light, but very clear.

Madam Jia's heart tightened, and she turned around to look.

In the darkness, a dark figure followed her from about ten meters away.

I couldn't see his face clearly, but I could see that he was wearing a dark gray outfit and a headscarf.

"Who?" Jia Zhangshi's voice trembled.

The shadowy figure remained silent and continued to follow.

Jia Zhangshi panicked and quickened her pace.

The shadowy figure quickened its pace.

The two walked one after the other into the path in the middle of the wasteland.

The path was lined with waist-high weeds that rustled in the night wind, like countless hands waving.

Jia Zhangshi's heart was pounding like a drum, and her legs began to feel weak.

She wanted to run, but she couldn't. The craving was kicking in, and she had no strength left.

Suddenly, the shadowy figure sped up and caught up with her in just a few steps.

A cold hand covered her mouth.

"Ugh—" Jia Zhangshi tried to call out, but no sound came out.

The other hand gripped her neck with a rope.

Jia Zhangshi struggled desperately, but the hand was like an iron clamp, not moving an inch.

She felt short of breath and her vision began to darken.

The last thing I saw was a pair of cold eyes, gleaming with a chilling light through the gaps in the headscarf.

Then, a rock hit the back of her head.

A muffled "bang" was heard.

Jia Zhangshi's body went limp and she collapsed to the ground.

The shadowy figure crouched down and touched her carotid artery—it stopped.

I checked his breathing again—no more.

died.

The shadowy figure—Chen Fei—moved swiftly.

He first rummaged through Jia Zhangshi's pockets and found the paper packet—opium paste—and the remaining ten yuan. He put the money back deep in Jia Zhangshi's pocket and covered it with a rag. He then put the opium paste into his own pocket.

Then he messed up the scene: he ripped open Jia Zhangshi's collar, tore her cuffs, and disheveled her hair as if it had been done in a struggle.

Finally, he grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and threw it on Jia Zhangshi's face—pretending it was from when she fell.

After doing all this, he stood up and looked around.

nobody.

There was only the sound of the wind and the faint barking of dogs in the distance.

He left the scene quickly without looking back.

Late at Night: Return

At 11 p.m., Chen Fei returned to the courtyard house.

He quietly slipped back into the house, closed the door, took off his disguise, and put it into the system space.

Then, he went to the water vat and scooped water to wash his hands.

There was no blood on his hands—he was wearing gloves made of coarse cloth that wouldn't leave fingerprints.

But he still washed it carefully to remove any dust and grass clippings that might have gotten on it.

After washing his hands, he sat on the bed and began to inspect his spoils.

Upon opening the small paper packet, one finds a thumb-sized piece of black opium paste, emitting a sweet, burnt smell.

Chen Fei rewrapped it and put it into the system space—he'd keep this; it might be useful later.

Then he began to recall the entire operation.

Did you leave any flaws?

Footprints? He was wearing tattered cloth shoes, the soles of which were scratched, leaving blurry and indistinct footprints.

Fingerprints? I wore gloves and didn't touch anything that could leave fingerprints.

Witnesses? No. No one walks that path at night.

Timeline? He left at six in the evening and returned at eleven, a five-hour gap. But no one knows when he left or when he returned.

perfect.

Chen Fei lay down and closed his eyes.

The resentment in my chest dissipated somewhat.

He seemed to hear his mother Li Xiulan's voice, soft and relieved: "Thank you... my son..."

Chen Fei opened his eyes and looked into the darkness.

"Mom, this isn't over yet," he whispered. "Those who harmed you will all get away with it."

Outside the window, the wind howled, as if someone was crying.