He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The snow in the corner melted into muddy water, meandering along the base of the wall and forming small puddles at the alley entrance. He Yuyang carried a bulging cloth bag containing three jin of white flour and half a bolt of blue cloth—both taken from his spatial storage. Fine grains could be exchanged for many times more coarse grains on the black market, and good cloth could be exchanged for scarce medicines. This was something Old Wang had specifically instructed him to do when he sent a message.

"Brother, are you really going?" He Yuzhu clung to the doorframe, his eyes filled with worry. "Dad said the black market is full of bad people, and there are Japanese patrols too..."

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." He Yuyang ruffled his hair and shoved a sharpened iron ruler into his hand. "Keep an eye on the house. If anyone comes to cause trouble, run to the martial arts school and find Second Senior Brother."

Liu Yan heard this from inside the house, lifted the curtain and came out, her eyes red-rimmed: "Yangyang, maybe... we shouldn't go? We still have some food stored at home, and the stronghold..."

"Mother, the more difficult it is, the more we must help." He Yuyang interrupted her, her tone firm. "Those comrades are risking their lives on the front lines, and we should lend a helping hand from the rear. Besides, I know what I'm doing, nothing will happen to me."

He took the cornbread his mother handed him, tucked it into his pocket, and turned to walk into the morning mist. The black market was in the slums in the southwest of the city, a lawless area where the Japanese didn't bother with it, the fake police turned a blind eye, and only truly ruthless people dared to establish themselves there.

The further south they went, the more dilapidated the streets became. Ragged refugees thronged among the broken walls and ruins, the children so thin they were just skin and bones, their dark hands reaching out to beg from passersby. He Yuyang broke half of the cornbread in his arms and gave it to a little girl holding her younger brother. The girl timidly took it, then turned and ran away, afraid he would change his mind.

"Young man, want something?" A lame old man approached and whispered, "Grain, cloth, opium... we have everything."

He Yuyang ignored him and followed the route given by Zhou Zhengguo, winding her way into a narrow alley. The alley was filled with the smell of mildew and urine. The doors and windows of the mud-brick houses on both sides were blocked with rags, and occasionally a pair of eyes would peek out from the gaps in the rags, like lurking wild beasts.

At the end was an abandoned theater. On the peeling red paint of the pillars were fragments of a sign that read "Good Citizen Certificate Verification Office." It was obviously a former stronghold of Japanese brothels, but they moved out because they thought it was unlucky, and it became a gathering place for the black market.

The theater was in a mess, filled with smoke. A dozen or so vendors squatted on the ground, with odds and ends of their wares laid out in front of them: moldy corn, patched clothes, rusty ironware... Occasionally, a few decent items, such as half a bag of millet or a bottle of matches, were held tightly to the vendors' chests, their eyes scanning the crowd warily.

As soon as He Yuyang stood still, a burly man with a thick beard approached, a dagger tucked into his waistband, its tip gleaming coldly in the sunlight: "New here? What kind of goods do you have?"

"Food and cloth." He Yuyang opened a corner of the cloth bag, revealing snow-white flour inside. "In exchange for medicine, the more the better."

The burly man's eyes lit up instantly, but he nonchalantly spat to the side: "Medicines are very precious. Three pounds of flour for a box of sulfonamides, half a bolt of cloth for two packets of aspirin. Are you in?"

This price is almost double the market price; they're clearly trying to rip off a newbie. He Yuyang calmly tied the cloth bag tighter: "I need penicillin, ten boxes. If you don't have it, I'll find someone else."

"Penicillin?" The burly man paused for a moment, then sneered, "You've got quite the nerve, young man. That stuff is only available to trading companies and the military; you can't even find it on the black market. I think you're just here to cause trouble, aren't you?"

Several vendors nearby looked over at the sound, their eyes filled with hostility. He Yuyang knew that these people were bullies who preyed on the weak. He took a half step back and secretly placed his hand on his waist—where he hid a short knife, a gift from Old Wang, who said it was for "self-defense."

"Whether it's there or not, it's not up to you to say." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a hint of ruthlessness. "I heard that Boss Sun has some goods. I'll go ask him."

This is what Zhou Zhengguo taught him—to mention Boss Sun's name. This man is the head of the black market and has some connections with Zhou Zhengguo. As long as he mentions his name, he can at least be guaranteed not to be robbed.

The bearded man's expression changed, and he awkwardly stepped aside: "Boss Sun isn't here lately; his nephew is inside. If you really want to switch, come with me."

Pushing through the crowded streets, I arrived at the backstage of the theater. A young man in a silk robe was sitting in a grand chair, playing with a jade pendant in his hand. Two thugs stood beside him, both carrying guns—old-fashioned rifles, but intimidating enough.

"Young master, this young man wants to exchange grain for penicillin," the bearded man said, bowing.

The young man raised his eyelids slightly, his gaze sweeping over He Yuyang's cloth bag: "No penicillin, but twenty boxes of sulfonamides and fifty packets of aspirin. Three jin of flour for one box of sulfonamides, one foot of cloth for five packets of aspirin. Not a penny less."

This price is fairer than before. He Yuyang nodded: "Deal. But I need to see the goods first."

The young man waved his hand, and a thug brought out a wooden box from the inner room. When he opened it, it was indeed sulfonamides and aspirin. Although the packaging was simple, the trademarks were clear, and it did not look like a counterfeit product.

"The items are fine." He Yuyang handed over the cloth bag. "Check them."

Just as the young man took the cloth bag, a commotion arose outside, and someone shouted, "The Japanese are coming! Run!"

The theater erupted in chaos. Vendors grabbed their goods and scrambled towards the back door, the crowd scrambling around like headless flies, cries and curses mingling together. The young man's face paled; he threw his cloth bundle on the table and yelled at the thugs, "Put the medicine away! Follow me through the secret passage!"

He Yuyang didn't move. He knew the Japanese patrol routine; they would come around every day at this time, but mostly just to go through the motions and rarely actually search. But today was different; judging from the noise outside, it seemed quite a few people had come.

"What are you standing there for? Want to die?!" The bearded man pulled him back. "The secret passage is under the stage, hurry!"

He Yuyang didn't follow him. He had his own space; if he was really blocked, he could simply put his things away. But he was more interested in seeing if the patrol was targeting him. He followed the crowd toward the back door, and just as he reached the door, he heard gunshots. Bullets whizzed past his ears, hitting the door frame and kicking up clouds of dust.

"Don't move! Hands up!" The Japanese raptor's shouts, mixed with the translator's yells, were so loud they hurt your ears.

A dozen soldiers, guns at the ready, blocked the alley entrance. The leader, a bespectacled major, was comparing photos one by one. He Yuyang's heart sank—the person in the photo, though blurry, bore a resemblance to himself in the features; clearly, someone had tipped him off, and they had come specifically to arrest him.

"Search! Don't let a single one escape!" the major shouted sternly.

The soldiers rushed forward immediately, roughly shoving the crowd and searching their belongings. He Yuyang mingled among the refugees, slowly backing away, his hand secretly reaching into his pocket—where he hid a "pass," which he had forged using paper and ink from his spatial storage, bearing the seal of the puppet government and looking exactly like the real thing.

"You! Stop right there!" A soldier spotted him, gun raised, and charged at him. "Open your bag!"

He Yuyang stopped and slowly opened the cloth bag—it contained only a few old clothes; the flour and fabric had long since been stored away in his spatial storage. The soldier searched for a while, finding nothing suspicious, then pointed at his face: "Your good citizen certificate and pass, hand them over!"

He Yuyang took out his identification and handed it over with both hands. The soldier looked at the identification, then at him, and frowned: "Which unit are you from? This pass is fake, isn't it?"

The major came over upon hearing the commotion, took the ID and examined it carefully, then spoke a few words to the soldier in Japanese. He Yuyang's heart was in his throat. No matter how well his ID was forged, it couldn't withstand close scrutiny, especially the patterns on the seal, which were bound to have flaws.

"Where are you going?" the major asked in broken Chinese, his eyes behind his glasses staring at him like a venomous snake.

"Go deliver grain to the Japanese commander." He Yuyang replied calmly, "I'm a clerk at the grain shop. Manager Huang asked me to deliver some samples to the headquarters, saying that... the Imperial Army needs fine grains."

He deliberately mentioned Manager Huang and the headquarters, betting that these soldiers wouldn't dare to easily offend someone "working for the Imperial Army." The major indeed hesitated, flipped through the identification documents again, and suddenly pointed to the photo: "This photo doesn't look like you."

"You flatter me, sir." He Yuyang smiled, took out a silver coin and handed it over. "This photo was just taken, so it might make you look a little old. You see, the seal is genuine. If you don't believe me, you can go to the grain shop and ask Manager Huang."

The silver coin spun in the major's hand, and his expression softened slightly. In this chaotic world, money was far more effective than regulations. He threw his identification back at him: "Get out of here! Don't delay the Imperial Army's work!"

He Yuyang took the ID, bowed and stooped as he backed away until he reached the alley entrance, then he took off running. Gunshots and screams came from behind him; clearly someone had been caught. But he didn't dare look back. He ran for three blocks before diving into a public toilet, where he finally dared to lean against the wall and gasp for breath.

With a thought, the scene in his mind unfolded: the medicines were neatly arranged on the shelves, sulfonamides and aspirin were all there, and the three pounds of flour and half a bolt of cloth were also lying peacefully in the corner. He breathed a sigh of relief. In his haste, he had put the medicines and goods into his space together, which saved him a lot of trouble.

It was already dark when He Yuyang came out of the public restroom. The alley was lit with dim yellow lights. He Yuyang took a long detour to make sure no one was following him before entering his own alley.

At the courtyard gate, He Daqing was standing on tiptoe, peering in. Seeing him return, she grabbed his arm, her voice trembling, "You're finally back! Zhu Zi said you went to the black market, and I've been so worried..."

"Dad, it's alright." He Yuyang patted his hand. "The supplies have been replaced, everything is fine."

When he entered the room, he saw Liu Yan breastfeeding Yu Shui, her eyes red-rimmed. Upon seeing him return, tears immediately streamed down her face: "You child, why are you so troublesome..."

"Mother, don't cry, your sister must be scared." He Yuyang quickly took out the medicine. "Look, we got so much medicine, enough for the stronghold to use for a while."

Liu Yan then noticed the wooden box in his hand and was stunned: "These... are all life-saving medicines."

"Yes, it can save a lot of lives." He Yuyang smiled, put the medicine away, and said, "I'll go cook dinner. You should get some rest."

In the kitchen, He Yuyang tended the fire while thinking about what had just happened. The photo in the major's hand was obviously provided by someone—either Yi Zhonghai, Manager Huang, or even Yan Bugui—these people had been watching him for a long time. If they didn't find any dirt on him this time, they would definitely be even more ruthless next time.

"Brother, what are you thinking about?" He Yuzhu came over and added a piece of firewood to his fire. "A man in black came by and asked about you. I told him you went to the martial arts gym, and he left."

He Yuyang's heart skipped a beat: "What kind of black clothes? Is he lame?"

"No, he's quite tall. He's wearing a hat, so I can't see his face."

If it wasn't someone from the black market, then who could it be? A spy for Japan? Or an informant for some other force? He dared not think further, only feeling that the waters in this alley were deeper than he had imagined.

During dinner, He Yuyang told He Daqing about what happened that day, and specifically mentioned the photo: "Dad, keep a close eye on Manager Huang's movements at the grain shop. If he gets close to the Japanese, we should quit our jobs. We can't risk our lives."

"I know," He Daqing sighed. "Today, Manager Huang even asked me if I had any dealings with 'people from the mountains,' and I didn't dare to answer. Now that I think about it, he's probably been watching us for a long time."

Liu Yan, listening from the side, was terrified: "Then what should we do? How about... we go back to our hometown? The countryside is poor, but at least it's peaceful."

"We can't go back." He Yuyang shook his head. "Our hometown was destroyed by war long ago. Besides, there are soldiers and bandits everywhere on the road. With my mother and sister, we can't leave at all."

He knew that the only way now was to be more ruthless and faster than those who were watching him. He either had to completely escape their sight or make them afraid to have any more wicked thoughts.

At night, He Yuyang divided the medicine into two parts. One part was hidden in the deepest part of the space, to be given to Xiao Li next time. The other part was left behind, which contained common anti-inflammatory drugs and painkillers, to keep at home just in case.

He lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), listening to the wind outside the window, feeling uneasy. The black market was like a thorn in his heart—he had escaped this time by luck, but he might not be so lucky next time. He had to find a safer way to trade as soon as possible, or he would inevitably fall into it sooner or later.

"Brother, are you asleep?" He Yuzhu's voice rang out in the darkness. "I just heard some noise outside, like someone was trying to climb over the wall."

He Yuyang sat up abruptly and grabbed the short knife from beside his pillow: "Don't move, I'll go check on him."

He quietly walked to the courtyard gate and peered out through the crack. The alley was deserted, with only a streetlamp swaying in the wind, its shadow flickering. But the pile of firewood in the corner had clearly been moved; the top few pieces had been moved aside, revealing the yellow earth beneath—someone was obviously trying to climb over the wall from there.

He Yuyang didn't say anything, turned around and went back into the house, placing the dagger on the bedside table. He knew that tonight wouldn't be peaceful. Those people hadn't caught him on the black market, so they'd definitely come to his house to try their luck.

He touched the "pass" in his pocket, then looked at the supplies in his storage space, and gradually felt more confident. No matter who came, he wouldn't let his family be harmed. In this chaotic world, to survive, one had to pick up a knife, even if it meant getting blood on their hands.

The wind outside picked up, making the window paper rustle loudly, like whispers outside. He Yuyang gripped his short knife tightly, his eyes fixed on the doorway, motionless. He was waiting, waiting for those lurking in the shadows to bare their fangs.