During the Republic of China era, I achieved unparalleled success by returning to the past.

The bluestone slabs meandered to the black iron gate, its lintel adorned with arched carvings. Song Beiyou, a broad smile on his face, welcomed the onlookers into the courtyard one by one.

The last two siblings, Wen Yingxue and her brother, stepped forward. Wen Yingxue lowered her head and said shyly, "Brother Ayou, congratulations. I don't have anything to give you."

Song Beiyou took the broken iron basin, on which sat a wintersweet plant with sparse branches and a few small, pale yellow flowers, exuding a cool, refreshing fragrance. He smiled and said, "I didn't know you had this skill. I'll put it on my study windowsill."

Wen Yingxue pursed her lips, a little embarrassed, but her eyes were bright. She said, "I'm glad you like it. My father taught me that."

Song Beiyou gave a thumbs up: "Uncle Wen is a real talent." He then turned to Wen Yiwen and asked with a smile, "Are you off today?"

Wen Yiwen said shyly, "Yes, it's a day off today." As he spoke, he unfolded a piece of red paper about a foot long, on which the handwriting was elegant. "This is what I wrote to congratulate Brother Ayou."

"The orioles migrate to tall trees, the swallows enter high towers! The handwriting is beautiful, thank you." Song Beiyou reached out and took the book, noticing the bruises on the man's arm through his faded sleeve. He pulled the man closer, pulled open his sleeve, and asked, "How did you get that?"

Wen Yiwen's eyes widened in panic: "N-no, I did it myself."

What school did you attend?

"Brother You, it's really nothing." Wen Yiwen lowered his head, like a child being punished for doing something wrong.

"Then come in first, and have dinner with us later." Now was not the time to ask further questions, so Song Beiyou did not delve any deeper.

The courtyard is paved with bluestone, and opposite the gate stands a large banyan tree with gnarled branches. On the second-floor wrought iron balcony, withered vines gently entwine, and a pot of withered yellow liriope hangs from the railing. Sunlight spills onto the pale yellow walls, casting warm, dappled patterns.

The ground floor has a high ceiling and is spacious, with a staggered layout of halls, corridors, and living rooms. Neighbors only dare to gather in the hallway, either sitting or standing. The gleaming teak floors inside are too tiring to step on.

Through the arched French windows, Su Xiaowan was seen making tea and boiling water in the living room. Wen Yingxue hurriedly went in to help.

"Brother You, I'll go help too," Xia Caifei said, and followed him inside.

"Afi's all grown up now!" a neighbor said with a laugh.

"Tsk tsk, this place is bigger than my whole house. You, can you manage all by yourself?"

"Great! Great! Ah You's really made something of himself!"

The men sipped tea and chatted, their voices filled with envy. The older women paced back and forth inside and outside the house, occasionally letting out gasps of amazement.

A poem says: "Emerging from a secluded valley, migrating to a tall tree." Song Beiyou was naturally delighted. He turned his head and glanced into the hall, where three women were pouring tea and water for the guests. He felt somewhat dazed.

"Zhabei Boxing King! Boxing King Ayou! Hahaha!" Exaggerated laughter rang out first. The iron gate was pushed open, and several figures stood in the doorway.

"Congratulations on your fortune and new home!" Zhang Feilong was dressed in a black silk robe, wearing a top hat and sunglasses.

The once lively and bustling courtyard fell silent instantly. The neighbors, who had been chatting and laughing, lowered their heads like mice before a cat, not daring to look any longer.

Song Beiyou's eyes changed slightly, and he stepped forward to greet him, saying, "Second Master, congratulations to you too. I'm just playing around; you're the one who's making the big profit."

Zhang Feilong smirked and chuckled twice before leading a few of his underlings into the courtyard. He put his hand on Song Beiyou's shoulder, glanced around, and gave him a thumbs-up, praising, "Ah You, you're a true friend. You've made your fortune, and you haven't neglected your brothers, women, or neighbors."

Song Beiyou smiled, but his eyes were full of wariness: "Second Master, you flatter me. Daguan, serve Second Master tea."

"Okay!"

Zhang Feilong looked out at the street with his hands behind his back and smiled sinisterly: "This place is not bad. Across the street are brothels, opium dens, and gambling dens. I can take care of my business as soon as I step out the door."

Song Beiyou said calmly, "Of course, we should take care of Second Master's business."

"Ah You, we have some things to do at home, so we'll head back now." The neighbors said their goodbyes one after another.

Song Beiyou cupped his hands and smiled, "Alright, I'll host a feast in a few days and invite my uncles and aunts over for a lively celebration."

The courtyard quickly became deserted, and the two large banyan trees lost all their leaves, leaving only withered branches lying horizontally.

Song Beiyou asked, "Second Master, you wouldn't come here without a reason. What business do you have to offer me?"

Zhang Feilong cracked his neck, causing the blue dragon tattoo on his neck to writhe: "Now that Ayou has made a fortune, when are we going to settle that old score?"

Song Beiyou's smile gradually froze: "Second Master, what makes you say that? We agreed that I would fight for you, and then we'd call it even. I fought twelve matches in total, and didn't lose a single one. Have you already forgotten, Second Master?"

Zhang Feilong feigned surprise: "Really? I only said that if you help me fight, I'll lend you some money." He turned to his henchmen and asked, "That's what I said back then, wasn't it?"

Several henchmen quickly chimed in, "Yes, yes, Second Master only said he was lending you money, he never mentioned settling accounts."

Zhang Feilong patted Song Beiyou on the shoulder and laughed heartily, "You've got it wrong. I know you spent a lot on the apartment and are a bit strapped for cash. I happen to have something to tell you."

"Oh, what kind of way to make money?"

"It's not about getting rich," Zhang Feilong said casually. "You help me kill someone, and our debts will be wiped clean. As soon as the person is dead, I'll send someone to deliver the promissory note to you."

He paused, then said in a cold tone, "Without the debt, your woman and your brothers won't have to live in fear and can live a peaceful life."

"Who is it?"

Zhang Feilong turned his head, his sunglasses concealing the expression in his eyes: "In Fan Gua Village, there's a guy named Ding Qiang. Take care of him."

Song Beiyou grinned, revealing a set of cold white teeth: "Ding Qiang from Fangua Village, good. Second Master, wait for my news." He remembered that the day before yesterday, on the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, Ding Qiang had already become Zhang Dabao's disciple and a Red Stick leader.

"Ah You, you're really straightforward. If this is done, you're my friend. I'm off now, I'll wait for your good news."

Song Beiyou watched the group leave, the smile slowly fading from his face. "You dare to threaten me at my house, Zhang Feilong, you're not getting through the New Year."

……

Two pairs of stone lions stand majestically in front of the entrance to the Yiheshe Hall, their strong bones gleaming.

"Take care, Brother Qiang!" the gatekeeper hurriedly greeted.

Ding Qiang nodded, casually tossed a few copper coins as a reward to the gatekeeper who was helping to watch the bicycles. The three men and two bicycles then sped away.

After walking for a while, Ding Qiang said admiringly, "Brother You, you're really something. You made contact right away."

Song Beiyou shook his head and chuckled: "How can you be so forceful?" He gripped the handlebars with one hand, raised his left wrist and glanced at it, "It's noon, let's go have a good meal first, and then go to Qingya Teahouse to meet him at 2:30."

In the courtyard of the Yihe Society, two or three plum blossoms were in bloom.

Old Master Biao stared intently at the jujube wood table before him, muttering, "How is this possible? So young, yet he has cultivated the Dan Jin (internal energy)?"

On the thick tabletop, there was a charred palm print, with wisps of smoke still rising from the edge of the palm.

The middle-aged woman curiously approached the table, poked the charred spot with her finger, and instantly, the palm print turned to ash. Crash! The entire thick wooden table collapsed into pieces.

"Ah—Master Biao, this!" The woman shrank back in fright.

Master Biao slowly sat down, his expression shifting unpredictably.