Courtyard House: A Start with Black Gold Swallowing 100,000 Silver Dollars

"Who is it?" (Japanese)

A short, stocky Japanese lieutenant stepped forward, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and demanded an explanation.

"Oh, sir, you've worked hard!" Li Wenguo bowed with a smile, speaking in fluent Tokyo-accented Japanese, and handed over a gold-edged work ID. "Li Wenguo, manager of Meifu Trading Company."

Upon hearing the fluent Japanese and seeing the official seal of the foreign firm on the document, the other party's expression softened considerably—a person hired by a foreigner was bound to have some connection to the government, and it wasn't easy to break off relations so easily.

He glanced at the documents briefly and waved for them to pass.

"Pooh!"

"Master Li, these bastards are really scum!" Big Eyes spat in a low voice.

"Shut up! They have spies everywhere. If you let one slip, your life will be in danger," Li Wenguo warned in a deep voice.

On the street, small groups of Japanese soldiers walked by in groups of three or five. Pedestrians walked briskly with their heads down, but the Japanese soldiers were arrogant and haughty, their military boots clattering on the bluestone slabs as if they were strolling in their own backyard.

Turning into a deserted alley, between the broken walls and rubble on both sides, there were corpses piled up haphazardly—all civilians, mostly women, their clothes torn to shreds, some lying naked, their bellies bulging, their hair still tangled in withered branches.

Without even guessing, you know what kind of beastly thing he did.

Li Wenguo's knuckles were clenched so tightly they turned white, and the veins on his temples throbbed.

Damn Japanese devils!

"Big Eyes, avoid this area from now on."

His voice was very soft, yet it sounded like a block of iron hitting the ground.

"Understood, Mr. Li!"

Big Eyes clenched his jaw, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

How could any Chinese person with a shred of courage swallow such humiliation and slaughter of their own brother?

Turning onto another street, the scene changed abruptly: a group of traitors dressed in khaki military uniforms and wearing matching cloth hats swaggered from house to house, knocking on doors. Ostensibly checking household registrations, they were actually ransacking houses and robbing people of money and food, beating them up if they resisted even slightly. This was a "security maintenance committee" set up by the Japanese army, dedicated to biting the throats of the people on behalf of their masters.

Fuck!

These traitorous dogs!

Li Wenguo's fingernails dug into his palms, wishing he could draw his gun and shoot them on the spot.

But he suppressed his anger—he had secretly contacted the Lixing Society to send people to eliminate the target.

If these traitors are allowed to swagger and act arrogantly, ten will follow suit tomorrow, and a hundred the day after. The capital will rot sooner or later, and in the end, it will be those wolves who benefit!

Only now did he truly understand why underground Communist Party members and Kuomintang agents were willing to risk their lives to eliminate traitors one by one—they killed people, instilled fear, and stopped those who would follow from heading into the abyss.

Further on, the street changed abruptly: European-style shop windows gleamed, neon signs flashed with foreign words, and foreigners from all over the world, dressed in suits, went about their business as usual. Here, the Japanese army dared not act recklessly—it was foreign territory, and not even an inch of their artillery dared to deviate from their firing range.

Upon entering the Meifu Trading Company, the counter was crowded with Japanese people in military uniforms.

After the fall of Beiping, all the factories were seized by the Japanese army, including the Weifeng First Machinery Factory, which was founded by Mr. Dong's father-in-law.

Li Wenguo recouped his investment several years ago with interest.

He didn't go to the Dong family to watch the commotion—after all, they were related, and he had to save face.

The same applies to the other factories, so the number of merchants running procurement for the Japanese army has surged. Fortunately, he had diligently practiced Japanese with Mitsui Miri back then, so he no longer needs a translator; however, everyone in the city who speaks even a little Japanese has long been captured by the Japanese army to serve as their interpreters, making it harder than finding a needle in a haystack.

After a busy day, Li Wenguo turned into a quiet alley and pushed open a black courtyard gate.

"Station Chief Li!"

"Station Chief Li!"

Several men stood at attention and bowed to Li Wenguo, whose face was covered by a black cloth, whose eyes were hidden by sunglasses, and whose eyebrows were covered by a top hat.

They were secret agents infiltrating Beiping, and they only obeyed his orders.

Wearing a mask, glasses, and a hat—it's not about looking cool, but about being afraid that if arrested, I might not be able to withstand the torture and reveal my face.

"Um."

He nodded slightly in response.

He then said, "Starting today, I'm undertaking a long-term mission—to eliminate the traitors in Beiping."

"Yes!" the crowd roared in response.

"But station chief..." a squad leader frowned and clasped his hands in a fist salute, "We've just entered the city and can't even find a dagger. Those traitors have pistols on their belts, and we're unarmed, how are we supposed to get close?"

"No rush."

He turned and gestured towards the room, "Move the table."

After moving the table, Li Wenguo lifted the square flap on the floor. "Wait a moment."

He turned and disappeared into the dark passage. Less than half a minute later, he came up carrying a heavy camphor wood chest. Several men rushed forward to support him, and before he could catch his breath, he carried up three more large chests and five or six narrow, long leather boxes.

As soon as the boxes were opened, everyone's eyes lit up—a box of Boninglang pistols gleamed coldly, a box of Thompson submachine guns creaked under the weight, a box of shotguns was short and sturdy, and the last box was full of gleaming yellow bullets. Inside those leather cases, sniper rifles were neatly stacked, their barrels gleaming black and their sights shining like new.

"You've even got sniper rifles ready? Station Chief, you've really thought of everything!"

A man picked up a sniper rifle, his palms sweating and his face flushed red.

Using this thing to take down a target from a distance is a sure way to escape unscathed—once you're done, you can slip away without even a trace.

"The guns are all yours; the men are yours to choose; and the money is right here." Li Wenguo pulled out several stacks of silver dollars from his pocket and slammed them on the table.

Back to that little villa in the embassy district.

"Dad, you're back!"

Six-year-old Li Guohua, holding his younger sister and brother's hands, tiptoed to greet them in the foyer.

"Daddy!!"

"Father!!!"

Five-year-old Li Jingfen called out in a soft, clear voice, while four-year-old Li Guozhi, still sounding like a baby, clutched his clothes and hid behind his older brother.

"Haha, are you being good at home?"

He picked up his daughter with one arm and his youngest son with the other, his beard brushing against the child and making him giggle.

"You're such a good boy, Daddy! I learned ten characters today! My little brother is so slow, he only learned two!"

Li Jingfen tilted her head back, her nose pointing very high.

"Wow, our Fenfen is amazing! But your little brother is only four years old, just a tiny little bean. When he grows up to be your age, it wouldn't be surprising if he could recognize twenty characters a day!"

"Really?" She tilted her head, subconsciously put her thumb in her mouth, and blinked her eyes.

"Daddy, look at my new treasure!" The youngest son suddenly held up a wooden rabbit with a clumsy carving, and a corner of its ear was missing.

"Wow, so handsome! So lifelike, so fun!"

He smiled and nodded, then casually ruffled his son's messy hair.

"Master, dinner is ready."

Wen Keren emerged from the restaurant carrying a baby boy in swaddling clothes, her skirt fluttering slightly, but her brows furrowed gently.

Li Wenguo was making the child laugh when he didn't notice the hint of weariness in her eyes.

Tonight's dishes were as impressive as ever—braised pork belly with preserved mustard greens was glossy and fragrant, Peking duck in pancakes was neatly rolled, stir-fried pork kidneys were crisp and refreshing, Dezhou braised chicken was tender and flavorful, braised sea cucumber with scallions was rich in collagen, braised prawns were bright red and tempting, braised fish slices were smooth and fresh, and premium tofu was soft, glutinous and mellow... Finally, we added a bowl of ginseng and old chicken soup and a bowl of cuttlefish egg custard, steaming hot and fragrant throughout the house.

This is what real living is all about!

After the meal, He Shuting glanced at him, and Li Wenguo understood, so he followed her upstairs to the bedroom.

"Another job coming in? Qingzhong's been pressuring us?"

She only gives these meaningful glances when she has a mission.

"See for yourself."

She handed me a folded note.

Li Wenguo unfolded it and took a look:

"A traitor named Tang Hansheng has come from the Northeast and will take over as mayor of Beijing. He will arrive in Beijing on the 20th of next month and be eliminated."

"Tang Hansheng? Never heard of him."

He tapped his fingers lightly on the table and shook his head.

"He was originally the mayor of Harbin, but he sided with the Japanese for twenty years. Because of his 'effective governance,' Harbin is now an impregnable city—Japanese signs are displayed, Japanese textbooks are used, shrines are allowed in schools, and even walking postures are practiced according to Japanese customs. This time, he has been transferred to Beijing to turn this city into a second Harbin."

The so-called "serious daily chemicalization" means, to put it bluntly, that Chinese people are being transformed into obedient subjects by scraping away their bones and skin, to the point that even the bones are oozing the smell of plaster.

"Damn it, we have to chop him up."

Upon hearing this, Li Wenguo's eyes darkened, and his knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists.

"Do you need any help from my comrades?"

She asked bluntly. After all, the Japanese would certainly have laid down layers of defenses against such an important official, with sentries both visible and hidden, making it impossible to detect.

"Ha, no need. I can handle it myself. If you really want to help—" He gestured towards the downstairs area with his chin and winked, "could you help me put out this fire?"

"That won't do." Her ears turned slightly red, and she lowered her voice. "Today and the next few days are the fertile window. If I get pregnant again, my body won't be able to handle it."

"The night before last, last night, wasn't it..."

"Why are you like a hungry wolf, pouncing on food again as soon as you've finished eating?"

She had mixed feelings about this man—almost seven years had passed, and he was still as infatuated with her as when they first met, his eyes burning with passion; yet she simply couldn't resist: he stayed in her room five nights out of seven, and sometimes he would pester her again in the morning, leaving only two days to go to Wen Keren's place.

She could handle it, but didn't want to get involved. Two days would be enough.

She still has mountains and rivers to protect, and a flame to safeguard.

"It's because your body smells so alluring—just touch it yourself!"

Li Wenguo helped her stand in front of the full-length mirror.

The mirror reflected a face of unparalleled beauty, with skin as clear as fresh snow, without a trace of impurity; her figure was exquisite and slender, yet she was curvaceous with a prominent bust and hips, her curves taut and intense, like a crescent-shaped blade wrapped in soft satin—who would believe that such a seemingly delicate frame could contain such a fervent and abundant vitality?

"But I always feel... I can't compare to those daughters of noble families, can I?"

She wasn't feigning modesty; rather, she was blinded by the rigid and stereotypical aesthetics of the time.

It's unimaginable that such a figure, if displayed decades later, would have people scrambling to take photos, copy it, and worship it.

"Hmph! Don't you dare belittle yourself—I love this body! If you hadn't turned out like this, I wouldn't have even given you the wedding invitation!"

Before he finished speaking, his fingertips had already traced her waistline, and he pulled her close, deliberately lowering his voice: "Tell me, what if you hadn't married me back then, and instead ended up with a toothless, widower who could barely fasten his belt? Think about it carefully!"

He Shuting actually shivered, and the image flashed before her eyes: a withered, wrinkled old man, panting heavily, lunging at her, reeking of sourness and the stench of cigarettes… She shook her head violently, her voice trembling: “No, no! Master, I only recognize you! I will only be your wife for the rest of my life!”

Coming to her senses, she pinched his arm, both embarrassed and annoyed: "You're so mean! How could you scare me like that!"

"Oh? You actually thought that way? Don't even think about it! Just wait and see how I deal with you!"

Jealousy surged within him, and flames flickered in his eyes.