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

"If you drink too much and lie down for too long, your muscles can easily become numb. Let me massage them for you so you won't wake up sore all over."

Even he himself felt that his words were utterly unbelievable.

Two hours later, he hurriedly came out of the dormitory building, closed the door behind him, and exhaled a long breath.

"well--"

"Li Guoshu, Li Guoshu, how could you be so easily tested?"

"You were just warned by having your ear pulled, and you're already doing it again. You'll get yourself into trouble sooner or later!"

The car drove out of the dormitory area and stopped by the roadside. He felt relieved, but his heart was still pounding—would she notice anything amiss when she woke up tomorrow morning?

He carefully washed her before leaving and dressed her properly, but how could he possibly know the subtle sensations a woman possesses? What if she sensed something was wrong…

He rubbed his face and looked at his watch: 10:07.

It's not too late.

He took out his pager, sent a text message to his nephew Li Jiayu, and then turned into a public phone booth on the street corner to dial. The background noise on the other end was deafening, with disco drumbeats pounding against the receiver.

"Jiayu? I'm at the door, come out for a moment."

He parked his car and went inside. The neon lights swept across his face, flickering on and off.

Someone at the bar turned their head and muttered, "That guy... isn't he the one who was following Li Jiayu the other day?"

Wang Tingwei stood in the shadows at the entrance of the disco, his brows furrowed, his gaze following Li Guoshu's retreating figure as he pushed open the revolving door and stepped into the deafening light and sound.

"Westbrook, do you recognize this person?"

A young man next to her, wearing a light gray striped shirt with the cuffs rolled up to his forearms, turned his head and spoke in a low voice, but with a hint of barely perceptible envy.

"That Maserati—airlifted from Hong Kong, just registered a few days ago." He paused, raised his chin and pointed to the street corner outside the door, "Low chassis, sharp lines, the logo is newly changed. I heard the Li family took over the factory last year and now specializes in high-end products. The price won't be less than five or four hundred thousand."

Wang Tingwei didn't answer, but only nodded slightly: "I met him once at the Holiday Hotel. He came with Li Jiayu, he's not a local, and his accent sounds like he's from Beijing."

"Oh—" the man drawled, a smirk playing on his lips, "You've really met your match."

This group, trained by Wang Tingxuan, had never sat at the same table as Li Jiayu, let alone shared a cup of tea. When they met, they smiled politely, but their words were always laced with icy barbs—you praise my project's speed, I retort with a tight cash flow; you say I'm bold, I laugh at your hesitant steps. Though their relationship remained outwardly cordial, they had already drawn a clear line in their hearts.

As Li Guoshu entered, a wave of heat mixed with the rhythm of drums assaulted his senses. Red, blue, and purple lights danced wildly on the ceiling, and everywhere he looked were young people swinging their arms and swaying their hips, men and women pressed tightly together, and two blond, blue-eyed foreigners were even spinning around with their arms around each other's waists. He subconsciously pursed his lips, his brow furrowing slightly—in Beijing's private clubs, the air conditioning was strong, the lighting soft, and the music just loud enough to hear people talking; where did this kind of stomp-through-the-floor atmosphere come from?

Shanghai is different. It doesn't rely on political affiliation for its livelihood, nor does it need to maintain the dignity of the capital every day. When something new comes in, it tests the waters first before boldly stepping into it.

"Here! Over here!"

Li Jiayu spotted him immediately, straightened up from the booth, and waved her hand forcefully twice in the air. Li Guoshu walked over and saw him playing rock-paper-scissors with three or four people around a table. Bottles were lying haphazardly around the table, and a girl in a pale yellow dress sat next to him, almost leaning half her body on his shoulder. Every time he won a round, he would smile, put his arm around the girl's neck, and give her a quick kiss on the cheek, which drew laughter from those around him.

Li Jiayu patted the empty seat next to him and gestured for Li Guoshu to sit down, simply saying, "My uncle is from Beijing and is planning to settle down in Shanghai recently."

Several young men immediately crowded around, their enthusiasm bordering on deliberate: "Young Master Li, we've heard you have powerful connections! Shall we do something together?"

"Yeah, who wouldn't be envious of Brother Yu's refrigerator factory and real estate empire?"

"How about we find a quiet place to talk another day? Shouting like a madman in this awful place will make them think you're singing!"

Li Jiayu smiled and waved his hand: "Alright, let's talk slowly in a teahouse after things have calmed down." — Shanghai is a big place, and you can't manage it all by yourself; there are many rich young men, who are both connections and manpower; when the business expands, it's clear who lends a hand and who gets a share of the profits.

Li Guoshu didn't refuse. He took the beer bottle handed to him, tilted his head back and took a big gulp. Then he joined in the shouting and commotion, saying that it was best two out of three rounds and the loser would have to drink a penalty shot.

He got up to go to the restroom. The corridor was narrow, only two meters wide, with a dim yellow wall lamp overhead, its light flickering. Just as he turned the corner, he bumped into Wang Tingwei and another young man in a navy blue suit. The two stood side by side, their shoulders almost touching the walls on either side.

Li Guoshu intended to step aside to make way, but as soon as he took a step, Wang Tingwei suddenly slid to the left, his shoulder slamming into Li Guoshu's chest.

"Ouch!"

"Are you blind? Don't you have eyes?"

"You dare hit me? Looking for a beating?"

The curses were urgent and forceful, like iron nails being driven into eardrums.

Wang Tingwei still remembered the Holiday Inn's words—"Who is this banana? Do you even have the right to speak here?"—his face burned with embarrassment, and even three cups of herbal tea couldn't quell his anger afterward. He dared not touch Li Jiayu, but this "relative" surnamed Li had conveniently delivered himself to his doorstep.

Li Guoshu stopped, his gaze sweeping over the man before he recognized him after a few seconds. Then he remembered that the man had indeed been in the hotel lobby that day, and had even been humiliated by Li Jiayu until his face turned blue. A thought flashed through his mind: it wasn't a chance encounter; he was here to cause trouble.

Instead of getting angry, he scoffed, "A dog blocking the way is brainless; a dog barks loudly because it can't bite. You, all you can do is bark a couple of times, right?"

"You—!" Wang Tingwei's eyes widened, and a vein throbbed in his neck.

The man next to him also frowned, his right hand clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white, waiting for his master's order.

Li Guoshu slowly added, "Do you want me to take a piss so you can look in the mirror? Look at your mouth, is it even worthy of speaking human language?"

Before he could finish speaking, Wang Tingwei's fist had already swung out.

Another person rushed forward as well.

The corridor was too narrow; even turning around was difficult. Li Guoshu, relying on his sturdy build, managed to withstand a couple of blows, parrying left and right, but ultimately, one fist can't fight four hands, especially fearing someone would grab his arm—once entangled, even retreating would be difficult. He suddenly exerted his strength, shoving the person on his right aside, and turned to run towards the exit, shouting as he ran, "Jiayu! Come quick!"

Hearing the shout, Li Jiayu slammed down his glass, grabbed a half-empty bottle of beer from the table, and rushed out. Seven or eight young men followed him in a flurry, some grabbing plastic stools, others loosening their ties, all heading towards the corridor.

Wang Tingwei's side didn't hesitate either; in the blink of an eye, five or six figures blocked their way.

So, even before the dance floor in the center of the disco had stopped, the lights were still flashing, and the music was still blasting, a group of people were already wrestling in the corridor. The sounds of punches, kicks, curses, and shattering bottles mingled together, creating a scene that was even more boisterous than the music.

None of the dancers panicked. Some leaned against the wall eating sunflower seeds, some held wine glasses and stood on tiptoe to peek, and a girl wearing sunglasses took out a small mirror to touch up her lipstick, laughing as she did so: "Tsk, these days even fights are about showing off, you have to pick a disco to fight."

Manager Zhou, in his early thirties, with short, neat hair and his shirt buttoned all the way up, saw the commotion from afar and immediately waved for help: "Don't call the police! Anyone who dares to make a call is fired!"

—The crackdown has just begun. Anyone involved in "gang fighting" will face anything from re-education through labor to jail time. If the police are called, these guys will only be locked up for two days at most tonight, but their disco will probably be raided and shut down completely.

He could control his subordinates, but not a new waitress. The girl was in her early twenties, with a round face and a ponytail. Seeing the situation getting out of control, she acted impulsively and ran to the office, frantically dialing 110.

The siren grew louder as it approached, a sharp, piercing "beep-beep-beep."

Old Zhou's expression changed drastically. He turned around abruptly, his gaze sweeping across the row of employees like a knife: "Who submitted this?"

The girl with the ponytail stiffened and instinctively took a half-step back.

Old Zhou stared at her intently, but remained silent. He strode to the front desk, grabbed the walkie-talkie, and shouted, "Xiao Man! Back door! Take Young Master Li, Young Master Qiao, and Young Master Wei out immediately!"

Before the words were finished, a sturdy young man who was over 1.8 meters tall had already stepped out, supporting Li Jiayu, whose nose was slightly swollen, with one hand and half-supporting Wang Tingwei, who was covering his left eye, with the other. The three of them lowered their heads and crouched down, and slipped out through the iron gate of the fire escape.

The neon lights flashed behind them, like a play that hadn't finished, abruptly ending.

"Friends, please do me a favor!" the manager raised his voice, his words drowning out the lingering low-pitched echoes in the disco. "Nobody saw what happened just now—all bills tonight are waived!"

"Done!"

"Brother Qian is so generous!"

"Don't worry, I didn't even lift my eyelids."

The onlookers responded enthusiastically, some patting their chests, some waving their hands, and some simply turning around and leaving as if nothing had happened.

A team of male and female waiters immediately rushed over with vacuum cleaners, mops, and buckets of water, wiping tables, cleaning floors, and collecting broken glass, their movements as swift as if they had rehearsed it ten times.

A few minutes later, several police cars with blue lights flashing pulled up at the entrance, and seven or eight uniformed police officers filed in...

The alley entrance is only a hundred meters from the disco, and the dampness from last night still seeps from the cracks in the blue brick wall.

Li Jiayu stood in the shadows, his knuckles white from clenching his fists, his gaze sharp as a knife, fixed on Wang Tingwei's face: "Young Master Wei, remember this—this is not over."

The words were not loud, but they were heavy as a thunderclap.

The Li family is not someone anyone can mess with. This punch landing on Li Guoshu is like smashing the lintel of Li Jiayu's family.

Wang Tingwei sneered, raising his chin slightly: "You're not done yet? I'm even more not done yet. We'll see."

He grew up in the United States, his passport is printed with the Stars and Stripes, and he believes in one thing: the rules here don't apply to him.

He doesn't respect anyone except his own family, and he's too lazy to pretend.

Li Jiayu didn't reply, but slowly raised his right thumb to him, paused for half a second, and then suddenly flipped his wrist—thumb down, and gently pressed down.

Not a single word was uttered, but the meaning was louder than a slap: You? You're not qualified.

Wang Tingwei's face stiffened, his Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes suddenly turned cold. He stared at the backs of Li Jiayu and Li Guoshu as they walked away side by side until they turned into the street corner, at which point he slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.