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

Half a year has passed in the blink of an eye.

On the surface, the capital was calm, but the Lixing Society was casting its net everywhere to catch local gangsters, causing widespread panic.

Japanese spies were kept under tight control by Mitsui Miri and almost disappeared; however, the Second Bureau still sensed something unusual—an undercurrent was churning beneath the surface.

These things have absolutely nothing to do with Li Wenguo.

He continued to work nine-to-five to earn his wages, using various methods to flirt with girls, doing all sorts of serious things that were purely physical and not emotional.

Of course, there are also happy events coming your way—

Dong Haitang and Xianglan gave birth one after the other.

Dong Haitang has another son, Li Wenguo personally named him Li Guoxiang, the ninth child in the family!

Xianglan also had a son, whom Li Wenguo named Li Guowen, the tenth member of the family!

He Shuting is nine months pregnant, Hongyu is due in August, and Xu Meijing is steadily six months pregnant—in less than three months, the mansion will be lively again, with three more little mouths, three more little hands, and three more pairs of bright, darting eyes!

They truly have a large and prosperous family!

The comforting feeling in Li Wenguo's heart was warmer than drinking a ten-year-old vintage wine.

These are all flesh and blood that fell from his body, roots that flowed from his veins!

"Daddy, here's a candied hawthorn!"

A little girl, as round as a pink dumpling, came running over, her slender arms wrapped around Li Wenguo's leg, her apple-shaped face tilted up, her little hands holding a string of bright red candied hawthorns high in the sun, the glistening sugar coating gleaming, her soft, childlike voice reaching straight to the heart.

"Oh, my Hanhan is the most thoughtful! She always thinks of her dad first when it comes to good things. She truly is the little angel I've raised with all my heart!"

Li Wenguo smiled, reached out and scooped up his daughter, holding her steadily in his arms. He then pinched the tip of a bamboo skewer, bent down, and bit off a hawthorn berry coated in a crisp sugar coating.

"Daddy, is it sweet? Does it smell good?"

The little girl stood on tiptoe, her eyes shining like black grapes soaked in dew.

"Sweet! Fragrant! Even more tempting than candied dates!"

"Then... Hanhan wants one too!"

Li Jinghan has just turned three years old and is a clever little sparrow: she can hop and jump, has straight front teeth, two little dimples when she smiles, and her eyebrows and eyes are just like Xianglan's. She is sure to grow up to be a beautiful girl.

"Sister! Sister, wait for me!"

Before she finished speaking, another chubby little boy rushed into the yard, clutching another string of candied hawthorns in his hand. The sugar granules were a little dusty, but he didn't care and just kept chasing after his older sister.

This is the eldest son, Li Guohua, who is also three years old. He was born a month after his sister. He has a round face, thick eyebrows, a loud voice, and walks with a brisk pace.

"Daddy! Hug me! Hug me now!"

He pounced on Li Wenguo and hugged his other leg, his little body rubbing against him, his eyes looking up at him expectantly, like a little wolf cub eagerly begging for food.

How could Li Wenguo show favoritism? He steadied Hanhan with one hand, and with the other, he scooped up his son, brought the candied hawthorn in his hand, and snapped off a piece, the sweet and sour juice bursting on his tongue.

After playing with them for a while, seeing that it was almost late afternoon, he handed the two children to Xiao Cui and whispered, "Tonight, you and Xiao Ju will wait for me in the room."

After saying that, he turned and went out.

That's right—Xiao Cui and Xiao Ju just turned eighteen last month. They are young and tender, with faces like peach blossoms and skin like solidified cream. If you pinched them, you could feel the morning dew. Their figures are also exquisite and well-proportioned, with fullness in the right places and slenderness in the right places. They are like a pair of twin lotus buds waiting to bloom.

Li Wenguo had already taken them as his sixth and seventh concubines.

I walked briskly through the corridors and courtyards.

He stepped into a quiet courtyard, where a slender figure was already sitting in the pavilion, dressed in simple white robes, her profile serene.

Li Wenguo walked straight over and sat down beside her, his hand naturally resting on her knee.

"Ms. Kurai, I'm here."

"We can begin."

His tone was proper, and if it weren't for the hand gently caressing her warm skin beneath her skirt, he would truly resemble a humble student.

"Okay, then let's learn today..."

Mitsui Miri smiled slightly, turned the pages of the book, but her fingertips secretly curled up inside her sleeve.

Half a year has passed. She used her poor family background and her parents' preference for sons over daughters as reasons to mold herself into a cautious, shy, and stubborn person: her two younger brothers were waiting to get married, and her family hoped that she would marry a rich man to get a dowry. She was unwilling to settle down with an old man, so she traveled across the ocean to make a living here.

Even when Li Wenguo offered her a salary, she acted as if she were both surprised and frightened, repeatedly declining it as if she were holding a hot potato.

At first, he half-tested, half-teased, hinting that she should become his trusted confidante; later, he bluntly stated his position—a house, ten thousand silver dollars, in exchange for her approval. She simply lowered her eyes and smiled, "Let me...think about it some more."

If it weren't for her Japanese identity and the fear of causing trouble, Li Wenguo would have been unable to restrain himself long ago, and wouldn't have allowed her to pretend.

The two-hour class is over.

Li Wenguo immediately stood up, his tone leaving no room for argument: "Come on, I'll take you to eat Western food."

The Western restaurant was opulent, with silver cutlery gleaming coldly; ordinary people rarely set foot there even once a year. He intended to use this feast and extravagance to gradually soften her bones and dull her sharp edges.

"This...this Western food is too expensive. I feel terrible that you've gone to such lengths."

She lowered her head slightly, her fingers twisting the hem of her clothes, her voice as soft as a feather, just like the awkwardness of a girl from a humble background seeing the world for the first time.

"I go every day, one more pair of chopsticks won't make a difference—let's go!"

He reached out and pulled her close, his palm warm and strong, half supporting and half leading her, not allowing her to back down.

Yes, to deal with such a resilient yet gentle nature, one needs three parts firmness and seven parts determination to both control and protect it.

After a refined and alluring Western meal, we accompanied her through the shop windows and finally to a top-floor club run by foreigners, where we listened to jazz, drank champagne, and swayed to the beat until we were slightly tipsy. By the end of the night, Mitsui Miri had truly grasped the superficial glamour of high society.

When we took her back to her apartment building, her cheeks were flushed, her legs were weak, and she was laughing while leaning on the door frame.

If Li Wenguo hadn't already arranged to play cards with Xiao Cui and Xiao Ju at 10 o'clock sharp, he almost would have gotten her completely drunk and then taken advantage of the situation to get things done.

On the way back.

Old Pan and Zhou Zheng supported a staggering man clutching his stomach on either side, taking shortcuts through alleys and back streets, their steps as hurried as if they were walking on hot coals.

"Hang in there, Lao Yu!"

Old Pan's voice cracked, and the veins on his forehead throbbed.

Old Yu was the man who had been shot. His face was ashen, his eyelids drooped, and his breathing was so shallow it was almost broken. He looked like he could collapse at any moment.

Just then, a shiny black sedan glided in from the street corner.

Old Pan glanced around and caught a glimpse of Ding Xiaoqi's face through the car window!

"Zhou Zheng, you hold off Lao Yu for now!"

Before he finished speaking, he had already rushed to the middle of the road, waving his arms wildly.

"Master Li, it's Old Pan! He's stopping the car; something's probably happened!"

Ding Xiaoqi slowed down and turned his head to say.

Li Wenguo opened his eyes and glanced out the car window—Old Pan was panting like a broken bellows, and a man with blood-soaked clothes was lying on the roadside.

Come again?

He sighed inwardly.

What happened to the female bandit we rescued last year? Is she alive or dead? Were they wiped out completely?

I should really go and find out about it when I have some free time!

Old Pan rushed to the window, clasped his hands together in front of his forehead, and spoke rapidly, his voice crackling with rage: "Brother Qi, help! Master Li, help! It's an emergency—we've really stumbled upon this by chance!"

Li Wenguo sighed silently, then turned to the driver, A-Gui, and said, "Get out and take the car behind." He then called out the window, "Get in!"

"Lift it gently! Don't smear blood on my seat!"

He glanced sideways at the man being dragged in—blood was gushing from a wound on his abdomen, soaking half of his waistband.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I wiped it right after getting out of the car, it's shinier than a mirror!"

Old Pan repeatedly bowed, his forehead pressed against the car door.

"Turn around and go back the way you came!"

There were no police officers at the fork in the road we just passed, but it was pitch black ahead. Who knows what kind of landmines were buried there?

As soon as the car turned around, Li Wenguo glanced at his watch—five minutes to ten.

Xiao Cui and Xiao Ju were probably already wrapped in thin blankets in bed, having washed their feet and set out their cards, just waiting for him to open the door.

He shook his head inwardly before finally asking, "Where to?"

"Well... Mr. Li, you have connections everywhere. Tell me, which hospital can you trust? Old Yu's gunshot wound, even the barefoot doctors in our area wouldn't dare use tweezers—you see..."

Old Pan rubbed his hands together, his awkward smile revealing his barely concealed embarrassment.

Barefoot doctor?

hiss--

Using a pair of rusty scissors to remove bullets from someone's body?

Wow, you really dared to do that!

Li Wenguo's lips twitched, and he waved his hand: "Go to Lao Ke's place."

Enough is enough; let's see this through to the end.

These lives were risked for the people while carrying guns; saving even one is worthwhile!

"Thank God! Thank you, Mr. Li! Thank you so much!"

Although Lao Pan didn't know who "Lao Ke" was, he knew he was a hundred times better than the old doctor at the entrance of his village who could only misalign his needles by three inches!

Zhou Zheng also nodded deeply to Li Wenguo, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Old Yu had already fainted, with only his chest rising and falling slightly.

"Old Pan, Old Ke is a top surgeon at a Beijing hospital. Removing a bullet is as easy as cleaning an earwax for them."

Ding Xiaoqi gripped the steering wheel firmly and added with a smile.

"Oh! Oh! Surgeon! That's wonderful, that's wonderful!"

The weight lifted from Lao Pan's heart with a thud.

Who would have thought that this Mr. Li had such powerful connections!

"Xiao Qi, stop nagging and step on the gas!"

Li Wenguo's voice turned somber.

The person was still bleeding; who knew if they could hold on until Dr. Ke's operating lights came on?

"Alright, Mr. Li! Hehe!"

Ding Xiaoqi grinned after being scolded—in his eyes, being able to be scolded by Master Li meant he had truly entered the circle.

Old Pan and Zhou Zheng knew perfectly well that Li Wenguo was protecting them. They lowered their heads in silence, swallowing their gratitude.

It was nearly 11 p.m., and the streets were so deserted that only a few rickshaws were slowly swaying by, which gave cars room to speed along.

But at a sharp bend, a wooden fence appeared in front of us, with seven or eight dark figures standing on either side, their epaulets gleaming coldly under the streetlights—it was a police checkpoint!

"Hold!"

"Mr. Li, we're stuck ahead!"

Ding Xiaoqi abruptly released the accelerator, his toes tumbling and lifting off the brake pedal.

This is really troublesome.

Li Wenguo lowered his brow.

He did have acquaintances at the police station, but acquaintances are not a pass—you can't expect every uniformed officer to recognize his face or give him the time of day.

For example, those detective team leaders or anti-drug squad supervisors who have powerful backers.

But the patrol officers ahead had already spotted the car, and three or four officers were quickly chasing after it, their boots thumping on the ground.

"Oh no!"

"Mr. Li, how about we reverse and drive out?"

Old Pan's forehead was beaded with sweat, and his voice was strained.

"Okay—first, stuff the wounded comrade... cough, patient, under the seat, and pull the curtains tightly shut. We'll handle the patrol officers."

Li Wenguo pondered for a moment, then spoke in a steady, deliberate manner.

Old Pan and Zhou Zheng immediately complied, their actions swift and efficient.

Li Wenguo reached into Ding Xiaoqi's pocket, pulled out the dark red-covered ID, and looked up at the approaching patrolman.

Sure enough, all the visitors were unfamiliar faces; they were probably field teams transferred from elsewhere.

We need to have the clone place Sha Qiang in the night shift sentry post—we need someone with eyes and ears day and night to keep things under control.

He was quickly making plans in his mind.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

The lead patrolman had a rough voice, and his hand was already on the holster at his waist.

Li Wenguo held up his identification through the car window, his brows furrowed and his tone resolute: "Lixingshe is handling a case, get out of the way."

Investigating a case?

Old Pan and Zhou Zheng in the back seat froze, their eyes met, and their Adam's apples bobbed.

The patrol chief took the identification, only catching a glimpse of the three large, bold characters "Lixingshe" beneath the national emblem on the back cover. A vein throbbed on the back of his hand; he didn't even dare turn the page, returning the document with both hands, his voice lowered considerably: "I'm sorry! I've delayed your mission!"

He turned and yelled at the checkpoint, "Let them through! Let them through immediately!"

Nowadays, police stations have long been the private domain of the Lixingshe (a secret police organization). Who would dare to provoke secret agents? At best, they would be charged with "obstructing official business," and at worst, with "delaying military operations." Losing their jobs would be the least of their worries.

The car quickly passed through the checkpoint.

"We're safe now."

Li Wenguo uttered three words.

When the carriage curtain was lifted, Lao Pan and Zhou Zheng turned pale, their eyes darting around, their hearts feeling as if something was gripping them.

"Heh heh, Mr. Li, the moment you opened your mouth to 'solve a case,' those thugs with their black skin went limp... Just who is this guy?"

Old Pan Qian smiled and leaned closer, beads of sweat still clinging to his forehead.

"You really want to hear it?"

Li Wenguo glanced at him sideways, a slight smile playing on his lips, but his eyes held no warmth.

A chill ran down their spines, and their hearts skipped a beat—their suspicions were about to take root.