Courtyard House: Ten-year-old Master Zhu reorganizes the entire courtyard

The night was as dark as ink, and a cold wind howled outside the dilapidated temple.

He Yuzhu didn't immediately start raising money. He knew that even a small anthill on the dike could destroy the entire structure. Jia Dongxu's uncontrollable mouth was that anthill. Without plugging it, raising any amount of money would be futile.

The next morning, he found Xu Fugui.

"Uncle Xu, have your son Da Mao do something for you." He Yuzhu's tone left no room for argument.

Xu Fugui now both respected and feared He Yuzhu, and hurriedly nodded and bowed, saying, "Brother Zhu, please give your orders!"

"Have Da Mao go to the school and find a few of the most gossipy classmates to spread some new information." He Yuzhu's eyes gleamed with a sly light. "Just say that the guy who killed the Japanese soldier that day wasn't some kind of neighborhood hero at all."

"Huh? What's that?" Xu Fugui was taken aback.

"He's a chivalrous figure like 'Swallow Li San'," He Yuzhu said slowly. "Tell them that this chivalrous figure can leap across rooftops and walls, appear and disappear without a trace, and shatter stones with a single palm strike. After killing the Japanese, he left Beiping long ago to continue fighting the Japanese beyond the Great Wall."

Xu Fugui was dumbfounded. This...this is too outrageous.

"Brother Zhu, will this work?"

"The more outrageous the better." He Yuzhu sneered. "You need to have Da Mao describe the details vividly. For example, what clothes the swordsman wore, what weapon he used, and you can even make up a few move names. Let the children argue and imagine, so they feel that this is a legendary story, not a case that happened around them."

He paused, then emphasized, "Remember, you have to cover up everything Jia Dongxu said before. Make everyone think that Jia Dongxu was just bragging by claiming the great swordsman was his neighbor. Make him a laughingstock."

This is called rumor counter-propagation. It involves using a more widely circulated, exaggerated, and unverifiable rumor to cover up a dangerous, partially true rumor.

Although Xu Fugui didn't fully understand the intricacies, he knew he just had to follow the instructions. He immediately went home and gave his son, Xu Damao, detailed instructions, even promising to buy him a sugar figurine if the job was done. Xu Damao already disliked Jia Dongxu, and upon hearing that he could embarrass Jia Dongxu, he immediately perked up and confidently accepted the task.

The results were surprisingly good.

Children are naturally drawn to heroes and fantastical stories. A "heroic swordsman who can leap across rooftops" is clearly more appealing than "a formidable neighbor." Soon, the version of the story circulating at school took a completely different turn.

"I've heard that the hero is called 'Black Whirlwind'!"

"No, I heard it's 'Invincible Iron Palm,' he bent a Japanese soldier's gun with a single slap!"

When Jia Dongxu tried to say, "I saw it, it's from our department," he was only met with ridicule from his classmates.

"Jia Dongxu is bragging again!"

"So, a martial arts master lives in your yard? Why doesn't that master take you flying with him?"

Xiaoqiang, the son of Wang, the adjutant of the puppet police station, heard a version that turned into a myth. He went home and told his father about it vividly. Wang, the adjutant, just laughed it off, thinking it was a child's joke, and never took it to heart again.

A crisis that could have brought about annihilation was averted by He Yuzhu using an absurd story.

With his worries resolved, He Yuzhu began to focus all his efforts on raising money.

He sneaked into the ghost market again late at night and found the old ghost.

"Old ghost, I need money, urgently." He Yuzhu got straight to the point.

The old man squinted at him, sizing him up: "Kid, you've got some serious trouble on your face, haven't you?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer, but took out a cloth bag from his system space and threw it on the table. "Inside are ten compressed biscuits, and this."

He placed the copper coin engraved with the character "义" (righteousness) on the cookie.

Old Gui's eyes narrowed when he saw the copper coin, and his attitude immediately became much more serious. He knew the significance of this item. "A token from Pingxi? Are you sure you want to sell it?"

"Exchange money." He Yuzhu spoke sparingly.

Old Gui pondered for a moment. He knew that this item represented a promise to the guerrillas, its value far exceeding money. But he also knew that He Yuzhu had brought it out because he was at his wit's end.

"Cakes, five silver dollars a pack. Tokens... these are hard to value. I'll give you fifteen. Sixty-five silver dollars in total," the old man announced the price.

The price was fair for the cookies, but the token was being sold at a bargain price. But He Yuzhu had no choice.

"make a deal."

He received sixty-five silver dollars, still thirty-five dollars short of one hundred.

He Yuzhu looked at Old Ghost: "Is there a faster way to make money?"

Old Gui gave him a deep look, hesitated for a moment, and then lowered his voice to say, "Yes. A big buyer has come to the city. I don't know which warlord he's from. He specializes in buying 'hard goods.' He's offering a high price, but the goods have to be top-notch, and the buyer has to be clean."

He Yuzhu's heart skipped a beat. In his system space lay the Type 11 machine gun he'd captured from the Japanese soldiers. Keeping it was a waste; selling it would be perfect.

"Do you want machine gun parts?" He Yuzhu asked.

Old Gui's breath caught in his throat for a moment. He stared intently at He Yuzhu, as if trying to see into his very soul. "You...you really do?"

He Yuzhu didn't speak, but just looked at him quietly.

Cold sweat broke out on Old Gui's forehead. He knew this kid was absolutely not joking. This was no longer a small-scale black market transaction; it was dancing on a knife's edge, a business that could cost him his head.

"Yes...I want it!" the old man said through gritted teeth. "But the rules of the transaction have to change. You can't show your face, and I won't participate. I'll give you an address, an abandoned house outside the city. Tomorrow at midnight, you put the goods at the designated location, and the buyer will leave the money box behind. Money and goods will be separated, and neither of you will meet."

"How much money?"

"This thing is worth at least fifty silver dollars on the market. But it's a buyer's market now, and the other party is only willing to offer forty."

"Okay," He Yuzhu nodded. Forty yuan is enough.

Late the next night, He Yuzhu, masked, crept like a ghost to an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city. He packed the disassembled parts of the Type 91 light machine gun and dozens of bullets from his system space into a sack and placed it on the stone mill in the yard.

After doing all this, he did not leave immediately, but instead slipped into a distant mass grave and stared intently at the abandoned house with his enhanced vision.

Just after midnight, two dark figures silently slipped into the courtyard. After inspecting the goods and confirming that everything was in order, they left a heavy tin box on the millstone and then quickly disappeared into the night.

He Yuzhu waited another half hour to make sure no one returned before coming out of his hiding place and taking the tin box.

Back at the dilapidated temple, he opened the box, inside which were forty gleaming Yuan Shikai silver dollars neatly stacked.

Adding the previous sixty-five dollars, he now has one hundred and five dollars in his hand.

Wang Kui has finally raised enough money to buy his life.

He Yuzhu carefully stacked the silver dollars one by one and put them into a worn-out money bag. He looked at the heavy money bag with a cold gaze.

Wang Kui thought this was his life-saving money, but little did he know that it would be his death warrant.