I feel right at home in the world of the courtyard house.

In the room.

Li Jing'an, with his legs crossed, rhythmically tapped his knuckles on the table, and looked at the mine manager and the head of the security department standing respectfully before him, before slowly speaking:

"Alright, you don't need to bother. I don't think you can be of any help anyway. In a small place like this, you've all become mentally challenged and can't even think straight."

"How about this, I have an idea."

He paused, put the cigarette in his mouth, and squinted at them.

"Today, you should send people to the black market to spread the word that some out-of-towners want to buy some good furs in the next couple of days, and tell them to prepare their goods and go to the black market as soon as possible."

"Out-of-towners only stay here for two or three days. If they miss this opportunity, they won't get another chance. They'll definitely pay much more than locals. They just like good furs."

The mine manager's eyes lit up, and he quickly came over:

"I understand what you mean! You want to buy it from the black market, right? That's a good idea; it avoids the purchasing stations, so there's no trace left!"

But then he hesitated for a moment, rubbing his hands together: "It's just... I don't know how many people will be willing to sell."

"Actually, in our area, many families keep good furs hidden away as family heirlooms and are reluctant to take them out easily."

"You don't know anything!"

Li Jing'an slammed his hand on the table, pointing at the mine manager with exasperation: "Me? Why should I buy it? Are you trying to make me make a mistake? Try to make me lead the way in undermining the country's unified purchase and distribution policy?"

He glared at the mine manager, making the manager shrink back.

Then he changed the subject, a half-smile playing on his lips: "Don't we have law enforcement authority in our mine?"

"Tomorrow, send a few men to the various black markets, pretending to be buying furs. Tell them the quality is too low and they want better quality furs in large quantities, and to come back in a couple of days. Then our security department will deploy the militia to raid all those black markets and confiscate everything—understand?"

Li Jing'an leaned back in his chair, flicked his cigarette ash, and said in a light tone, "By doing this, we not only gain something but also uphold the laws and regulations of the country. It's a win-win situation."

"Brilliant! You're absolutely brilliant!"

The mine manager and the head of security exchanged a glance, then quickly forced a smile and offered a string of insincere compliments.

The head of security patted him on the shoulder, but inwardly he couldn't help but mutter: This bastard... he's really despicable.

While the mine manager was bowing and scraping, another thought was running through his mind: Is it because I'm not bad enough that I'm getting promoted so slowly?

In a corner of a black market.

Several people who frequently traded leather goods huddled together, heads close together, whispering amongst themselves.

"Hey, have you heard? A group of out-of-towners came to our mine for a visit and study, and they all want to take some authentic wild hides home. They said that as long as the stuff is good, money is no object."

"They're all factory leaders, they're not short of money. As long as the leather is good, the price is negotiable, at least 30% more than what we usually sell for!" A tall, thin man lowered his voice, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Really? Who told you that? There's no such thing as a free lunch." A weasel-faced man next to him curled his lip in disbelief.

"Hey, you know what, I've heard about it too!"

A middle-aged man with a round face chimed in: "I have a relative who works in the mine. He said that a large meeting was held a few days ago, and some leaders from out of town did stay there."

"Oh, that means the news is pretty reliable." The weasel-faced man stroked his chin.

"What's the use of being reliable?"

The tall, thin man waved his hand dismissively, "Do you even have any fur? What good fur do you have? People don't care for weasel or tiger pelts; they want real fox or sable fur!"

"Are you underestimating me?" The round-faced middle-aged man's face flushed red, and he said stubbornly, "I've lived in the mountains for decades, do you think I don't have some savings?"

"Give me a break! Your hunting skills aren't even as good as my son's. They said they don't want any with bullet holes, they want complete, well-preserved ones!"

"Get the hell out of here! You're no match for my son!"

The round-faced middle-aged man, enraged, shoved the tall, thin man hard: "Wait until tomorrow at the black market, I'll show you!"

---

After the black market closed, a burly middle-aged hunter hurried home, went straight into the storeroom, and began rummaging through the items with a clanging sound.

Hearing the noise, a middle-aged woman wearing a blue apron came over and peeked into the warehouse.

"Dad, what are you doing?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

"What can I do? Take stock of my goods, take stock of my old stash!" The sounds of rummaging through drawers and cabinets mixed with a man's muffled reply came from inside.

"Why are you holding onto that? We're not selling it! That's your savings accumulated over the years. Didn't you say you wanted to pass it down as a family heirloom, or use it in an emergency?" The woman's voice was filled with heartache and confusion.

"You don't know anything!"

The man poked his head out of the warehouse, his face covered in dust, but his eyes gleamed with a cunning light.

"Didn't I just hear the news? A group of people from the south came to the mine to buy good furs to take back, and they're offering prices 30% higher than the usual black market price! How can we miss such an opportunity?"

As he spoke, he carefully took a leather item out of a box, carried it outside, and examined it closely against the light.

He unfolded the fur and examined it thoroughly, inside and out—there were no holes from insects, no stubble from rats, and the fur was glossy and shiny.

He nodded in satisfaction, a smile spreading across his face.

"So you're going to sell this one?" The middle-aged woman followed her out, her eyes fixed on the leather piece, her tone still somewhat reluctant.

"One?"

The man rolled up the leather and put it away, then glanced up at his wife:

"I'll take one tomorrow to test the waters—who knows if it's true or not? It's always better to be safe than sorry; we need to be prepared for both possibilities."

"If it's true, I'll bring out all our best-kept secrets. It just so happens that our son is looking for a wife in the next couple of years."

As he said this, the light in his eyes shone even brighter, and his chest puffed out:

"After we sell this batch of goods, we'll build three mud-brick houses next spring! Let the rest of the village see that I have the strength and ability!"

"Really? His dad!"

The middle-aged woman's eyes lit up instantly, and her voice rose an octave: "Building an adobe house? That's fantastic!"

"Tell me about the Zhao family to the east of us. Their second son only built two mud-brick houses for his wedding. Aren't we completely outclassing them?"

"That's right!"

The man raised his chin and snorted, "Does that guy surnamed Zhao think he can compare to me? Just because he has three sons, he talks louder than me. I'm really not convinced."

"Even though I have few sons, I still want the whole village to know my abilities and for everyone to look up to us!"

"That's right!"

The middle-aged woman became more and more excited as she spoke, rubbing her hands on her apron: "If we build our son a mud-brick house, won't he be able to pick and choose any wife he wants? There aren't many families in the surrounding villages that can compare to us!"

"That's right!"

The man became more and more smug as he spoke: "Then we'll get more wood and make more furniture."

"By the way, when you're making furniture for our youngest son, make two more big wooden chests—you've always complained that the chests at home aren't very useful, right? We'll use walnut wood and make two more for you."

"Really? His dad!"

The middle-aged woman's voice suddenly became soft and sweet, and her eyes even became slightly warm.

She had complained to her husband before that the poplar wood chest in their house was badly cracked and her clothes couldn't be stored properly, but she didn't expect him to keep it in mind.

"Really." The man patted his chest, looking very confident.

"Okay, honey, you can get ready. I'll go make you dinner!"

"We still have a piece of meat at home, I'll stew it for you, and warm up your wine too."

As she spoke, she chuckled and rolled up her sleeves, then tucked a strand of hair that had fallen across her forehead behind her ear, revealing a section of her fair forehead and her curved eyebrows.

When the man saw his wife's action, his expression suddenly changed, and his heart skipped a beat: Oh no, tonight... I'll have to do my work again.