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

In the dim light, two people were squatting next to stacks of things.

One of them kicked the pile of goods at the other's feet with his toe, grinned, and revealed half a mouthful of yellow teeth: "Hey, you rascal—you usually don't stand out, I didn't expect you to know this."

He kicked it again, shaking his head and laughing, "You've been hiding something, haven't you? You brought quite a lot."

The man opposite him wasn't annoyed. He pointed to the goods behind him, raised an eyebrow, and said, "You have the nerve to say that to me? You're carrying less stuff? — More than me!"

"hey-hey……"

"hehe……"

The two looked at each other and couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, alright, our eldest brother won't criticize the second brother." The man who spoke first waved his hand, his expression suddenly becoming serious. He looked down at the stack of goods at his feet, "This is all I have left. Today, I'm going to sell it all."

He paused for a moment, as if to encourage himself: "Perfect—for my son to use to build a house next year."

After saying that, he took out a cigarette from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to the other person.

The other person took it and lit it with a torch.

The two of them squatted there, the smoke slowly dissipating in the dim air.

After taking two puffs of his cigarette, the man spoke again, his voice lower and tinged with uncertainty.

"Do you think...they can eat that much?"

He raised his chin and gestured towards the scattered groups of people around him: "Look, it's not just the two of us. Look, there are quite a few people, and they're carrying a lot of goods."

His companion followed his gaze and looked over—in the open space not far away, there were shadowy figures, each with various items piled up at their feet.

His companion looked away, exhaled a puff of smoke, and said in a low voice, "Hey, let me tell you—I already sold it once yesterday."

"Sold?"

"But they didn't even want it." His companion flicked his cigarette ash, his tone tinged with resentment. "Yesterday, I brought a top-quality fox fur, with a perfect color, and they still complained that it was too low-grade and not enough."

The man frowned. "Really?"

"Why would I lie to you?" His companion leaned closer, lowering his voice even further. "Yesterday, a middleman from the local mine came and told me plainly: whatever we have, we'll take. We're rich! Especially the rare stuff."

He swallowed hard, his eyes brightening in the dim light: "These things, well, they're basically all bought up by the purchasing stations. All this good stuff is exported. It's much rarer in the south than here; they really covet this stuff."

"How much will they give us?"

"Add 30%." His companion held up three fingers and said confidently, "Let me tell you, they'll take it back and resell it for more than double the price."

"real?"

"Is that even possible?"

The man pondered for a moment, then frowned again: "Even if we add 30%... wouldn't we still be losing money?"

"Hehe, let me tell you—" His companion slapped his thigh, his eyes narrowed, and a smile played on his lips, but that smile revealed shrewdness. "Today we're sticking to our guns—50% off. If it's less than 50%, we won't sell."

As he spoke, he looked around and then leaned closer, saying, "I just spoke with the people next to me, and we've all agreed to this."

At this point, his voice suddenly hardened, as if he were swearing to himself: "Damn it, if they're eating meat, shouldn't we at least get a sip of soup?"

The man opposite him lit up and nodded repeatedly, "That's right! You're right! We'll add 50%!"

The two clasped hands tightly, as if they had reached some important agreement.

"They're here! They're here!"

I don't know who shouted those two sentences.

The crowd suddenly stirred.

Everyone looked up, gazing in the same direction. Some even stood up, craning their necks.

Several figures approached from a distance. They were indistinct and not clearly visible.

Everyone held their breath and waited.

As they approached and people saw who it was, everyone went crazy and swarmed around them in twos and threes.

"Look! Look at mine!"

"My goodness! Look at this leather!"

"Top-quality sable fur! Not a single bullet hole! It wasn't shot—I lassoed it!"

"This...this...and mine! My fox pelt! It's a perfect, flawless red, without a single blemish!"

Several people, carrying their goods, struggled to push forward. Some stood on tiptoe, while others simply held their items high above their heads, as if afraid that oncoming people wouldn't see them.

They were pushing and shoving each other, making a ruckus.

The air was filled with the smell of fur and the odor of human sweat.

"Quiet! Quiet! Quiet!"

The newcomers were surrounded. One of them raised his hand and pressed it down.

The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority: "I'm not going to run away, why are you all in such a hurry?"

The crowd gradually quieted down.

The man glanced around, his gaze sweeping across everyone's faces, and slowly said, "Alright, everyone knows the rules. Don't embarrass yourselves with ordinary stuff."

He paused for a moment, then held up three fingers: "We already know the price—it's 30% higher than what you usually sell on the black market. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Don't hold back, we'll take as much as we can get our hands on."

The crowd erupted as soon as he finished speaking.

"Thirty percent won't do!"

A deep, loud voice came from behind: "Our goods are so good, you have to pay at least 50%! We won't sell if it's less than 50%!"

"Yes! Not for sale!"

"I won't sell for less than 50%!"

The sounds echoed all around, one after another, like boiling water bubbling out.

Another voice shouted, "Don't try to fool us! You're just middlemen too—buying for those southerners! You don't know how much you're pocketing! We're adding 50% today, you're not losing out! We can't let you make all the money!"

"Yes! Don't think we don't understand!"

The sounds grew louder and more frequent. Some people were so excited that their faces turned red, while others threw their cigarette butts on the ground and stood up to speak.

"After you collect it for them, they can resell it for two or three times the price! And you only give us 30% more—you guys are ripping us off!"

"Thirty percent! Not for sale!"

"Yes! Not for sale!"

Voices of support rose and fell, like waves crashing one after another.

Some people turned to look at the people next to them, nodding to each other, their eyes filled with determination.

The people in the middle exchanged glances.

The leader's lips twitched slightly—it was unclear whether it was a smile or some other expression.

"Sure, sure." He spread his hands, his tone softening as if he had finally given in. "Okay—50% or 50%."

A low cheer rose from the crowd.

"But—" he changed the subject, holding up a finger, his smile fading and replaced by a serious expression, "we have conditions. It has to be good quality. If it's inferior—you can forget about 30%, you won't even get 10%."

He looked around, then scanned the surroundings.

There were twenty or thirty people surrounding him, all staring at him.

"Alright, most of the people have arrived. Then we won't wait any longer." He suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with a deeper meaning. "Those who didn't come—they weren't lucky enough to make it. They missed it, hahaha."

As soon as the words "Transaction begins" were uttered, everyone looked at each other and smiled.

That smile was impossible to suppress.

"This price...when have we ever seen prices like this around here?"

"I'm so satisfied! I'm so satisfied!"

"We've managed to snag this! Those who missed out—you'll regret it later!"

They laughed, talked, and rubbed their hands together excitedly.

Just then—