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

Li Jing'an and his entourage finally arrived at their destination—Paris, a revolutionary old region. As soon as they stepped off the plane, a strange smell, a mixture of perfume and engine oil, hit them. The airport terminal was bustling with activity, filled with stylishly dressed, blond-haired foreigners.

The members of the inspection team instantly wilted like eggplants after a frost, huddled in the group, bewildered, their eyes darting around in a panic, as if afraid of being blinded by the dazzling spectacle of capitalism.

The group moved cautiously with the flow of people until they saw embassy staff holding signs at the arrivals gate, at which point their tense nerves relaxed slightly. Thanks to the meticulous arrangements made by the embassy staff, they boarded a bus to the city center and eventually checked into a mid-range hotel. This considerable accommodation cost was naturally borne by the Ministry of Metallurgical Industry's inspection team themselves; the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would not cover such expenses for overseas inspections.

Immediately after check-in, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs staff gathered everyone in the hotel lobby and solemnly reiterated the diplomatic discipline. Li Jing'an, seeing this, rallied the group members. He cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over everyone with piercing intensity, and declared passionately, "Comrades! We are now in the enemy's stronghold. We'll only be staying here for one night, but everyone knows the discipline, so I must reiterate it! Tonight, absolutely no one is allowed to step outside the hotel! Those sharing rooms must monitor each other, and report any unusual situations to me immediately! Also, the curtains must be drawn tightly tonight. Absolutely no contact with foreigners, and certainly no talking to them! Everyone must keep a tight rein on this, maintaining a high degree of vigilance and purity towards capitalist countries! We must never allow unhealthy influences to erode our will and beliefs!"

Li Jing'an delivered a passionate speech, which made the team members look serious. Afterwards, he went through the check-in procedures with the embassy staff and began assigning rooms.

That evening, a taxi was parked on the side of the road in front of the hotel, and a person opened the door and got into the back seat. The driver looked up at the rearview mirror and saw that the passenger in the back seat was of Asian appearance. He smiled and asked, "Where are you going, sir?" Seeing that the passenger shrugged and didn't understand, the driver knew that the man didn't understand French, so he had to ask again in broken English.

This time, the passenger in the back seat finally reacted—they blurted out a single word: "Happy! Happy!" with a knowing look on their face, swaying back and forth. The driver, understanding perfectly, smiled in return.

"OK, OK," the driver replied.

"Departing from Pigalle."

Sitting in the back seat, Li Jing'an looked at the bald driver's sleazy face and heard him mention the place name "Pilghale," knowing he hadn't gone to the wrong place. After they checked into the hotel and settled in, Li Jing'an slipped out as soon as it got dark. He was staying in a single room; given his rank, no one bothered him. He was a "steadfast" comrade, and tonight he had to experience the "fine traditions" and "cultural heritage" of the old revolutionary base area.

As he was lost in thought, the bald driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, a lewd look on his face, and started babbling out words, seemingly trying to chat. After two words, Li Jing'an finally understood what he was asking—what nationality he was. Li Jing'an thought for a moment and said one word: "Japan."

The driver wasn't surprised by Japan's answer. Although the economy fluctuated after the first oil crisis, Japan had become wealthy, and ordinary people could travel abroad; for example, France has always had a large number of Japanese tourists.

Seeing that the driver accepted his explanation, Li Jing'an began to chat with the bald driver using gestures, and low, lewd laughter occasionally broke out in the car.

As the car entered a neighborhood, Li Jing'an saw groups of scantily clad women by the roadside through the window, and his eyes lit up—it seemed he had come to the right place. Paris, this capitalist city, appeared vibrant on the surface, but was corrupt and decadent inside. Seeing these scantily clad women struggling to make a living on the streets, Li Jing'an felt a pang of "heartache." These were the oppressed working class! He resisted the urge to open the car door and rush out to "rescue" them.

The driver parked the car in front of a small bar, gesturing and haltingly telling Li Jing'an in accented English: he could look for something on the street or go into the bar. Li Jing'an paid the fare, gave an extra tip, and got out of the car amidst the driver's lewd smile. He straightened his clothes, glanced at the small bar in front of him, but didn't go in. Instead, he turned and walked along the street. A street bar was much better than a bar; there were plenty of options to choose from.

"Hold on."

As Li Jing'an brazenly sized up the streetwalkers, one of the women he was targeting greeted him in French. Seeing he didn't respond, she guessed he might be a tourist and switched to English: "Hello!" Then, she deliberately pulled her zipper down a little further. Li Jing'an's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets—what a gift!

One must not weigh more than two pounds?

Seeing his expression, the woman chuckled and rubbed her hands together. But she was disappointed. Li Jing'an's will was so strong; how could he be fooled by such a small trick? He continued walking forward. Seeing that he remained unmoved, the woman rolled her eyes and glanced at the other passersby.

The women on the street made various gestures towards him: some stuck out their tongues and licked their lips, while others turned around and shook their buttocks at him. Li Jing'an sighed in admiration—they were so simple and honest, knowing how to show off their strengths.

As Li Jing'an walked along, his eyes were practically dazzled by the sights. Tall or short, thin or plump, young or mature, there was something for everyone. He felt that simply admiring them was enough; there was no need for any real action. But glancing at his watch, he realized he'd been out for quite some time, and finally hardened his heart, eliminating his initial targets and heading towards his final choice—a tall French woman.

She was smoking, her face made up with makeup, giving her a somewhat glamorous look, but it was clear she had good natural features: long blonde hair, a tall figure, and in high heels, she looked to be about 1.7677 meters tall, almost as tall as Li Jing'an. Seeing Li Jing'an walking towards her, the woman knew that this must be tonight's client.

She took a deep drag of her cigarette and provocatively exhaled a puff of smoke at Li Jing'an. Li Jing'an, not one to back down, leaned in and took a deep drag, as if trying to suck all the smoke she exhaled back. This made the French woman burst into laughter.

Li Jing'an leaned closer for a careful look—she was indeed alluring, but her skin wasn't very good, not as smooth as that of Chinese women. But there are always trade-offs; since he was already here, he had to try something different. Next came the haggling.

After a heated argument, the two sides finally reached a price that was barely acceptable. The French girl was very dissatisfied. She thought she could earn more money from a tourist, but she didn't expect this guy to be so stingy, haggling over ten francs.

Li Jing'an didn't think that way—a well-fed man doesn't know the hunger of a starving man. With the country's foreign exchange reserves so tight, every penny saved counts. You don't know the cost of living until you're in charge. It's like a courtesan singing "The Flowers of the Rear Courtyard" across the river, oblivious to the nation's ruin.