Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

The alleyway was bitterly cold on a winter night, with a thin layer of ice on the ground. The pale moonlight cast a long shadow of him. He avoided the main roads where people might be, choosing instead to walk through narrow, quiet alleys, his steps light and swift, his footsteps silent.

After winding his way through the streets, he arrived once again near the secluded courtyard where he had delivered the deer to Li Huaide last time. Instead of approaching directly, he clung to the wall like a gecko, quietly observing from the shadows for several minutes.

After confirming that no one was around and there were no lights or sounds, he moved like a ghost to the closed courtyard gate. With a slight thought, two well-prepared, plump male deer appeared out of thin air on the cold bluestone steps, their antlers gleaming eerily in the moonlight.

Wei Chen raised his hand and knocked three times on the door, the sound short and clear. Then, he swayed and retreated into the deepest shadow of the opposite wall, his aura completely concealed.

A soft footstep came from inside the gate, followed by the sound of the bolt being pulled open. The gate opened a crack, revealing the face of a wary middle-aged man—the same confidant of Li Huaide from last time.

His sharp gaze swept across the doorway, and when he saw the two fresh stags on the ground, a look of understanding and satisfaction flashed in his eyes. He offered no further questions or pleasantries, but simply nodded almost imperceptibly into the darkness outside.

He then beckoned towards the gate, and two burly men silently emerged, deftly carrying the two deer inside. The entire process took no more than ten seconds; the gate closed again and was bolted. Throughout the entire ordeal, no one uttered a sound.

Wei Chen waited in the shadows for another two minutes, and only after confirming that there was no further movement did he turn and leave, his figure quickly disappearing into the depths of the intricate alleyways.

The next target was the address Jin Aimin had given him. The environment here was much more complicated than Li Huaide's place, with crowded residences and narrow alleyways. Wei Chen became even more cautious, slightly extending his mental energy to sense the surrounding movements.

He lurked in the shadows for a long time, observing, before approaching the inconspicuous courtyard gate. Using the same trick again, two large, tusked, and cleaned wild boars appeared out of thin air at the gate, the heavy smell of blood filling the cold air.

He knocked on the door again, three times. Then he quickly stepped back.

This time, the door opened even faster. A young yet sharp-looking face appeared through the crack. He glanced at the wild boar on the ground, his eyes as sharp as an eagle's, and without a word, gave a crisp nod to the darkness.

Four people swiftly emerged from the gate, working in pairs, their movements swift and steady as if carrying ordinary cargo, carrying the two heavy wild boars inside. The gate then closed as if it had never been opened. Only a few dark red marks remaining on the ground silently testified to what had just happened.

Like a messenger completing some kind of handover ceremony, Wei Chen turned around without hesitation after confirming that his prey had been received, his figure completely disappearing into the deep night. He followed the path he had come from, avoiding the occasional late-night pedestrians, and like a night owl returning to its nest, silently returned to the back wall of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang.

Instead of going through the main gate, he went around to a secluded corner in the backyard. There were some odds and ends piled up against the wall there. He looked around to make sure no one was there, took a deep breath, pushed off with his feet, and braced himself against the top of the wall. His whole body flipped over the nearly two-meter-high wall as if it were weightless, and he landed with only a very slight "thud".

The moonlight, like water, quietly spilled over the sleeping courtyard. Wei Chen, like a true shadow, slid silently back to the east wing, close the door, and slipped inside, gently closing the door behind him.

The fire in the stove still radiated warmth. He took off his heavy coat, damp with the night dew, and hung it on the back of a chair beside the stove to warm himself. He poured a mug of hot water and slowly drank it, letting the warmth dispel the chill from his body.

Only after doing all this did he truly relax and lie down on the bed. Outside the window, all was quiet. But Wei Chen knew that beneath this silence, undercurrents had never ceased to surge.

Cold dew condensed on the window frame, reflecting the cool moonlight. Wei Chen silently returned to the small house in the east courtyard and bolted the door shut behind him.

The fire in the stove had died down, leaving only the dark red glow of embers, radiating the last bit of warmth. He took off his old cotton-padded coat, still chilly from the night, and hung it aside, then added two new briquettes to the stove. The orange flames licked back up, dispelling the coldness in the room.

He didn't rest immediately. Wei Chen sat cross-legged on the bed, his eyes slightly closed, and the faint but pure true energy within his body began to flow slowly. He focused his mind, controlling the small muscle groups in his face and the circulation of blood and energy under his skin.

The young face reflected in the mirror, illuminated by the dim firelight, showed subtle changes in its contours: the cheekbones seemed slightly higher, the jawline a bit more defined, and the curve of the nose slightly different. While not unrecognizable, it was completely different from his former self, becoming someone else entirely—the image of the man who frequently collaborated with Tiger from the Ghost Market.

After doing all this, he changed into another set of even more worn-out, inconspicuous dark blue cotton-padded jacket and trousers, put on the old felt hat pulled down even lower, and wrapped the scarf tightly around his body, leaving only a pair of calm eyes visible.

Once again, like a shadow blending into the night, they slipped silently out of the courtyard, navigating the sleeping alleys with practiced ease, heading towards that hidden place—the Ghost Market.

The ghost market at night is even more eerie than during the day. Scattered lights, like will-o'-the-wisps, flicker in the narrow alleys and abandoned courtyards. Shadows move about, and the hushed conversations and the soft clattering of objects create a somber atmosphere. The air is thick with dust, old objects, and a barely perceptible tension.

Wei Chen didn't linger at the stalls, heading straight into the depths of the ghost market, an area comprised of dilapidated courtyards and warehouses. The security here was noticeably heavier, with several wiry figures silently patrolling in the shadows. Wei Chen walked to the door of a seemingly abandoned warehouse with a tattered curtain hanging over it, and gently knocked three times on the door panel—two long knocks and one short one.

A moment later, the curtain was lifted a crack, revealing a wary face. Seeing Wei Chen's disguised silhouette, the person nodded and stepped aside. Wei Chen slipped inside.

The dilapidated state inside the door contrasted sharply with the outside. It was a small but well-organized room with thick felt covering the walls for soundproofing and insulation. In the center, a red-hot cast iron stove warded off the chill of the winter night.

Under the dim glow of a gas lamp, beside an old eight-immortal table, Tiger sat imposingly in a grand chair, polishing an antique-looking dagger by the light. Hearing the noise, he raised his eyelids, his sharp gaze sweeping over Wei Chen like a knife.

"It's you." Tiger's voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of relaxation that was barely perceptible. "I haven't seen you for a few days. Has something come up?" He put down the dagger and gestured with his chin to the stool across the table.

"Brother Tiger." Wei Chen sat down, his voice deliberately low and hoarse. "There was an emergency at home, so I had to make a long trip and couldn't get away. That's why I came over as soon as I got back to make up for the previous two payments." He got straight to the point. "The four pigs are all at the usual place (that secluded grove outside the Ghost Market), all taken care of."

Tiger's scarred face remained expressionless, but a hint of satisfaction flickered in his eyes. "Four heads? Good, you're reliable enough." He stood up, his burly frame creating a gust of wind. "Same as always, let's check the goods." He winked at a lean man standing beside him: "Blackie, call two brothers, bring the scales and the cart, and come with me."

Wei Chen also got up. The group silently left the warehouse, avoiding the main road of the ghost market and choosing quiet side paths. They soon arrived at the sparse, withered grove on the edge of the ghost market. The moonlight was pale, the shadows of the trees swayed, and the cold wind whistled through the bare branches.

Wei Chen walked to a small clearing surrounded by several crooked old locust trees and pointed to four huge pigs lying in the shadows: "Brother Tiger, they're all here."

Tiger didn't speak, but walked closer and squatted down. A strong smell of pigs mixed with a faint stench of blood instantly filled the air. He reached in, ruffled the fat a few times, examined it carefully, felt the thickness of the fat, and even sniffed it closely. The whole process was extremely professional and meticulous. After inspecting one pig, he randomly checked two others.

"Hmm, not bad, same as always." Tiger stood up, dusted off his hands, and nodded to Blackie. "Weigh it, be quick."

Blackie and two other burly men immediately sprang into action. They were clearly used to this kind of work and worked together seamlessly. Together, the two men lifted the heavy sack onto a specially made large scale with huge iron hooks and weights. Blackie was responsible for reading the scale markings, while the other man recorded them.

"First one, 307 jin!" "Second one, 315 jin!" "Third one, 302 jin!" "Fourth one, 294 jin!" Blackie's voice, counting off, was exceptionally clear in the silent woods.

"Total weight 1,218 jin!" Blackie summarized.

"Okay." Tiger grunted in response and said to Blackie, "Get the brothers to load the truck and take it back to the warehouse. Be careful, don't leave any loose ends."

"Understood, Tiger!" Blackie replied, and led his men to quickly re-tie the sack, load it onto a flatbed cart hidden behind the bushes, and push it away with a creaking sound.

"Let's go back inside and settle the accounts," Tiger called to Wei Chen, and the two of them followed the same path back to the warm warehouse.

The fire in the stove was blazing.

Tiger sat back down in his armchair, took out a gleaming rosewood abacus from the drawer, and began to count the beads: "One thousand two hundred and eighteen catties, the usual price, one yuan and sixty cents per catty." The abacus beads jingled crisply. "Total... one thousand nine hundred and forty-eight yuan and eighty cents." He looked up. "Is that right?"

"That's right." Wei Chen nodded.