Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

Wei Chen said no more, pulled open the creaking, dilapidated wooden door, and his tall figure disappeared into the deeper darkness at the edge of the ghost market. He didn't leave immediately, but turned and walked towards the shadowy, dimly lit stalls deeper into the ghost market. Since he was already there, he might as well replenish some of his family's "hard currency."

The hustle and bustle of the ghost market and its mingled smells filled the air. In the flickering light of oil lamps and kerosene lamps, the figures appeared ghostly. The hawkers' cries were hushed, like the buzzing of mosquitoes, and transactions were conducted swiftly behind closed sleeves and hidden from view.

Wei Chen's towering figure stood out in the crowd, attracting many wary or inquisitive glances, but they quickly looked away when they sensed his fierce aura that kept strangers at bay.

He had a clear goal and headed straight for the area where he often saw stalls selling agricultural products. He stopped in front of a stall that was half-covered by a tattered burlap sack and lit only by a small oil lamp.

The stall owner was a middle-aged man wrapped in a thick cotton-padded coat, his neck hunched, his face covered with an old cloth, revealing only two wary eyes. In front of him were several baskets of different sizes, filled with wilted potatoes and radishes. In the corner, under a basket covered with thick dry straw, a few round white pieces were vaguely visible—these were eggs.

"How much for the eggs?" Wei Chen squatted down, his deliberately low, hoarse voice carrying an unquestionable tone. He stretched out his large, fan-like hand and directly lifted the hay on the basket.

Under the dim light of the oil lamp, a basket of eggs, neatly arranged, was revealed. They were not of uniform size, and some of the shells still had bits of grass and a few traces of chicken droppings on them, but they looked quite fresh.

The stall owner was intimidated by the big man's imposing presence and subconsciously shrank back, his voice tinged with nervousness: "One dollar and thirty cents a pound! Brother, these are genuine free-range eggs from the countryside, they're really fragrant!" He quoted a price slightly higher than usual, clearly trying to test the big man's resources.

Wei Chen didn't speak. He stretched out two thick fingers, casually picked up an egg from the basket, and carefully examined the color and cleanliness of the shell under the oil lamp. He then gently shook it near his ear to listen for any sounds inside.

His movements, though seemingly rough, revealed the caution of an expert. Finally, he squeezed the eggshell with a slight pressure—of course, he controlled the force—and the eggshell made a soft "crack" sound, revealing a tiny crack. A little egg white seeped out instantly, clear and viscous, carrying a fresh, slightly fishy smell.

"One dollar." Wei Chen put down the broken egg, his voice flat, and started bargaining. He didn't intend to renege on the price, but it showed the stall owner his attitude and his discerning eye—the egg wasn't that valuable, and he knew what he was talking about.

The stall owner's face twitched as he looked at the spilled egg white. He felt sorry for the egg and was even more shocked by the burly man's straightforward and brutal method of inspection. He swallowed hard, knowing he'd encountered a tough customer: "Brother, this...this price is too low! Everything's expensive these days, and it's not easy to collect these. One dollar and twenty cents! You can take them all for one dollar and twenty cents! This basket must weigh at least eleven or twelve pounds!"

Wei Chen didn't agree immediately, his gaze sweeping over the nearby stalls as if he were comparing prices. Eggs were indeed in short supply at the ghost market, with prices generally fluctuating between 1.2 and 1.5 yuan, 1.2 yuan considered the bottom line of the market price.

"Claim," he uttered succinctly, which was his way of agreeing.

The stall owner breathed a sigh of relief and quickly pulled out an old-fashioned steelyard balance with rust and an old winnowing basket from behind him. He carefully picked the eggs from the basket one by one and put them into the winnowing basket, moving very gently, afraid of breaking them again. In the dim light, the cursor of the weight moved on the steelyard balance, and the stall owner squinted at it for a long time.

"Brother, look, it's a good ten pounds and eight ounces! One dollar and twenty cents a pound, that's twelve dollars and ninety-six cents in total!" The stall owner moved the scale as close to Wei Chen's eyes as possible.

Wei Chen didn't even look at the scale. He dealt with supplies year-round, and his skill in weighing things was already highly refined. This basket of eggs weighed at most a little over ten pounds; the stall owner had clearly tampered with the scale.

He snorted coldly, reached out with his large hand, and grabbed the scale rod. The immense force almost caused the stall owner to drop it. Wei Chen flicked the weight rope with his fingers, and the scale rod suddenly sank, the weight falling with a "thud" onto the ten-pound star flower.

"Ten jin." He uttered the two words coldly, his gaze piercing the stall owner as if it were a physical object.

The stall owner felt uneasy under his gaze, sweat beading on his forehead. Knowing he had met a tough opponent, he dared not try to bluff any longer and hurriedly nodded and bowed: "Yes, yes, yes! Brother, you have a sharp eye! It's ten jin! It's ten jin! Ten jin, twelve yuan!" He quickly announced the number, afraid that this towering man would get angry.

Without another word, Wei Chen pulled out twelve yuan from the inside pocket of his cotton-padded jacket—all old bills—and slapped them into the stall owner's hand. Then, he picked up the basket of eggs, turned, and left, his tall figure quickly disappearing into the shadows and crowds of the ghost market.

The stall owner clutched the money, staring in the direction the burly man had disappeared. He wiped a cold sweat from his brow and muttered under his breath, "My goodness, where did this monster come from..."

Leaving behind the hustle and bustle and dim lights of the ghost market, Wei Chen stepped back into pure darkness. After confirming that no one was following him, he quickly circled around to behind a broken wall.

His body twitched slightly, his swollen muscles contracted, his rugged lines softened, and in the blink of an eye he transformed back into the slender and upright Wei Chen.

He carefully put away the basket of eggs and the brass key into his spatial backpack. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, he circulated his inner energy again, and with lightning speed, he sped towards the courtyard house.

The night wind whistled in my ears, but my heart was burning with excitement. The flour mill was settled, and the pigs in the storage space had found a stable "market." Life at home was about to improve.

I quietly climbed over the wall back to my own courtyard. Everything was as usual, quiet and still. My mother and sister were still breathing steadily and deeply.

Wei Chen tiptoed into the main room and, using the dim light coming through the window, gently placed the eggs he had taken out of his spatial storage—a full ten pounds of round, fresh eggs—one by one, on the octagonal table in the main room.

In the dim light, the pile of white eggs resembled a small treasure, radiating a warm glow. Having finished all this, he drifted back to his room like a wisp of smoke, took off his chilly coat, and lay down on his bed. His tense nerves relaxed, fatigue washed over him, and he quickly fell into a deep sleep.

As dawn broke, the sounds of people getting up began to fill the courtyard.

Wang Xiulan habitually woke up early, quietly dressed, and got off the kang (a heated brick bed) to prepare for her busy day. She pushed open the door, intending to go to the kitchen to start a fire and boil water. Her gaze habitually swept across the main room, and she suddenly stopped in her tracks!

On the table, there was a small mountain of round, white eggs! In the hazy morning light, they looked like a pile of tiny pearls, radiating an alluring luster. There must have been more than ten kilograms of them!

She rubbed her eyes, thinking she wasn't fully awake. Taking a few steps closer, she carefully picked one up. It was cool and heavy to the touch, the shell clean and smooth, with a fresh feel. Yes! They were real eggs! Dozens of them!

She immediately turned around, walked quickly to her son's bedroom door, and gently pushed it open a crack. She saw Wei Chen in the courtyard, facing the rising sun, slowly and powerfully practicing a set of boxing techniques she couldn't understand but which seemed very steady. His movements were fluid, his breathing long and even, and a slight sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Xiao Chen!" Wang Xiulan lowered her voice, with a hint of barely perceptible tension and worry, "You...you went out again last night?" Her gaze involuntarily drifted towards the main room.

Wei Chen slowly finished his movement, exhaled a long breath of white air, turned around, and said with a calm smile, "Yes, Mom, I went out for a bit. I had something to do, so I stopped by the ghost market to buy some eggs."

He walked over to his mother, looked at the small mountain of eggs on the table, and said in a relaxed but undeniably confident tone, "So, Mom, you really don't need to be frugal. Our family will never lack food. Eggs or meat, you can cook and eat as much as you want without worry. I have my connections; I can get them."

Wang Xiulan looked at her son's young yet unusually composed face, his eyes filled with a determination and sense of responsibility beyond his years.

She opened her mouth, wanting to ask something—that the ghost market was a place where all sorts of people mingled, would it be safe for her son to go alone? How much did all these eggs cost? But looking at her son's calm eyes, and at the real mountain of eggs on the table, she ultimately swallowed back her worries and doubts.

Her son has grown up, become capable, and has his own world and secrets. As a mother, she chooses to believe in and support him.

"Okay, Mom knows." She finally just sighed softly, her tone full of deep concern, "Be very careful when you go out tonight. It's dark, so don't let anyone see you, and don't cause any trouble."

She didn't ask any more questions, turned and walked towards the kitchen, her steps much lighter, her voice carrying a rare hint of relief, "This morning, we'll boil eggs! One for each of us! Enough!"

The chill of December had solidified in the hutongs of Beijing, covering the gray walls and black tiles with a layer of cold, hard frost. But this chill could not stop the growing festive atmosphere of the New Year, which stubbornly seeped out from the cracks in the doors and windows of every household, mingling with cooking smoke, the aroma of oil, and the faint smell of firecrackers, brewing and fermenting in the crisp air.

Starting from the 23rd day of the twelfth lunar month, the entire city of Beijing began its countdown to the New Year.

As dawn broke, soft sounds filled the courtyard. Wei Chen finished a set of boxing moves in the yard, the white breath he exhaled lingering as he finished. Pushing open the door, a warm aroma mixed with the scent of caramel wafted towards him.

In the kitchen, Wang Xiulan was tending the stove. A small pool of golden syrup in the pot was bubbling away, releasing a rich and enticing sweet aroma. Wei Ran curled up on a small stool in front of the stove like a kitten, her eyes fixed on the pot, her little nose twitching.

"Mom, it smells so good!" Wei Ran slurped her saliva.