Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

"My husband Yan said this was really close! Captain Liu from the security department was going to punish him severely! At least half a month in jail! And he'd have to be dismissed!"

"Huh? Is it that serious? Then why were they released again?"

"It's all because Wei Chen is capable! He personally went to Captain Liu! I don't know what they said, but Captain Liu gave him face and changed it to a one-day detention and a small fine!"

"My God! Does Wei Chen's word carry that much weight with the security department?"

"Of course! Didn't you see how Sha Zhu and Xu Damao came back? They were like wilted eggplants, thanking Wei Chen profusely! It seems they're truly convinced!"

"Tsk tsk, you really can't judge a book by its cover! He seems quiet most of the time, but he's really useful when it counts!"

"From now on, when the three gentlemen speak in this courtyard, they'll probably have to consider the expression of the man in the east wing..."

"Who can argue with that!"

Discussions reached their peak around dinner time. Almost every household was talking about it at the dinner table. Wei Chen's image in everyone's mind underwent a dramatic transformation.

He was no longer the unassuming, solitary young neighbor, but a hidden "powerful figure" with immense influence and a deep network of connections. His ability to secure someone's release from the notoriously strict Liu Changqing was a skill few could possess.

Awe took root in the hearts of every neighbor who knew about it. This awe was complex, mixed with envy, jealousy, curiosity, and a hint of barely perceptible flattery and apprehension. People began to re-examine the two quiet rooms in the east courtyard and reassess Wei Chen's importance in this compound.

Yi Zhonghai was naturally the happiest, feeling that he had made the right move, saving Sha Zhu and further strengthening his relationship with Wei Chen (in his opinion).

Liu Haizhong, acting like an elder, went around emphasizing to everyone that Wei Chen had done it out of respect for his elders and following the unified arrangements of the compound, trying to attribute the credit to the "collective decision of the compound leadership." Yan Bugui, on the other hand, secretly rejoiced that he had gone last night, hadn't offended anyone, and had even gained a favor for free; perhaps he would need Wei Chen's help in the future.

After their initial fear and gratitude, the two main characters in the incident, Sha Zhu and Xu Damao, also began to face reality. They had to pay fines, write self-criticisms, and embarrass themselves in front of the entire factory.

But more than anything else, what left an indelible mark on them was the awe they felt for Wei Chen. This awe was enough to make them, for a long time to come, restrain all their claws in front of Wei Chen, becoming cautious and even deliberately trying to please him.

As for Wei Chen, the central figure in the incident, when he returned home that evening, his mother, Wang Xiulan, had already prepared a simple meal—steamed white flour buns, pork stew with vermicelli, and a small dish of pickled vegetables. During the meal, Wang Xiulan couldn't help but ask, "Chen'er, everyone in the courtyard is saying that you were the one who brought Zhu Zi and Xu Damao back from the security office?"

"Yes, Captain Liu gave us face and let us go early. He still punished us as he should have." Wei Chen picked up a piece of cabbage with his chopsticks, his tone as casual as if he were just saying that the weather was nice today.

"Did I make things difficult for you? Did I offend the leaders?" Wang Xiulan was still a little worried.

"Mom, don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Wei Chen reassured her. "I'm just passing on a message and asking about the situation. How to handle it is up to the security department."

Looking at her son's calm profile, Wang Xiulan knew he was always reliable, so she didn't ask any more questions. She just sighed, "Well, we live in the same courtyard, so let's help each other out if we can. But Zhu Zi's temper needs to be changed. And Xu Damao, his mouth is too sharp."

All this noise seemed to be shut out by the small room in the east courtyard. Wei Chen finished the last bite of his cornbread, drank the soup in his bowl, cleaned up the dishes, returned to his bedroom, left a telekinetic lock on the door latch, and teleported into the game world to "play".

For him, the daytime turmoil was over. It was nothing more than a favor done on the spur of the moment, a simple social interaction, based on a weighing of pros and cons. He needed no gratitude from anyone, nor did he care what others said.

He only wanted to maintain his own quiet space in this chaotic courtyard, to preserve a delicate balance that was beneficial to him. Today's events, precisely without causing him any trouble, reinforced this balance.

The farce between Sha Zhu and Xu Damao was like a stone thrown into a lake, creating ripples that ultimately made the invisible fishing rod in his hand seem even more steady as he fished by the lake. As for how many undercurrents were beneath the surface or how many eyes were watching from the shore, he didn't care much. As long as they didn't splash his clothes or scare away his fish, that was enough.

As night deepened, the courtyard gradually drifted into slumber. Only the gentle breeze rustled through the rooftops, as if foreshadowing that the days to come would not be peaceful. Wei Chen treated it like a real-life TV drama, a kind of spice in this era with little entertainment.

Time flies, and several months have passed. During this time, the courtyard has entered a period of tranquility, and people are hardly making any noise, nor do they have the energy to make any noise.

This autumn came exceptionally early and exceptionally harsh.

It was as if God had pent up all his bad temper in this year, and then hurled it all at this already disaster-prone land. The severe drought that lasted for months in early spring, without a drop of rain, had already drained the earth of its last bit of moisture, leaving the fields cracked and the seedlings withered and yellow.

People eagerly awaited the summer to bring a turn for the better, but what awaited them was an unexpected and extremely violent downpour and flash flood. The muddy water breached the dikes, submerged the crops that had managed to struggle out of the drought, and also washed away the last bit of hope in the hearts of countless people.

Just as the floodwaters had finally receded and the weather was still catching its breath, autumn arrived, a season that should have been crisp and clear. Instead, it was prematurely hit by a biting cold wave and deadly frost. Then, as if the disaster wasn't enough, swarms of locusts and armyworms swept in, devouring the remaining, dying greenery.

The combined impact of multiple natural disasters was devastating. Nationwide grain production suffered an unprecedented blow, with widespread crop failure and drastic yield reductions. The autumn harvest, which had been carrying all hopes, turned into a complete and utterly disheartening devastation.

The precipitous drop in grain production reveals, behind the cold statistics, the faces of hundreds of millions, swollen and sallow from hunger, and the countless eyes, empty and lifeless from the lack of hope.

As the capital, Beijing was naturally the most important city to protect. Trains loaded with "missions" worked day and night to transport the limited amount of food and supplies from all over the country, prioritizing government agencies, the military, large factories and mines, and urban residents.

However, faced with such an unprecedented nationwide famine, even the capital city was like a large ship struggling to sail through raging waves, inevitably feeling the cold and suffocating sensation of the seawater rushing in.

The grain reserves were being depleted rapidly, and allocation was becoming increasingly difficult. Telegrams requesting assistance from all directions were flying to the central government like snowflakes, and every figure was alarming. The supply in the city was visibly strained, quickly sliding from "slightly insufficient" to "extremely scarce," and finally sinking into a quagmire of "severe shortage across the board."

Food coupons, those small pieces of paper that once symbolized the welfare and security of urban residents, are now increasingly difficult to exchange for sufficient food rations, even when held in hand. Supply standards have been lowered again and again, the proportion of coarse grains has increased, and refined grains have become a taste that can only be savored in dreams.

Side dishes? Meat, eggs, and oil have almost disappeared from the tables of ordinary citizens. The occasional pickled vegetables and tofu dregs that are rationed have become delicacies that require queuing up in the middle of the night and fighting tooth and nail to get.

Black market prices were exorbitantly high and extremely risky. Malnutrition hung over everyone like a huge, gray cloud.

This nationwide torrent of hunger also mercilessly swept over the not-so-high threshold of the courtyard house, submerging every inch of the land and permeating every person here.

Change happens slowly but surely.

The first thing to disappear was sound. The courtyard house, once bustling with activity from dawn till dusk, was almost never quiet. Arguments at the communal water tap, quarrels over a tiny space to dry clothes, children chasing and playing, veiled insults between mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law, the strained opera or rousing news broadcasts from the radio… all this noise that once formed the background of daily life in the courtyard house was gradually erased, as if by an invisible hand.

No more arguments about who used an extra ladle of water by the pool. Everyone silently filled their cups, carefully carrying them home, afraid of spilling a single drop. The frequency of laundry decreased sharply; clothes became patched more and their colors faded, but no one cared. Because movement consumed energy, and in times of extreme food scarcity, energy was more precious than gold.

At the entrance of the Jia family compound in the middle courtyard, Jia Zhangshi's signature sharp and sarcastic scolding voice could no longer be heard. She spent most of her time curled up on the kang (a heated brick bed), covered with a patched quilt, conserving every bit of warmth. Occasionally, she would get out of bed, but her steps were unsteady, her eyes unfocused, and even when she scolded her daughter-in-law Qin Huairu as "a useless thing," it sounded weak and feeble.

Qin Huairu's cheeks quickly sunken, her cheekbones protruded, and her eye bags turned bluish. Every day she carried the heavy burden of hunger and Jia Dongxu's dwindling rations, while also facing her mother-in-law's silent resentment and two children whose eyes were green with hunger, constantly shouting "Mom, I'm hungry."

She didn't even have the strength to cry anymore; all she could do was mechanically try to fill her family's seemingly never-ending stomachs with increasingly thin gruel.

Calculation? Taking advantage? When even basic survival is a problem, those shrewd and petty schemes evaporate like dew in the sun. Her only calculation now is how to use her limited food ration coupons and food allowances to keep her family alive for one more day.