Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

"Buy? Sell?" The hoarse voice sounded like sandpaper scraping.

"Sell." Wei Chen's voice was old and weary.

"Selling, two cents." A withered hand was stretched out in front of him.

Wei Chen took out two one-mao bills and placed them in the dark figure's cold palm. The dark figure flicked his fingers, and the bills disappeared. He stepped aside and said, "Same rules as always, let's talk about the goods, money and goods settled, no questions asked, no trouble caused."

"I understand." Wei Chen, his back hunched, carried a heavy basket and trudged into the shadows that were darker than the night.

The real ghost market lies deep within the city walls. It's ten times more oppressive than Pigeon Market. Not a single light shines, only shadowy human silhouettes, like wandering ghosts. Transactions take place in absolute silence or hushed whispers, like murmurs in the dark.

Some people lifted a corner of their clothes to reveal a few sesame cakes wrapped in oiled paper; some squatted on the ground, stirring their hands in cloth bags, making a rustling sound as millet was being rubbed together; some approached each other, their hands rapidly gesturing names in each other's sleeves, nodding or shaking their heads, and then quickly separated, exchanging money or goods under the cover of their clothes, before disappearing swiftly.

The air was thick with the smells of dust, mildew, sweat, and a faint, peculiar odor of the underworld—a mixture of food and metal. Vigilance was the only way to get around here; greed was the hidden driving force.

Wei Chen found a corner with his back against a cold, broken wall and put down the willow basket. He didn't immediately open the sack, but instead pretended to catch his breath, his cloudy eyes seemingly casually scanning the surroundings. In reality, his ten-meter mental detection acted like an invisible net, taking in all the nearby auras, movements, and even heartbeats. Only after confirming that there were no abnormalities locked onto him did he slowly lift a corner of the sack.

That patch of snow-white, thick pork fat, under the pale moonlight, was like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pool, instantly shattering the surrounding silence. Almost the instant the sack was opened, several dark figures, like sharks smelling blood, silently and swiftly surrounded it.

A man wearing a dark woolen overcoat, looking like a cadre, but with his head completely covered except for a pair of glasses, was the first to approach. He crouched down, carefully examining the color of the meat, pressing the thickness and elasticity of the fat in the dim light, a hint of undisguised surprise flashing in his eyes. He stretched out two fingers and quickly ran them along the inside of Wei Chen's sleeve in the shadows.

Wei Chen slowly shook his head, his withered fingers gesturing a "16" in the other person's sleeve—this was the black market pork price he had confirmed through various inquiries in Pigeon City. No meat coupons were required; it was 1.6 yuan per jin, more than double the price listed at the state-run meat shop (78 cents).

The cadre hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the thickest part of his buttocks and made a "five" gesture. Wei Chen nodded. The cadre immediately took out a wad of cash from his inner pocket, counted out eight one-yuan bills, and quickly stuffed them into Wei Chen's outstretched sleeve.

Wei Chen took the money, then pulled a gleaming short knife from the basket (actually, he mentally retrieved it from under the basket's cover). With a swift stroke, he cut off a five-pound chunk of meat, weighed it on a short scale (it weighed a full five pounds), wrapped it in pre-prepared oil paper, and handed it over. The cadre took it, quickly stuffed it into his canvas bag, and turned to disappear into the darkness.

As if a floodgate had been opened, the trading suddenly became lively. Men in work clothes, women carrying old baskets, even a young man in an old military uniform... silent, whispering buyers kept pouring in.

"Ribs, three jin." "Pure fat, two jin, render the oil!" "Whole pork knuckle! Weigh it!"

Wei Chen transformed into a precise and efficient machine. His thin but rock-solid hands gripped the knife, cutting quickly, accurately, and ruthlessly. His weighing relied entirely on the feel honed through years of martial arts training, with the weight never deviating by even a fraction.

As he took meat out of the basket, he used the cover of bending over, turning around, and the huge shadow of the basket to frantically "replenish" the cut pork pieces from the game's warehouse into the depths of the straw inside the basket.

The meat in the basket seemed like a bottomless pit, and Wei Chen's mind was stretched to the limit. The ten-meter detection range was like a high-powered radar, scanning the intentions of every approaching person. Any lingering with scrutiny or greed would make his muscles tense instantly.

Time slipped away silently amidst the cutting, weighing, collecting money, and replenishing. Sweat soaked through Wei Chen's inner clothes, then clung to his back, chilled by the cold night wind.

He roughly estimated that after more than ten replenishments, he had already lost nearly 400 jin (200 kg) of meat! The thick wad of banknotes in his arms and inner pockets was still hot to the touch, probably more than 600 yuan! In 1958, this would have taken an ordinary worker two or three years to save up, even without eating or drinking!

"Enough! Stop!" Alarm bells were ringing in Wei Chen's mind. The shipment volume was far beyond what was expected; any more and it would likely attract attention.

He immediately stopped restocking the warehouse. The last few pieces of meat in the basket were bought up by an old woman wearing a headscarf. Wei Chen quickly pulled up the sack, slung the basket over his shoulder—the basket was noticeably lighter now. He hunched over, his steps faltering as he prepared to leave this place of trouble.

Passing by a corner, Wei Chen saw a woman, also bundled up tightly, with several bulging cloth bags in front of her. He stopped, his cloudy gaze falling on one of them, gesturing with his eyes.

The woman whispered a price: "Two portions of flour, two mao a jin."

Wei Chen didn't haggle; he simply pulled out two yuan from his sleeve and handed it over, pointing to the largest cloth bag. The woman hesitated for a moment, then quickly stuffed the bag, which weighed at least ten pounds, into Wei Chen's willow basket, placing it under the burlap sack.

After wandering around the ghost market and looking around, a person bundled up tightly approached: "Want a ticket?"

Wei Chen nodded; he was looking for someone to sell tickets.

"Follow me!"

The two arrived at a secluded corner.

What kind of tickets do you need?

"I want cigarettes, alcohol, cloth, and grain. How much do you have?"

"A big customer, huh? I've been watching you for a while. You bought quite a bit of meat?"

His words made Wei Chen's heart tighten!

"Don't be nervous. The first thing we ticket dealers need is a keen eye. You made quite a bit tonight, and you were wandering around, so you knew to buy tickets! I have two Class B cigarette tickets here, five yuan each, the kind that can buy ten cartons. I also have six Class B liquor tickets. Six feet of cloth, twenty jin of coarse grain, and ten jin of fine grain!"

"I'll take all of these. You'll definitely make some money, but don't rip me off. Just consider it making friends. Next time, prepare more, and I'll buy from you again!" Wei Chen said in a low voice. "You know I'm not short of money!"

"Okay, let's get acquainted. Just call me Mouse! I usually hang out around here. These tickets are 24 yuan in total, consider it making friends with you. The cigarette and alcohol tickets are the most expensive." Mouse calculated the amount for Wei Chen one by one.

Wei Chen quickly took the tickets, paid, and left. "We'll be here again the night after tomorrow, so be prepared."

"Okay, brother!" Mouse replied happily in a low voice. Another big spender!

Carrying the heavy load of flour, Wei Chen turned around and put the tickets into his backpack. Instead of heading straight for the exit, he walked deeper into the city walls, into darker and more dilapidated corners. Like a ghost blending into the shadows, he moved silently among the collapsed bricks and overgrown weeds, his mental field at maximum, sweeping behind him like a searchlight.

After circling twice to make sure no one was following, they finally emerged from a collapsed gap in the city wall and embarked on the desolate path back to the village.

When he got home, his mother, Wang Xiulan, got up when she heard the noise. Wei Chen took out ten jin of mixed flour from the basket on his back.

"Did you manage to buy any grain? How much did it cost?"

"Two pieces!"

"It's not cheap! But with all this money, we'll have enough food to last until the fall harvest. Let's not go to the ghost market anymore; it's too dangerous."

"It's okay, Mom! I'll go again the day after tomorrow. I've already made an appointment with them. I also have 20 jin of mixed flour left. Once I buy it, I won't go anymore."

A day later, also in the middle of the night, in the ghost market of Changping, the crescent moon hung like a hook.

This time, Wei Chen disguised himself in the same way as before, covering his head with old clothes. He was even more cautious, only symbolically placing two spare ribs in the basket as a "showpiece".

However, based on the reputation he gained from selling "fat meat" last time, as soon as his stall "opened for business," several dark figures swarmed around it like flies smelling fish, among them seemingly some of his "regular customers" from last time.

The trading unfolded in a near-frenzied silence. The craving for high-quality meat, compressed to its extreme under the rules of the ghost market, erupted with even greater ferocity.

"Quick! Fat! Five pounds!" "How much else? I'll take it all!" "Brother, you've got connections! When are you coming next time? Save some for your brother!"

Wei Chen remained silent, his hand movements so fast they almost left afterimages. His internal energy circulated continuously, maintaining his intense focus, precise movements, and constant alertness to deal with any potential crisis.

The frequency of pork replenishment increased even more; with a slight thought, pieces of fresh meat fell into the basket. In less than two hours, five hundred jin of pork were sold out again! The banknotes in his arms were so bulging that his chest felt tight; adding the money from last time, the total was definitely over fourteen hundred yuan!

The immense wealth brought not joy, but a chilling sense of crisis. Several slightly malicious gazes, more fervent and unrestrained than before, were like hungry wolves locking onto their prey, filled with a determined ferocity. He could even "sense" the outline of a hard object hidden in the sleeve of one of them!

"Let's go! Right now! We can't come here again anytime soon!" Wei Chen's heart pounded. He decisively packed up his stall, picked up the empty basket (which symbolically contained some miscellaneous items), and went to the place he had arranged to meet Haozi last time.

Seeing Wei Chen, he sensed Wei Chen's panic and quickly took out a stack of coupons, mainly for tobacco and alcohol to supplement food, but also including some soap coupons, sugar coupons, oil coupons, etc., in considerable quantities. The total came to eighty-two yuan. Wei Chen paid, took the coupons, and left immediately.

Wei Chen didn't pause for a moment; his figure blended into the deepest shadows of the city wall like a ghost and disappeared instantly.