Chapter 10

The oil lamp flame jumped about in the broken bowl, stretching then flattening the four shadows in the room, flinging them onto the uneven earthen wall. The pot of stewed potatoes and radish had already been scraped bare; even the broth was wiped clean by the He father and son to soak with coarse rice. The air mingled with the harsh bite of low‑grade baijiu, the lingering food aroma, and He Daqing's greasy old‑cook smell.

He Daqing's face flushed red, he belched contentedly, and his finger unconsciously tapped "dong dong" on the chipped rim of his coarse porcelain bowl. Looking at Li Ping'an, his gaze was warmer than earlier that afternoon. "All right, Ping'an! I didn't expect it, kid—you've got some skill!" He smacked his lips, half sincere, half flattering, "The oil scraps are fried to fragrant crisp, the radish‑potato stew is soft and smooth, the heat is spot‑on—you've definitely cooked before!"

Li Ping'an gave a shy smile, revealing two little tiger teeth, and quickly refilled He Daqing's empty bowl with baijiu: "Uncle He, don't flatter me! I'm just a country bumpkin filling my belly; how could I compare to you, the master chef of Four Nine City? It's only because I'm feeling warm inside today that I dare to spare a bit of oil." His words were humble, but the corner of his eye flicked like a small brush over He Daqing's relaxed, chubby face.

The heat was ready.

He raised his own half‑bowl of wine, his face clouded with the bewilderment of a newcomer and uncertainty about the future, and offered it: "Uncle He, this toast is for you! If you hadn't lent a hand, I, this outsider clod, would be completely in the dark—couldn't find a place to settle, let alone tell east from west!" He tipped his head back and gulped a mouthful; the harsh liquor made his teeth grit, showing his "honest" nature.

He Daqing, feeling comfortable from the praise, swigged a mouthful and drained it, waved his palm‑leaf fan and said, "Ha! Distant relatives aren't as good as close neighbors! It's not right to be aloof!"

"Li Er is just that kind of Li Er," Li Ping'an set down his bowl, let out a heavy sigh, that haze of confusion was so thick it wouldn't dissolve, like a floating leaf without a heel, "but here… my heart is still all over the place. As you can see, I'm just a bare pole; besides this broken skin, I have no hair. From now on… I'll have to scrape for food to survive, right? This Beiping City is boundlessly large, and the water is also very murky…"

He paused, as if gathering strength, leaned forward, voice low and cautiously probing, "Uncle He, you're the old resident of this courtyard, have seen a lot. Could you… tell me about the elders and youngsters here? I'm just arrived, my eyes are black, if I slip and mess with any elder's lung tube, that would be something I couldn't just walk away from!"

His posture was low enough, his eyes full of dependence and seeking instruction; anyone looking at him would think he was an honest kid eager to quickly figure out the ways and settle down.

He Daqing, drunk and buoyed by Li Ping'an's praise, his belly warm, his vigilance already tossed into the moat, wiped his mouth, waved his palm‑leaf fan and switched to "Alley gossip" mode: "Hey! This matter, you've asked the right person! In our 95th courtyard, you, Uncle He, are the one who knows!"

He started counting on his fingers, spittle began to fly sideways.

"See? The rear‑courtyard east wing, Liu Haizhong's house!" He Daqing nodded toward the rear courtyard, "Old Liu works as a master forge worker at Lou's Steel Rolling Mill, his two sons— the older called Guangqi, about three or four years old, just learning to run, the younger Guangtian, probably still nursing in his mother's womb! This man…" He lowered his voice, smirked, "official‑obsessed! He sticks his nose into even the tiniest matters."

"Rear‑courtyard west wing, Xu Fugui's house!" He pointed a bit west, "Xu Fugui, now that's a capable person! He runs the film screenings at Lou's Steel Factory, serving the bosses. He's sharp, monkey‑like. He has a son named Xu Damao, about the same size as Zhuzi. That kid, tch‑tch…" He Daqing's face showed a tooth‑ache expression, "He's cut from the same mold as his father—slick, his eyes flick with ideas, like that old fox in his family!"

"Central courtyard east wing, Yi Zhonghai, Master Yi!" He Daqing's tone carried an indefinable flavor, "Old Yi, he's also a master at the steel rolling mill, in the same workshop as Uncle Jia. His technique… no doubt, it's this!" He gave a thumbs up, but his words drifted, "As for his character… on the surface he appears a gentleman, always talking about benevolence and morality; anyone in the courtyard with a problem seeks his counsel, he's enthusiastic." He smacked his lips, didn't continue, but his gaze hinted at a "you know what" meaning.

"The central courtyard main house, that's my family!" He Daqing patted his chest, then as if stepping on dog poop his face sagged, "Right next to the western side is Jia Youcai's house! Also at the steel rolling mill, same workshop as Old Yi. Old Jia is decent, but his wife, Jia Zhangshi…" His voice was as low as a mosquito hum, his face showed genuine disgust, "She's a rolling‑knife meat! Known across ten miles as a ragged, reckless household! Rolling around and taking advantage is everyday, never enough! You live in the front courtyard, stay far from her! Absolutely don't get involved! Being attached to her is more repulsive than sticking to a toad! Her son Jia Dongxu, eleven, looks withered, not a cheap lamp!"

"Front courtyard west wing," He Daqing nodded toward the front courtyard, "Yan Bu Gui, Yan Lao Xi! A family of cultured people. Yan Lao Xi runs a small bookshop, literate, considered a 'teacher' in the alley. His small abacus clicks, likes to snag cheap paper, ink, inkstone, but outwardly seems decent. He has a three‑year‑old son named Yan Jiecheng. Their household… is the most leisurely in the courtyard."

Li Ping'an listened with rapt attention, occasionally nodding in sync, his face shifting through expressions of "oh my", "impressive", "scary". When He Daqing mentioned "the whole courtyard belongs to the old lady", Li Ping'an interjected at just the right moment, with a country‑folk's curious wonder: "Uncle He, I heard… the old lady was once a secondary consort of a Qing prince? Is that really true?"

He Daqing was startled, the drunkenness seemed to thin, his gaze flickered, he mumbled, "This… really can't be clarified. I only moved in later myself. The old lady has deep roots, she rarely mentions the old almanacs. But…" He glanced left and right, his voice reduced to a breath, murmuring, "I've heard people chew over it, saying the old lady's son is a high official at the Guo Party Secret Bureau in the south! A remarkable figure! Like a divine dragon seen only by the head, never showing his face."

"Secret Bureau!" Li Ping'an's throat tightened sharply, but he only managed a "Oh" on his face, showing a country‑folk's awe and bewilderment toward a high official. The news felt heavy.

He quickly poured another drink for He Daqing, steered the conversation back, his face again bearing the worry of an empty bowl: "Uncle He, hearing you ramble, the courtyard's waters are indeed deep! My heart is even more uncertain. You see… as a newcomer, I want to find a livelihood in Beiping City to fill my stomach; which path should I hustle along? You, with your wide experience, could point me a direction?" His tone was earnest, treating He Daqing as a guiding light.

"Hey! Four Nine City, the hungry don't die, the diligent survive! I see you kid is pretty clever, quick with hands and feet…" He counted on his fingers, spittle flying, "Sell street performances on the overpass? No, no, you need a real act and have to pay a 'share fee'! Become an apprentice in a factory? Like Lou's Steel Rolling Mill, the Textile Factory, those are stable but have strict rules, you grind for years, the wages barely fit between your teeth! Work as a waiter in a restaurant? You need slick talk and sharp eyes…"

Li Ping'an listened, nodding repeatedly, his mind as clear as a mirror. The jobs He Daqing listed were all hard, low‑level gigs. Li Ping'an possessed a spatial relic, so he wouldn't really take those jobs? But he played along fully.

When He Daqing mentioned "pulling a rickshaw", Li Ping'an's mental abacus went "clack". This job! Running all over the city, weaving through streets and alleys, perfect for gathering information! The wind and sun are harsh, but it's exactly the kind of work the "fleeing poor kid" should do! An excellent cover!

A suitable look of "I can do this job" flashed on his face, and he quickly asked: "Uncle He, you said pulling a rickshaw… it's a bit tiring, but can I cover more places? Would the information be more accessible too?"

While the front courtyard east wing was busy with lanterns and clinking cups, the other windows of the 95th courtyard were also restless.

Central courtyard, Yi Zhonghai's house. Yi Zhonghai sat cross‑legged on the kang, with a small plate of pickled vegetable dumplings, leisurely sipping Bangzi Noodle Porridge. His wife mended clothes under the lamp. Yi Zhonghai's ears perked up, hearing the faint booming voice and laughter of He Daqing from the front courtyard, his brows subtly knit into a knot.

"Old He poured again?" Yi Zhonghai's wife whispered, "And brought that new kid along?"

Yi Zhonghai "hm" a low voice: "The new tenant in the front courtyard, a half‑grown boy, looks skinny. Old He says he's a distant nephew, his hometown suffered a disaster so he fled here." He paused, as if weighing something, "He looks honest on the surface. But these days… with war and chaos, it's wise to keep an eye out." The words showed caution, yet his gaze held a barely perceptible scrutiny, as if assessing whether the newcomer would upset the delicate balance he painstakingly maintains.

Rear courtyard, Liu Haizhong's house. Liu Haizhong paced back and forth with his hands behind his back, his wife clearing dishes. Liu Haizhong's ears stood up like a rabbit's, catching the front courtyard's sounds, his nose exhaled a heavy snort: "Hmph! He the butcher! After a few swigs of cat urine, he doesn't even know his own surname? Bringing an unknown outsider into the courtyard, drinking five or six drinks! No rules at all! Later I must tell the old lady, we need to set a regulation for newcomers!" He carried the bearing of a courtyard chief administrator.

Front courtyard west wing, Yan Bu Gui's house. Yan Bu Gui, by the light of a bean‑sized oil lamp, carefully glued the spine of an old book. His wife gently patted three‑year‑old Yan Jiecheng. Yan Bu Gui listened to the neighbor He Daqing's lofty talk, his eyes behind the lenses turned a few times.

"The newcomer… surname Li?" he whispered to his wife, "In the afternoon I saw him carrying a tattered bundle, doesn't look like he has means. Could he rent the front courtyard east wing plus the side room, for five silver dollars a month? The old lady's price never softens…"

He nudged his glasses that slid to his nose, his fingers idly drummed on the cracked tabletop, as if moving abacus beads, "Did he bring all his family's hidden stash? Or… He Daqing patched him up?" His wife shook her head. Yan Bu Gui fell silent, but his gaze clearly read "needs deeper digging."

Jia Zhangshi was in her own room, stuffing a hard shoe sole while perking up her ears to the front courtyard's sounds. Hearing He Daqing's robust laugh, her triangular eyes rolled, she pursed her lips and spat: "Pah! Fat He! Showing off that pig feed again! Bringing a penniless nephew to mooch food and drink, how splendid! That new kid is also a pauper, not a cent!" Her eyes flicked, and she began to tally small calculations: the newcomer rented the front courtyard east wing? That's close to the courtyard's communal well… later when fetching water, she'll "give him a hint", making him work harder!

The tiny siheyuan was like a pot of warm water simmering on a cold night in Beiping. Li Ping'an, the newly tossed stone, had already silently stirred faint ripples, some bright, some dim. Everyone was mentally sketching the suddenly emerged "He Daqing distant nephew". Is he an honest, hard‑pressed soul? A potential troublemaker? Or… a fresh sprout that could skim some oil?

In the front courtyard east wing, Li Ping'an finally offered He Daqing a bowl, his face showing just the right amount of gratitude and a slight flushed hue: "Uncle He, after listening to your rambling all night, my heart feels much clearer! Tomorrow I'll still need to trouble you, to take me to get that 'Good Citizen Certificate'; I've finished this bowl, feel free!"

He Daqing, his tongue a bit slurred from drink, grandly waved his hand: "Rest… rest assured! The… the promise is on Uncle He!"

The oil‑lamp flame leapt suddenly, reflecting on Li Ping'an's seemingly simple face, yet his eyes were crystal clear. The night in Drum and Bell Alley's 95th courtyard was deep black.

Identification is just the first step, and in Beiping City under the Japanese Soldiers' bayonets, within this siheyuan of hidden currents, the real storm still lies ahead. He set down the empty bowl, listening to the north wind outside the alley that sounded like ghostly wails, a barely visible curl at his mouth. Tomorrow, he must go meet those Black Dogs.