Chapter 8: Love Fills the Siheyuan!

Nanluoguxiang.

No more running!

Li Ping'an inhaled deeply, the scent of aged earth mixed with worldly smoke flooding his lungs. Instinctively he tugged at the dry, tattered bundle on his shoulder (the good stuff lies in the void), lifted his foot and stepped into the alley destined to entangle with him.

The winter sun slanted across the bluish‑gray brick wall, stretching long, cold shadows. Deep in the alley, vague shouts of a frolicking child and a bright yet slightly irritable woman's scolding drifted.

The next step is to dig out the legendary "Number 95 Courtyard" within this deep residence of Nanluoguxiang, a place for himself and for a future sister, to find a foothold amid the chaotic Beiping City.

He squinted, looking against the light toward the deeper alley, his gaze showing a newcomer's bewilderment yet harboring a subtle strength. In this tiger‑and‑dragon Four Nine City, Li Ping'an has arrived!

The lane was narrow, the bluestone slabs worn smooth by foot traffic. Courtyard gates on either side were open or shut, their heights revealing the residents' wealth or poverty. Li Ping'an slowed his pace, his eyes scanning the mottled house numbers like spotlights.

Number 95.

A black‑ebony plaque, blackened by oil smoke, its edges rounded, the characters still clear, nailed to a courtyard gate whose black paint had peeled to reveal the wood beneath. The doorposts were two weathered stone drums, exuding an antique aura.

This is it! Li Ping'an's heart leapt a beat; memories from his past life about the petty scheming in the "Love‑filled Siheyuan" surged—this place famed as "Even the Three Purities would have to strip a layer of skin." He curled his lip, wondering if it was truly this wicked or just a film's fabrication. Perfect, he thought, a chance to experience it himself.

Feigning exhaustion, he crouched at the wind‑sheltered wall opposite the Number 95 gate, dropping the tattered bundle at his feet. A corner of his eye lingered on the closed courtyard door, his ears pricked for any sounds inside. Faint clatters of a wok spatula striking a pot rim drifted, accompanied by a strong aroma of oil and spices.

Creak—

The courtyard gate swung open from inside, and a man stepped out. He was about forty, short, a bit plump, wrapped in a deep‑blue cotton coat faded to near‑white, its cuffs and front stained with bright oil marks. His under‑eye bags swelled like two small water pouches, exuding a perpetual sleep‑deprived sluggishness. Most striking was the thick oil‑smoke odor, as if he'd just been pulled from the stove.

He carried an empty dustpan, as if taking out trash, and when he looked up he saw Li Ping'an crouching at the wall's base. The youngster's clothes were shabby, his face sallow and thin (an act), yet his eyes were clear, not begging but seeming to wait. The man halted, his thick Beijing‑accented voice ringing out with a hint of puzzlement: "Little brother, why are you standing here dazed? Ran into trouble? Waiting for someone?"

Li Ping'an lifted his head, his gaze meeting the man's directly. The sight made his heart "thump" — that face, those swollen eye bags, the slightly harsh yet cunning features… it was exactly the actor Ni Dahong from his past life, only twenty years younger! A name nearly leapt from Li Ping'an's throat — He Daqing! The courtyard's cook, Sha Zhu's father, the one who later fled with the White Widow!

To probe further, Li Ping'an quickly stood, forcing a hint of newcomer's nervousness and fatigue onto his face, his throat a little hoarse: "Uncle, hello, sorry to bother you. I'm a refugee from the south, hit by disaster on the road, and just barely made it to Four Nine City. I'm Li Ping'an."

He pointed at the Number 95 gate: "I heard someone mention that the lady owner here has a vacant room for rent? I… I'd like to rent two rooms to settle, may I ask… how should I address you, brother?"

"Oh— a refugee!" the man understood, the scrutinizing look on his face softening, replaced by neighborly sympathy. "I'm He Daqing, I live in the main house of the central courtyard. As for the lady, she does have a vacant room."

He gave Li Ping'an a few glances up and down, noting his youth and solitary appearance, and added, "The lady is probably at home now; shall I take you in to ask?"

"He Daqing!" The name matched! Li Ping'an's lingering doubt vanished. Indeed a beast's den! A grateful smile instantly spread across his face, his head bobbing like a chick pecking grain: "Thank you so much, Uncle He! I appreciate you showing me the way!"

He Daqing waved his hand, signaling Li Ping'an to follow, then turned and pushed open the half‑closed courtyard gate. Li Ping'an inhaled deeply, suppressing the swirling "plot preview" in his mind, tightened the empty bundle on his shoulder, stepped forward, and set foot into the legendary "simple‑folk" Number 95 Siheyuan.

Upon entering the gate, the light dimmed instantly. The square courtyard of the Siheyuan opened up. Bluish bricks glistened underfoot. Directly opposite the main gate stood the rear house; the left and right wings were the east and west side rooms, with side rooms on either side of the central courtyard; the main house faced north‑south. The east and west wings of the back courtyard were empty. The yard wasn't large but orderly, corners piled with coal lumps and assorted items. A few drying ropes spanned the courtyard, bearing half‑dry clothes.

He Daqing led the unfamiliar teenage boy inside, instantly drawing the gazes of the courtyard residents.

"Daqing, whose child is this?" He Daqing's wife spoke first, her voice bright and tinged with alley flavor.

He Daqing replied while walking, his tone moderate: "A refugee from the south, named Li Ping'an. Looking for the lady to view rooms, wants to rent two."

"Oh, renting?" a lean head poked out from a window of the west side room in the front courtyard, adjusting glasses on his nose (Yan Bu Gui), "The lady's rooms haven't been rented out for a while." His words carried a hint of calculation.

Li Ping'an lowered his head slightly, ignoring the murmurs and scrutinizing glances, and followed He Daqing through the central courtyard's skywell straight to the back yard. He felt those gazes like tiny hooks scraping him, curious, weighing, perhaps with a hidden agenda. The air inside the courtyard seemed thicker than outside.

The back yard was cleaner; the main house had three rooms, with side rooms on each side. He Daqing reached the main house door, lifted his hand and knocked three firm times: "Lady! Lady! I've brought a guest to view the rooms!"

From inside came a clear, leisurely voice with a hint of affectation: "Come in." The tone was full‑bodied, showing no sign of hearing loss.

He Daqing pushed the door open, a faint sandalwood scent mingling with old furniture drifting out. He stepped aside to let Li Ping'an enter, staying outside, and said to him: "Little brother, you chat with the lady yourself; she lives here. Lady… cough, be a bit clever." He vaguely brushed over the "hearing‑impaired" remark, clearly the door was open, gave a slight nod toward the interior as a greeting, then turned back to the central courtyard.

Li Ping'an's mind cleared like a mirror as he stepped into the room. The light was dim, taking a moment to adjust. The furnishings were old‑fashioned yet impeccably tidy. A carved Arhat bed stood against the wall, covered with a dark mattress. An elderly lady with small feet, wearing a deep‑purple patterned silk‑cotton coat and black cuffed trousers, sat cross‑legged beside a low table, twirling a string of glossy prayer beads. Her hair was silver‑white, a neat little bun at the back secured with a plain silver hairpin.

Deep lines marked her face, yet her skin was fair, hinting at a youthful beauty; her eyes, though small, shone with worldly shrewdness and calm. In her fifties, her back was remarkably straight, exuding the controlling aura of an old‑fashioned aristocratic family—this was the Deaf Old Lady, the side consort of the Prince‑Baili's mansion, now gazing at Li Ping'an with steady, unflinching eyes.

Li Ping'an quickly stepped forward, bowing slightly, his voice clear and respectful: "Lady, greetings, sorry to disturb you. I'm Li Ping'an, a newcomer from elsewhere, wishing to rent two rooms here to settle."

The Deaf Old Lady's gaze measured Li Ping'an from his tattered clothes to the empty bundle, her face expressionless, speaking slowly in a low voice with a Beijing accent: "Rent? Or… buy?" The final word lingered.

"Rent, Lady," Li Ping'an replied bluntly. "I don't have enough money to buy." He deliberately showed a hint of embarrassment.

"Oh…" The lady's hand continued twirling the prayer beads. "Renting… that depends on which room you like. Prices… differ."

"Excuse me, could you show me around?" Li Ping'an lowered his posture.

The Deaf Old Lady set the prayer beads aside, slowly moved the Arhat bed. Though short, her small feet walked steadily. She picked up a black‑ebony cane by the door (more decorative than functional) and led Li Ping'an out of the main room.

The viewing was rather dull. The lady spoke sparingly, merely opening doors for Li Ping'an to inspect himself. The east and west wings of the back courtyard were empty, deep‑set and dim. The east and west wings of the central courtyard were brighter, yet Li Ping'an's heart thumped, sensing the central courtyard's crowd of eyes and gossip.

Finally they reached the front courtyard; the east side room had two units, with a tiny side room attached. The east side room faced east‑west, allowing the afternoon sun to slant in; its windows were papered with fresh Korean paper, looking clean and bright. The side room was smaller but self‑contained, suitable as a storage or tiny kitchen. Its key position near the front made access easy and quieter, perfect for avoiding the "big shots" in the central courtyard.

"Lady, how do I rent this east side room together with the adjoining tiny side room?" Li Ping'an asked, pointing at the front courtyard's east side room.

The Deaf Old Lady, leaning on her cane in the courtyard, scanned the two rooms, then returned her gaze to Li Ping'an's face, saying slowly and deliberately: "East side room, three dollars a month. Small side room, two dollars a month. Pay first—then move in." Her tone was flat yet carried an unnegotiable firmness.

Five dollars a month! In these times that's no small sum, enough for a common family's monthly grain. Li Ping'an felt steadier. To him the money was a drop in the bucket, with gold and silver mountains stacked in the void. The trouble was how to explain a refugee boy could produce the cash without raising suspicion.

A hint of hesitation and a pang of embarrassment flickered on his face, as if battling inside, then he gritted his teeth, as if committing fully: "Alright! Lady, I'll rent! At the price you said! Can we sign the contract now?" He acted as though he'd emptied his savings.

The Deaf Old Lady's cloudy eyes flashed a faint understanding, and without further questions she nodded: "Come with me."

The rental contract was a ready‑made form; just fill in name, room number, term, and rent. Li Ping'an lifted his brush and wrote the three characters "Li Ping'an" in the tenant section.

When writing the rent, he naturally unbuttoned his tattered cotton coat, reached into an unremarkable old inner pocket (actually pulling from the void), and produced five heavy, gleaming silver dollars, then counted two more as deposit (the lady required two‑for‑one), totaling seven, which he gently placed on the table.

The silver coins "clinked" crisply on contact. The Deaf Old Lady's gaze lingered on them for a moment; she extended her thin yet clean hand, lifted one, squinted at its luster in the window light, gave it a light blow at her mouth, then held it to her ear to listen to the faint hum.

Her movements were practiced; after confirming no flaw she slowly set the coins aside, stamped her seal on the contract, then retrieved a brass key from an old little box and handed it to Li Ping'an.

"Keep the key safe. The lease… must be reported to the housing office for tax; that's my business, you needn't run errands." The lady handed Li Ping'an a copy of the contract. "Live here; the courtyard's rules… you'll understand after time passes." The final line was plain yet held meaning.

"Thank you, Lady!" Li Ping'an took the key and contract, feeling a weight lift from his heart. With a nest secured, concerns about his status resurfaced instantly. He intended to casually ask the lady if she knew a way to obtain a "Good Citizen Certificate," but the words sank back.

The lady's gaze was sharp, her mind deep; letting her know he was a "black household" right away handed her leverage. It would be safer to ask He Daqing, whose cook's perspective on the market was likely less shrewd than the lady's.

He thanked the Deaf Old Lady and left the main room scented with sandalwood and the smell of bygone days.