Siheyuan: I just came across and wanted to chase me away

The mountain wind blew through the treetops, carrying a wild energy that caused the crooked thoughts in his mind to grow wildly like weeds, obscuring even the last vestige of his conscience.

Upon hearing this, Banggeng's tears, which had been welling up in his eyes, seemed to have been abruptly cut off, and he wiped them back with a "whoosh." His face instantly blossomed into a smile, his wrinkles bunching up, and he hurriedly followed behind Scarface, his back bent like a cooked noodle, repeatedly saying "Thank you, boss" smoothly. His feet seemed to be greased, and he rushed forward as if afraid of being left behind, his heart burning with warmth.

The hideout was nestled in a dense, impenetrable locust grove, its intertwined branches blocking out the sun, allowing only dappled sunlight to filter through. Several mud-brick houses huddled together, their walls peeling away, revealing the yellow earth beneath. Animal hides, including rabbit and fox pelts, lay drying in the doorway, their fur matted. A half-full sack of sweet potatoes, its surface pockmarked, sat in the corner, next to a chipped, rough porcelain bowl. The air was thick with the smells of cooking, the pungent odor of animal hides, and a faint, indescribable musty stench, yet it felt far more comforting to Banggeng than the oppressive atmosphere of the traditional courtyard house.

Scarface pulled a charred sweet potato from the stove. Its skin was cracked open, and sweet, hot steam, carrying a smoky aroma, wafted out, burning his fingertips. He casually tossed it to Banggeng: "Have something to eat first. There's still meat stewing in the pot."

He caught the cornbread in one swift motion, rubbing his hands together as if he were holding a red-hot iron. But he paid no heed to the heat, snapping it open to reveal the golden flesh. Steam rose in a burst, carrying a sweet, glutinous aroma. He bit into it, wincing from the heat, his tongue twitching, but he couldn't bear to spit it out. He swallowed it whole, mumbling, "Thank...thank you, boss...this is much better than the cornbread in the yard! That stuff scratches your throat, like gnawing on wood..."

Scarface squatted on the doorstep, smoking a pipe made of polished wood. The tobacco in the bowl was strong, making his brow furrow. He watched Banggeng wolf down his food, a smirk playing on his lips, a smile that was more like disdain. "You'll get food here, but you'll have to know the rules." He exhaled a smoke ring, which drifted white above Banggeng's head. "From now on, when you go out 'working' with the brothers, be sharp-eyed, quick-handed, and clever. Don't ask questions you shouldn't, and don't touch things you shouldn't. I guarantee you'll have meat every meal, and you won't go hungry."

Banggeng's mouth was stuffed full of sweet potatoes, his cheeks bulging like a toad's. He nodded repeatedly, his eyes shining with excitement, brighter than the sparks in the stove. He felt he had finally found a "backer"—Scarface and his gang, though they looked fierce, at least weren't like the people in the courtyard, constantly glaring at him and belittling him. Here, there was food, there was a backer, and he no longer had to see Qin Huairu's mournful face, listen to Yi Zhonghai's hypocritical lectures, or fear Gu Nan's constant use of "rules" and "face" to intimidate him. Last time he was caught stealing chickens by Gu Nan, the whole courtyard gathered around to laugh at him, and Qin Huairu even slapped him in front of everyone. He would remember that feeling for the rest of his life!

Lying on the hard earthen bed at night, the straw on it a bit prickly, Banggeng felt reassured as he rubbed his round belly. The rustling of leaves in the wind outside the window sounded like someone grinding their teeth in his ear, but he found it more pleasant than the chirping of crickets in the courtyard. He planned: once he'd learned his skills from Scarface, and could fight and "work," the first thing he'd do was go back and settle scores with Gu Nan! He'd corner him in the alley, knock out his teeth with one punch, and make him taste the bitterness of losing face! And those people in the courtyard who were laughing at him—they'd all learn their lesson!

Banggeng rolled over on the hard earthen bed. The straw stubble beneath him felt like countless tiny needles, burrowing into his collar and pricking his back painfully. Yet, the cold smile on his lips didn't fade, and the ruthlessness in his eyes gleamed like poisoned needles in the dim light. Those people in the courtyard, especially Gu Nan, just you wait! Once I've made something of myself, I'll go back in style and make them pay for all the laughs they had back then!

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became, his chest pounding like a rabbit. How skilled was Scarface? He'd seen him smash a hole in the corner brick of the yard with a single punch the other day. If he learned from him properly, in less than six months, dealing with Gu Nan would be a piece of cake! He'd corner Gu Nan at the steel mill gate and make him kowtow three times in front of thousands of people to apologize. Then they'd see if he dared to use the "chicken theft" incident to blackmail people anymore!

Bang Geng clenched his fists tightly, his knuckles turning white, and the veins on his arms bulging. He had already planned it out in his mind: he would get up before dawn tomorrow to cook for Scarface and his men, polish the stove until it gleamed, and fill the water vat in the yard to the brim, not spilling a single drop. Then he would volunteer to go out and "work"—whether it was squatting at the alley entrance keeping watch or riding a bicycle to deliver messages, he had to do it well, leaving no room for criticism. If he could get Scarface to take notice of him and take him on as an apprentice, teaching him fighting and resilience, then who in this area would dare to look down on Bang Geng?

As he pondered, his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, yet a smug smile lingered on his lips. Finally, he drifted off to sleep. His dreams were filled with images of his triumphant self: riding a tall horse back to the courtyard house, Gu Nan bowing and scraping as he offered cigarettes, his fingers trembling; Qin Huairu and Jia Zhangshi greeting him with beaming smiles, carrying freshly cooked braised pork; even the usually aloof Yi Zhonghai addressed him respectfully as "Young Master Banggeng," showing him considerable deference… Good days were just around the corner!

At the same time, in the courtyard, Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) sewing shoe soles. The dim, yellowish light of the oil lamp made the fine hairs on her face clearly visible. Her steel needle moved back and forth, but the stitches were crooked and uneven, some too deep, some with loose threads showing – clearly she wasn't paying attention. Her mind was in turmoil. Half of her heart was filled with worry about Banggeng suffering in the countryside, wondering if he would have enough to eat and wear; the other half couldn't help but recall He Yuzhu's appearance earlier – carrying a shiny roast chicken, almost swayed by her words, his silly grin making her feel a mix of sweetness and unease.

"What are you daydreaming about?" Jia Zhangshi, lying on the kang (heated brick bed) in the inner room, grumbled irritably. She had heard the silence from the outer room and peeked through the crack in the door, just in time to see Qin Huairu staring blankly at the oil lamp, a sly smile playing on her lips—nothing good could be brewing. Ever since Jia Dongxu left, this woman's been incredibly restless; from Yi Zhonghai to He Yuzhu, there wasn't a man in the courtyard she wasn't eyeing. She was truly a fickle woman!