“Xiao Li! Xiao Li! Come out quick—I’ve got good news!”
Outside the courtyard, Qi Xiaofei’s loud, excited voice cut straight through the heavy wooden gate. Li Luoyu set down her bowl and chopsticks, leaned casually against the doorframe, and grinned.
“Xiao Qi, climbing my wall this early—what, you playing magpie bringing good tidings?”
“Get lost! Your two little guards wouldn’t let me in, so I had to climb the wall to talk to you.”
Li Luoyu glanced at the two young guards and said with a smile, “It’s fine, she’s my sister. You two keep eating. She’s a good ‘magpie’—doesn’t go tattling.”
Sitting on the wall, Qi Xiaofei nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, you guys eat. I’ll just sit here and gossip with my sister for a bit and then I’m off.”
Li Luoyu folded her arms. “Alright, what’s the good news?”
Qi Xiaofei looked around sneakily. Seeing no one nearby, she lowered her voice, though the excitement still spilled out. “That awful cousin aunt and her husband of yours got reported. They were arrested in the middle of the night! I heard from Xiao Wei that what they did is serious—probably serious enough to get shot.” She even mimed a firing squad.
Li Luoyu widened her eyes, putting on a shocked expression. “Really? That’s… great news.”
“Absolutely true! But the case is weird. They say when the police arrived, the couple were sleeping like pigs—couldn’t wake them no matter what. They had to be carried back to the station.”
“And get this—someone robbed their house! Took everything valuable. Apparently only rags were left. Isn’t that strange?”
She clicked her tongue. “That thief’s got style. I like them!”
“Oh, right— their daughter Jiang Chi’er is missing too. The police have issued a citywide arrest notice. Anyone who helps catch her gets a 100-yuan reward!”
Li Luoyu—the “stylish thief” herself—felt the corner of her mouth twitch. That reward was probably never getting claimed.
Inside the house, Old Master Li had heard everything. He let out a heavy sigh, then continued eating without another word.
As for his younger brother’s family, he had already done all he could.
Li Luoyu broke Qi Xiaofei’s daydream. “Alright, stop fantasizing about the reward. You can go now.”
Qi Xiaofei flared up. “Hey! Xiao Li, what kind of person are you? I’m not even done talking and you’re kicking me out?”
Li Luoyu spread her hands. “Well, you can’t get in anyway.”
Qi Xiaofei pouted. “Fine. I’ll come back if I hear anything else.” With that, she nimbly flipped over the wall and left.
One of the young guards muttered, “No wonder they’re best friends—equally skilled at climbing walls.”
Li Luoyu: “……”
Back inside, she pulled out a washed-faded set of work clothes and put them on. Then she pressed a flattened blue cloth cap low over her face, just enough to cover half of it. Facing the mirror, she smeared soot from the bottom of a pot across her cheeks, creating the shadow of rough stubble. Slinging a canvas bag over her shoulder, she instantly looked like a young laborer hurrying off to work.
When she climbed the wall again, she deliberately made a bit of noise. After landing, she dusted off her pant legs—and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.
The two guards: “……”
She strolled all the way to the entrance of the black market, casting a casual glance that was anything but careless—quietly observing everything.
The original owner of this body had come here once out of curiosity. Li Luoyu’s gaze flicked toward two old men chatting at a street corner. The one on the left, in a gray shirt, tapped his tobacco pipe against a stone stool; the faint sparks inside flickered as he tilted his head slightly toward the alley entrance—a lookout signal only regulars understood.
The one on the right, in a blue shirt, suddenly raised his voice: “Today’s tofu pudding’s got extra chili!” But his fingers tapped his knee three times—meaning: “All clear.”
In a secluded corner, Li Luoyu pulled out a basket and filled it with rice and cured meat from her space. Then she slung it onto her back and casually wandered into the alley.
A limping old man stopped her. “Buying or selling?”
She lowered her voice. “Selling.”
“Two mao.”
After paying, she quickly entered.
Buying cotton was just an excuse. She had plenty of quilts and padded clothes in her space. Today’s real goal was livestock—piglets, chicks—so she’d never lack fresh meat again.
The black market didn’t operate on a fixed schedule. In the capital, there were morning and evening markets. The morning market usually started around three or four before dawn and ended at daybreak or mid-morning. The night market began after dark, around seven or eight, when secrecy was easier.
After winding through several turns, she reached a more secluded alley. Unlike the lively main street, everyone here was disguised—faces wrapped in cloth, hats pulled low, or even smeared with coal to look like rough bearded men.
Li Luoyu, however, looked around openly. With her current disguise as a young man, no one would recognize her anyway.
As she walked, she observed: sellers crouched in the shadows tapping their baskets; buyers kicked stones to exchange coded signals. Even bargaining was done in hushed voices, as if afraid of waking something.
An old woman selling vegetables lifted the straw at the bottom of her basket, revealing brown sugar wrapped in oil paper. Every transaction was quick and furtive, yet carried the silent understanding of regular patrons.
Looking around, Li Luoyu noticed rotten vegetable leaves scattered across the ground—the market was nearly over. She picked a corner, crouched down, and lifted the cloth covering her basket, revealing white rice and cured meat still frosted.
Not far away, a woman dressed like an ordinary auntie zipped over, clutching half a bag of potatoes in her floral apron, eyes locked on the basket.
“Young man, how much for the rice?”
Li Luoyu tapped the rim lightly. “With ration coupons: 0.8 yuan per pound. Without: 1 yuan. Cured meat—1 yuan with coupons, 1.5 without.”
Her prices were four to five times higher than the state grain store—but supply there was limited per person each month. And her goods were high quality. In the black market, quality was hard currency.
“Robbery!” the woman snapped, though her throat bobbed when she saw the glistening fat on the cured meat. “The commune only sells it for 0.24!”
An old man in a melon hat beside them said calmly, “No coupons. Give me 10 pound of rice and 5 pounds of cured meat.”
“Coming right up.”
Li Luoyu borrowed a scale and shook the weight. “Take a look, sir—my scale’s more honest than the commune’s.” She piled the rice high, even tossing in a couple of extra handfuls. “Seventeen yuan, five.”
In less than half an hour, her basket was empty. Only half a pound of rice remained. She brought it over to the old man who had lent her the scale.
“Sir, thank you. Take this rice home and make some porridge.”
The old man hurriedly waved his hands. “No, no, I can’t accept that. It was just lending a scale.”
These days, life was hard for everyone—most people neither starved nor truly lived, just endured day by day.
Li Luoyu smiled and pushed it toward him. “It’s fine. I wanted to ask you something anyway—do you know where I can buy piglets or chicks?”
The old man sniffed, eyes reddening. His thin fingers clutched the rice. His wife had been ill for some time… a bowl of porridge might make her feel a little better.
“Child, you’re looking for livestock?” He glanced behind him, then lowered his voice. “There’s an old man, lame—Old Zhou. Lives next door to me. I can take you there.”
“Sure,” Li Luoyu nodded. “Shall we go now?”