In the fiery red era of the heavens, refrigerators are refreshed daily.

In late autumn, the sky over Beiping is a gray, leaden color, as if carrying the heavy burdens of this ancient capital.

The cold wind whipped up the withered yellow leaves on the ground, swirling them in the depths of the alley, making a rustling sound and adding to the desolation.

The main room of the secret courtyard in Sesame Alley was dimly lit.

Yang Guangming stood in the center of the main room, his posture as upright as a pine tree. His gaze calmly swept over Jiao Da and Jiao Er standing in front of him.

After several days of systematic and rigorous basic training, the naivety and impulsiveness that once belonged to the street youths in the eyes of the two brothers had settled down.

Instead, there is a seriousness and caution that has been forcibly instilled and is now being diligently digested and absorbed.

They stood ramrod straight, like two robust poplars suddenly straightened and striving to grow towards the sun, displaying both a touch of youthful stubbornness and a deep reverence for the "Mr. Yang" before them.

"You've mastered basic observation, communication, and questioning very quickly."

Yang Guangming finally spoke. His voice was not loud, but it carried a unique and convincing power in the empty hall. Every word struck the Jiao brothers' hearts clearly.

“That’s good, better than I expected.” He paused briefly to allow the affirmation to fully take hold before continuing, “But theory is no substitute for practice. Next, we need to start doing some practical things, nothing too complicated, mainly to help me gather some information, as a kind of… practice.”

Jiao Da immediately straightened his already ramrod straight back, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes burning as if two small flames had been lit: "Mr. Yang, just give the order! We brothers will go through fire and water to complete the mission!"

Jiao Er, standing next to him, nodded vigorously, his face filled with barely suppressed excitement and eagerness. He unconsciously rubbed his hands on his trouser legs, as if he couldn't wait to throw himself into a real "battle".

Yang Guangming took in their reactions but remained largely unmoved.

"We need to know the movements of some high-ranking military personnel."

Yang Guangming got straight to the point, lowering his voice, "For example, besides their offices and residences, what other places do they like to go?"
Do they frequently patronize high-end establishments like Fengzeyuan and Beiping Hotel?
Is there any pattern to the specific timing?

His fingers paused on the table. "You don't need to venture into the lion's den to find out this information. Just stay on the periphery and use the methods I've taught you: listen more, observe more, and pay more attention."

He raised his head, his gaze returning to the two brothers' faces, and explained in detail:
"For example, pay attention to the conversations of patrolling soldiers when they change shifts or take a break; observe whether there are special vehicles with unusual license plates parked near high-end places, or whether there are plainclothes guards with a fixed, vigilant gaze."

Furthermore, rickshaw pullers, newsboys, and street vendors—these well-informed, sharp-eared people—wouldn't they inadvertently mention a certain 'officer' or a certain 'black car' during casual conversation?

He paused, his eyes sharpening, and emphasized, "Remember, safety first. This is always the first and last ironclad rule."

You are merely bystanders, shadows, and the wind; you see and hear, and then leave without a trace.

Do not approach them to inquire, and do not attract anyone's attention, not even a curious glance.

Tell me everything you hear and see, verbatim and without any of your own guesses or imagination. Understand?

"Understood!" the two brothers said in unison, their loud voices sounding somewhat out of place in the quiet main room.

They immediately realized this and instinctively shrank back, but the determination in their eyes did not diminish.

"it is good."

Yang Guangming stood up straight. "Starting tomorrow, you will split up. Jiao Da, you will be in charge of the area around Fengzeyuan."

Jiao Er, go to the area around the Beiping Hotel.

Note that you should consciously change the time you set off and the route you take each day, and avoid forming a fixed pattern that allows others to track you down.

Every evening, just before it gets dark, we meet here.

After assigning the tasks, Yang Guangming felt little emotional; instead, he experienced a cold-blooded clarity.

He knew that relying on basic information gathering from the periphery like Jiao Da and Jiao Er, there was absolutely no hope of directly reaching the top-secret core of "Piercing the Heart Plan".

This is more like a practical test of the two people's character, ability, and discipline, and at the same time, it lays out some trivial background information that may be useful for their next move, but which may be able to piece together some patterns.

They are the tentacles of sunshine reaching into this city; though immature, they are better than nothing.

As for Yang Guangming himself, he must begin to use his unique spatial exploration ability to try to get close to the two key figures, Fu Zuoyi and E Yousan, and make a real breakthrough.

The space exploration range is three meters, which gives him a certain amount of room to maneuver and confidence.

But just as he had predicted, Fu Zuoyi, as the commander of the North China "Suppression Headquarters", and E Yousan, as his trusted cavalry brigade commander, both had their offices in the heavily guarded "Haizili" inside the Xinhua Gate, and their residences were mostly in the same heavily guarded areas in the western city, such as Rongxian Hutong.

Given his current public identity as an ordinary citizen with nothing special about him, it would be impossible for him to get even half a step close to those core areas. Even lingering in the vicinity for a long time would attract scrutiny.

The only possibility is that they are on the road, in their moving vehicle.

This is like finding a needle in a haystack; it requires a great deal of luck.

But he has enough patience and time.

Based on information in his mind that wasn't entirely confidential, and some of which had even been published in newspapers, combined with his familiarity with the city's streets, he cautiously deduced several routes that Fu Zuoyi and E Yousan's convoy were most likely to take—

For example, it is the only way from Xinhua Gate to Xicheng Official Residence, or to Xijiao Airport and other places.

Like the most patient fisherman, he chose several waterways in the vast and dangerous waters where big fish might pass by, and laid an invisible net that only he could sense.

Over the next few days, Yang Guangming's life became regular and fast-paced, like a clock that had been wound up tightly.

In the morning, he would usually go to Teacher Zhu's house to study, or stay at home with his parents and handle some "serious work" of translating manuscripts, perfectly maintaining a normal and calm appearance.

In the afternoon, he seemed like a different person, transforming into different characters and appearing near the deduced routes.

He deliberately maintained a relaxed and natural state to avoid staying in the same place for too long and arousing the suspicion of spies or patrolmen.

Walking, pausing, observing the street scene, or simply sitting on the curb to rest—everything seems so reasonable.

The opportunity certainly existed, but the outcome was not surprising.

Within a few days, he twice sensed Fu Zuoyi's clearly marked convoy of three black cars, escorted by motorcycles in front and behind, speeding past him on the streets near his home.

On three other occasions, they passed each other in military jeeps, which were equally unassuming but had a more rugged appearance, alongside E Yousan.

Each time a target vehicle enters his three-meter range, his consciousness is like the most sophisticated radar that has been activated, instantly scanning the interior of the car without missing any detail.

He "saw" an officer inside the car wearing a crisp woolen military uniform with gleaming epaulettes.

His mind quickly and precisely probed the leather briefcases placed beside his seat or on his lap, flipping through the documents inside.

There were many documents, including application reports requesting troop relocation and rotation, lengthy lists requesting replenishment of supplies, and routine reports on local security conditions...

Among them were even one or two documents marked with the word "confidential" on the edge, which concerned adjustments to the defense of a certain area outside Beiping City. These documents had certain military value and would be considered a good find in peacetime.

However, none of them were the top-secret plan codenamed "Piercing the Heart" that he was desperately searching for, concerning the safety of Xibaipo.

Hope is like a lake surface tossed with a pebble; each time a ripple is thrown in, it brings a moment of anticipation, but then quickly returns to calm, leaving only a deeper emptiness.

Yang Guangming was not discouraged; this was entirely expected.

Such a crucial and top-secret plan, capable of influencing the course of the war, would have required extremely strict procedures for the safekeeping and transmission of its text. How could it possibly be so easily stumbled upon in a moving, relatively unsecured train carriage?
He maintained his hunter's patience, continuing this seemingly futile stakeout and wait.

At the same time, the information brought back by Jiao Da and Jiao Er began to gradually come together, and although it was scattered, it was slowly outlining certain contours.

"Mr. Yang."

When Jiao Da reported, his eyes showed seriousness after completing the task, but also a hint of barely perceptible frustration. "Over at Fengzeyuan, I have indeed seen several groups of people who look like military officers go in these past few days. They seem to be of high rank. There are always guards with guns at the door, as if they don't want strangers to come near."

We remembered your words and didn't dare get too close. We just wandered around the tea stalls and general stores on the opposite street corner, and all we heard were idle chatter, nothing of any use.

In contrast, Jiao Er seemed much more excited, his face flushed: "The Beiping Hotel is even more lively! There are many officials there, and also many strangely dressed, chattering foreigners!"

I saw a particularly black, gleaming sedan. A short, stout military officer stepped out, acting very arrogantly. The doormen and civilians were all bowing and scraping to him. That's right!

He seemed to recall some crucial information, and his voice rose a few decibels, "I overheard a rickshaw puller chatting with someone, saying that the short, stout military officer's surname was E, and that he was a regular there, going almost every day, sometimes even twice a day!"

"Surname E? A regular customer? Goes there every day?"

Yang Guangming's heart stirred.

E Yousan!
This person is very likely E Yousan!
This perfectly matches his previous judgment and sporadic observations.

As one of the most upscale and Westernized places in Beiping at that time, the Beiping Hotel was indeed an important venue for these high-ranking military officers who held great power and pursued pleasure to hold banquets, socialize, and even conduct certain secret transactions.

Based on Jiao Er's information and his previous unsuccessful stakeouts, Yang Guangming keenly realized that the probability of obtaining top-secret documents in a high-speed, uncontrollable train carriage was extremely low.

Perhaps, a relatively fixed, private place where the target person frequently appears and is more likely to lower their guard would offer a greater chance of success.

The Beiping Hotel was undoubtedly a highly promising and feasible target.

A new and bolder plan gradually took shape in his mind.

October 12th, evening.

In the secret courtyard of Sesame Alley, the oil lamp flickered dimly.

Yang Guangming carefully sorted through all the scattered information that Jiao Da and Jiao Er had collected over the past few days. Although most of it was trivial, and even somewhat absurd, when pieced together and corroborated, it was indeed clear that Fengzeyuan and Beiping Hotel were places frequently visited by high-ranking military officials, especially E Yousan, who practically used Beiping Hotel as another office and private club.

"It's time to change battlefields," Yang Guangming muttered to himself.

He decided to shift his main focus to the Beiping Hotel. Even if he couldn't directly obtain "Operation Pierce the Heart," acquiring other valuable military secrets amidst the officers' relaxed atmosphere of drinking and socializing would still be a huge gain.

Moreover, even if the trip yields nothing, being able to savor the delicacies created by top chefs at the Beiping Hotel in this era, and soothe the taste buds and stomach repeatedly tormented by this materially scarce age, would be a worthwhile experience and a unique form of comfort.

He had been looking for ways to spend the gold yuan notes he had previously "taken" from the Sihai Society's stronghold, and now they came in handy.

If you want to go to a high-end place like the Beiping Hotel, a few sets of high-end clothing are essential.

He went to a high-end clothing store and bought several sets of high-quality, stylish imported suits, several pairs of pure leather shoes, and a Swiss watch that looked quite valuable.

He carefully stored all these things in the inconspicuous old wardrobe in the secret courtyard, so that he could easily change clothes.

Standing in front of that blurry dressing mirror again, Yang Guangming had changed into a well-tailored dark gray pinstripe suit.

He wore a snow-white shirt with a dark blue tie at the collar, shiny black leather shoes, and a vintage-style metal watch on his wrist.

The temperament accumulated over three lifetimes has settled down, naturally revealing a sense of composure, nobility, and aloofness, making him completely different from the calm and reserved young tenant who usually wears a worn-out long gown. It's as if he has emerged from two completely different worlds.

He looked in the mirror and carefully adjusted his tie. This meticulously crafted outfit was the best way to enter the exclusive circle of the Beiping Hotel without looking out of place.

In the following days, Yang Guangming became a regular at the Beiping Hotel.

Sometimes he would leisurely sip his fragrant coffee at the coffee shop with its thick plush carpet in the lobby on the first floor, his slender fingers flipping through the day's newspaper, his gaze occasionally sweeping over the flow of people coming and going;
Sometimes, in the Western restaurant on the second floor, one can order a medium-rare steak or a roasted pigeon that is roasted to a golden brown and crispy perfection, paired with red wine, and enjoy it slowly and gracefully.
More often than not, he would choose to dine in the Chinese restaurant on the third floor, which was more in line with the Chinese people's eating habits, and the lively atmosphere made it easier to observe the officers who came to dine together and had rosy complexions.

He was generous with his money, ordered food with ease, and had a gentle yet appropriately aloof attitude towards the waiters, perfectly fitting the image of a wealthy young man, well-educated and worldly-wise, or a talented young man who had "returned from studying abroad".

He rarely initiates conversations with others, spending most of his time quietly eating and observing, as if immersed in his own world.

However, his ears were like the most sensitive radar, capturing every possible fragment of information around him—the hushed laughter at the next table, the brief exchanges between waiters.

To his delight, Jiao Er's information was remarkably accurate.

E Yousan is indeed a regular here, and seems to have a particular fondness for a private room on the fourth floor.

Yang Guangming had several clever "chance encounters" with him, seeing him, surrounded by his adjutant and several bodyguards, looking rosy-cheeked and chatting amiably as he went straight up to the fourth floor.

The fourth floor is the VIP private room area, which is more luxuriously decorated and offers excellent privacy; ordinary guests cannot enter at will.

Every time E Yousan came, the number of sentries at the stairwell and corridor on the fourth floor would be significantly increased, and the level of security would be several times more stringent than in the lobby and private rooms downstairs.

This did not stump Yang Guangming.

He walked calmly to the front desk and, speaking in a slightly soft Wu dialect accent, with a gentle yet undeniable confidence, expressed his desire to rent a quiet, high-class room with a good view for "writing" and rest, and his dislike of being disturbed.

The price he offered was quite attractive, and he readily prepaid a full two weeks' worth of room fees.

Seeing his extraordinary demeanor, elegant attire, generous spending, and air of nobility, the front desk manager naturally treated him with utmost courtesy and dared not be negligent in the slightest.

Soon, Yang Guangming got the key to a guest room on the fifth floor as he wished.

The fifth floor is the guest room section, which is quieter. The room he chose happens to be directly above the private room reserved for E Yousan on the fourth floor.

This location was practically tailor-made for him; it was the perfect spot to carry out his plan.

He stood by the window of his fifth-floor room, looking through the clean, bright glass at the bustling crowds and traffic on the street below, calmly making his calculations.

As long as E Yousan is entertaining guests or having private conversations in the private room on the fourth floor, he can crouch down in the guest room directly above him. His effective vertical detection range of three meters is enough to act like an invisible eye, penetrating the barrier of reinforced concrete, covering most of the area of ​​the private room below, and capturing any paper documents that may appear.

In the following days, Yang Guangming continued to go out under various identities, maintaining a flawless normal life trajectory, and would usually check into the room on the fifth floor of the Beiping Hotel in the evening.

He doesn't always stay in his room; sometimes he goes out to eat at other restaurants, and sometimes he lingers in the hotel's bar or lounge area.

But whenever he observed that E Yousan's convoy had arrived at the hotel entrance, or noticed that the security at the fourth-floor stairwell had suddenly tightened, he would, like a cheetah receiving a signal, quickly and naturally return to his room on the fifth floor and enter a state of combat readiness.

For four out of the five consecutive days, E Yousan appeared in the private room on the fourth floor of the Beiping Hotel.

Every time Yang Guangming entered the private room and the atmosphere of the banquet gradually heated up, he would immediately lock the door, draw the curtains, walk to the center of the room, hold his breath, and immerse his consciousness completely in the space in his mind.

Perception, like invisible ripples, precisely penetrated downwards, easily passing through the floor slabs and partitions, and like mercury spilling onto the ground, enveloped the brightly lit private room below, where a faint murmur of noise could be heard.

He "saw" E Yousan toasting and laughing loudly with all sorts of people.

Sometimes it was other officers, also dressed in military uniforms with shining epaulets, who addressed each other as brothers, creating a lively atmosphere;

Sometimes it was a local wealthy merchant, bloated and dressed in a silk gown, who would fawn over you with flattery and compliments.
Sometimes they are people who look like local gentry or cultural celebrities, and the topics of their conversations are very broad.

Amidst the clinking of glasses, conversations often revolved around mutual flattery, veiled exchanges of benefits, or complaints about the difficult times and shortages of supplies.

Yang Guangming's attention remained firmly fixed on the black leather briefcase that E Yousan carried with him.

That bag, usually casually placed on the chair behind him or on the empty seat next to him, may seem inconspicuous, but it could hold a crucial secret.

On October 15th, he discovered a secret order in his briefcase concerning the reinforcement of fortifications in the suburbs of Beiping (Beijing). It bore Fu Zuoyi's signature and detailed plans for adjusting defenses and allocating supplies in several key areas, including specific quantities of cement and steel. On October 16th, he found a draft agreement for a private arms deal with a local security regiment outside the city, claiming to "protect the borders and ensure the safety of the people." The agreement listed the types of firearms and quantities of ammunition to be exchanged, as well as a list of grain and opium in exchange, blatantly exposing the corruption and chaos within the military.

Both documents are valuable, indirectly confirming certain specific deployments of the Kuomintang military in the defense of Beiping and the numerous flaws in its internal management.

Yang Guangming imprinted the key contents of the document firmly in his memory, as if it were a scan, and planned to organize them and report them to the organization later when the opportunity arose.

But this is still not his ultimate goal, not the key piece that can turn the tide of the game.

Hope ignites time and again in the darkness, only to be quietly extinguished after all the documents have been reviewed, leaving behind only deeper silence and waiting.

Yang Guangming forced himself to remain calm. He knew that the closer he got to the core secrets, the more luck, patience, and that mysterious, crucial opportunity he needed.

He still went to the Beiping Hotel every day, just like going to work, and never slacked off for a single day.

At least, the chefs here are indeed incredibly skilled. The long-lost aroma of oil and the delicate texture of the food can greatly soothe his stomach, which has been suffering from coarse food. It is the only real comfort in the tense and dangerous mission.

Time slips away quietly, like sand through our fingers, and before we know it, it's October 18th.

At noon that day, the sky remained overcast.

As usual, Yang Guangming had lunch early at the restaurant on the third floor of the Beiping Hotel, a light dish of Longjing shrimp and a bowl of shredded chicken noodles.

He ate while keeping an eye on the activity at the door.

After confirming that E Yousan's familiar figure had arrived surrounded by his entourage and gone straight to the fourth floor, he put down his chopsticks, wiped his mouth with a napkin, calmly paid the bill, and then went straight back to his room on the fifth floor.

He gently locked the door behind him. He didn't turn on the light; the room was dimly lit, with only a sliver of sunlight filtering through the curtains.

He walked to the center of the room, slowly squatted down, closed his eyes, and completely immersed his consciousness into the depths of his mind to begin his exploration.

Inside the private room, E Yousan and a wealthy-looking man with a bloated belly and wearing a gold ring were drinking and chatting happily. The table was littered with cups and plates, and there were several other people accompanying them, all with drunken expressions.

Yang Guangming's thoughts were immediately focused on the black leather briefcase placed on the chair behind E Yousan.

The first document... was an approval document for a famous opera troupe's application for a "performance to entertain the troops" allowance, with the word "approved" written in the elegant calligraphy of E Yousan.

The other document... was a personnel transfer recommendation letter from a subordinate regimental commander, filled with praise.

The third document... Yang Guangming's thoughts paused slightly when he touched the title of this document.

"Preparatory Plan for the Suppression Operation in Western Hebei Region"
The document number is marked with a prominent red "Top Secret" label and a special letter prefix.

He quickly focused his attention and began browsing the content.

The opening paragraphs consisted of some conventional, high-sounding statements about troop mobilization and assembly, as well as logistical preparations, with cautious wording.

But the further he read, the more shaken he became.

"Operational target: Xibaipo, the location of the Central Committee of the Red Army, and its surrounding institutions."

He memorized it twice, like the most meticulous proofreader, to ensure that not a single word was missing, thus guaranteeing the completeness and accuracy of the information.

Intelligence at hand!

A surge of immense joy and a strong sense of accomplishment welled up within me, but what followed was the real and serious question of how to safely transmit the information and reasonably explain its origin.

After the ecstasy comes extreme calm.

He couldn't possibly tell the organization that he was hiding in a fifth-floor guest room and "saw" it by using his mind to penetrate the floorboards.

He must have a logical explanation that can withstand repeated scrutiny and investigation, while also protecting his core secrets to the greatest extent possible.

A plan quickly took shape and was perfected in his mind—to use E Yousan's meal at the Beiping Hotel and the public restroom, a place where "accidents" could easily happen, where people came and went in a complex and relatively private manner, to fabricate an experience that seemed extremely thrilling, yet reasonable and in line with his identity as an "outsider".

He scrutinized every detail of this statement:
The time must be noon today; the location must be the public restroom on the third floor near the stairwell; how he "staking out," how E Yousan "negligently while drunk," how he "risked checking and memorizing," how the adjutant "just happened to return," and how he "responded with a daring escape"...

The behavioral logic of each step, the potential risks, and his own psychological descriptions are all meticulously crafted to be seamless and self-consistent.

This carefully crafted excuse will be the "reasonable" packaging he must use when delivering this hot potato of top-secret information.

Having confirmed that the intelligence was etched into his memory as if by instinct, and that his report had been repeatedly refined and perfected to the point of being almost impeccable, Yang Guangming did not linger.

He quickly stood up and straightened his expensive suit.

He opened the door and walked steadily out of the guest room.

He didn't check out at the front desk, maintaining the illusion that he would return. Instead, he walked slowly down the thickly carpeted corridor and walked straight out of the revolving glass doors of the Beiping Hotel, as if he were just an ordinary guest going out for a walk or running errands, without attracting anyone's attention.

Standing on the high steps at the entrance of the restaurant, the afternoon sun struggled to penetrate the clouds, bringing a weak warmth that shone on his face.

He waved to a rickshaw parked by the roadside, got in gracefully, and gave the address near Teacher Zhu's house.

Sitting in the speeding rickshaw, the cold wind brushed against his cheeks, bringing a chill and gradually clearing his mind, which had been somewhat muddled from the intense tension.

He leaned back in the slightly swaying rickshaw seat, closed his eyes, seemingly resting, but in reality, he was mentally rehearsing for the last time every expression, every word, and every subtle body movement he would make when facing Teacher Zhu, ensuring that everything was just right and that he would not reveal the slightest flaw that could arouse suspicion.

This play can only succeed; it cannot fail.

When we arrived at the quiet alley where Teacher Zhu's house was located, it was just past 1:30 in the afternoon.

The alley was quiet, with only a few sparrows hopping among the bare branches of the locust tree. He raised his hand and knocked on the familiar wooden door knocker.

A moment later, the door creaked open a crack from the inside, revealing Mrs. Zhu's gentle face, which bore the marks of time.

"Guangming has arrived, come in quickly." When Mrs. Zhu saw him, a gentle smile appeared on her face. She stepped aside to let him into the courtyard, then cautiously peeked at both ends of the alley before gently closing the courtyard gate.

Today, Yang Ming was dressed in an expensive outfit. Mrs. Zhu glanced at him a few times, but did not ask any questions.

"Mingxuan is in the study. He said he has no classes this afternoon and is organizing some materials."

"Hello, Madam, I apologize for bothering you." Yang Guangming greeted her politely, but in his heart he was certain that his teacher was at home.

He said no more, quickly walked through the neatly tidied courtyard, and headed straight for the study.

Zhu Mingxuan was hunched over his desk by the window, holding a brush and writing furiously on a stack of manuscript paper, his expression focused.

Hearing familiar footsteps, he looked up and saw Yang Guangming. He noticed the clothes Yang Guangming was wearing and looked slightly surprised.

Yang Guangming gently closed the study door behind him, quickly walked to the desk, sat down, and picked up the pen and paper on the table.

Then he bent down and began to write furiously, the pen tip slicing across the paper with a rapid, continuous rustling sound.

Seeing his actions, Zhu Mingxuan's unease grew rapidly.

He didn't make a sound to disturb them, but just watched quietly, his brows furrowing more and more.

With flowing, clear strokes, Yang Guangming meticulously and accurately transcribed all the details of "Operation Pierce the Heart" from his memory, including the shocking code name, the clearly stated target, the specific unit numbers of the participating troops, the outlined key points of the attack route, and the preliminary timetable circled in red.

He wrote quickly, but his handwriting remained neat and clear, ensuring that there would be no ambiguity or misreading.

After writing the last line, he abruptly put down his pen, as if he had used up all his strength.

He straightened up, picked up the still-wet paper with both hands, and solemnly handed it to Zhu Mingxuan. His voice was low, hoarse, and urgent, with a tremor that was deliberately suppressed but still noticeable.

... (Partial content deleted)

"This...this intelligence..."

Zhu Mingxuan suddenly raised his head, his gaze fixed on Yang Guangming's face. His voice was unusually hoarse and dry due to extreme shock and a tightness in his throat. "The source...where did you get it from...how did you obtain it?"

Such a core and top-secret military plan is simply impossible for Yang Guangming to access given his current identity and scope of activities!

This was completely beyond his comprehension!

On Yang Guangming's face, a perfectly timed expression of lingering fear, terror, and a hint of relief at escaping death was revealed.

He took a deep breath, as if to calm his still wildly beating heart, and began to recite the speech he had already rehearsed countless times in his mind, speaking quickly but with exceptional clarity:
"Teacher, through some observations, I discovered that high-ranking military officials such as Fu Zuoyi and E Yousan often dined together at the Beiping Hotel."

And sometimes, when they've had too much to drink, they'll chat in public restrooms, saying things they wouldn't normally say.

He licked his slightly dry lips and continued, "I was thinking that I could stake out there in my spare time, maybe... maybe I could hear something useful. Even if I don't hear anything, it's not a loss. I can just use it as an opportunity to get familiar with the environment."

He paused, then emphasized his words, his facial muscles twitching slightly, as if he were reliving that "thrilling" moment:
"At noon today, E Yousan went there again. He was in a private room on the fourth floor, and I was waiting in a toilet stall on the third floor."

Unexpectedly... he drank a bit too much, and when he came out to wash his hands, he inexplicably forgot his black briefcase under the sink!
I was the only one in the restroom at the time. As I heard his footsteps fade away, I realized this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—it was practically…it was like God was on our side!

He described that "thrilling" scene that didn't actually exist, yet which he had meticulously conceived, his tone filled with vivid imagery:

"I rushed out immediately, my heart was pounding in my throat!"

I quickly opened the briefcase to check. There weren't many documents inside, but I immediately spotted this "Preparatory Plan for the Suppression Operation in Western Hebei Region"!
I knew this stuff was going to be a nightmare. The content wasn't that much, but I forced myself to calm down and frantically read and memorize it!

Then I quickly put the documents back where they were, zipped up my briefcase, and pretended to have just come out of the restroom to wash my hands.

His breathing became slightly rapid, and he used this to create a tense atmosphere, in conjunction with his words.
"I had just put my briefcase back in its place, straightened up, and turned on the tap. Before the water even reached my hands, his adjutant rushed in in a panic!"

He grabbed my arm and asked if I'd seen a black briefcase! He was staring intently into my eyes!
My heart almost stopped beating, and my back was instantly soaked with cold sweat!

Luckily, I reacted quickly, pretending that I had just washed my hands, knew nothing, and was startled by him, so he didn't suspect anything.

He saw the briefcase was still there, checked that nothing was missing, glared at me fiercely, and then ran away... That was close! Just a few seconds off!

As Zhu Mingxuan listened to his hurried and detailed narration, his heart leaped into his throat, as if he had personally experienced those thrilling few dozen seconds.

He could fully imagine how critical the situation must have been! A hair's breadth away!
If Yang Guangming were to slow down even slightly, or be caught by his adjutant flipping through documents, or even just show the slightest sign of panic, then what he would see at that moment would probably not be the living Yang Guangming, but a cold corpse!
While this may sound like a coincidence, or even a bit dramatic, it's not entirely impossible for a high-ranking military officer to forget important items after drinking in such a social setting where people are prone to carelessness.

Yang Guangming's quick wit, composure, and powerful memory in that situation made him feel both terrified and incredibly gratified!
Zhu Mingxuan looked down again at the paper in his hand that seemed to weigh a ton. No matter how thrilling or coincidental the process was, the intelligence itself had already overwhelmed everything!
"That was so dangerous! Luckily, we're on our side!"

Zhu Mingxuan's voice was hoarse from the intense emotional turmoil and lingering fear, but even more so, it carried a sense of exhilaration and shock, as if he had survived a catastrophe. "But this intelligence... is too important! It's just too important! So important that... even if it means taking a huge risk, it's worth it! It's absolutely worth it!"

He jumped up from his chair and said quickly, "Time is of the essence! We must report this immediately! Not a moment can be wasted! Every second of delay increases the danger to Xibaipo!"

Zhu Mingxuan glanced at the old-fashioned wall clock, the hands pointing to 1:50. "I'm going to activate the most urgent contact channels right now! Don't go anywhere, just wait here!"

Wait for me to come back!

This matter must not be revealed to anyone! And the specific details of how you obtained the intelligence must remain a complete secret from now on; you must never mention it to anyone again! Understand?

“I understand! Teacher, you...you must be careful on the way!” Yang Guangming nodded solemnly.

Zhu Mingxuan said no more. He didn't even have time to put on his coat. He carefully folded the paper with the top-secret information written on it into a small square and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his shirt.

Then, he took a deep breath, opened the study door, and hurriedly said to his wife, who peeked out from the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face, "I'm going out to take care of something urgent, I'll be right back," before leaving the house without looking back.

His figure quickly disappeared around the corner of the alley, blending into the afternoon streets and alleys of Beiping.

Yang Guangming remained alone in the study.

The waiting time felt incredibly long, with every minute and second stretching out indefinitely.

Time crawled slowly, second by second, in this anxious wait.

Around four o'clock in the afternoon, the familiar, slightly hurried footsteps finally came from outside the courtyard gate.

"Squeak-"

The study door was pushed open from the outside, and Zhu Mingxuan walked in, bringing with him a chill.

His face bore the unmistakable weariness of a long journey, and there were even fine beads of sweat on his forehead, looking travel-worn.

But those eyes, usually gentle and wise, were now shining with an astonishing brightness, as if two flames were burning deep within their pupils, filled with excitement, exhilaration, and a tremendous sense of relief.

"bright!"

Zhu Mingxuan's voice was noticeably hoarse, but full of strength and joy, "The matter has been handled! The intelligence has been sent out through the most urgent and secure channels without any chance of failure!"

He walked a few steps to Yang Guangming, reached out and patted Yang Guangming's arms, his eyes filled with undisguised admiration and relief, as well as a trace of lingering fear:
"The higher-ups... after learning the specific details of the intelligence and the perilous process by which you obtained it, were extremely shocked and also extremely gratified!"

They asked me to convey the organization's high praise and recognition of you!

This time, your contribution is immense! So immense...it's practically immeasurable!

He took a deep, excited breath, as if to calm his heart, which was still pounding wildly in his chest, and continued:
"The value of this intelligence is crucial to the overall situation!"

The organization will forever remember your contributions, and once the situation stabilizes, it will certainly recommend you for commendation!

Upon hearing the confirmation that "the intelligence has been safely delivered," Yang Guangming's heart, which had been hanging in his throat, finally settled down completely.

He stood tall, his tone firm yet humble, carrying the pure spirit unique to revolutionaries of this era:

"Teacher, I was just doing what a Party member and a revolutionary should do."

It is my greatest wish and honor to be able to help the organization and my comrades resolve this critical crisis at this crucial moment.

I dare not claim credit. As long as the intelligence is useful and the organization is safe, I am content.

Looking at the young student before him—no, a young comrade who had long transcended the student category—Zhu Mingxuan felt a surge of emotions, his heart overflowing with complex feelings.

……

Zhu Mingxuan nodded repeatedly, a smile of the most relaxed and gratified he had shown in days, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out.

"but."

Zhu Mingxuan's smile faded slightly, and his tone became serious again, "In the future, unless it is absolutely necessary and the situation is extremely urgent, you must never act in this way again! Your safety is equally important! Only by protecting yourself can you make greater contributions to the organization and the people in the future!"

"Yes! I've remembered your teachings, teacher." Yang Guangming nodded earnestly, keeping this care and advice firmly in his heart. (End of Chapter)