Courtyard Houses: From Bronze Compasses to Global Reach

Late at night, Beijing, Beizongbu Hutong, No. 24 courtyard.

A Jiefang brand truck covered with a tarpaulin silently glided into the depths of the alley and stopped in the shadows. Two young men in dark overalls, moving with brisk efficiency, jumped out of the truck, cautiously scanned their surroundings, and then quickly walked to an inconspicuous wooden door.

"Knock, knock, knock." The two light knocks, one heavy and one light, were particularly clear in the quiet night.

There was a moment of silence inside the door, followed by a low, wary question: "Who is it?"

"Dongfeng Express, delivering books to your door." The young man gave the code.

The wooden door creaked open a crack, revealing Mr. Liang Sili's lean face behind it, his eyes filled with a mixture of expectation and lingering worry. He said nothing, stepping aside to let the door open.

"Mr. Liang, excuse me, time is of the essence." The young man spoke quickly, and he and another man swiftly slipped into the house. Their destination was clear: the study and the bedroom. There, Liang Sili had already neatly categorized and bundled the most important rocket design manuscripts, calculation notes, and foreign language technical documents. The two men moved swiftly, like well-trained engineers, silently and efficiently loading stacks of papers, each a testament to their hard work, onto the truck.

The whole process took less than ten minutes. The young man in the lead whispered to Liang Sili, "Sir, please take the documents first. Please prepare yourself and your family. Another car will pick you up in two hours. Please travel light."

Liang Sili squeezed his hand tightly: "Please!"

The truck drove away silently, disappearing into the night.

At almost the same time, downstairs in Building 8, Zhongguanyuan

Another group of people knocked on Mr. Lu Hefu's door.

"Who is it?"

"An old friend came to visit and asked me about the Copenhagen issue."

The door opened, and Professor Lu Hefu stood inside. He watched as the visitors swiftly and professionally moved away his manuscripts and books, which dealt with the forefront of theoretical physics and the foundations of nuclear physics. The consequences of misinterpreting many of the formulas and derivations would be unimaginable. His face remained expressionless; he simply pursed his lips tightly as he watched the boxes that carried half his academic life being taken away.

"Mr. Lu, see you in two hours," the man confirmed in a low voice.

On the other side, at No. 71, Dongsi 8th Street, in the backyard of Ye Shengtao's house.

Mr. Ye Shengtao has the most books and manuscripts, including his own literary works, educational treatises, and a large number of textbook manuscripts awaiting review. Lin San personally led a group of people here.

"Who is it?"

"The printing factory has come to collect the proofs of 'Ni Huanzhi'."

Inside the courtyard, Mr. Ye Shengtao watched as boxes of manuscripts were carried out, his expression complex. These boxes contained all the effort he had put into promoting the reform of Chinese language education.

"These... are the foundation of the children," he sighed softly.

"Don't worry, Elder Ye, the roots will be preserved well, and they will sprout in the new place," Lin San assured him in a low voice, but his movements were not slow at all.

On its way to the assembly point, the truck carrying Mr. Ye Shengtao's manuscript encountered seven or eight Red Guards wearing red armbands at an intersection. They had just returned from "destroying the Four Olds" elsewhere. These young people were clearly in a state of excitement, and upon seeing a truck traveling late at night, they immediately became suspicious.

"Stop! Where is this car? What's it carrying?" A leading Red Guard waved his arm and stepped forward to stop the car.

The driver remained expressionless and slowly brought the car to a stop. The operative in the passenger seat immediately rolled down the window, a helpless smile plastered on his face: "Young comrades, you've worked hard! We're from Xinhua Printing Factory. We just collected a batch of old books and waste paper cleared out during the 'Destroy the Four Olds' campaign, and we're taking them back to the factory to pulp and make paper." As he spoke, he offered a few cigarettes.

A Red Guard walked suspiciously to the back of the vehicle and poked the sturdy bookcase under the canvas with his wooden stick. "Open it and take a look!"

"It's all moldy, rotten paper. Don't get your hands dirty..." The team member said, keeping the situation under control. If they actually opened it, they would knock them unconscious, and the neatly bound books and manuscripts inside would be exposed.

Just as the stalemate was at hand, a commotion suddenly broke out not far away. It was a noise deliberately created by another group of operatives to divert the attention of these Red Guards.

"What's going on over there? Let's go take a look!" The leading Red Guard waved his hand and led his men toward the noisy area.

The truck driver and his team breathed a sigh of relief. Not daring to delay, they immediately stepped on the gas and sped away from the troublesome place.

Two hours later, a second batch of trucks, following a planned and more discreet route, picked up Liang Sili, Lu Hefu, Ye Shengtao, and their families, who were already prepared. The vehicles avoided main roads and, under the cover of night, sped towards Tianjin Port, where arrangements had been made for a ship bound for Hong Kong.

While important documents in Beijing were being safely transported out, operations were simultaneously launched across the country.

In a lane on Huaihai Middle Road in Shanghai, renowned medical professor Shen Ziyin watched in horror as two young men claiming to be "disinfection workers from the epidemic prevention station" quickly loaded his research data and specimen boxes, which had been sealed in the basement for many years, onto a closed tricycle marked with a red cross.

In Guangzhou, at the Dongshankou villa: Lingnan School master Zeng Rong and his disciples boarded a truck belonging to the "Provincial Foreign Trade Arts and Crafts Company" in the night. Their paintings and ancient books had already been sent ahead.

Xi'an, Wuhan, Chengdu... Similar scenes are unfolding covertly in several important cities. Lin San, stationed in the central Beijing hub, receives encrypted messages from all directions through his divine sense imprint—"Goods have been shipped," "Guests have been picked up," "Safe journey."

Over the next two days, all personnel and supplies, like countless streams flowing day and night, converged on the same estuary—Tianjin Port—through a meticulously planned and constantly changing network of land and water routes. They avoided main roads, specifically choosing provincial highways and even country lanes. The powerful divine sense of the Foundation Establishment cultivators became the best "radar," allowing them to avoid all checkpoints and suspicious individuals in advance.

In the suburbs of Tianjin, several pre-prepared abandoned warehouses became temporary transit points. Arriving personnel and mountains of books and documents were reorganized and verified here. The monks used simple spatial expansion spells and illusions to ensure that the large numbers of people and supplies remained undetected during the transfer.

A specific area of ​​Tianjin Port has been secretly controlled. Under the absolute cover of night, seemingly ordinary cargo ships quietly docked. The Lin family monks from Hong Kong, working closely with mainland monks, efficiently transferred personnel and packed documents onto the ships. After departing, each ship did not sail directly to Singapore, but instead rendezvoused and formed a convoy in international waters.

A week passed in the blink of an eye amidst the intense work.

The action summary was placed on Lin Yan's desk:

Key personnel: 327 top scholars, experts and artists from various industries were successfully transferred.

Family members: More than 1,200 of his immediate family members were properly resettled and relocated.

Cultural heritage: Hundreds of tons of manuscripts, research materials, books, and cultural relics were transported along with the ship.

As the last cargo ship, laden with hope, sailed away from the Bohai Bay, cutting through the waves southward, Lin San could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Standing at a high point in Tianjin Port, gazing at the sunrise on the distant horizon, he silently recited:

"Young Master, the seeds of civilization you requested have all been delivered. Now, it's time to see how they ignite a new era for Chinese civilization in Singapore."