Courtyard House: First, kill the hypocrites, leave none alive.

Singapore, Changi Airport.

It was already evening when the plane landed.

Outside the porthole was the typical tropical twilight, the sky gradually changing from orange-red to deep purple, with low-hanging clouds pressing down on the sea like a burning cotton ball.

The plane bounced slightly when the wheels touched the runway. Chen Feng was sitting by the window, and his posture had hardly changed since the plane left Hong Kong Island.

He was wearing a seatbelt, a dark short-sleeved shirt over a thin jacket, his face expressionless, his eyes deep and calm.

A dozen or so rows away, Jason sat in first class.

After landing, she will leave first to get through customs and leave the airport as quickly as possible.

But if she were alert enough, she should have noticed someone behind her before boarding the plane, or from the moment the plane landed.

The plane taxied on the runway, its speed gradually decreasing.

The cabin lights came on, and the announcement was made, once in English and once in Chinese.

Passengers began unbuckling their seatbelts, turning on their phones, and collecting their luggage.

Chen Feng didn't move. He looked out the porthole at the tarmac. Several silver-gray passenger planes were parked next to the jet bridge in the distance, and ground support vehicles shuttled between them. Those vehicles were very small, like toys.

The control tower was further away, its red lights flashing in the twilight.

An airplane was taking off, and the roar of its engines came through the glass, low and deep, like the growl of some huge creature.

The hatch opened.

Passengers stood up; some pushed forward, some moved back, and some rummaged through the overhead luggage racks.

Chen Feng slowly stood up, took the bag disguised as a personal space from the luggage rack—an inconspicuous canvas bag—held it in his hand, and squeezed into the aisle.

The first-class passengers were the first to disembark. He saw Jason walk out from behind the curtain, walking very fast and tall, making him very conspicuous in the crowd.

She wore a gray suit dress, her blonde hair was pulled back, and she carried a black briefcase. Her high heels made a crisp sound on the floor of the corridor.

The shuttle bus had already stopped at the exit of the covered bridge. She got on the bus, and the door closed.

When Chen Feng came out of the passage, the shuttle bus had just started and was slowly driving towards the customs building.

There was another shuttle bus waiting for passengers to board, and he got on that one.

The car door closed, and the car followed behind the one in front. The two cars maintained a distance that was neither too close nor too far along the way. When the car in front stopped at the customs building, Jason was the first to get out.

She walked very fast.

Chen Feng's car arrived a minute late, and by the time he got out, Jason had already entered the customs hall.

The customs hall was brightly lit, with dozens of channels open simultaneously.

First-class passengers have a special lane, and Jason was in the first-class lane with only two people ahead of him.

Chen Feng was in the regular aisle, with more than a dozen people ahead of him.

His gaze swept past the crowd to the passageway. Jason had already handed over his passport. The border guard glanced at it, stamped it, and handed it back.

She took the passport and walked out of the customs hall.

Chen Feng is still in line.

There were seven or eight people ahead of me. Each person had to hand over their passport, look at the camera, and get their passport stamped. Some were even asked a few questions—what are you doing in Singapore, how many days are you staying, and where are you staying?

The questions were quite standard, but some people answered them nervously, some impatiently, and some just grinning foolishly.

The border guards had little expression on their faces; they simply stamped the documents, let people pass, and called the next person.

It was finally Chen Feng's turn.

He handed over his passport, the border guard flipped through it, glanced at it, then looked up at him and asked, "What brings you to Singapore?"

Chen Feng said, "Tourism."

The border guards glanced at him again, asked no more questions, stamped his passport, and let him pass.

He walked out of the customs hall, and the baggage claim area was right in front of him.

Several baggage carousels were slowly turning. Jason stood next to one of the carousels, not too far away, separated by a few pillars.

Luggage was ejected one by one from the carousel exit, and passengers rushed to claim it.

She waited a few minutes, and then a silver suitcase slid out of the exit.

She picked it up and dragged it behind her.

Chen Feng had no luggage to retrieve; his bag was empty, and he could take things from his personal storage space if needed.

He stood behind a pillar, watching her drag her suitcase out of the baggage claim area.

The exit was crowded with people waiting to pick up passengers, holding all sorts of signs—hotel, company, and private.

The sign had English, Chinese, and other characters he couldn't recognize.

She walked through the crowd, ignoring the signs, and headed straight for the entrance.

A black sedan was parked in the driveway outside the exit, its engine still running and wisps of white smoke rising from its exhaust pipe.

A driver in a black suit and white gloves stood beside the car. When he saw Jason, he went up to her and took the suitcase from her hands.

He put his suitcase in the trunk, stood up straight next to the back seat, and opened the car door.

Jason bent down and got in, then closed the car door.

The driver returned to the driver's seat, and the car slowly drove away.

Chen Feng walked out of the exit and watched the taillights of that car grow farther and farther away, looking like two red eyes in the twilight.

He waved down a taxi, opened the door, and got in.

"Follow the car in front."

The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror, said nothing, and stepped on the gas.

There weren't many cars on the road.

The two cars maintained a distance that was neither too close nor too far. The car in front drove slowly through the traffic, passing through several bustling streets before turning into a quiet, tree-lined avenue. Tall tropical trees lined both sides, their leaves appearing dark and somber in the twilight.

The streetlights began to come on, their orange glow sweeping past the car window one by one.

At the end of the tree-lined avenue was an iron gate.

The gray walls were very high, the iron gate was tightly closed, and a wire mesh was strung on top of the gate, looking like a row of fine fangs in the twilight.

Two sentries in military uniforms stood at the entrance, holding guns in their hands.

The car slowed down at the entrance and rolled down its window.

A sentry bent down and peeked inside, then straightened up and waved.

The iron gate slowly opened, and the car drove in.

Chen Feng sat in the taxi, watching the iron gate close again from two hundred meters away.

The barbed wire above the door stood silently in the twilight, while a lamp shone orange-yellow at the entrance.

The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror and asked, "Sir, are you still following?"

Chen Feng said, "No need."

He looked at the iron gate and asked, "Where is this place?"

The driver said, "The US base. The US naval base in Singapore."

Chen Feng didn't say anything.

He looked at the iron gate, remained silent for a moment, and then said, "Find a hotel. Nearby."

The driver nodded and stepped on the gas.

The taxi stopped in front of a hotel on the side of the road.

The storefront isn't large, but the lobby is clean.

Chen Feng checked in at the front desk, took his room key, and went upstairs.