Courtyard House: Home Alone

"Sir, we've arrived at Waibaidu Bridge." The driver slowed his pace. "This bridge was built by the British, but now Japanese soldiers guard both ends. The Chinese walk in the middle, and the Japanese walk on either side. If you want to cross the bridge to Hongkou..."

"No, we won't cross the bridge." Lin Yifan pulled a silver coin from his pocket and waved it in front of the driver. "Take me to Fourth Road, Huile Lane."

The driver's eyes changed. The silver dollar gleamed softly in the morning light; it was a Mexican peso, much stronger than the French peso. He swallowed hard, turned the handlebars, and entered a narrower alley.

"So, it turns out I know my stuff. The brothels in Huile Lane, that's the real Shanghai Bund. But—"

He glanced back, "That place is a mixed bag, with the Green Gang, the Hongmen, Japanese spies, and..." He suddenly stopped, because Lin Yifan's gaze was fixed on a black lacquered door deep in the alley. Above the door hung a faded gold plaque: "Little Guanghan," and the couplets on both sides were blurred by coal smoke, with only the words "at sea" clearly discernible.

The coachman's voice lowered: "That's 'Little Guanghan,' formerly the main entrance to the imperial troupe, now converted into a secret passage. If you're looking for relatives, young master, this place..."

"Stop here."

Lin Yifan jumped out of the carriage, and the silver coin fell into the driver's palm. He straightened the collar of his long robe, knocked on the door, and the black lacquered door suddenly opened a crack.

A woman in an indigo-dyed cheongsam peeked out, looking him up and down, her gaze weighing him down like a scale.

"Who should I look for?"

"Looking for Boss Tang. He's from Tianjin, his surname is Meng."

The maid's eyelids twitched. The crack in the door narrowed further, revealing only half of her heavily powdered face: "Boss Tang? He's gone. He died on the fifteenth of last month at the Japanese military police station in Hongkou. They said it was... a sudden illness."

Lin Yifan's heart skipped a beat. He spread his mental energy outwards and only felt relieved after finding nothing unusual around him. The address here was given by his mother and had no connection with the Communist Party. Therefore, the only reason was that the Japanese were trying to extort money.

He had originally planned to come and go quietly, but since things had turned out this way, he might as well have some fun with the Japanese in Shanghai. As for whether the Japanese would occupy the entire city ahead of time, that was not something he needed to worry about.

Anyway, the Japanese will eventually turn against those Western devils, so it's always a case of dogs fighting each other, and we're happy to watch the show.

Lin Yifan greeted them, turned and left "Little Guanghan", walked towards the Bund not far away, then found a hotel behind Citibank and booked a room on the third floor.

It was already past four in the afternoon. Lin Yifan had the hotel deliver dinner to his room and began to satisfy his hunger, preparing to put on a good show for those Japanese and Western devils that night.

Just as Lin Yifan had finished eating and drinking and was waiting for nightfall, Yi Zhonghai knocked on the deaf old lady's door in the backyard of Nanluoguxiang: "Mrs. Long, I asked Xiaolan to stew a chicken, and I brought you half of it."

The deaf old woman's door creaked open a crack, revealing half of her lightly made-up face. She didn't rush to take the bowl of oily chicken; her shrewd eyes darted over Yi Zhonghai's face twice before she stepped aside to let him in.

"Xiao Yi, you're so kind." Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood. "These days, chickens are hard to come by; they're worth half a month's worth of grain for an average family."

Yi Zhonghai placed the bowl on the table, but instead of sitting down, he stood by the oil lamp, appearing somewhat awkward than usual.

"Mrs. Long, I..." He rubbed his hands together, "Let me be frank, you see, your neighbor's son has been gone for almost two months now, and with all this chaos and war, he's just a seven-year-old child... who knows, he might have collapsed somewhere."

I saw that the house in the east wing was repaired a couple of days ago. I... I thought it was such a nice house, and it's such a waste that no one lives there. I was thinking of moving there with Xiaolan and helping him look after it.

If he comes back, I'll return it...return it to him. What do you think..."

The deaf old woman picked up her bowl, used the tip of her chopsticks to pick up a piece of chicken skin, and slowly chewed it: "The east wing? You've got your eye on Xiao Fan's house?"

The deaf old woman put down her chopsticks and stared intently at Yi Zhonghai: "Little Yi, you're almost thirty. Haven't you thought about why I gave him the east wing?"

Besides, you're in your prime; you can't have forgotten what happened three months ago so quickly, can you? He's just a seven-year-old kid, capable of wielding a Japanese sword and attacking Japanese people; he must have powerful connections.

Even if he doesn't come back, can you get past He Daqing? Xiao Yi, I'm not criticizing you, but when will you change your greedy nature? It'll cost you your life! Do you understand?

Yi Zhonghai's face changed color repeatedly in the dim light of the oil lamp, first turning bright red, then pale. He opened his mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down twice, but no sound came out.

"Mrs. Long, I..." He finally managed to squeeze out a few words, but his voice was much lower than before, "I'm not... I wasn't thinking about the chaos of war, and the house is just sitting empty..."

"What's the point of leaving it empty?"

The deaf old woman sneered, slamming her chopsticks heavily against the rim of the bowl, making a crisp sound. "Empty is your wish? Xiao Yi, you've been with me all these years, when have I ever mistreated you?"

You came to Beiping all alone, without anything you wanted, and I arranged everything for you. In the end, I even married Xiaolan to you. You know, sometimes you can't be too greedy, or it will cost you your life.

Jiaxing has his own things to do, and it's probably hard for him to stay by my side. I'm counting on you and Xiaolan to take care of me in my old age, so you have to live well, you know?

Yi Zhonghai's back hunched over, as if several bones had been removed. He stared at the flickering flame in the oil lamp, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out a sentence through clenched teeth: "Mrs. Long is right, I... I was confused."

The deaf old woman stopped looking at him, picked up her chopsticks again, and slowly and methodically tore the meat off the chicken leg. The oil lamp cast her shadow on the mottled earthen wall, sometimes large, sometimes small, like a lurking old beast.

"Go back," she said without looking up, "Have Xiaolan heat up the rest of the chicken, you two can eat it. Don't come here anymore, things are getting tense lately, a few unfamiliar faces have come to Nanluoguxiang, just pretend you didn't see them."

Yi Zhonghai felt as if he had been granted a pardon and backed out the door. The moonlight in the courtyard was pale and eerie, making the old jujube trees look like a group of menacing ghosts. He touched his back and realized that his short jacket was soaked with cold sweat.

The deaf old woman listened until the footsteps faded into the distance before putting down her bowl and chopsticks. She then pulled a folded newspaper from under the kang mat. It was the *Xinmin Daily* from three days prior, and in the corner of the social section was a short news item: "All sectors of Tianjin warmly welcome the newly appointed Commander-in-Chief of the North China Expeditionary Army, General Okamura Yasuji." Her fingernails repeatedly rubbed against that line of text until the ink blurred into a smudge.

"A seven-year-old child..." she murmured to herself in the empty room, "Even Okamura Neiji has been transferred here. This game is getting bigger and bigger."

She held the newspaper close to the oil lamp, and just as the flame touched the corner of the paper, a cat's meow suddenly came from outside the window, as shrill as a baby crying at night.

The deaf old woman's hand trembled, and the burning paper fell to the ground. She stomped it out, but her gaze turned to the window—the roof of the east courtyard gleamed with a bluish-gray light in the moonlight, and the newly replaced tiles were so neatly arranged they were almost blinding.

"You fixed it quickly." She snorted. "He Daqing, you certainly know how to handle people."