Courtyard House: Home Alone

Prince Zai Ren's withered fingers tapped lightly on the table, producing a dull sound like some kind of ancient timer: "Twelve years... The seeds that the 'Chrysanthemum Agency' planted in Beiping should be ready for harvest."

Terauchi Hisaichi frowned: "Uncle, isn't it contradictory to negotiate and assassinate simultaneously? What if 'Ghost' realizes we're stalling for time—"

"He'll definitely find out," Prince Zai Ren interrupted, a cold smile curving his lips. "So we need to hurry. The negotiators must arrive in Beiping within three days. As for the 'Chrysanthemum Agency's' operation..." He turned to the fool, bowing deeply, "Please grant this old minister a secret decree, authorizing me to mobilize all my undercover personnel in North China."

The fool pondered for a moment, then took a jade seal from the armrest of the throne and pressed it heavily onto the blank edict: "Granted."

"Your Majesty!" Hirota Hiroki suddenly stood up, his eyes flashing behind his glasses. "In my opinion, the selection of the negotiating representative is of paramount importance. This person must be fluent in Chinese, familiar with the customs and culture of North China, and, more importantly..." He carefully chose his words, "...must possess the composure to remain calm in dire circumstances."

"Do you have any recommendations?" the Fool asked.

"have."

Hirota Koki took out a resume from his pocket. "Foreign Ministry Affairs Officer, Shimizu Tozo. This man studied in Beiping for five years, is on good terms with many professors at Yenching University, and last year successfully persuaded a confidential secretary of the Nationalist government's Ministry of Finance to defect. More importantly—"

He lowered his voice, "He's professionally trained. Let him talk to 'Ghost's' agent; he'll definitely be able to follow the trail and find 'Ghost'."

The fool took the resume, his gaze slowly moving across the paper before finally settling on the passport photo of Shimizu Tosan, who wore round-framed glasses. The young man in the photo had a gentle smile on his lips; anyone who looked at him would only think he was a harmless scholar.

"Him it is." The Foolish Man handed the resume to his attendant. "Tell Shimizu, I don't want any ceasefire agreement, nor any non-aggression pact. I only want one answer—what exactly does 'Ghost' want?"

The attendant bowed and withdrew. Prince Zai Ren suddenly spoke, his voice seeming to come from a great distance: "Your Majesty, this old minister has one more thing to say."

"Please speak, Imperial Uncle."

"If negotiations fail, if the 'Kiku Agency' can't find the 'Ghost'..." Prince Zai Ren's finger paused on the table, and the invisible circle finally closed. "Then we only have one last option left."

The long hall fell silent; even breathing could be heard clearly. Yonai Mitsumasa's knuckles froze in mid-air, Terauchi Hisaichi's beard stopped trembling, and a thin mist clouded Hirota Koki's glasses.

"What method?" the fool's voice was very soft.

Prince Zai Ren slowly stood up, his gaunt body casting a long shadow in the morning light: "Turn Beiping into a ghost town."

"This..." Hirota Hiroki's expression changed. "Uncle, there are 300,000 citizens in Beiping, as well as embassies and journalists from various countries—"

Besides, we don't even know who "Ghost" is. What if he retaliates against us? Judging from his past methods, we might not be able to handle it..."

Prince Zai Ren did not answer immediately, but turned and walked towards the French windows on the side of the hall. The morning light shone through the carved glass, cutting out geometric patterns of light and shadow on his pale face.

"Hirota-kun," he said, his back to the crowd, his voice seeming to seep from the earth, "do you know why the 'Ghost' never leaves Beiping?"

The Foreign Minister paused for a moment, then said, "According to intelligence, his base is in Beiping, with businesses, connections, and an intelligence network—"

"No," Prince Zai Ren slowly shook his head. "If it were only for these reasons, he should have left in 1937. At that time, Nanjing had fallen, the Nationalist government had moved west, and the entire North China was within his grasp. Why didn't he leave then?"

He turned around, two cold flames burning in his cloudy eyes: "Because he cares. He cares about those streets, those alleys, the old people basking in the sun under the city walls, the children reading in the school. This is his weakness, and also his chain."

Terauchi Hisaichi jumped to his feet, his military boots making a dull thud on the carpet: "Does the Imperial Uncle mean... to use civilians as hostages?"

"Use the people's hearts as collateral," Prince Zai Ren corrected, his withered fingers clenching in the air as if grasping something invisible. "Three hundred thousand citizens are three hundred thousand eyes and ears. We don't need to actually massacre the city; we just need to let them know—for every Imperial soldier the 'Ghost' kills, ten citizens of Beiping are buried with him."

Mitsumasa Yonai's face turned ashen: "This is terrorism! International public opinion will—"

"Public opinion?" Prince Zai Ren sneered. "Mr. Yonai, you've been at sea for too long. Land warfare isn't naval warfare; there's no dignity in exchanging gunfire. In China, we've already used much more... direct methods."

His gaze swept across the crowd, finally settling on the fool's face: "Your Majesty, what I have said is a last resort. But if the 'Ghost' truly reaches a point of no return, this will be the final noose."

The Foolish One remained silent for a long time, twirling the jade seal on the armrest of his throne three times in his palm. Finally, he pressed the seal heavily back into its groove: "Follow the Imperial Uncle's two-step approach first. Negotiation and covert investigation, a two-pronged approach. As for this final step…" He paused, "I hope I'll never have to use it."

Prince Zai Ren bowed deeply, his gray head almost touching the ground.

Three days later, at Qianmen Railway Station in Beiping.

Shimizu Tozo stepped off the platform carrying a brown leather suitcase. The collar of his wool coat was turned up high, obscuring half his face. He looked like any businessman returning from Tokyo, even the beads of sweat on his temples conveying just the right amount of fatigue.

"Mr. Shimizu?" A middle-aged man in a gray cloth long gown, his cuffs worn smooth, approached. "My name is Zhou Muyun, a teacher at the 'East Asia Tongwen Academy.' I've been sent to receive you."

Qingshui Dongsan sized up the newcomer. Zhou Muyun's cloth shoes were covered in fresh mud, and his knuckles had thin calluses from holding a pen for a long time. He wore a jade thumb ring on the middle finger of his left hand—a style commonly used by former Qing dynasty officials.

These details match the files provided by the "Chrysanthemum Agency": Zhou Muyun, whose real name is Zhou Bingwen, was born in Baoding in the 33rd year of the Guangxu Emperor's reign. He was a descendant of a former Qing Dynasty scholar who passed the imperial examinations. He graduated from the Department of Chinese Literature at Yenching University in 1925. His official identity was a Chinese language teacher at the East Asia Tongwen Academy, but in reality, he was a Class B intelligence agent of the "Chrysanthemum Agency," specializing in liaison and cover-up.

"Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Zhou." Shimizu Tosan nodded slightly, his Japanese accent deliberately carrying a Kansai flavor. "The cherry blossoms in Tokyo haven't even faded yet, but the willow catkins in Beiping are already flying everywhere."

This was a code word. Zhou Muyun's eyelids twitched almost imperceptibly, then he feigned just the right amount of panic: "Mr. Qingshui is right, spring in Beiping always comes and goes quickly."

He reached for the suitcase. "The car is waiting outside. Would you like to stay at the Six Nations Hotel first, or—"

"Let's take a look around first." Shimizu Dong San avoided his hand, switching the suitcase to his left. "It's been almost six years since I've been back to Beiping. I'd like to visit Liulichang. I found that purple clay teapot there back in 1933."