Courtyard House: Home Alone

At 1:40 a.m., the backyard of Xilai Teahouse was pitch black. Manager Zhou sat alone in a private room, with no lights on, only the faint clicking of his pocket watch in the darkness.

He had decoded the message three times, verifying every single word, but his fingers still trembled uncontrollably as they hovered over the send button.

It's exactly 2 o'clock.

The indicator light on the transmitter lit up with a ghostly green light. Manager Zhou took a deep breath, his fingertips fell, and the ticking sound suddenly exploded in the silence, like a string of rapid raindrops hitting the tin roof.

He sent the code very slowly, striving for accuracy with each code, because this was a channel that went directly to the highest level, and any error could lead to the entire line being abandoned.

The telegram was long, taking a full twelve minutes to send. By the time the last period was sent, Manager Zhou's back was soaked with sweat. He quickly removed the antenna, hid the transmitter in a secret compartment behind the wall, and then sat in the dark to wait.

Although there were no Japanese soldiers left in Beiping, his years of underground work told him that any negligence could lead to disaster. He dared not turn on the lights, dared not move, and even breathed very softly, as if countless eyes were peering into the room through the cracks in the walls.

At 3:15, three soft knocks came from outside the window—two short and one long. Manager Zhou shuddered; this was the agreed-upon safety signal.

He strode to the window, pushed it open a crack, and a cold wind swirled in with fine snow. A dark figure darted in—it was an old courier from the Urban Works Department.

"Call back." The person only said two words, stuffed a thin piece of paper into his hand, and then disappeared into the night.

Shopkeeper Zhou unfolded the paper with trembling hands, trying to decipher it in the faint light of the snow outside the window. The telegram was equally brief, yet he read it three times before he was certain he hadn't misread it—

"All four points are negotiable. Send a special envoy to Beiping, codenamed 'Green Pine,' who will arrive in three days. Sir."

He pressed the paper to his chest, as if trying to calm his wildly beating heart. For seven years, he had lived like a rat in this city, witnessing too many comrades fall and too many hopes extinguished.

But at this moment, this thin piece of paper felt incredibly heavy—the highest level not only replied, but also agreed to the "ghost's" conditions, and even dispatched a special envoy.

"Green Pine"—he murmured this code name, and suddenly remembered a saying circulating in the Jin-Cha-Ji region: the master had several secret envoys by his side who never showed their true faces and were responsible for handling the most difficult negotiations.

If the "ghost" is indeed worth using "Green Pine," then the significance of this eight-year-old child is probably far beyond his imagination.

As dawn broke, Manager Zhou finally made a decision. He changed into a coarse cotton-padded coat, hid the telegram close to his body, slipped out of the teahouse through the back door, and headed south along the icy alley.

The snow has stopped, and the air is filled with the smell of coal smoke and frozen earth. Steam is rising from the steamers of the breakfast stalls, and the city is awakening.

Under the locust tree in Nanluoguxiang, he saw that familiar figure. Lin Yifan was squatting by the doorstep of a house, holding half a sugar-coated sesame seed cake in his hand, like a mischievous child wandering around an ordinary alley.

But when Manager Zhou approached, the moment those eyes lifted, he once again felt that oppressive feeling that had nothing to do with age.

What he didn't know was that Xilai Teahouse was already within Lin Yifan's territory. From the time he sent the telegram last night to the time he received the reply and the time he arrived this morning, everything was under Lin Yifan's surveillance.

He had already seen the contents of the reply call clearly.

"You're back?" Lin Yifan stood up, crumbs of sugar-coated sesame cake falling from between his fingers.

Manager Zhou didn't say anything, but simply handed over the paper.

Lin Yifan unfolded the paper, his gaze sweeping over it rapidly, before a slight smile appeared on his lips. There was something in that smile that Manager Zhou couldn't decipher, like a hunter seeing its prey step into a trap, or a chess player finally waiting for their opponent to make a move.

"'Green Pine'..." he murmured the code name, then suddenly looked up at Manager Zhou, "Do you know this person?"

"I've heard of it."

Shopkeeper Zhou lowered his voice, "'Qingsong' was Mr. [Name]'s student. He joined the Party in 1927, worked in the Special Branch, went to Moscow, and after returning to China, he was in charge of united front work. Some people say..."

Lin Yifan nodded, folded the paper, and handed it back to him: "Burn it. Three days later, personally bring him to the Tang residence, through the side gate of the west courtyard, at the beginning of Shenshi (3-5 PM), neither too early nor too late."

"Young master," Manager Zhou couldn't help but ask, "Did 'Green Pine' come to Beiping to test the quality of 'Ghost'?"

Lin Yifan had already turned and taken a few steps when he heard this, but stopped without turning back. The morning light shone from his side, casting a long, thin shadow on the snow, like an unsheathed sword.

"Manager Zhou,"

His voice drifted in the cold wind, "There's a saying in your party: 'No investigation, no right to speak.' The gentleman sent 'Green Pine' not to investigate the 'ghost,' but to see if this city is worth the risk."

He paused, then chuckled softly, "But they'll soon find out it was worth it."

Manager Zhou stood there, watching the figure disappear around the corner of the alley.

Who exactly is this eight-year-old child, capable of communicating directly with the cave dwelling? Although he had met the master once before, why did the master believe him so easily?

Shopkeeper Zhou had no answer. He only knew that three days later, at the beginning of Shenshi (3-5 PM), the fate of Beiping City might be rewritten. And he, an ordinary underground courier, had become the smallest yet most crucial piece in this grand scheme.

He turned and walked towards the teahouse, his steps much lighter than when he had come. Deep in the alley, the old man selling candied hawthorns began to call out, and the sounds of children chasing and playing rose and fell. This seven-hundred-year-old city had been gasping for breath under the iron heel of invaders for three years, yet it had never broken.

Like the withered stems in that painting of withered lotus, the wind passes without leaving a trace, yet they never break.

There were still two days until the appointed time between Old Master Tang and Dong San of Qingshui. It was best to communicate with the old man as soon as possible. Also, he should inform him that the Red Party had arranged for someone to meet them. Lin Yifan turned and walked towards the Tang residence.

Upon arriving at the Tang residence, he chatted briefly with Old Master Zhang at the entrance before heading straight to the main hall. Old Master Tang, having already heard him, poured him tea: "You're here, Xiao Fan. What did 'Ghost' say?"

"Old sir, I've contacted 'Ghost' and they've agreed to conditionally cease operations against the Japanese forces around Beiping. Their conditions are:"

First, lift the blockade on the Beiping area to ensure the smooth flow of daily necessities and essential goods;

Second, a buffer zone was established in Beiping and the area actually controlled by the Japanese. The buffer zone included Zhuozhou, Langfang, Sanhe, Miyun, and Huairou.

Third, no diplomatic or intelligence personnel from island nations may be present in the Beiping area, and no military personnel may be present in the buffer zone.

Lin Yifan picked up his teacup, and in the rising steam, his voice sounded particularly calm: "These three points, 'Ghost' says there's no room for negotiation."

Especially the last clause—the island nation's diplomatic and intelligence personnel must all evacuate within one week. Military personnel within the buffer zone, including puppet troops, must be cleared out within ten days.