Courtyard House: Home Alone

Tang Baolin tapped his cane lightly on the blue bricks, his brow furrowing slightly: "Zhuozhou, Langfang, Sanhe, Miyun, Huairou... this buffer zone practically turns Beiping into an iron barrel. Will the Japanese agree to that?"

"If you don't agree, the 'Ghost' will take matters into its own hands and eliminate them."

Lin Yifan put down his teacup, the porcelain bottom making a crisp sound as it touched the wooden table. "Grandpa, you know better than I what the Japanese are most afraid of right now. It's not losing Beiping, it's the 'Ghost' sword hanging over the neck of the North China Expeditionary Army, leaving them in a dilemma."

Tang Baolin remained silent for a long time, then suddenly laughed, a laugh tinged with melancholy: "Eight years old... When I was eight, I was still grinding ink and washing brushes for my father in Liulichang."

"Old Master," Lin Yifan said solemnly, "there's one more thing. The Red Party has replied, sending a special envoy, codenamed 'Green Pine,' to the Tang residence in three days to discuss the joint management of Beiping."

Tang Baolin's gaze suddenly sharpened, like an old hunter sensing a shift in the wind: "Someone from the Red Party side?"

"Your student, sir." Lin Yifan picked up his teacup and took a small sip. "From the Special Branch, returned from Moscow."

A moment of silence fell over the main room. Tang Baolin's cane rubbed slowly against the blue bricks, making a soft rustling sound. The chirping of sparrows came from outside the window, and the morning light shone through the windowpane, casting a grid-like pattern of light and shadow on the ground.

"Xiao Fan," he suddenly spoke, his voice low and deep like the water of an ancient well, "do you know that once this move is made, there is no turning back?"

Lin Yifan put down his teacup, the porcelain cup touching the wooden saucer with a crisp sound: "Old man, how many storms has Beiping City weathered in its seven hundred years?"

The Mongol cavalry, Li Zicheng's bandits, the guns of the Eight-Nation Alliance—each time they seemed to be in dire straits, yet managed to escape unscathed.

He stood up, walked to the window, and ran his fingertips across the cold windowpane: "The Japanese seem strong now, but they have reached a stalemate with China, and in North China they are at their last gasp."

The Red Party is a dragon lurking in the abyss, and the 'specter' is a sword hanging overhead. These three parties, seemingly irreconcilable, share a common weakness—"

"Oh?" Tang Baolin leaned forward slightly.

"time."

Lin Yifan turned around, the morning light casting interplay of light and shadow on his youthful face. "The Japanese can't afford to drag this out, the Red Party can't wait, 'Ghost'..." He paused, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, "'Ghost' has no shortage of time, yet it's the least willing to waste it."

Tang Baolin slammed his cane down on the blue bricks, then suddenly burst into laughter, startling the sparrows outside the window: "Good! What a 'time'! I, Tang, have lived for sixty years, and today I've been awakened by an eight-year-old!"

He stood up, his steps slow but steady, and walked to the painting of withered lotus on the wall. His thin, bony fingers traced the unyielding stem of the lotus in the painting: "My master once said that 'keeping a low profile' is not about hiding one's talent, but about waiting for the right time. I've pondered this for thirty years, thinking it was about waiting for the wind to come, but now I understand—"

He turned around, his gaze fixed intently on Lin Yifan: "We must make the wind come."

"The old man is right."

Lin Yifan bowed slightly. "Qingsong will be visiting in three days, and I will need your assistance in mediating. I also need you to convey 'Ghost's' conditions to Shimizu Tosan tomorrow."

"That's natural." Tang Baolin pondered for a moment, "However, can you really trust the Red Party?"

Lin Yifan walked to the table, refilled a cup of tea, and in the rising steam, his voice sounded particularly distant: "Old man, the Red Party wants the country, but right now they fear even more that the country they've conquered will crumble. The foundation of Beiping over the past seven hundred years is the face of all of China; they know this better than anyone."

He pushed the teacup toward Tang Baolin: "So, not only will they not refuse these four conditions, they'll eagerly agree to them. The condition that post-war resettlement of civilians takes priority over military takeover—that's the ladder they're being offered."

Tang Baolin took the teacup, but didn't drink it immediately. His gaze fell on the tender green leaves floating on the tea: "How can you, at such a young age, understand people's hearts so clearly?"

Lin Yifan did not answer. His gaze passed over the old man and landed on the painting "Withered Lotus". The reflection of the withered lotus in the painting was broken into mottled light and shadow on the water, much like the fragments of memories in his mind that did not belong to this era.

"Old man!"

He said softly, "We still need to make some preparations for what will happen in three days. We need to clear the area around the Tang residence beforehand, and we absolutely mustn't give ourselves away regarding our cooperation with the Red Party in jointly managing Beiping. Otherwise, it will cause a lot of unnecessary trouble."

Lin Yifan stood up, brushing non-existent dust off his clothes. "Tomorrow, you will deliver a message to the Japanese. The deadline for 'Ghost' begins today."

Tang Baolin nodded, then suddenly remembered something: "Xiao Fan, who exactly is your 'ghost'?"

Lin Yifan had already reached the entrance of the main room when he heard this, so he stopped but didn't turn around. The morning light shone from behind him, casting a long, thin shadow on the blue brick floor, like a sword about to be drawn.

"Old man!"

His voice drifted on the morning breeze, carrying a touch of desolation beyond his years: "'Ghosts' are those who, in this chaotic world, do not wish to become ghosts."

Before he finished speaking, his figure had already disappeared around the corner of the corridor. Tang Baolin stood alone in the center of the main hall, the teacup in his hand long since cold.

He looked down at his distorted reflection in the tea soup and suddenly remembered that snowy night thirty years ago, when his master held his hand tightly before he died, a strange light flashing in his cloudy eyes.

"Baolin," the old man's voice was weak, "in our line of work, we safeguard people's hearts. In the future... if you encounter someone you can't understand, don't underestimate them. Perhaps that's..."

He died before he could finish speaking.

Tang Baolin had always thought his master was referring to a master or a reclusive family. Now, he realized that perhaps his master had been hinting at something all along—it's just that at that time, he hadn't yet met the eight-year-old child squatting in front of the words "Shouzhuo" (守拙).

He drank the cooled tea in one gulp; it was bitter, yet strangely comforting.

The next day, Mr. Tang was invited to the Six Nations Hotel and met with Shimizu Tosan, where he relayed the three conditions of the "ghost" to him.

Shimizu Tōsan sat in his suite at the Six Nations Hotel, the city of Beiping outside his window shrouded in a hazy morning mist. On the low table in front of him sat a set of celadon teaware, the tea long since cooled, yet he hadn't touched it.

"Mr. Tang," his voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, "do you know what these three conditions mean?"

Tang Baolin sat in the armchair opposite him, his cane leaning against his leg. Today he wore a dark blue robe, which made his face appear even more gaunt. Hearing this, he simply smiled slightly, took out a snuff bottle from his sleeve, and slowly twirled it between his fingers.

"Mr. Shimizu, I am merely a messenger."

"To pass on a message?"

Shimizu Tōsan abruptly stood up, his leather shoes leaving deep marks on the Persian carpet. "The buffer zone has turned Beiping into an ironclad fortress, and all diplomatic personnel have been evacuated—this is an attempt to uproot the Empire's influence in Beiping!"