Courtyard House: Home Alone

"You guys handle it yourselves, the sooner the better, it must be resolved before the important guests arrive," Lin Yifan said.

Stone walked to the center of the study, squatted down, and drew four dots on the blue brick floor with his fingertip: "Young master, do you think this will work—"

He pressed his finger firmly on the first spot: "The grocery store. I'm bringing four men. Enter through the front and back doors simultaneously, kill with a dagger, leave no sound."

The second point: "In the back courtyard, four people. Two climbed over the wall, two blocked the door, and they were all armed with daggers."

The third point, he paused, "The pharmacy... Young master, you're right, this is the most troublesome. If the two Japanese soldiers in the back are startled first, the two in the front can rely on the counter to put up a stubborn resistance. I suggest six people, three in front and three in back, to break down the door simultaneously."

The fourth point: "Three people are enough for the small courtyard on the west side. It's a secluded place, the gunshots might not travel far, and if anything happens, we can just open fire."

Lin Yifan looked at the four ink-like finger marks on the ground and nodded, saying, "It's best if you're confident. If you feel there's a problem, say so as soon as possible. I'll handle the Japanese soldiers in the pharmacy."

Stone's finger hovered above the blue brick, a speck of dust still clinging to his knuckles. He stared at the third dot representing the pharmacy, his brow furrowed.

"Young master," he looked up, his voice extremely low, "are you familiar with the layout of a pharmacy?"

"There's a small door next to the backyard that leads to the coal shop next door. But that door should be locked." Lin Yifan took out a pencil from his pocket and added a few strokes to the edge of the sketch.

"We can get behind the Japanese soldiers."

Stone picked up the conversation, a glint of light flashing in his eyes.

"Two minutes."

Lin Yifan repeated, "Our distinguished guests will likely arrive around noon, and the meal must be finished by 10:00 AM at the latest."

"Understood," Stone replied, bowing.

"Alright, go and get ready. Be careful, don't let anything go wrong," said Grandpa Tang.

Shi Tou responded and left the study, his footsteps barely making a sound on the blue brick floor. After the soft click of the door hinges turning, only Lin Yifan and Tang Baolin remained in the study.

Tang Baolin placed the purple clay teapot on the corner of the table, its bottom touching the sandalwood with a deep sigh. He walked to the window and drew the curtains wide, letting the spring sunlight stream in.

"Xiao Fan," his voice came from behind Lin Yifan, his back to him, "Do you think the stone will work?"

"It can be done."

Lin Yifan walked to the desk, his fingertips lightly brushing over the letter from Dong San of Qingshui. "Brother Shitou has followed you for twenty years; he knows the streets and alleys of Beiping better than the lines on his own palm."

That's not what I was asking.

Tang Baolin turned around, his face half-hidden in the shadow cast by the window: "I'm asking—do you think the Japanese have been genuinely making concessions these past three years, or just using it as a delaying tactic?"

Lin Yifan did not answer immediately. He folded the letter again and put it in his pocket, his movements as calm as if he were receiving an ordinary visiting card.

"Old man,"

He looked up and met Tang Baolin's gaze. "Three years ago, Terauchi Hisaichi said at the Lugou Bridge, 'China will be destroyed in three months.' And now?"

The Japanese need time; they need time to realize their ambitions. We also need time to grow strong enough to resist the Japanese, not just in Beiping.

What Lin Yifan didn't say was that the Japanese had dug their own grave this time. Immediately afterward, the Pacific War was about to begin, and World War II was about to enter its most intense phase. The United States, relying on its powerful industrial base and arms exports, had risen to become the world's superpower.

Their own pharmaceutical factories were already in normal production, and they could take advantage of this war to expand rapidly and accumulate wealth for future global expansion.

Lin Yifan picked up his teacup, took a sip, and looked at Tang Baolin, saying, "Old man, after the Red Party people arrive today, we must hand over the administration of Beiping to them as soon as possible."

In this way, we can focus all our energy on the pharmaceutical factory. Now the factory is in normal production, and the main task from now on is sales, especially to those Westerners.

They're all in turmoil now, and they'll definitely be very interested in our effective anti-inflammatory drug. So, if you can reach an agreement today, you need to arrange the handover as soon as possible.

Then, arrange a meeting with those foreigners in Dongjiaomin Lane. We don't need to talk to them one by one. We'll get them all together and have Dr. Chen give us a proper introduction to our anti-inflammatory and pain-relieving drugs.

Then you can just wait to collect the gold.

"Buying gold? Xiao Fan, do you mean we accept gold for that anti-inflammatory medicine?" The old man asked Lin Yifan with a puzzled look.

"Yes, we only accept gold for our anti-inflammatory drugs. Alternatively, we can exchange them for complete sets of equipment or technology that we require."

"Xiao Fan, is our anti-inflammatory medicine really that miraculous?"

Lin Yifan put down his teacup, the bottom of which made a crisp sound as it touched the saucer. He walked to his desk, took out a small tin box from his pocket, and as he opened the lid, a faint, distinctive sulfonamide scent wafted out.

"Grandpa, look."

He poured the white pill from the box into his palm. The pill gleamed subtly in the sunlight, its edges so neatly trimmed it looked as if it had been measured with a ruler. "This is sulfadiazine, one of the first products produced at our factory. The Japanese call it 'Prontosil,' and the Germans only synthesized it in 1935, and it's only been in mass production for two or three years."

"This kind of medicine can't be bought outside. The penicillin we produce now, which is what foreigners call 'penicillin,' is still only in the laboratory abroad. Only we in the whole world can mass-produce it. Its anti-inflammatory effect is a hundred times that of what I have."

Given the current situation, do you think foreigners would be scrambling to get their hands on this medicine?

Tang Baolin took the sulfadiazine tablet, stroking its smooth surface with his fingertips, but his gaze remained fixed on Lin Yifan's face. Sunlight streamed in through the window, gilding the young man's features with a pale gold rim; his eyes were as calm as a deep pool, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

"Penicillin 100 times..."

The old man repeated the number in a low voice, then suddenly chuckled, a self-deprecating laugh in his voice, "I've lived for over sixty years, and you, young man, have taught me a lesson."

He put the pills back into the tin box, and the soft sound of the lid closing was particularly clear in the study.

"OK,"

Tang Baolin straightened up and called out towards the door, "Old Zhang—"

The curtain was lifted, and the butler, Old Master Zhang, hurried in, carrying a red lacquered tray with a pot of freshly brewed Longjing tea on it. "Sir, the tea is here."

"go,"

Tang Baolin waved his hand, "Clean up the west wing, and have the kitchen prepare a light meal."

Butler Zhang acknowledged and withdrew. Lin Yifan watched her figure disappear through the hanging flower gate, then suddenly asked, "Old Master, have you made contact with Manager Zhou? Which way are the Red Party members coming from?"

"We contacted them; they entered through Deshengmen."

Tang Baolin walked to his desk, took out a sketch of Beiping from a drawer, and spread it on the desk. "I sent Zhao Gang to wait at the city gate. We have people watching the whole way, so don't worry, nothing will go wrong."