Courtyard House: Home Alone

"Sure," Lin Yifan replied, "but I also have one thing—"

"Please speak."

"Your party has no right to interfere in the operation of our pharmaceutical factory. We decide for ourselves who to sell our medicines, how to sell them, and at what price."

A slight smile appeared on Qing Song's lips, but it didn't reach his eyes: "Young friend Lin, are you planning to sell sulfonamides and penicillin to Westerners for gold?"

"Change the equipment, change the technology, change the things we can't manufacture."

Lin Yifan corrected him, "Gold is just a means, not an end."

What if the Westerners resell the medicine to the Japanese?

"That's their business," Lin Yifan said calmly. "The pharmaceutical company only cares about production, not where it ends. But there's one condition—"

He held up his finger. "All exported medicine must be specially marked so that we can trace its origin if it's found on the battlefield. Whoever breaks the rules will have their supply cut off."

Qingsong was silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter. The laughter echoed in the main room, carrying a hint of genuine joy.

"What a fine 'cut off whose goods' statement!" He took off his glasses, wiped his eyes with a handkerchief, and said, "Young friend Lin, are you really only eight years old this year?"

"You're eight years old according to the traditional Chinese age reckoning," Lin Yifan laughed. "In my hometown, we're only considered eight years old after the New Year."

"Incredible, truly remarkable. Even Mr. Guibu admires you greatly." Qingsong put his glasses back on, and the scrutiny in his eyes finally transformed into a kind of recognition.

"Furthermore, in view of your party's actual situation, 'Ghost' has decided to donate another batch of weapons and ammunition to your party free of charge for the defense of Beiping. The specific quantity is approximately enough to equip about 20,000 people, including: light and heavy machine guns, rifles, pistols, mortars, field guns, and ten basic loads of ammunition."

Lin Yifan stood up and walked to the window: "Compared to the city your party is going to take over, this is nothing. However, it is also a small token of 'Ghost's' appreciation."

He gazed out the window at the hazy sky, the outlines of the Bell and Drum Towers faintly visible in the distance through the smog. A few pigeons flitted across the eaves, the sound of their wings beating clearly audible.

"Now,"

Lin Yifan lowered his hand and glanced at everyone. "The Ghost just wants the people of Beiping to know who is protecting them."

They wanted those foreign devils to know that the Chinese could also make the best medicine; they wanted—"he paused, "to truly bring this city to life."

Qingsong looked at him quietly for a long time before slowly speaking: "Young friend Lin, are you aware that our party has taken over more than just a city?"

"I know."

"It's responsibility, it's sacrifice, it's—" Qingsong's voice lowered, "it's the blood of countless people."

"That's why 'The Ghost' wants to hand over Beiping to you, not other parties."

Lin Yifan walked back to the table, picked up the now-cold tea, and drank it all in one gulp. "'The Ghost' can kill, but it can't save. Your party can save, but it can also kill—that's what Beiping needs."

Qingsong stared at him for a moment, then suddenly extended his hand: "Deal."

Two hands clasped together, one aged yet strong, the other youthful yet composed. Tang Baolin stood to the side, the dark red of his scar shimmering faintly under the oil lamp.

"Well then," Qingsong withdrew his hand, took out a pocket watch from his robes and glanced at it, "I will report today's events as soon as possible. As for the specific handover details—"

"Five days later."

Lin Yifan interjected, "On February 1st, the Tang family will host a banquet to invite celebrities from all walks of life in Beiping and announce the establishment of the 'Municipal Committee' in public. The first chairman of the committee will be the old man."

However, the main tasks in all aspects still depend on you, and we also hope that you will strictly abide by the agreement between the two parties.

At that time, we would also like to request that key members of your party attend, all of you appearing as friends of the old man. However, you must inform me of the framework and list of names in advance, as the old man will announce the appointments publicly at the banquet.

Qingsong nodded and put the pocket watch back into his inner pocket. He stood up, the hem of his long robe swaying gently with the movement.

"Young friend Lin,"

He reached the door, then suddenly stopped. "Before you leave, the master has one more thing for me to tell you—"

"Please speak."

"The name 'Ghost' can be concealed but not erased. It can reappear at any time if needed."

Lin Yifan was slightly taken aback, then cupped his hands in thanks: "Please convey my gratitude to you, sir."

Qingsong returned the greeting, then turned and left with the two young men. The sound of their footsteps gradually faded in the corridor, eventually disappearing outside the hanging flower gate.

Tang Baolin walked to Lin Yifan's side, looked at the empty doorway, and suddenly sighed: "Xiaofan, are you really sure?"

"Grandpa," Lin Yifan turned around, a smile playing on his lips, "didn't you always say that the highest level of Xingyi Quan is 'formless and unintentional, yet intuitively perceptive'?"

"yes."

"The same goes for 'ghosts'."

He walked to the desk and said, "Grandpa, after this banquet, we need to quickly arrange a meeting with those foreign devils. Once these arrangements are made, you and I can gradually step back from the limelight."

Tang Baolin didn't reply immediately. He slowly walked to the window, gazing at the pigeons still circling above the eaves, and suddenly spoke: "Xiao Fan, do you know that 'retiring behind the scenes' is easier said than done?"

"What does the old man mean?"

"People's hearts."

Tang Baolin turned around, the scar on his face appearing like a congealed bloodstain in the backlight. "The longer you stand on the stage, the more people will know you, and the more people will want you to disappear. 'Ghost' can hide because no one knows who 'Ghost' is. What about you?"

Lin Yifan gently placed the teacup on the table, the porcelain bottom touching the sandalwood with a dull thud.

"That's why I wanted to see those foreign devils."

"Oh?"

"Sulfonamides and penicillin from pharmaceutical companies are now hard currency."

Lin Yifan took out a folded piece of foreign paper from his sleeve and slowly unfolded it on the table. "Once the news gets out, the British, Americans, Germans, French, Soviets, and even... Chongqing. They'll definitely flock here."

Tang Baolin took two steps closer, his gaze falling on the paper. It was a handwritten list, densely filled with the names of more than a dozen people, with their nationalities and affiliated organizations noted at the end.

"This is……"

"We learned through certain channels that they are backed by their respective countries or families, and these are our targets this time."

"This is a list of agents for various countries in Beijing and Tianjin."

Lin Yifan's finger lightly traced across the paper. "British Consul Smith is actually an MI6 agent; American Consul Anderson has direct telegrams with the War Department in Washington; and Muller of the German firm Reeve & Co., though operating under a commercial guise, is actually an SS intelligence liaison..."

Tang Baolin's brow furrowed even more deeply: "Aren't you afraid that by gathering all these people together, they'll undermine each other?"

"The point is to make them sabotage each other, so we can get a better price."