Courtyard House: Home Alone

It was a little after 3 p.m. that afternoon when Lin Yifan was teaching Yu Wenxiu and the other two to read. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Xia Yan, go see who it is."

Xia Yan put down his pen and ran out. A moment later, he returned with Yang Weimin. Seeing this, Yu Wenxiu knew that her young master had something to do, so she quickly told the two women to pack their things and leave the main room.

"Speak, what is it?" Lin Yifan asked after the three girls left.

"Young Master, Manager Zhou asked me to deliver a letter to you. He said he'll arrive on time on the afternoon of the 1st." After saying that, he took out a letter from his person and handed it to Lin Yifan with both hands.

"Okay, I understand. Tell him I'll arrange it."

Lin Yifan took the letter but didn't rush to open it. He simply tapped the envelope lightly with his knuckles. The envelope bore the familiar, slender, golden calligraphy of Manager Zhou.

Yang Weimin nodded. "Young master, I'll tell Manager Zhou. If there's nothing else, I'll be going now." After saying that, he turned and left the main room, and Xinyi, who was waiting at the door, saw him out to the courtyard.

Seeing that Yang Weimin had left, Lin Yifan took out a letter, which contained the list of Red Party members who would attend the banquet the day after tomorrow, which was the list of the first batch of people to take over Beiping.

Lin Yifan's gaze slowly moved across the list, his fingertips lingering on several names, especially Zheng Shucheng, who was ranked first, and Qin Zhirong, who was ranked second.

He wasn't surprised by Zheng Shucheng, because he was the same Qingsong that Lin Yifan had met.

And this Qin Zhirong was exactly the person in his memories from his previous life. If he was not mistaken, this person should have returned from studying in the Soviet Union and spent three years at Sun Yat-sen University in Moscow.

Lin Yifan remembered that in the original timeline, this person was one of the core figures of the Comintern, ruthless and meticulous, who had presided over the anti-revolutionary purges. Later, due to disagreements with a certain line, he was transferred out of the core circle. Unexpectedly, in this life, he became a member of the advance team to take over Beiping.

"interesting."

Lin Yifan folded the letter and put it in his pocket (space). Qin Zhirong's arrival meant that the Red Party's attention to Beiping was far greater than expected.

Hopefully, he's not too idealistic. This Qin Zhirong isn't someone easy to deal with. Lin Yifan leaned back in his chair, his fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the copper basin.

Three years at Moscow Sun Yat-sen University, a background from the anti-rightist purge—these experiences pieced together create an image that is completely different from that of Qingsong, a cadre who crawled his way up from the mountains.

The former emphasizes organizational discipline and ideological purity, while the latter focuses more on practical results and a strong mass base. What kind of ripples will be stirred up by the clash of these two styles in the murky waters of Beiping remains to be seen.

"Young master, the tea has gone cold."

Xia Yan brought in a freshly brewed cup of Longjing tea. Seeing the unburnt ashes in the copper basin, she paused, but asked nothing. This girl had been with Lin Yifan for half a year and had already learned what to see and what to forget.

"Go and invite Old Master Tang over. Tell him I have something to discuss with him."

"Now?"

"Now."

Xia Yan put down her teacup and turned to leave. Lin Yifan got up and walked to the window, gazing at the old locust tree in the courtyard. The tree's shadow swayed, casting dappled light and shadow on the ground.

Three days ago, Xu Zheng's three men were captured, but the Military Intelligence Bureau remained silent. This unusual silence made him sense something amiss. The Military Intelligence Bureau wasn't one to suffer defeat easily, and neither was Dai Yunong. Only a larger scheme could have made this venomous snake temporarily back down.

Less than an hour later, footsteps came from the corridor. Tang Baolin was leaning on a cane, followed by two guards.

Although the old man is seventy-three years old this year, he stands very straight. He wears a dark blue long gown that has been washed until it is white and the cuffs are frayed, but he is reluctant to change it.

"Huaijin is urgently looking for me; has the person behind Xu Zheng shown himself?"

Lin Yifan turned around and handed over Manager Zhou's letter. Tang Baolin didn't take it, but tapped the table with his cane: "Tell me first, my old eyes are failing, I can't read small print."

"The Red Party members will arrive the day after tomorrow, led by Zheng Shucheng and Qin Zhirong."

Lin Yifan spread the letter on the table. "You've met Zheng Shucheng, he's Qingsong. This Qin Zhirong…" He paused, "He came back from Moscow, he's from the purges."

Tang Baolin's cane slammed heavily on the paving stones. The words "anti-revolutionary purge" seemed like a stone thrown into a pond, tightening the wrinkles on the old man's face. In 1935, the anti-revolutionary purge in northern Shaanxi expanded, and many good men lost their lives inexplicably.

"What does Huaijin mean?"

"What I mean is, have them arrive early for the welcome dinner the day after tomorrow so you can get to know them beforehand, in case you accidentally say something wrong."

As for Qin Zhirong, there's no need to worry too much about him. I'll give him a heads-up beforehand, and if all else fails, I'll have the Red Party replace him.

Tang Baolin remained silent for a moment, his withered fingers slowly stroking the dragon head of his cane. The dragon head was made of sandalwood, and he had polished it for twenty years, giving it a warm, jade-like patina.

"Xiao Fan,"

The old man finally spoke, his voice like sandpaper rubbing against old wood, "I, Tang Baolin, have lived for seventy-three years and have seen my share of storms."

The Beiyang clique, the Fengtian clique, the Northern Expedition, the Japanese—the political landscape changed hands constantly. The only reason I've survived this long is because of my extreme caution.

He raised his eyes, his gaze cloudy yet sharp. "I've never dealt with the Red Party members, so I can't say I trust them much. But I've heard about their purges, and this Qin Zhirong..."

Tang Baolin didn't continue, but simply shook his head.

"I understand your concerns."

Lin Yifan picked up his teacup, found the tea was indeed cold, and put it down again. "I also fear that kind of anti-rightist campaign style. But right now we need people. In this game of Beiping, without the support of the Red Party, we won't go far."

So, let's use him for now and see. Didn't I just say that if it really doesn't work out, I'll handle it...?

He walked to the wall, where a map of Beiping's defenses hung, seized from the Japanese headquarters years before. The map was densely marked with strongholds, hidden stakes, and transportation lines, resembling a giant spider web.

"The Military Intelligence Bureau is waiting." Lin Yifan's finger landed on a red dot near Xizhimen. "Dai Yunong won't just stand by and watch Xu Zheng be detained. I reckon they're waiting for someone who can keep things under control."

"Chen Gongshu?"

Lin Yifan turned around and looked at the old man with some surprise. Tang Baolin gave a bitter smile: "Young master, if there is anyone in the Military Intelligence Bureau who can still hold their own in Beiping, it is none other than him."

This man lived in Beiping for many years and associated with all sorts of people. I also had several interactions with him.

Lin Yifan walked back to the table, poured another cup of hot tea, and pushed it towards him: "So, what do you think of him compared to Xu Zheng?"

"Xu Zheng?"

Tang Baolin seemed to have heard a joke. His withered fingers gripped the rim of the cup but he didn't drink. "Children from the Linli class are well-read and bold, but the waters of Beiping are not something you can wade through just by being bold."

Chen Gongshu had been operating here for seven years, from Chahar to Rehe, from Tianjin to Zhangjiakou; he had more informants than the Japanese military police. Xu Zheng wasn't even worthy to carry his shoes.