Courtyard House: Home Alone

He suddenly stopped talking, took out a pocket watch from his pocket and glanced at it. "Old man, let's get down to business. I have other arrangements for Chen Gongshu's matter."

Tang Baolin understood and stopped asking questions. "Then I'll go find Zheng Shucheng and the others now to discuss it. Aren't they supposed to be working for the benefit of the world's suffering masses? Let's see what good ideas they have."

Tang Baolin put on his fox fur coat, leaned on his cane, and took two steps toward the door. Suddenly, he stopped, turned back, and said, "Huaijin, how reliable are your 'ghost' reports?"

"Old man,"

Lin Yifan said solemnly, "The great drought of the thirteenth year of Chongzhen's reign was recorded in the family genealogy as 'the land was barren for thousands of miles, and people ate each other.'"

If preparations aren't made early next year, Beijing, both inside and outside the city, will be like the second Chongzhen thirteenth year (of the reign of Emperor Chongzhen). Even worse! And to put it another way, won't the grain spoil if left there?

Tang Baolin remained silent for a long time, then finally slammed his cane down heavily: "Fine. I'll risk my old life for you in this gamble."

The door creaked open, and a gust of cold wind swirled in, carrying snowflakes with it. Xia Yan and Wen Xiu rushed forward to help him, but the old man waved them away.

He walked down the steps alone, his fox fur coat fluttering like a flag in the wind and snow, his back view showing a hint of the uprightness he had in his youth.

Lin Yifan stood inside the threshold, watching the gray-white figure disappear at the end of the alley before slowly closing the courtyard gate.

"Young Master," Xinyi emerged from the cellar, flour still clinging to her nose, "the grain inventory is complete—fifty bags of wheat flour, twenty bags of rice, ten bags of cornmeal, five bags of miscellaneous grains, and salted goods…"

"That's enough for us to eat. Xinyi, go cook. We'll stew a goose for dinner tonight," Lin Yifan said.

After leaving Nanluoguxiang, Mr. Tang did not go home, but went straight to Xila Hutong, where he seized a three-courtyard siheyuan (traditional courtyard house) occupied by the Japanese. The "Municipal Committee" temporarily set up its offices here.

He arrived at his office in the Intermediate People's Court and, as he opened the door, said to a clerk in the court, "Go and call Vice Chairman Zheng and Vice Chairman Qin to my office. I have something to discuss with them."

The clerk responded and left. Tang Baolin sat alone in the armchair, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table. The sound of snow sweeping came from outside the window; the hired laborers were clearing the snow from the yard.

He gazed at the frost flowers condensing on the windowpane and recalled what Lin Yifan had just said—three million, not killed in battle, not killed by disease, but starved to death.

The door was pushed open, and Zheng Shucheng and Qin Zhirong walked in one after the other. Zheng Shucheng was in his early forties, wearing a coarse cotton-padded jacket over a military overcoat. He walked with a brisk pace, clearly someone who had been following combat troops for a long time.

Qin Zhirong was younger, wearing a slightly worn gray cloth long gown and round-framed glasses perched on his nose, looking like an intellectual who had studied abroad.

"Old Tang, what's the rush in this snowy weather?" Zheng Shucheng breathed warm air onto his hands.

Tang Baolin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took out the piece of paper Lin Yifan had written from his pocket and spread it on the table: "Take a look at this first."

Zheng Shucheng bent down to examine it closely, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. Qin Zhirong didn't look, but listened as Zheng Shucheng read it to him in a low voice—300,000 tons, ten grain depots, underground, dispersed, secret. When he read "a severe drought in the Central Plains next year," Zheng Shucheng's voice paused noticeably.

"Where did this news come from?" Zheng Shucheng straightened up, his eyes behind his glasses gleaming with caution.

"ghost."

Tang Baolin picked up his teacup, then put it down again. "Huaijin said so; it was spread by their people."

Qin Zhirong chuckled, "It's that ghost again. Old Tang, it's not that I'm being paranoid, but this organization is so secretive. We don't even know who their leader is. How can they launch such a massive project based on just a single statement?"

"Brother Qin," Tang Baolin said slowly, "are you aware of the severe drought of the thirteenth year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign?"

Qin Zhirong was taken aback: "I've heard the old folks say that the land was barren for thousands of miles..."

"My Tang family ancestors fled to Beiping that year due to famine."

Tang Baolin's voice lowered, "Of the thirty-odd people, only seven remained after reaching the city gate. On the way..."

He waved his hand, no longer speaking, "Huaijin said next year's situation will be no less serious than that year's. Three million lives—that's not a scare tactic."

Zheng Shucheng put his glasses back on and stared at the numbers on the paper: "Three hundred thousand tons... At current grain prices, this amount of money could buy half of Beiping. Is Ghost really willing to pay?"

"The food was provided by 'Ghost,'" Huaijin said.

Tang Baolin took out the topographical map Lin Yifan had given him from the drawer and spread it out on the table. "We don't need to worry about the money. What we need to discuss now is—how to build these ten granaries, where to build them, under what pretext, and where to get the manpower."

Zheng Shucheng looked up at Tang Baolin, "Old Tang, with such a big commotion, putting aside the Japanese for now, if Chongqing gets wind of it, will we still be able to keep our 'Municipal Committee' sign up?"

Tang Baolin sneered, "Chongqing? They're too busy taking care of themselves right now. They're in chaos in Henan and Hubei, how could they possibly have time to build a few warehouses in Beiping? Besides—" He lowered his voice, "Huaijin said this must be done in secret. The fewer people who know, the better. Even within our own ranks, we need to be discerning."

Zheng Shucheng and Qin Zhirong exchanged a glance. Qin Zhirong spoke first: "What does Elder Tang mean..."

What I mean is,

Tang Baolin's finger traced the map. "Ten grain depots, divided into three groups. Zhirong, you're in charge of the Xishan side. I'll find you someone familiar with the terrain."

Tonghui River and Nanyuan, Shucheng, you can look for Manager Zhou. He has been in Beiping for a long time and knows a lot of people. He can talk to all sorts of people.

I'll keep an eye on Dongzhimen and the Tang family ancestral graves myself.

"What about the laborers?"

Zheng Shucheng asked, "A warehouse storing 300,000 tons of grain requires at least a thousand people to work. How can you keep so many people from talking?"

Tang Baolin explained Lin Yifan's method of "exchanging work for food," adding, "Each person will receive two jin of mixed grains per day, enough to fill them. In these days, having food to eat is enough to make people work their lives away. Once the warehouse is finished, those who want to stay will be warehouse guards, and those who don't will be given some travel expenses to send them away. The key is..."

He emphasized, "No one can be allowed to know that it's a granary under construction. The people in Xishan say it's a warehouse for the Summer Palace, the people along the Tonghui River say it's a river maintenance shed, and the people in Nanyuan say it's an expansion of a military horse farm—each has its own version, and we absolutely cannot let them confuse each other."

Qin Zhirong scratched his head: "Old Tang, I'm not trying to discourage you. With over a thousand people working, the material transport, the logistics—everything is perfectly transparent. Even though the Japanese have been mostly wiped out, there's always a chance some might have escaped. What if…"

"What if? Before your team arrives, 'Ghost' will do everything in its power to ensure the safety of Beiping."

Oh, right, there's something else I forgot to ask you guys. You said you'd split the group into smaller groups of 3,000 people, when will that group arrive?

"With their arrival, we can recruit more soldiers and expand our forces. We'll also have more manpower to repair the granary," Tang Baolin asked, staring at him.