Courtyard House: Home Alone

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

What I mean is,

Tang Baolin slammed his cane heavily on the ground. "These three thousand men were sent by your party. They're traveling along the Jin-Cha-Ji border region, infiltrating in batches, disguised as refugees, merchants, and porters—small targets, hard to detect. But what's the exact timing?"

Zheng Shucheng took off his glasses and wiped the fog off the lenses with the corner of his shirt: "Old Tang, these three thousand people are already on their way. Some will arrive tomorrow, and others are on their way to meet up with the rest."

But we're still a little worried. For convenience on the road, these three thousand men carried very few weapons and ammunition. What will happen when they reach Beiping...?

"The 'Ghost' has its own arrangements regarding firearms. You all know how much equipment they've already supplied to your party."

Tang Baolin sat back down in his armchair and tapped his fingers on the table. "Huaijin's original words were—'When the people arrive, the guns will arrive.' As for food and clothing, we'll use the funds from our municipal committee for the time being."

I saw it too. The people you came with are quite efficient, and the tax collection work has been fully launched.

Once all three thousand people have arrived, we can free up our time to quickly and efficiently arrange things at the grain depot.

To paraphrase Huaijin, even without a drought, does that mean we don't need to prepare food or eat?

Tang Baolin picked up his teacup and took a sip of the now-cold tea. "But right now, the most important thing is to set up the framework first."

Shucheng, Zhirong, let's each go back and make a plan, then meet again so I can give Huaijin a reply.

"Well then, I have to go back now. Two more groups of guests are coming to my place later."

Tang Baolin stood up, carefully folded the topographical map and put it into his pocket, then put on his fox fur coat. Zheng Shucheng and Qin Zhirong also stood up. The former hesitated to speak, while the latter stared down at the paper on the table covered with numbers, his brows furrowed.

"Old Tang," Zheng Shucheng finally spoke, "these three thousand men have traveled a long way and are quite exhausted; they need to rest..."

"Take three days off." Tang Baolin interrupted him. "Three days later, construction will begin simultaneously at Xishan, Tonghui River, and Nanyuan."

As for training, they have military commanders, so let them arrange it themselves. At the same time, they will begin conscription in the name of the municipal committee, and those new recruits can help build the granary first.

This should be your strength. We will limit the number of recruits in the first batch to 10,000. After the first batch is trained, we will consider the follow-up.

Actually, all of this was arranged by the 'ghost,' and Huaijin and I were just passing on a message."

"Um, Mr. Tang! Our committee has just started its work, and raising funds cannot be done all at once. Could you perhaps discuss with 'Ghost' whether we can first..." Qin Zhirong looked at Tang Baolin and said hesitantly.

Before he could finish speaking, Tang Baolin interrupted him: "You don't need to worry about the pharmaceutical factory. This is 'Ghost's' own factory."

His rules already stipulated who to sell his medicine to and how to use the money, and I simply followed those rules.

As for the rest, I cannot and will not speak up. Everyone knows how much the "Ghost" has done for the people of Beiping.

You should know how much benefit your party has received from "Spectre." Giving is a favor, not giving is their right; I can't bring myself to make excessive demands.

Let's try to figure out some solutions ourselves; once we get through the initial phase, things will be fine.

After he finished speaking, he didn't linger and pushed open the door to leave. A cold wind swirled with snowflakes and hit him in the face. Tang Baolin squinted and tightened the collar of his fox fur coat even more.

The snow in the courtyard had been cleared to make way for him, and the clerk named Zhou Degui was standing under the hanging flower gate. Seeing him come out, he hurriedly came forward to greet him: "Old Tang, the car is ready and at the alley entrance."

Tang Baolin nodded and walked towards the door, leaning on his cane. Zhou Degui followed behind, hesitant to speak.

"Speak your mind." Tang Baolin said without turning his head.

"Mr. Tang, while you were talking to the two vice chairmen, a Japanese man came to the front yard. He said he was from the Overseas Chinese Affairs Office, his surname was Shimizu, and he wanted to see you."

Tang Baolin paused slightly, then continued walking: "Tell him I'm not feeling well, we'll talk another day."

"They've already been sent away."

Zhou Degui lowered his voice, "But the Japanese left a message saying he wanted to meet with you, sir, to discuss the procurement of medicines."

Tang Baolin sneered, slamming his cane heavily on the bluestone slab: "Medicine procurement? He certainly has good connections."

Do you want a reply from the younger one?

"No need." Tang Baolin climbed into the carriage and lowered the cotton curtain. "Let him wait. If he can wait, that's his good fortune; if he can't..."

The carriage moved slowly through the snow-covered alley, its tracks quickly filled with fresh snow. Tang Baolin leaned against the carriage wall, closing his eyes to rest, but Zhou Degui's words kept replaying in his mind. The news about Qingshui Dongsan and penicillin had, after all, leaked out.

By the time the car arrived at his doorstep, it was already dusk. The butler, Old Zhang, came out to greet him, brushing the snow off his shoulders: "Master, the guest has arrived and is waiting in the warm chamber."

"Let's bring the Americans to the main room first; 'Ghost' is in a hurry to get the power plant."

"Yes, sir, I'll go right away." With that, Old Zhang turned and left.

Tang Baolin also walked towards the main room.

Meanwhile, an uninvited guest arrived at the backyard of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang. The man was wearing a slightly worn dark blue cotton robe and a felt hat covered in snowflakes, the brim pulled low so that only half of his face was visible. He stood at Long Xiaoni's door, looked around, and then gently knocked.

"Who is it?" came Long Xiaoni's voice from inside.

"It is I, the scholar," the newcomer said in a low voice.

After dinner, Long Xiaoni, who was already leaning against the bed, immediately sat up straight when she heard the word "scholar," threw off the covers, and ran to the door without even taking off her shoes, pulling open the latch.

The person outside slipped in, closed the door behind him, and then took off his felt hat, revealing a thin face. He looked to be under forty years old, with a faint old scar between his eyebrows. It was Chen Gongshu, the former stationmaster of Beiping Station, known as the ruthless scholar.

Upon recognizing the person, Long Xiaoni's pupils contracted sharply, and she instinctively took a half-step back, her back pressed against the doorframe: "Chen... Station Chief Chen?"

"Shh—" Chen Gongshu raised his index finger, glancing out the window. "Keep your voice down. I'm not a stationmaster anymore, just a small-time trader."

Long Xiaoni understood, suppressing the surging horror in her heart, and stepped aside to make way: "Come in and talk."

Long Xiaoni lifted the copper kettle from the stove, poured Chen Gongshu a cup of hot water, her fingers trembling slightly: "How did you find your way here?"