Courtyard House: Home Alone

Tang Baolin released his grip and sat back down in the armchair. "Tell your colleagues that 'Ghost' does business fairly. They treat me with respect, and I'll repay them tenfold. But if anyone tries to play tricks—"

He didn't finish speaking, but simply picked up the now-cold teacup and gently blew away the foam. Smith's smile froze for a moment, then returned to normal, and he nodded repeatedly to indicate that he understood.

The butler, Old Zhang, entered at the opportune moment and whispered a few words in Tang Baolin's ear. Tang Baolin frowned slightly, then said to Smith, "Let's end our discussion here for tonight. I'll have my butler meet with you at the Six Nations Hotel tomorrow for the specific details."

The American tactfully rose to take his leave, the translator following behind with his suitcase. Tang Baolin saw them off to the door of the main room, watching their figures disappear into the wind and snow, his warm expression instantly vanishing.

"Is Shimizu Tosan still waiting?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. They've been in the gatehouse for two hours now."

Tang Baolin snorted coldly and walked towards the inner courtyard, leaning on his cane. "Let him continue waiting. Tell the kitchen to make me a bowl of hot soup noodles, with plenty of chili."

"Those Japanese... they probably can't wait any longer."

Old Zhang followed behind, his voice extremely low, "The gatekeeper just reported that Dong San from Qingshui has asked for the time three times, and the last time he even smashed a teacup."

Tang Baolin paused slightly, a cold smile playing on his lips: "Smashing a teacup? Just youthful impetuosity. Let him smash it; not only will he have to pay for it, he'll also have to clean it up himself."

Passing through a moon gate, a charcoal brazier was already lit in the warm pavilion of the inner courtyard. Tang Baolin sat down in a grand chair, took a hot towel from a maid and wiped his face, only then feeling his frozen ears gradually warm up. Old Zhang stood by the door with his hands at his sides, waiting for instructions.

"Go, bring Shimizu Dongsan to the West Flower Hall."

Tang Baolin suddenly spoke up, "Just say that I just took my medicine and am feeling a little better. I can't stand the wind, so I can only see him in the warm pavilion."

"Sir, this..." Old Zhang hesitated, "The West Flower Hall isn't lit; it's as cold as an icebox."

"We're going to keep him in the cold." Tang Baolin tossed the towel back into the copper basin, splashing water high into the air. "Don't the Japanese believe in Bushido? Let him experience the Bushido of Beiping."

Old Zhang understood and bowed as he withdrew.

Tang Baolin sat alone in the warm room, listening to the howling wind and snow outside the window. Until he heard footsteps outside the door.

"Mr. Tang, it's so difficult to get an audience with you."

Shimizu Tosan stood outside the threshold of the West Flower Hall, wearing a dark blue woolen overcoat with a cherry blossom badge pinned to the collar.

Tang Baolin leaned against the doorframe of the warm pavilion, wrapped in a thick fox fur coat and holding a hand warmer in his hands: "Please forgive me, Mr. Qingshui, I'm getting old and have too many worldly affairs. My old body is really..."

"I understand, I understand," Shimizu Tosan said, but his leather shoes tapped impatiently on the blue brick floor.

It was indeed cold in the West Flower Hall; his breath was clearly visible in the white mist, and a layer of fine snow had settled on the shoulders of his overcoat—accumulated from the road from the gatehouse to here.

"I wonder what brings Mr. Shimizu so eager to see me?" Tang Baolin narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze falling on the cherry blossom badge on Shimizu Dongsan's chest, the insignia of the Japanese embassy staff in China.

He deliberately pulled the heater closer to his chest and let out a soft sigh, as if the chill of the West Flower Hall had already seeped into his bones.

Shimizu Tosan took half a step forward, but was stopped by the threshold. He looked down at the wooden threshold, which was only an inch high, his lips twitched, but he ultimately did not step over it.

"Mr. Tang, let's not beat around the bush. The Imperial Army Hospital urgently needs a large quantity of penicillin. I've heard you have a source."

"Penicillin?" Tang Baolin looked puzzled, his thin fingers gently rubbing against the heater. "Mr. Shimizu is talking about some new Western drug?"

"Mr. Tang, let's be frank."

Shimizu Tosan's voice turned cold, his leather shoes no longer tapping the ground but firmly nailing to the blue bricks. "Those Americans, British, French, and Germans, they've all ordered a lot of medicine from you."

Tang Baolin chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the empty West Flower Hall, tinged with a touch of desolation: "Mr. Qingshui flatters me. This old man doesn't have such great abilities; those things are all 'ghosts'."

I was just relaying their message and running errands; who got those drugs was entirely up to 'Ghost.'

Shimizu Tosan's expression changed, and the faint line between his eyebrows suddenly deepened.

He leaned forward, the hem of his overcoat brushing against the snow on the threshold: "Mr. Tang, you're too modest. Everyone in Beiping knows that only you can get 'Ghost' supplies. The Imperial Army Hospital's requirements aren't high; the first batch only needs five thousand units, and the price is negotiable."

"Five thousand?"

Tang Baolin switched the hand warmer to his other hand, his withered fingers tightening around the collar of his fox fur coat. "Mr. Shimizu, do you know what the price of a penicillin is on the black market right now?" He then held up a finger and waved it: "One small yellow croaker a penicillin, and there's no market for it."

Money is not a problem.

Shimizu Tosan's voice suddenly rose, then, realizing his lapse, he lowered it again, "The Empire has always been generous to its loyal friends. Mr. Tang, if you're willing to act as an intermediary, besides the cost of the medicine, there will be an additional reward."

He pulled a velvet box from the inside pocket of his coat, flicked the lid with his thumb, and revealed a pair of jade thumb rings inside. The jade was a translucent green, and even in the dimly lit West Flower Hall, it shimmered with a faint glow.

"This is old Burmese jade," Shimizu Dong San said, pushing the box forward. "It was a gift from a prince to my father in the twelfth year of the Showa era..."

Tang Baolin waved his hand, stopping Shimizu Dongsan who was about to continue: "Mr. Shimizu, it's not that I don't want to pass on your message, but 'Ghost' specifically instructed from the beginning that this penicillin can be sold to anyone, but not to the Japanese. So, Mr. Shimizu, please leave."

Shimizu Tōsan's face instantly darkened, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the velvet box. The chill in the West Flower Hall seemed to freeze at that moment, and even his breath seemed to become stagnant.

"Mr. Tang,"

His voice sounded like it was being squeezed out from between his teeth, "You should think this through. Although the Empire has signed an agreement with 'The Ghost,' our power in Beiping is far greater than that of those Western merchants. The Empire's army is all around Beiping, and could strike at any moment..."

Tang Baolin pulled the hand warmer closer to his chest, the silver fur of the fox fur collar brushing against his cheek. He squinted slightly, his gaze falling on the carved wooden window behind Qingshui Dongsan—outside the window, an old plum tree was struggling in the wind and snow, its branches covered with a thick layer of snow, yet a few early-blooming buds stubbornly peeked out.

"Mr. Shimizu,"

He spoke slowly, his voice hoarse and slow, typical of an elderly person, "Are you threatening me, or 'Ghost'? Are you trying to break the agreement? Fine, I will relay that to 'Ghost' as I see fit."

Besides, I heard you broke my antique teacup at the gatehouse? That's been passed down through my family for eighteen generations; your pair of jade thumb rings aren't enough to compensate for it.