Courtyard House: Home Alone

A soft knock came at the door, and Wenxiu entered carrying a tray with four dishes of pastries: pea flour cake, glutinous rice cake, sugar-coated sesame cake, and a dish of finely sliced ​​pickled cucumbers. Xia Yan followed behind, carrying a vermilion lacquered food box containing steaming hot soy milk and fried dough rings.

"Young Master, as you instructed, we've prepared two portions." Wenxiu placed the tray on the table, her eyes glancing at the bulge at Chen Gongshu's waist. "Would Mr. Chen like to join us?"

"Together."

Lin Yifan picked up a sugar-coated sesame seed cake, broke it in half, and said, "You three eat some too. After you're done, go do whatever you were doing. I'm going out with Uncle Chen today, so you don't need to come with me."

Xinyi was reaching for the Aiwowo when she heard this and froze: "Young Master, aren't you taking us?"

"No."

"But..." Xinyi wanted to argue, but Wenxiu gently kicked her under the table. She shut her mouth in grievance, but her eyes reddened.

Xia Yan laid out the contents of the food box one by one, her movements as gentle as ever. She simply pushed the bowl of soy milk towards Lin Yifan and placed a dish of pickled cucumbers in front of Chen Gongshu—she remembered that Mr. Chen always ate a couple of bites of the salty stuff whenever he came.

Chen Gongshu thanked him, but his gaze swept over the three girls' faces. He was used to operating in secrecy and was adept at reading people, yet he couldn't discern any difference between these three teenagers and ordinary maids. But Lin Yifan must have a reason for saying they didn't need to come along.

The sour, rancid smell of fermented soybean juice filled the main room. Chen Gongshu frowned, but still picked up the bowl and took a sip—it was scalding hot, slightly sour, with a pungent, over-fermented odor, yet strangely invigorating.

"Young master, where are we going?" He put down his bowl and finally couldn't help but ask.

Lin Yifan swallowed the last bite of the sugar-coated sesame seed cake, then took a sip of soy milk before speaking: "Outside Xizhimen, Gaoliang Bridge."

"Gaoliang Bridge?" Chen Gongshu was taken aback. He was familiar with that place; the Military Intelligence Bureau had several safe houses in Beiping, one of which was in a hutong near Gaoliang Bridge. But that place had long been abandoned, and now it was inhabited by a few rickshaw pullers. What was there to "see" there?

You'll know when you get there.

Lin Yifan wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, stood up and walked towards the inner room. "Mr. Chen, please wait a moment. I'll put on some more clothes."

A rustling sound came from the inner room, like someone rummaging through drawers and cabinets. Chen Gongshu sat in place, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of his teacup.

Chen Gongshu's gaze fell on the painting "Solitary Angler on a Cold River" on the wall. A lone boat, a straw hat and raincoat, a cold river—the brushstrokes were simple yet conveyed a stubborn sense of isolation.

He suddenly remembered what Boss Dai had said at the villa in Lushan before he went to Beiping—"If this 'ghost' could be used by the Party and the State, it would be worth five divisions."

At the time, he thought it was an exaggeration, but now, sitting in this warm and cozy room, he felt a strange sense of anticipation.

The noise from inside stopped. When Lin Yifan came out again, he had changed into a dark blue cotton robe with gray squirrel fur trim on the collar and cuffs, which was both warm and not bulky.

"Let's go."

The two left the east wing. Xin Yi had already filled the car with hot water. Chen Gongshu picked up the crank and started the engine in no time. They drove towards Xizhimen.

The Xizhimen city gate tower was faintly visible in the morning mist, and the gray brick city wall was blackened by the passage of time, like a sleeping old beast.

When the sentry at Xizhimen saw the Ford sedan, he didn't even stop it; he just waved it through.

"Young master, Gaoliang Bridge is still two li away." Chen Gongshu stepped on the gas. "'Ghost'... is he waiting there?"

Lin Yifan didn't answer. He took out the mutton-fat jade pendant from his pocket and rubbed it in his palm twice. He had specially brought it with him before leaving this morning. It was a gift from Tang Baolin. At this moment, it felt warm to the touch, like a silent promise.

"Mr. Chen, park here. I'll give you half an hour. I think you should be able to hide over there by now, right?" Lin Yifan said, pointing to the messy shacks in front of him.

Chen Gongshu slammed on the brakes, the tires sliding half a foot across the frozen ground before coming to a stop. He turned to look at Lin Yifan, who was putting the jade pendant back into his pocket, his expression as calm as if he were giving an ordinary, trivial instruction.

"Does this mean... I should sneak over first?"

"Aren't you a military intelligence instructor?" Lin Yifan pushed open the car door, letting in a gust of cold wind carrying the earthy smell unique to the suburbs. "You must have some skills, right?"

Chen Gongshu stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed. He took off his gray wool coat and tossed it onto the back seat, revealing a tight-fitting black short jacket underneath, the outline of the pistol at his waist becoming even more pronounced: "Alright, half an hour. Young master, you…"

"I'll wait here," Lin Yifan said, pointing to a still-closed pancake stall by the roadside. "You'll know in half an hour."

Chen Gongshu said no more, pushed open the car door and slipped out. His figure rose and fell a few times in the morning mist, then disappeared behind the crisscrossing earthen walls of the shack area, like a drop of water falling into a murky river, vanishing without a trace in an instant.

Lin Yifan sat in the car, took out the piece of malt candy from his pocket, and slowly peeled off the oil paper. In the time it took for the sweetness to melt on his tongue, he had already mentally reviewed his plans for the day.

He glanced at his watch every now and then, and soon the hands pointed to the agreed time. He released his mental energy, taking in every blade of grass and every tree within a radius of more than five kilometers.

Lin Yifan's lips curled up slightly. As expected of the top assassin of the Military Intelligence Bureau, he still had some skill in hiding. In such a short time, Chen Gongshu actually found a cellar.

He crouched inside, clutching the Browning pistol, the muzzle pointed at the cellar entrance.

With a thought, Lin Yifan teleported and reappeared behind Chen Gongshu. Sensing something was amiss, Chen Gongshu was about to turn around when a hard object pressed against the back of his head.

Chen Gongshu's hair stood on end; based on his experience, it was a pistol. He had already checked it when he came in; besides a dozen or so cabbages and half a bag of potatoes, there was nothing else in the cellar.

"Don't move."

The sound was soft, yet it felt like an ice pick piercing his back. Chen Gongshu froze on the spot, his fingers gripping the gun trembling slightly—not from fear, but from shock. He had checked the cellar three times before entering; the ventilation opening was only the size of a bowl, and he had blocked most of the entrance with a cabbage basket. Even if someone had followed him in, there should have been some noise.

But the person behind him appeared out of nowhere.

"Young master?" he asked tentatively, his voice extremely low.

"Um."

The hard object pressed against the back of his head was removed. Chen Gongshu slowly turned around and saw Lin Yifan standing two steps away, playing with a Colt in his hand.

The cellar was dimly lit, with only a sliver of pale morning light leaking through the ventilation shaft, illuminating the boy's face. His eyes were as calm as two deep wells, reflecting Chen Gongshu's bewildered expression.

"You..." Chen Gongshu opened his mouth, but suddenly didn't know what to ask. How did you get in? When did you get in? He vaguely felt that the answers to these questions would overturn his understanding of "human beings" that he had held for over thirty years.

Lin Yifan put the gun away and said, "Let's go, we'll talk outside."