Courtyard House: Home Alone

Lin Yifan put down his teacup, the porcelain bottom making a soft sound as it touched the wooden table. "It's good that you have ideas."

He stood up, smoothed the wrinkles in his cotton robe, and said, "A person without ideas is either a saint or a hypocrite."

If Kong Jie were a saint, we couldn't afford to hire him; if he were a hypocrite, we wouldn't dare use him. He has ideas but can keep them to himself, and he can still fight well—that's the kind of person we need.

Tang Baolin paused for a moment, then burst into laughter, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes crinkling into a deep grin: "Good! Good! You little rascal, your judgment of people is getting sharper and sharper."

He got up, walked around the table, and personally opened the door for Lin Yifan. "Go on, the side hall is the second room on the left. I've asked Old Zhou to guard it."

Lin Yifan straightened his collar and stepped out. The warmth in the corridor was stronger, gradually dispelling the chill from his body. He walked past the wall adorned with landscape paintings, his footsteps barely making a sound on the blue brick floor.

The door to the side hall was ajar, and low voices could be heard coming from inside. Lin Yifan paused for a moment at the door and heard a hoarse voice saying something, while another voice occasionally responded, carrying a heavy Shanxi accent.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door.

"Please come in."

As you push open the door, the heat carrying the spiciness of ginger tea hits you. The room is simply furnished with two armchairs, a square table, and a painting of the Great Wall hanging on the wall.

Two people were sitting in the chairs by the window. The one on the left, a man in his thirties with a square face and strikingly bright eyes beneath thick eyebrows, was Kong Jie. The one on the right, wearing round-framed glasses, was refined and scholarly; he must be Political Commissar Xiao Yifu.

The two stood up at the same time, and when their eyes fell on Lin Yifan, a hint of surprise flashed across their faces.

"This is Young Master Lin," Old Zhou introduced from the side, his voice tinged with a sense of pride.

Kong Jie's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Although he had heard Li Yunlong mention it before, the boy in front of him was still quite young, his cotton robe even stained with snowflakes; he looked more like a young master who had run away from home to play.

"Commander Kong, Political Commissar Xiao," Lin Yifan said, bowing with clasped hands, his movements so precise it was as if he had been measured. "You must have had a long journey."

Xiao Yifu was the first to react, reaching out to grasp Lin Yifan's hand: "Young Master Lin, I've long admired your name. Our entire group is deeply grateful for your support this time."

His hands were dry and warm, with a moderate grip, neither obsequious nor arrogant. Lin Yifan secretly praised him, thinking that this political commissar knew how to handle people.

Kong Jie didn't reach out. He looked Lin Yifan up and down, his gaze lingering on the boyish face for a long time, before suddenly speaking, "Young Master Lin, may I ask you a question?"

"Commander Kong, please speak."

"'Ghost'...who exactly is he?" Kong Jie's voice was low and deep, as if squeezed from his chest. "Is he from the Military Intelligence Bureau? The Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics? Or...something else?"

The air in the hall suddenly became tense. Old Zhou's expression changed, and Xiao Yifu quietly tugged at Kong Jie's sleeve, but the latter shook him off without making a sound.

Lin Yifan didn't answer immediately. He walked to the table, poured himself a cup of ginger tea, and his face appeared somewhat blurry in the steam.

"What does Commander Kong think?"

"I think?" Kong Jie sneered, "I don't think you're respectable business people. Reputable business people wouldn't stockpile so much weaponry and medicine at a time like this, in a place like this. And they certainly wouldn't send a teenager to deal with various factions."

He stepped forward, looking down at Lin Yifan: "I, Kong Jie, lead troops with integrity and uprightness. If you have any ulterior motives, just say so now. We can afford this batch of equipment, and we should also have a clear conscience."

Old Zhou's face turned bright red. He was about to speak when Lin Yifan raised his hand to stop him.

The young man put down his teacup: "Then I'd like to ask Commander Kong, do you think your deputy commander and your husband are decent people?"

Kong Jie's pupils suddenly contracted, as if pricked by a needle. He subconsciously took half a step back, his right hand already reaching for the holster on his waist—which was empty, having been "asked" to leave by Old Zhou when he entered.

"You—" His voice suddenly rose, then abruptly stopped.

Xiao Yifu's expression also changed, but it was a different color. He adjusted his round-framed glasses, his gaze sweeping over Lin Yifan's face, trying to find some clue in the boy's calm expression.

"Young Master Lin," Xiao Yifu began cautiously, "these words..."

"What's wrong with that?" Lin Yifan gently placed the teacup on the table, the porcelain touching the wood with a crisp sound.

He looked up at Kong Jie, his eyes clear to the point of cruelty. "Commander Kong, do you think it's proper for a decent person to lead your deputy commander-in-chief into the mountains, eating tree bark? Do you think it's proper for a decent person to stay in a cave, burning the midnight oil?"

Kong Jie's face turned purplish-red, and the veins on his forehead throbbed. He clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles cracking, but he couldn't utter a single word.

"Commander Kong, please don't misunderstand." Lin Yifan's voice suddenly softened, like a bucket of warm water poured on boiling oil. "I didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to tell you that being proper or improper doesn't depend on what clothes you wear, what house you live in, or what you do."

He walked to the window and pushed it open a crack. A cold wind, carrying snowflakes, rushed in, making the Great Wall painting on the wall rustle.

"Your deputy commander and your husband wear coarse clothes and eat millet porridge, all for the sake of driving the Japanese out of China. I wear a long robe and mandarin jacket and ride in a foreign car, all for the same purpose."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping over Kong Jie's ashen face. "Different paths, same principles. Commander Kong has led troops for many years; he can't be unaware of this."

Furthermore, when I met and talked with them, they didn't say so many strange things. Do you, Commander Kong, think you are better than them?

Is "Ghost" unreliable? If he were unreliable, would he send your Red Party four hundred or so planes? Would he send your Red Party light and heavy weapons and equipment enough to equip over a hundred thousand people?

To put it bluntly, whether "Ghost" is legitimate or not is none of your business, Kong Erlengzi's, to judge, right?

Kong Jie's face turned from purplish-red to ashen, then from ashen to a deep liver color. He opened his mouth, making a "hoarse" sound in his throat, as if someone was choking him.

That "Kong Erlengzi" was like a slap in the face—this was a nickname Li Yunlong had given him in private, how did this half-grown kid know about it?

"You, you—" He pointed at Lin Yifan, his finger trembling slightly.

Xiao Yifu reacted quickly, grabbing Kong Jie's arm while bowing deeply to Lin Yifan: "Young Master Lin is right. Our commander is straightforward and doesn't watch his words, please don't take it to heart."

He straightened up, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes behind his glasses. "But since you mentioned the Deputy Commander-in-Chief and sir, you must have met them before?"