Courtyard House: Home Alone

"Wait." Kita Seiichi suddenly spoke, his voice sounding as if it were being ground out from between his teeth.

The plainclothes man froze in mid-air, the carving on the doorknob digging into his palm.

"Let the Black Dragon Society participate in this operation as well."

Kita Seiichi walked to the window. A sliver of dim streetlight shone through the gap in the curtains, casting interplay of light and shadow on his face. "Their people know Tianjin better than we do. Their involvement will provide more assurance for this operation. At the same time, tell them that they must not fire unless absolutely necessary, especially not the 'Ghost's' people."

"Yes, sir!" The plainclothes man bowed deeply, his forehead almost touching his knees. "I'll arrange it right away."

After the door closed, the office fell silent again. Kita Seiichi pulled a tin cigarette case from deep inside a drawer. The lid was printed with the emblem of the Manchurian Railway, and the edges were worn so that the original metal underneath was visible.

He took out a "Sunrise" brand cigarette, but did not light it. Instead, he rubbed it between his fingers, and the tobacco fell out from the tear in the roll.

"Ghost..." he murmured the code name, his tongue pressing against his palate to produce a slight tremor.

The sound of police boots tapping on the pavement came from outside the window, growing louder as it approached, then gradually fading into the depths of the night. Kita Seiichi finally struck a match; the flame flickered briefly in his pupils before being swallowed by the unfathomable darkness.

At 17 Victoria Road, after the sound of the door hinges turning, three people remained in the living room.

Xu Zheng walked to the window, parted the curtains a crack, and glanced at the window of the apartment across the street: "Young master, I've circled this place three times. The left neighbor is a retired Indian police officer, and the right neighbor is a Chaozhou widow who runs a tea business; neither of them seems suspicious."

"An Indian police officer kept a dog."

Lin Yifan suddenly spoke, his voice so soft it was almost a soliloquy, "A German Shepherd, seven years old, with an old injury to his left hind leg, he walks with a slight limp."

Xu Zheng's fingers paused on the curtain for a moment. He slowly turned his head, and his gaze toward Lin Yifan held something indescribable—not doubt, but the instinctive awe of a seasoned veteran toward the unknown.

"My eyes and ears," he finally said, a meaningful smile playing on his lips, "are better than my eyes."

Lin Yifan didn't explain. He glanced at Xu Zheng and Qi Haishan and said, "After this transaction is completed, Tang Juye and Qi Haishan will take turns in charge of this stronghold. Other people will be transferred from Beiping to ensure that there are three people guarding it all year round."

When you're not trading, go out and explore Tianjin. But remember, never get involved with anyone from the Military Intelligence Bureau.

After this transaction is completed, I will make a trip to Chongqing and Chengdu to bring your families over. From then on, you can just work diligently with "Ghost".

I will leave you a telegraph machine. You can send a telegram if there is any situation. This is the concession, and they send a lot of commercial telegrams, so you don't need to worry about using it.

In case of emergency, send a distress telegram first, then prioritize your own safety. Don't be afraid of being captured by the Japanese. Once Beiping receives the telegram, the "Ghost" will immediately send someone to rescue you.

Xu Zheng's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, then relaxed. He walked to the fireplace, took a half-burnt stick from the brass wood rack, and twirled it between his fingers: "Young Master, what about the Military Intelligence Bureau..."

"Dai Yunong has received information that you have all disappeared. He hasn't sent anyone to Beiping yet, so he's probably given up on you." Lin Yifan interrupted him, his voice as calm as if he were stating the weather.

Qi Haishan stood in the shadows of the porch, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the folding knife in his pocket. "Young Master," he suddenly spoke, his voice more hoarse than expected, "can your family... really be brought out of the Fog City?"

Lin Yifan turned his head. The halo of the gas lamp cut out the boundary between light and shadow on his profile, and his eyes took on a kind of almost transparent quality in the shadow, as if they could penetrate walls, penetrate streets, and penetrate the thick night of the entire concession.

"What 'Ghost' promises, he always keeps. I reviewed your files in Beiping. Tang Juye's elderly mother is in Wanxian, and your wife is hiding with your two children at her parents' home in Jiangjin, right?"

Qi Haishan's knuckles turned white on the hilt of the knife. He had never mentioned Jiangjin to anyone, not even Tang Juye.

"Three months."

Lin Yifan held up three fingers. "At the latest, within three months, I will ensure your families arrive safely in Beiping."

He lowered his hand, his tone suddenly turning cold, "Not a single word about 'The Ghost' can be leaked. This includes among yourselves; don't ask what you shouldn't ask, and don't look at what you shouldn't look at."

The sound of door hinges turning came from below the stairs, accompanied by the aroma of braised pork and roast chicken. Liu Quande and Tang Juye paused in the hallway, as if brushing the night dew off their shoulders, before hurrying upstairs.

"Young master, Lao Zhengxing's crab roe xiaolongbao are sold out."

The two men appeared at the bottom of the stairs. One was carrying two large oil paper bags, and the other was carrying a jar of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor). "I bought four braised pork hocks from Tianbaolou, five catties of roasted mutton, and some Erguotou."

Lin Yifan took the oil paper package, his fingertips touching the still-warm oil. Tianbaolou's braised pork knuckle was wrapped in lotus leaves. When he uncovered it, the aroma of soy sauce mixed with the fresh scent of lotus leaves wafted out, and the skin of the pork knuckle trembled and gleamed with an amber light.

He tore off a piece and handed it to Qi Haishan, who hesitated for a moment before reaching out to take it.

"Sit down and eat," he said. "We can talk while we eat."

Five people sat around the fireplace, the wooden crate moved to the corner, the glow of the gas lamp casting swaying shadows on the ceiling. Tang Juye brought five rough porcelain bowls from the kitchen, and as he poured in Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor), a crisp aroma of liquor wafted out.

"Our medicine will arrive tonight."

Lin Yifan chewed on a braised pork knuckle, the fatty yet not greasy gelatinous texture melting between his teeth. "Tomorrow at noon we're trading with the British, and in the afternoon with the French. You four, divide the work: three of you go deliver the goods, and one of you stay home to guard the place."

The three deliverymen need to be especially careful; unexpected things might happen when dealing with the French. Although 'Ghost' will arrange for someone to clear the area, you yourselves also need to be careful.

Liu Quande put down his wine bowl, the rough porcelain bottom making a dull thud against the coffee table: "The 'accident' I was referring to, do you mean the French will double-cross us?"

"It's not that bad."

Lin Yifan tore off the second piece of pork knuckle, the grease forming a translucent film on his fingertips. "But it seems they're colluding with the Japanese. I think the Japanese will use this transaction to probe our strength."

He tapped the coffee table with his elbow bone, leaving a small oil stain on the lacquered surface: "The Japanese will definitely try to send people to follow you. After you finish eating, let's discuss the retreat route after the transaction. 'Ghost' will arrange for someone to clean up the mess for you along the way."

Xu Zheng's fingers tapped lightly on the edge of the coffee table, the rhythm like some silent calculation. He suddenly stopped, looked up at Lin Yifan: "Young master, what are your plans regarding the French...?"