Courtyard House: Home Alone

That's it.

Xu Zheng neatly arranged the magazines loaded with bullets. "My rule is to come back alive—think about that. The rule of the Military Intelligence Bureau is mission first, human life second. 'Ghost' backwards."

"Alright, go wash up and go to bed early, you have a lot to do tomorrow." After saying that, he stood up and clapped his hands.

Back in his room, Lin Yifan didn't go to sleep immediately. He first used his mind to collect a batch of food from his space, then turned over the planting area again, replanting corn, wheat, and sweet potatoes. Only then did he wash up and go to bed.

When he woke up, it was already four in the morning. He first used his mental power to "look" at Xu Zheng and the other three. He saw that Xu Zheng, Liu Quande and Tang Juye were fast asleep, while Qi Haishan was sitting by the window with a Thompson submachine gun lying across his lap.

Lin Yifan nodded in agreement. As expected of someone from the Military Intelligence Bureau, his vigilance was excellent. Even in a seemingly safe environment, he maintained the instinct to respond to emergencies at any time. He didn't disturb Qi Haishan, but quietly got up and extended his mental energy further away.

The morning mist on Victoria Road had not yet dissipated, but the vendors selling soy milk on the street corner had already set up their stoves, and the sound of wooden buckets clattering carried far in the silence.

Nothing unusual. In the direction of the British warehouse, two Indian constables on night watch were dozing in the gatehouse, their pocket watches pointing to 4:15.

Lin Yifan withdrew his mental energy, and with a thought, first placed a Dodge truck at the door, then a car on the roadside a hundred meters away, and finally put the penicillin and sulfanilamide powder that he needed to trade today into the basement, along with three boxes of hand grenades.

The sound of the bell of the first tram came from outside the window, and the noise of metal wheels rubbing against rails grew louder as it approached, then gradually faded away.

At 5:30, he "saw" Qi Haishan calling Xu Zheng and the others to get up, so he also got out of bed, got dressed, and started washing up.

After washing up, I went to the living room, picked up the phone and dialed the Lihua Hotel. "Hello, is this the Lihua Hotel? Please connect me to room 412."

A languid operator answered the phone, followed by a long wait. Two minutes later, Chen Gongshu's voice finally came through the line, hoarse from being just woken up: "Who is this?"

"Uncle Chen, it's me."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then Chen Gongshu's tone became cautious and respectful: "Young Master, so early?"

"What time did the British agree on for the transaction today?"

"Ten o'clock in the morning, warehouse number three on Victoria Road. I'll be going there with John. I heard from John that he seems to have hired some Green Gang members to help with the transport." Chen Gongshu lowered his voice a few decibels.

"The Green Gang?"

Lin Yifan's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, his knuckles tightening slightly on the telephone receiver. The power dynamics within the concession were deeply entrenched, so it wasn't unusual for the British to hire the Green Gang as escorts, but this meant there would be many unfamiliar faces at the transaction site—and thus, more variables.

"Okay. What time will you arrive?"

"I'll leave the hotel at nine o'clock, go to the bank to withdraw the gold first, and then go directly to the warehouse." Chen Gongshu paused, and the rustling sound of papers turning over could be heard on the line.

"Okay, I understand. Keep an eye on the area around the power source and contact me immediately via the communicator if you notice anything. If it's inconvenient to speak, notify me in Morse code."

Chen Gongshu responded, and the sound of him getting up and dressing could be heard clearly through the microphone. "I understand, don't worry, young master."

Lin Yifan hung up the phone and turned around to see that Xu Zheng and the other two were already fully equipped. Tang Juye was stuffing a Browning pistol into its holster, the metal rubbing against the leather making a soft creaking sound. Qi Haishan stood by the window, the curtains slightly parted, the morning light cutting a sharp line of light and shadow across his profile.

"Young master, breakfast is in the kitchen." Tang Juye patted the holster at his waist. "I heated up the roasted mutton from last night, and some crab shell pastries I brought back from Lao Zhengxing."

Lin Yifan nodded, his gaze sweeping over the four men's sidearms. Each carried a Thompson submachine gun and a Browning pistol.

"There are a few boxes of hand grenades in the basement. They were delivered yesterday along with the medicine. Take a few with you."

Tang Juye, you stay at home and if you discover anything, you must act first and not worry about what nationality the person is.

Aside from the few of us, if anyone dares to break in, just open fire. Grenades are fine too. Try to stall them until we get back.

Tang Juye nodded solemnly, folded the map on the coffee table, and stuffed it into his pocket: "Understood, young master. I'll set up my gun at the second-floor window; my line of sight covers both streets."

"Xu Zheng, Liu Quande, Qi Haishan, the three of you finish your breakfast and start loading the truck. Have Tang Juye keep watch upstairs."

Lin Yifan took out a pocket watch from the inside pocket of his trench coat. The hands on the dial pointed to 6:40. "You all need to arrive at the warehouse at 10:00 sharp. After the transaction with the British is finished, come straight back. Don't delay on the way, and don't cause any unnecessary trouble."

Xu Zheng was checking the length of the Thompson submachine gun's sling when he heard this, so he tightened the sling over his shoulder: "Young master, the deal with the French hasn't been scheduled yet?"

"Chen Gongshu will call you after the British have finished their transaction." Lin Yifan put the pocket watch back into his pocket.

Liu Quande turned around by the window, the morning light casting a cold reflection on the barrel of the gun in his hand: "Young master, what if the French change their minds at the last minute?"

"Then cancel it."

Lin Yifan's tone was as calm as if he were discussing the weather, "Penicillin has no shortage of buyers; they're the ones who're anxious. The Japanese are suffering from mountains of wounded soldiers, and the price of sulfanilamide powder on the black market has tripled. If the French wanted to make money, they wouldn't resort to tricks at a time like this."

He walked towards the kitchen, the aroma of roasted mutton fat mingling with the flaky crust of crab shell pastry wafting towards him. The mutton on the porcelain plate was sliced ​​into thin, even pieces, with a layer of amber-colored jelly on the surface, while the crab shell pastry was neatly arranged in a bamboo basket, the sesame seeds gleaming with tiny golden sparkles in the morning light.

The four of them followed in and each pulled up a chair to sit down. Tang Juye served himself a bowl of millet porridge; the grains were cooked until they were bursting open and the porridge was so thick that chopsticks could be stuck into it.

"Young master,"

He blew on the steam rising from the porridge. "You said the French are colluding with the Japanese, so how come they still dare to trade with us? Aren't they afraid we'll settle scores later?"

Lin Yifan picked up a slice of mutton, dipped it in minced garlic, and felt the meat melt in his mouth with a faint aroma of herbs—this was Lao Zhengxing's unique braising recipe, which was said to be slow-cooked with more than a dozen kinds of Chinese herbs.

"Collusion also varies in degree."

He swallowed the mutton, picked up his teacup, and rinsed his mouth. "The French and the Japanese are doing business, not risking their lives for each other. They take medicine from us and then resell it to the Japanese at a higher price, thus saving on shipping costs."

"Trying to please both sides, but not daring to offend either too much."

Xu Zheng picked up the conversation, poking the crab shell pastry in his bowl with the tip of his chopsticks; the flaky crust crumbled and fell. "Which of these foreign firms in the concessions isn't like this?"

Qi Haishan remained silent, simply consuming his porridge. His eating manner was almost mechanically precise, with each chew performed roughly the same number of times, as if he were executing some kind of trained program.