Courtyard House: Home Alone

Chen Gongshu did not accompany the convoy as it drove away from the Laozhaqiao warehouse. He stood under the tin eaves, watching the dust slowly settle behind the wheels until the last engine sound was dispersed by the river breeze.

Lin Yifan's voice came through the earpiece, carrying the characteristic crackling sound of electricity: "Give the gold certificates to Xu Zheng. Go back to the hotel and prepare for the deal with the French."

"Young master, John wants to see you."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the line, followed by the dull thud of a car door closing. "The British curiosity killed the cat."

Lin Yifan's voice faded into the distance, as if he were starting an engine, "Making sure he gets the medicine out alive is more important than satisfying his curiosity."

"I see,"

After saying that, Chen Gongshu took out the gold certificate from his pocket and handed it to Xu Zheng: "Young master asked me to give this to you. He said he would wait for you on the way back, so I'll go back to the hotel first."

Xu Zheng took the voucher, his rough fingertips rubbing against the HSBC sealing wax stamp before folding it and stuffing it into a hidden pocket at his waist. His gaze never left Chen Gongshu's face, like two dull knives slowly scraping against flesh.

"What else did I say, young master?"

"That's all. He'll contact you directly via communicator if anything happens." Chen Gongshu straightened the collar of his long gown, the gray fabric already stained with a lot of rust and coal dust from the warehouse.

"Okay, I got it." After saying that, he waved to Qi Haishan, who was holding a submachine gun on guard. The two climbed into the truck's cab, started the engine, and drove away from the warehouse.

One kilometer away from the warehouse, Lin Yifan sat in a Ford car, his mental energy spreading out like a spider web, covering every possible side road leading there.

Abandoned warehouses, collapsed coal yards, railway embankments overgrown with weeds—everywhere a person could hide was clearly visible to him.

The sound of a truck engine grew louder as it approached, sounding particularly clear on the quiet Haihe River. Lin Yifan opened his eyes and watched Liu Quande's rusty truck approach from around the bend, the tarpaulin on the trailer fluttering in the wind.

He honked the horn twice, one long and one short, a pre-arranged signal.

The truck slowly came to a stop. Xu Zheng leaned out of the window, his dark face expressionless: "Young master, the proof."

Lin Yifan opened the car door, and the wind from the Haihe River immediately rushed in, carrying the unique salty smell of the Haihe River and the sulfurous smell of the distant coal yard.

He took the brown paper bag from Xu Zheng, his finger lingering for a moment on the sealing wax seal—the HSBC shield emblem was intact, and Chen Gongshu's fingerprints were still visible on the seal.

"Are there any tails on the road?"

"No." Xu Zheng gestured with his chin toward the rearview mirror. "Qi Haishan is watching from the back of the car; there isn't even a stray dog ​​within three kilometers."

Lin Yifan put the certificate into his pocket (space), but his mental energy extended outwards again.

"Alright, you guys go straight back. Be extra careful with the deal with the French this afternoon. We'll call Chen Gongshu for the exact time." With that, he turned and got into the car.

Xu Zheng and his truck bumped and jolted away on the dirt road, kicking up a column of grayish-yellow dust. Lin Yifan didn't start the engine immediately, but instead closed his eyes and let his mental energy scan the abandoned warehouses on both sides of the Haihe River one last time.

After confirming that everything was correct, he turned the key, and the Ford's engine emitted a low, labored sigh.

Meanwhile, inside the Special Higher Police's headquarters, Kita Seiichi was slamming his fist on the table, furious: "You bunch of idiots! Twenty men, four cars, and you're all dead without even firing a shot? Tell me, what is this? Is it magic?"

The spy chief, bent over at a ninety-degree angle, trembled all over. Bloodstains on his forehead mixed with dust, carving several dirty furrows on his face: "Major, our men did not find any trace of the murderer at the scene, nor any shell casings."

It seems... it seems to use the same methods as the legendary "ghosts."

"ghost?"

Kita Seiichi's voice suddenly rose, then fell back down, like a dull knife being repeatedly rubbed on a whetstone. He slowly sat back in his leather chair, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table, making a dull thud.

The air in the office seemed to freeze. The calligraphy scroll bearing the inscription "May your military fortune last forever" hanging on the wall swayed slightly in the draft, the ink characters flickering in the sunlight.

"'Ghost'? Is it really him? How did he know we were watching their drug trade? Damn it, there's 'Ghost' everywhere."

With them around, how are we supposed to complete the military's mission? Kita Seiichi looked at the report on the table with a dejected expression.

Kita Seiichi's finger hovered in mid-air, his gaze falling on the blurry photo on the report—a Ford sedan overturned beside the Haihe River, with only a tiny round hole in the window, the edge of which was as smooth as if it had been laser-cut.

"Oh, and Pierre too. Give me more men immediately to keep a close eye on that Frenchman. Also, have people watching the perimeter. They're using the sea route, right? Monitor the entire sea route. I don't believe they'll be able to fly there again for their next transaction."

The intelligence chief remained bowed, sweat dripping from his nose onto the floor, leaving a small, dark stain: "Major, there are seventeen abandoned warehouses, three coal yards, and two railway branch lines along the Haihe River. Our manpower..."

"If we're short-handed, we'll bring in men from the military police! Have them all change into civilian clothes. At this crucial moment, we absolutely cannot let the British ruin our plans."

Kita Seiichi grabbed a teacup from the table and smashed it. The shards shattered near the spy chief's feet, splashing brown tea onto his trousers. "Tell Chief Kagesa that 'The Ghost' has appeared. I need special funding for surveillance, and... awaken 'Sakura'."

The head of the secret service stiffened visibly for a moment. He knew, of course, what "cherry blossoms" meant—it was a mole planted in the upper echelons of the Green Gang three years ago, dormant and never used, a trump card of the Special Higher Police.

"Your Excellency, the awakening of 'Cherry Blossom' requires authorization from Tokyo..."

"I will personally apply to the head of the agency."

Kita Seiichi waved his hand, his gaze falling on the half-withered sycamore tree outside the window. A few yellow leaves swirled and fell in the wind, like some kind of ominous premonition. "Go. Remember, you must find 'Ghost' and his stronghold."

On the Haihe River, Lin Yifan's Ford sedan drove steadily along the bumpy dirt road. He held the steering wheel with one hand, and with the other, he took out a steamer of Goubuli steamed buns from his storage space. The aroma of pork and scallion filling immediately filled the car, diluting the lingering sulfurous smell of the coal yard.

He took a bite; the dough was soft and fluffy, and the filling was juicy.

Soon, he returned to his room at the Lihua Hotel. Lin Yifan stuffed the last bite of the steamed bun into his mouth, and the oil stains on his lips glistened for a moment before he wiped them away with his thumb.