Courtyard House: A Veteran Returns Home and Becomes a Father

The black Volga sedan, like a silent beast, slipped silently into the traffic and quickly disappeared from sight.

In Zhao Weiguo's office, it was so quiet that you could hear your heart pounding.

He slumped into the chair, his back pressed against the backrest, yet he felt no support whatsoever. A chill ran from his tailbone straight to the top of his head, making the hairs on his body stand on end.

The oppressive feeling left by that man with the gold-rimmed glasses was too strong.

It wasn't the ferocity of a street thug, nor the official arrogance of a common cadre, but rather a natural indifference that comes from holding a high position and controlling life and death. It was as if, in his eyes, he, the police station chief, was no different from an ant on the roadside.

With trembling hands, Zhao Weiguo pulled a crumpled cigarette case from his pocket, shook it for a long time, and then lit one.

Amidst the swirling smoke, that phrase echoed repeatedly in his mind.

"Go back and tell that 'helpful citizen' not to reach out too far."

This is not a warning, this is a declaration of war.

It was an ultimatum issued by a force he could not even fathom to another deity he could not fathom either.

And he, Zhao Weiguo, was that pitiful messenger.

He felt like a rabbit standing between two prehistoric behemoths, ready to be blown to pieces by either of them if they sneezed.

After finishing his cigarette, he shoved the butt hard into the ashtray, as if he had made up his mind.

This message must be delivered.

Moreover, it must be exactly the same, not a single word can be different.

He stood up, straightened his collar which was soaked with cold sweat, and walked heavily toward the mailroom.

In the mailroom, all was peaceful and serene.

Su Mo was leaning back in a wicker chair, leisurely flipping through a newspaper. Sunlight streamed through the window, bathing him in a languid golden glow. If one hadn't witnessed his almost supernatural abilities firsthand, they would have mistaken him for a handsome young man with nothing better to do.

"Comrade Su... Su Mo."

Zhao Weiguo stood at the door, his voice somewhat hoarse.

Su Mo put down the newspaper, looked up, and calmly asked him, "Director Zhao, is there something you need?"

"Someone was here just now...someone was here just now." Zhao Weiguo took a deep breath, as if trying to suppress all his fear.

He went inside, closed the door, lowered his voice, and recounted everything that had just happened, from the black Volga sedan to the man with the gold-rimmed glasses, and then to the red-headed document he had only dared to glance at.

Finally, he looked at Su Mo and said, slowly and deliberately, "He asked me to give you a message."

Zhao Weiguo swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"Don't stretch your hand out too far."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Su Mo nervously, preparing to face any possible storm.

However, Su Mo's reaction greatly disappointed him.

There was no anger, no solemnity, not even a hint of surprise.

Su Mo listened quietly, his deep eyes remaining calm and still. He picked up the purple clay teapot on the table, poured himself a cup of tea, and gently blew on it to cool it down.

"Oh, really?"

He replied with three words indifferently, as if he had heard not a threatening warning, but a greeting that said, "The weather is nice today."

Zhao Weiguo was stunned.

This reaction is wrong!

Just as he was at a loss, Su Mo finally raised his eyelids and asked the first question.

"Which department does that document belong to?"

"I...I didn't see it clearly, I was too nervous." Zhao Weiguo blushed. "But I saw the two characters at the bottom of the seal, it looked like...'Special Handling'."

"Special handling?" Su Mo raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Did you write down the license plate number?"

"I've got it. It's '京A00081'," Zhao Weiguo replied quickly. He remembered it very clearly because this number range was so special.

"Understood." Su Mo nodded, picked up his teacup and took a sip. "Thank you for your hard work, Director Zhao. That's all."

Is that... all there is to it?

Zhao Weiguo felt like he had punched cotton, unable to exert any force. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Su Mo's nonchalant expression, he swallowed his words.

He tactfully left the mailroom, but a new layer of cold sweat broke out on his back.

If the man with gold-rimmed glasses is an unfathomable, icy pool, then Su Mo is a volcano that appears calm but could erupt at any moment.

The city of Beijing is truly about to undergo a major transformation.

……

In the mailroom, Su Mo put down his teacup.

His face remained expressionless, but his eyes sharpened.

The full name of "Special Office" should be "Special Assets Inventory and Implementation Office".

This was a name he had seen in his previous life while browsing through some declassified files. It was a mysterious organization that existed for only a few short years in the early years of the People's Republic of China, specifically responsible for handling and recovering various "ownerless" huge amounts of assets left over from the previous dynasty and the Republic of China.

This organization is of extremely high rank and immense power, reporting directly to the highest levels of government.

It seems that not only outlaws but also state apparatuses have their eyes on this treasure.

Su Mo slowly pulled out the yellowed animal skin picture from his pocket.

The texture of the painting is unique; it is neither leather nor cloth, but has a warm, jade-like quality. The mountains and rivers drawn on it with cinnabar have simple, archaic lines and an unclear direction.

He wasn't interested in any treasure, but this picture had become the center of a vortex, dragging his family into it.

He cannot wait passively.

We must take the initiative and nip any threat in the bud before the storm even forms.

Su Mo laid the animal skin map flat on the table and examined it carefully.

A moment later, he picked up the teacup on the table and gently, evenly, poured the still-warm tea onto a corner of the animal skin painting.

A miraculous scene unfolded.

The parts soaked in tea began to slowly fade and deform the vermilion lines that originally depicted mountains, eventually recombining into a complex and ancient emblem.

It was a pattern composed of "two dragons playing with a pearl" and the character "寿" (longevity).

Late Qing Dynasty, Imperial Household Department, Fengsan Hall!

A name flashed through Su Mo's mind in an instant.

This was a mysterious trading company from the late period of the previous dynasty, specializing in procuring and appraising all sorts of rare and precious treasures for the royal family. Its influence was deeply entrenched, and its wealth rivaled that of a nation. This emblem was the unique mark of Feng San Tang.

The trail has gone cold.

But it also means that we have new clues.

Now that the other party has issued a challenge, I should also send a return gift.

Su Mo carefully put the animal skin map away, a cold smile flashing in his eyes.

Don't stretch your hand out too far.

Then I'll break all your arms!

He picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number he hadn't called in a long time.

The call connected, and a rough, hearty voice came from the other end.

"Who is it? Who are you looking for?"

"It's me," Su Mo said, uttering only one word.

There was a three-second silence on the other end of the phone, followed by an unbelievable burst of ecstasy.

"Boss?! Is that you, boss?! I'm Wang Erniu!"

"Erniu." A slight smile finally appeared on Su Mo's lips. "Is he in the capital?"

"Here! Here! Boss, where are you? I'm coming to find you right away!" Wang Erniu was so excited that he couldn't speak coherently.

"No need." Su Mo's tone returned to calm. "Check a license plate for me, Beijing A00081. Also, an old brand called 'Feng San Tang'."

I'll give you three days.