Courtyard House: A Veteran Returns Home and Becomes a Father

Wang Erniu's figure quickly disappeared into the night at the back door, like a drop of water merging into the ocean.

The atmosphere in the main room became somewhat subtle because of the news he brought and the priceless Ru ware lotus bowl.

Looking at the small celadon bowl on the table, its surface smooth and lustrous, radiating a soft glow under the lamplight, Xia Wanqing's worry deepened.

"Su Mo, are you sure you're okay with what you're doing?" she asked softly. "Giving away something so valuable as a 'return gift,' what if... they get greedy? Besides, you're essentially inviting a group of unknown people to your door; it's too risky."

"It's alright." Su Mo pulled her into his arms, gently patting her back, his gaze fixed on the deep night outside the window, becoming profound and distant. "When dealing with people who live in the old-fashioned rules, the more assertive you are, the more they will respect you. If you back down, they will think you are weak and easily bullied, and that will lead to endless trouble."

"Moreover," Su Mo's lips curled into a cold smile, "who is the tiger and who is the den is still uncertain."

"Excellent!" Su Hanlin, the clerk who had been silent until now, slapped his thigh and clapped his hands in praise, "You have the style of my youth! To deal with these rats in the gutter, we have to light the lamp and invite them to the stage to put on a show! I want to see what tricks these ghosts guarding the old tombs of the previous dynasty are planning to play in this new world!"

The old man's boldness eased the somber atmosphere in the room.

Looking at his apprentice, who was also his son-in-law, Su Zhenbang felt both gratified and worried by his composure and domineering presence, ultimately letting out a sigh. He knew that Su Mo, this fierce tiger, could not be hidden forever. This small courtyard house could not confine him.

……

The next day, early morning.

The sunlight was just right, casting dappled shadows through the branches of the old locust tree in the east courtyard.

Su Mo was calmly practicing a set of Bajiquan in the courtyard, as if nothing had happened. He was shirtless, revealing his muscular, bronze skin. The hideous wounds on his back had been covered with a thin layer of scabs thanks to the nourishment of the spiritual spring water, and no longer looked so frightening.

Xia Wanqing was preparing breakfast in the kitchen, while Niannian moved a small stool and sat on the porch, resting her chin on her hands and watching her father practice martial arts with an expression of admiration.

Everything was peaceful and serene, like a painting.

However, this tranquility was broken at nine o'clock in the morning by a steady knock on the door.

coming.

Su Mo put down his fist, picked up the towel draped over the stone table, wiped his sweat, and calmly said, "Wanqing, take Niannian back to the house."

Xia Wanqing nodded, walked over quickly, and took Niannian's little hand.

"Go, Daddy!" Niannian shouted in her childish voice, waving her little fist.

Su Mo smiled, walked to the courtyard gate, and unlatched the door.

There were two people standing outside the door.

The leader was an elderly man with gray hair and a thin face, dressed in a gray long robe. He leaned on an ebony cane of indeterminate material and wore a pair of old-fashioned round-framed glasses. He looked like an ordinary antique appraiser in Liulichang.

But his eyes, through his glasses, were as sharp as an eagle's.

Behind him stood a young man of about thirty. The young man was wearing a slightly worn blue overall, not very tall, and of average appearance—the kind of person you'd easily lose in a crowd. But standing there, he was like a tree rooted to the ground, his demeanor calm and steady, motionless, though his temples bulged high.

He is a top-notch martial artist.

"Excuse me, are you Mr. Su Mo?" the old man asked, his voice gentle and scholarly, making one feel as if bathed in a spring breeze.

"It's me." Su Mo stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. "I am honored to have such a distinguished guest. Please come in."

He didn't ask who the other person was because he already knew.

The old man smiled slightly, and without any ceremony, he leaned on his cane and stepped into the courtyard. The young man followed behind him, his eyes scanning the entire courtyard quickly and warily before finally settling on Su Hanlin, who was walking out of the main room.

When the young man saw Su Hanlin, his pupils contracted almost imperceptibly.

The old man also saw Su Hanlin. He paused in his steps, his smile fading slightly, replaced by a deep sense of solemnity and respect.

He bowed slightly to Su Hanlin and said with his hands clasped, "So, the martial arts champion Su is here too. Qian Sihai, the last rotating manager of Fengsan Hall, greets the old hero Su."

"Hmph, what shopkeeper or not." Su Hanlin sat at the stone table, not even lifting his eyelids. "Just a bunch of persistent gravediggers."

Upon hearing this, Qian Sihai was not angry, but gave a wry smile, which was taken as tacit agreement.

---

Su Mo led them to the stone table and personally brewed a pot of tea.

He didn't take out the map; on the table, there was only the celadon lotus bowl.

Qian Sihai's gaze fell on the bowl, a complex emotion flashing in his eyes. There was amazement, regret, and above all, understanding.

"Mr. Su, what a generous gesture." He picked up his teacup, took a small sip, and said, "You used Lin Wanyuan's lifelong passion as a stepping stone. You can't find another person in Beijing with such boldness."

He was making it clear that they already knew all the grudges between Su Mo and Lin Wanyuan.

"The tea is good." Su Mo replied, seemingly unrelated to the question, and looked at him calmly. "I don't have much time. Manager Qian, if you have something to say, please speak frankly."

Qian Sihai put down his teacup, his expression turning serious.

"Mr. Su is a man of few words, so I won't beat around the bush either." He got straight to the point, "We've come for something. But we're not here to steal; we've come to 'invite' you."

"That picture is a sacred relic that our Fengsantang has guarded for generations. It relates to a royal secret that should not be remembered by the world. Its end is not treasure, but disaster. We do not want anyone to open that Pandora's box out of greed."

"Lin Wanyuan was a fool. He thought he could use his 'special office' status to get his hands on things that didn't belong to him. He deserved to die." Qian Sihai looked at Su Mo, his tone sincere. "But Mr. Su, you are different. You are a dragon among men, a pillar of the nation. We believe that you are not like those greedy fools."

"Therefore, we would like to ask Mr. Su to return this painting to its rightful owner. Feng Santang is willing to pay any price."

After he finished speaking, he looked at Su Mo quietly, waiting for his answer.

Su Mo smiled.

"The price?" He stretched out his finger and gently tapped the rim of the lotus bowl, making a crisp sound.

"This picture has brought enormous trouble to me and my family. My wife was illegally detained because of it. I myself almost died in Xishan. Now, you want to talk to me about the consequences?"

Su Mo's tone remained calm, but the temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop several degrees.

Qian Sihai's expression changed slightly.

"So... what does Mr. Yisu mean?"

"My meaning is very simple." Su Mo stood up, looking down at him. "This map is now my spoils. The right to dispose of it is mine."

"However, I have absolutely no interest in your so-called royal secret." Su Mo changed the subject. "I have only one condition."

"Lin Wanyuan's superior, the head of the 'special task force,' has run away. I need to know where he went."

Qian Sihai's brows furrowed tightly.

"Mr. Su, Fengsantang has its own rules; we never get involved in the conflicts between the imperial court and the martial arts world..."

"Is that so?" Su Mo interrupted him, a cold killing intent flashing in her eyes. "Then there's nothing to talk about. I'll keep this picture. Perhaps one day when I'm in a bad mood, I'll hand it over to the People's Daily and let the whole country appreciate the shameful 'secrets' of the former dynasty's royal family."

"You!" The young man behind Qian Sihai suddenly stood up, exuding an astonishing aura.

"Sit down!" Qian Sihai shouted, stopping him. He stared intently at Su Mo, a fine layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead.

He knew that Su Mo meant what he said. He was a truly ruthless person who didn't play by the rules.

Silence, a long silence.

Finally, Qian Sihai, as if deflated, slowly said, "He went to Tianjin."

"Tianjin is the true stronghold of the 'Special Office.' Lin Wanyuan came from Tianjin back then. The big boss behind the Black Tiger Gang is Yuan Tianlong, the head of the Tianjin Green Gang branch. He likely holds the last third of the map."

"That top leader went to Yuan Tianlong seeking protection and also wanted to join forces for a final gamble."

This intelligence instantly connected all the clues!

"Very good." Su Mo nodded. "You can keep the map with me for now. Once I return from Tianjin and resolve all the troubles, I will personally go to the 'Jueluo Prison' outside Deshengmen. At that time, I hope to open that door with Manager Qian and see what is hidden inside."

Qian Sihai was stunned.

He hadn't expected Su Mo to make such a condition.

This was tantamount to giving him a promise, but also extending an invitation for them to explore together that he couldn't refuse.

"Good...good!" Qian Sihai looked at Su Mo deeply, and finally nodded slowly. "Feng Santang will be in the capital, awaiting good news from Mr. Su."

After saying that, he stood up, bowed deeply to Su Mo and Su Hanlin again, and then, with the young man whose expression was complicated, turned around and left the east courtyard.

After they left, Su Mo stared at the complete map on the table, a cold glint in his eyes.

Tianjin.

Yuan Tianlong.

It seems it's time to meet this bigwig from Tianjin and, incidentally, settle all the old scores.