You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Chapter 248 The Hidden Front (8k)

When Lyon pushed open the door to Lin Jianping's house, he was still carrying the chill of the night wind.

He came directly from Psychedelic Cat.

The message Alex sent only provided an address and a time, saying that someone wanted to see him.

The fat man didn't know that he was planning to stay in the end. When he relayed the message to Leon, he was very mysterious, saying that he would find out when he got there, and then he left directly. Leon guessed that he didn't know the specifics either.

Leon received his call, and the two exchanged addresses in the back alley of the hideout. Before leaving, Leon gave MacArthur a brief instruction and drove his Toyota Camry toward Sixth Street according to the address.

He originally thought it would be a normal handover of dead mailboxes, or that Dongfang would give him some new mission details in person, or that a new superior would contact him.

The apartment building was old-fashioned, and several of the corridor lights were broken, leaving only one dim, yellow light in the middle.

As Leon walked to the door, he noticed the light shining through the crack and the faint breathing sounds of two people coming from inside.

He raised his hand and knocked three times.

The door opened.

An old man stood inside the door. It was Lin Jianping. This was the first time Lyon had met him. He had changed into a clean blue work uniform, and his hair looked like it had just been washed with water, as it was neatly combed.

When the old man saw Lyon, his eyes flickered. He didn't say anything more, but simply took a step back to make way for Lyon.

"Please come in."

Lyon strode into the house, his baseball cap still on his head and his mask still on. His gaze swept from Lin Jianping to the shoe rack by the door, and then to the folding table in the center of the living room.

A flag was spread out on the folding table.

A middle-aged man in a dark blue jacket, wearing black-rimmed glasses, was standing next to him, looking at him.

Lyon stopped in his tracks.

One foot was still inside the door frame, while the other foot remained in the hallway.

"Come in, Comrade Guiyan," said Old Zhou.

Lyon slowly stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Lin Jianping reached out and locked the door, then pulled the blackout curtain to make sure there wasn't a single gap.

"My surname is Zhou, you can just call me Lao Zhou." Lao Zhou took half a step forward and extended his hand. "I'm in charge of Party organization work, and I've come specifically to see you."

Lyon looked at the outstretched hand, then glanced down at the party flag spread out on the folding table.

Old Zhou didn't urge him.

Then Leon reached out and shook hands with Lao Zhou. His skin was dry, and his grip was very firm.

Lyon released his grip and then took off the mask from his face.

"I have no idea----"

"You probably didn't know the specifics before, about the pink balloon." They didn't convey any details, and we didn't let him. This level of matter can only be discussed face-to-face.

Comrade Zhou withdrew his hand and stood up straight. "So, let me start by giving a brief explanation."

He glanced at Lin Jianping, then turned back to Lyon.

"After multiple rounds of evaluation and strict internal procedures, the organization has officially decided to accept you into the Party," Lao Zhou said.

The air was quiet for a moment.

Lyon stood still, staring at the party flag, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

When he saw the Party flag outside the door, he had already made some judgments.

Then came the term "Party organization work." Upon hearing this, Lyon had already narrowed down the answer to a very small range.

But when he heard those words spoken aloud, he was still not so calm.

Leon felt his heart slam into his ribs, as if it were struggling to burst out of his chest.

He has been in the United States for quite some time.

He didn't consider himself a particularly lofty idealist; to put it bluntly, he was just a guy who transmigrated into a US police officer, with a lot of blood on his hands and his methods certainly weren't clean.

My initial motivation for doing this talent transfer work was simply wanting to go home.

Then now, an Easterner stands in front of him and tells him that the organization has decided, after internal discussion, to admit him into the Party.

This feeling is indeed hard to describe.

The ecstasy didn't seem that exaggerated. I did feel a little bit like crying. It felt like I had been walking alone at night for a long time, and suddenly someone pushed open the door and came out, saying, "Come in, your family knows you've been out."

Lyon stood there, lowered his eyes once again to look at the red Party flag, then looked up at Lao Zhou, his voice lower and a little hoarse than usual.

"I hadn't thought of it that way before," he said. "I thought I was just here tonight to hand over tasks and confirm the launch."

"The organization never intended for you to know in advance," Comrade Zhou said. "Once this kind of thing is put on paper, there is a risk of exposure."

He gestured for Leon to sit in the chair opposite the folding table.

Lyon sat down and placed his baseball cap on the corner of the table.

Lin Jianping did not sit down. He walked to the broken clock in the corner, leaned against the wall, and crossed his hands in front of him. From that position, he could see the entire living room and the only main entrance at the same time.

"I can't stay here too long." Comrade Zhou also sat down. "Let's explain things one by one."

"To be specific, it should be an emergency admission to the Party. Time is very tight, but the procedures cannot be skipped, and all the necessary steps must be taken," Lao Zhou said.

"You should know the normal procedure for developing Party members. First, there must be two formal Party members as introducers, the branch general meeting must discuss and approve it, and then it must be reported to the higher Party organization for approval."

"This is a hard and fast rule, there are no exceptions, and it cannot be skipped because of anyone's special status."

He paused, pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, and held up one finger.

"The first introducer, Comrade Judge, spent the entire night writing the evaluation report after our meeting. Then he wrote a sentence at the end of the report, which I will read to you."

Comrade Zhou opened the notebook that was lying to the side and read aloud: "The feelings of belonging and the logic of thought of the returning geese are completely in line with our side."

""

He closed his notebook.

"Comrade Judge is a veteran comrade who has handled many cases and is trustworthy. These are his own words, and they are also the basis for his decision to be your first introducer."

Lyon listened, his fingers slowly tightening on his knee.

"Then the second introducer," Old Zhou continued.

"The organization held a special internal meeting for this matter."

"All party members who had been in frequent contact with your relevant intelligence participated, and everyone discussed it together. Every aspect was laid out on the table and discussed openly with everyone."

"During the meeting, everyone had a detailed exchange and study of your situation."

"After democratic discussion and voting, the collective resolution was regarded as your second introducer, so that it would be completely legal in the records. Only then did the organization finalize the decision."

"You saw the final result." Old Zhou tilted his head slightly towards the Party flag.

He took his hand out of his pocket and pointed to the Party flag on the table.

"In other words, after today's oath-taking ceremony, you will be a probationary member of the Communist Party."

"According to the Party Constitution, the probationary period is one year. After one year, if the organization's assessment is satisfactory and there are no disciplinary violations, the member can be formally admitted to the Party through a Party branch meeting."

Lyon looked down at the flag.

Then he looked up at Lao Zhou, who was pulling a document out of his canvas bag. It had a white cover with the words "Application for Party Membership" printed on it.

Leon's voice became somewhat different, much slower, as if he had to think before uttering each word.

"I didn't expect the organization to be like this—" he paused here, "to be so formal."

"I wouldn't have come if it wasn't formal," Old Zhou said, looking into his eyes.

"I made this special trip to let you know that the organization doesn't treat you as an outsider. The judge's report makes it very clear that you are one of our own, someone we can completely trust."

After Lao Zhou finished speaking, he pushed the application form and a pen in front of Lyon.

"This is the application form for joining the Party."

"Logically, you should have filled this out before joining the Party. You probably know that the standard procedure is for the individual to submit an application first, then the organization to investigate, the branch to discuss, and finally to vote."

"Your situation is a special case. You completed the first few steps by joining the Party on the front line. Now you need to complete the application form."

"This includes your basic information, as well as your understanding of the Party, your motivation for joining the Party, and other related details."

"I had you write it on the spot mainly so that I could keep a record," Lao Zhou said.

"Your organizational affiliation is currently not in China, but will be temporarily held by the Party Committee of the Chinese Embassy in the United States. After your probationary period, the organization will decide on your formal employment based on your actual performance."

"Just fill it out; you can do it while sitting down."

Lyon stood very straight, picked up his pen, removed the cap, and hovered his finger for a moment above the "Name" column on the first page.

Then he wrote his name in the name field, in Chinese characters, not the English Lyon Vance, but the two Chinese characters he had used for many years before.

When Old Zhou saw this, he frowned, clenched his right fist, and put it to his mouth, as if he was thinking about something.

Lin Jianping stood to the side and saw the two words written on the paper. He subconsciously brought his heels together.

When Lyon wrote the "Motivation for Joining the Party" section, he paused and glanced at Lao Zhou.

"How do you write this?"

"Just write what you want to write."

Lyon nodded.

In those columns, he wrote about the organization's trust in him, the impact of his conversation at Yue Lai Xuan, and what he had seen during his years in the United States.

The wording wasn't particularly high-pitched, but every word was written with great force, leaving indentations on the paper from the pen tip.

Lyon finished writing the last word, put down his pen, and stood up.

Then he took a half step back, and at the same time, Lao Zhou had already put away the application form.

"Now take the oath," Old Zhou said.

Old Zhou stood on the left side of the Party flag, while Lin Jianping stood on the right.

Lyon stood facing the party flag.

"Make a fist with your right hand, raise it, and point it toward the Party flag."

Lyon raised his right fist to temple height.

"Repeat after me."

"I volunteer to join the Communist Party of China."

"I volunteer to join the Communist Party of China."

"Uphold the Party's program and abide by the Party's constitution."

"Uphold the Party's program and abide by the Party's constitution."

"Fulfill the obligations of a Party member and carry out the decisions of the Party."

"Fulfill the obligations of a Party member and carry out the decisions of the Party."

Lyon's right hand was clenched so tightly that it kept trembling.

He'd handled guns at the hideout and signed a ton of reports at the police station, and now he was having a hard time keeping his right hand steady.

"Strictly abide by Party discipline and keep Party secrets."

"Strictly abide by Party discipline and keep Party secrets."

"Be loyal to the Party, work diligently, and dedicate your life to the cause of communism."

"Be loyal to the Party, work diligently, and dedicate your life to the cause of communism."

Old Zhou paused for a beat here, then slowed down slightly.

"Be ready at any time to sacrifice everything for the Party and the people."

When Leon finished reading that sentence, he clearly felt his eyes getting a little sore, but he didn't blink and kept staring at the red flag.

"Never betray the Party."

"Never betray the Party."

After the last four words were spoken, neither of them spoke immediately.

Old Zhou took two steps forward and gently patted Leon's shoulder.

"The one who took the oath," he said.

Lyon was silent for a moment, then said his original name.

Old Zhou stood opposite Lyon and reached out to grasp Lyon's right hand. This time he gripped it very tightly, so tightly that Lin Jianping could see the veins on Old Zhou's wrist even from the side.

Comrade Guiyan.

For the first time, Lao Zhou's voice carried emotional fluctuations.

"Welcome to the team."

Lyon stood there, his eyelids twitching, staring at Lao Zhou, then at the Party flag. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Then he gripped Lao Zhou's hand tightly.

Lin Jianping took a step forward and extended his hand as well.

Leon released Lao Zhou's hand, turned to him, and shook his hand as well.

Lin Jianping held Lyon's hand, which had just clenched into a fist; his palm was still warm.

"Alright." Old Zhou took a step back, his serious expression relaxing a bit.

"Please sit down. Now that we've finished discussing joining the Party, let's talk about some upcoming arrangements."

After Lyon sat down, Lao Zhou moved a chair from the side and sat opposite him.

Lin Jianping remained standing to the side.

Old Zhou clasped his hands together on his knees.

"We have seen what you have done in the homeless community here. In addition to its significance in various affairs, this work is also a grassroots practice overseas."

"While developing your community, you can record and interact with more people at the bottom of American society. By compiling these experiences, you can gain a deeper understanding of the situation at the grassroots level in the United States and improve your understanding of America from another perspective."

"Stop shouting slogans and making empty promises; solve practical problems and let the facts speak for themselves. This is the foundation upon which we can stand up and speak with confidence."

"Your main task remains to develop the homeless community in Seattle, manage the Psychedelic Cats base well, and solidify its foundation."

"The organization will not directly interfere with your management, but if you need any funding, supplies, or intelligence support, you can convey it through Comrade Lin Jianping."

"You can discuss the specific methods of coordination yourselves, but the general principles remain unchanged: no unnecessary changes, no rash actions."

"If you encounter difficulties, tell the organization. Don't try to handle minor issues on your own. We are an organization, not lone wolves. We don't engage in individual heroism."

Old Zhou glanced in Lin Jianping's direction and said to him, "You're a veteran here. The difficulties that Guiyan's work has encountered are much greater than we anticipated. Please take good care of yourself."

""

Lin Jianping nodded and rubbed his hands together after hearing this.

Old Zhou turned back to look at Lyon, "Tell him if you have any difficulties, and tell him if you make any progress. From now on, we'll rely on the scrap yard for most of our information transmission."

"The 'Pink Balloon' group has an easy way to maintain their identity, but for the sake of secrecy, they will only contact you when necessary."

"Then," Lao Zhou said, bending down to take something out of the canvas bag at his feet, "the organization has prepared the book you applied for last time and asked me to pass it on."

Old Zhou took two books out of his canvas bag.

The cover of the old book was printed in Chinese, the corners were worn, and the pages had been turned many times.

The other book had the same cover, but it was titled "Selected Works of Mao Tse-Tung". It was in English, covered in plastic, and neatly bound with thread, so it must be a new book.

He placed the older book in front of Lyon and put the new one aside.

"Both books are bound volumes. This Chinese version is an old book that has been read many times and was selected from other party members in the organization. Here you go."

Lyon looked up.

"For me?"

"Yes." Old Zhou handed the book over.

"We already know that you are alone here."

"Your body is here, your heart is at home, but your family isn't always by your side. No one can talk to you when you're lost, and no one can remind you why you started in the first place."

He paused, then placed his hand on the cover of the old book.

"Whether it's unforeseen changes along the way, difficulties encountered in the community you're developing, or simply whenever you feel tired or can't see the road ahead, just flip through this book."

"Look at how they analyzed problems and maintained their beliefs under such difficult conditions back then."

"The words of a great man are always the best guidance and protection among comrades. He foresaw many problems long ago."

"Take him with you, let him walk forward with you."

Lyon picked up the old book, touched the parchment, and flipped through the pages. Some parts were annotated in red pen, but the ink had faded.

He put the book down and looked up at Lao Zhou.

Old Zhou also pushed the English version to Lyon.

"The other one is new; it's the one you originally intended to give to that pastor."

Lyon took it and stacked it with the Chinese version from before; it had some weight to it.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, organization."

Old Zhou paused for a moment, then continued.

There's one more thing I need to tell you.

Old Zhou's voice became more serious. He sat up straight and raised his hands from his knees to place them on the edge of the table.

"Disciplinary issues among Party comrades on the hidden front."

"In your future work as an undercover agent, no matter how difficult the situation becomes, you must remember one thing: the Communist Party's covert front does not engage in assassinations, seduction, or bribery."

"Some countries' intelligence agencies use these methods, but we don't."

"Because you cannot pursue a just goal through evil means. Once the means are tainted, the goal will rot along with them."

Old Zhou paused for a moment.

"The organization recognized this very early on."

"If we allow assassinations, it's like opening a door for the organization, and more and more people in the organization will treat it as a routine method."

"If next week we need to seduce a target to achieve better results, then women or men will become tools. This is utter objectification, and we oppose all systems that objectify people."

"And if objectifying people is acceptable, then what about next week, could we also have comrades sell drugs in exchange for job advancement?"

"As for not using money to bribe people, if we allow the enemy to be bribed, then the enemy can also bribe us. Over time, we will become rotten inside and out."

"That's why our Party must maintain the purity of the hidden front."

"Only when we stand up straight do we have the right to declare war on those corrupt people."

Old Zhou looked at Lyon.

"I've read all your reports on community management and the handling of the enemy; you must draw that line clearly."

Lyon remained silent for more than ten seconds.

Then he nodded.

"Understood."

Old Zhou took a deep breath and continued.

"This principle must also be upheld when managing homeless communities in outposts."

"Your organization cannot become a gang. Your subordinates may not be party members, but your organizational discipline cannot be the discipline of a gang."

"You can manage people with rules, and you can motivate people with rewards and punishments, but you cannot enslave people with fear. There is a fundamental difference between the two, and I hope you understand this."

Leon leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers lightly on his knees.

Old Zhou pulled out a small booklet from his canvas bag. The cover was dark blue, and the edges were worn and frayed. The booklet wasn't thick, only a few dozen pages long, and it had the words "Rules of Discipline for Hidden Front Work" printed on it, in a serious and neat handwriting.

"Here, take this."

Lyon took it, opened it, and flipped through it. Inside were printed texts, line by line listing various regulations and rules.

"Read it thoroughly," Old Zhou said, "but don't get bogged down in the details or memorize the dogma."

Lyon closed the booklet and put it in the inside pocket of his coat.

"I see."

Old Zhou stood up.

The canvas bag was zipped up again and placed next to the chair.

He straightened his collar and then put his black-rimmed glasses back on.

Lin Jianping had already unlocked the door and opened the blackout curtain a crack. The lights in the corridor were still dim, and the only sound on the street was the occasional sound of a car passing by in the distance.

"Comrade Guiyan," Old Zhou turned around at the door and looked at Lyon, "Take care."

He extended his hand, and the two shook hands one last time. This time, Old Zhou's grip wasn't as strong, but it lasted a few seconds longer than before.

Then Old Zhou let go, opened the door, and stepped into the shadows of the corridor.

The footsteps in the hallway gradually faded away, the iron gate creaked downstairs, and then everything returned to silence.

Lin Jianping closed the blackout curtain again and turned to look at Lyon.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

"Do you have any cigarettes on you?" Leon asked.

Lin Jianping took out a cigarette case from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it over.

Lyon took the cigarette, but didn't light it; he just held it between his fingers.

"Comrade Guiyan," he began, his voice more relaxed than when Lao Zhou was there, but still carrying a distinct sense of solemnity.

"I won't repeat what Comrade Zhou just told me, but I've been watching closely as you established your base and community in such a short time."

Lyon put his baseball cap back on and pulled the brim down.

Lin Jianping gave a wry smile.

"I didn't know you were one of us before," he said, waving his hand in the air.

"I mistook you for an American, and one of those suspicious corrupt cop agents, and even wrote a report and submitted it. Who would have thought you were an undercover agent of our own people?"

"I was wondering how someone could build so much from scratch in such a short time."

"Now?" Leon held the cigarette under his nose, smelled it, and then took it away.

"Now? Just now, when we were writing Chinese characters and taking an oath, what American would react like this?"

"Regarding the scrap metal line, Comrade Zhou said we should discuss it ourselves," Lyon cut to the chase. "What are your plans for your metal recycling project?"

Lin Jianping sat down opposite him, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

"That's right. The recycling station mainly collects scrap iron, copper wire, and aluminum profiles, which are all legitimate businesses."

"But prices have been going down in recent months, and the profit margin is shockingly thin. I employ several unlicensed workers and keep the shop running, and all I can make each month is a few coins."

He pulled out an account book from his pocket and opened it. "The organization asked me to add a project. To put it bluntly, it's about getting the scrap metal, scrap cables, and old pipes you get from your side and turning them into cash through my legitimate recycling channels. In the process, I'll do some tricks to transfer the money to you."

"The procedures are clean. Every transaction has an invoice and a weighing slip. Even if the IRS comes to check, they won't find anything wrong with it."

"What do you need?" Leon asked.

"The item has to be genuine junk," Lin Jianping said, holding up one finger.

"For example, you must have old cables and discarded parts, which can be weighed and sold."

"Then," he held up his second finger, "you'd better assign a reliable, discreet person to be in charge of the sorting."

"For example, if there's a big price difference between scrap copper and scrap aluminum, you can mix them together, and then I can launder some of the money by accounting for the highest price."

"Finally," he held up his third finger, "I produce two sets of accounts every month. One is for the tax bureau, and the other is the real account."

"Come to my place at the end of the month to check the accounts. I will pay your people directly for the money from selling the scrap metal, but the portion of the money transferred to you will be given to you in cash. You can allocate it yourself."

He closed the notebook, then lowered his voice and added a sentence.

"But there's something I'm more worried about," he said.

"ICE frequently comes to my area, especially in recent months. Patrol officers don't come here as often, so the two sides aren't checking each other. ICE..."

"Those people then act with impunity."

"If the homeless people at your base frequently appear near my abandoned station, ICE's attention might shift from the abandoned station to your base."

"I'll handle this," Lyon said.

"I have connections in the West Precinct. ICE likes to bully the weak, so they'll naturally back down eventually."

Lin Jianping nodded and continued speaking.

"Also, you need to be careful to control the deficit and prevent your subordinates from spending too much cash at once. Spread the money out and don't let it all go to one place."

Lin Jianping paused.

"Also, pay attention to those illegal workers over here."

"My cover identity is that of a ruthless Chinese boss," Lin Jianping said.

"If these people think they've discovered an Eastern spy, he'll definitely crawl on his knees to inform on them."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," Leon said.

Lin Jianping nodded, put away the ledger, looked up at Leon, and then reached out and shook hands with Leon.

Both hands were hard-working hands, with rough skin, and when they clasped together, the grip was solid.

"Then let's, the two of us brothers, work hard here in this foreign land."

Lin Jianping nodded, released his hand, glanced out the window, and then spoke.

"The first inventory check of the repeal order will be arranged in three days. I will send you a weather forecast text message. After you receive it, you can send someone to deliver it. You don't need to go in person."

Lyon nodded, picked up the two books on the table, and got up to walk towards the door.

Lin Jianping watched his retreating figure and added before the door opened, "Comrade Guiyan, take care on the road."

Lyon stood at the door for a moment, pulled up his mask, and went out.

Very light footsteps echoed in the corridor, then the metal plate of the fire escape trembled, and then silence returned.

The Sixth Street was quiet late at night, with only the streetlights casting yellow halos around the road.

Lyon sat in the driver's seat of the Camry, placed two books on the passenger seat, started the engine, and drove off along the empty streets toward the west district.

"well----"

Lin Jianping stood alone in the living room, lost in thought. Only after Lyon had gone far away did he sigh, sit back in his chair, lean back, and stare at the ceiling for a long while.

His repeal station still has to open tomorrow, and he estimates it will take him a while to process what happened tonight.

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