Courtyard House: Ten-year-old Master Zhu reorganizes the entire courtyard

He Daqing sat at the stone table, and by the cool moonlight, he recounted every word and detail he had heard at the banquet to He Yuzhu. He had an excellent memory, especially when he was under intense mental stress; those drunken conversations were etched into his mind like a brand.

"...That Japanese major said it himself, the 'special mineral sand' will be shipped from Tianjin Port at the end of the month, and he also said that there absolutely cannot be any mishaps." After He Daqing finished speaking, he picked up the cold tea on the table and gulped it down in one go, as if to extinguish the flames in his heart.

He Yuzhu's expression remained unchanged, but his pupils suddenly contracted.

Special minerals! At this point in time, the "special minerals" that the Japanese were willing to do anything to transport back to their homeland from North China had only one purpose—uranium ore, a raw material for making atomic bombs!

Fragments of memories from his past life flashed through his mind like lightning. He remembered that Japan did indeed have a nuclear weapons development project codenamed "Project Jin" towards the end of the war. Although it ultimately failed, the process continued in secret. And Northeast and North China were key locations for their plunder of uranium resources.

This is no longer an ordinary supply of military materials; it is related to the course of the war and may even change the course of history!

"Father, you've done a great job this time." He Yuzhu's voice was deep and powerful.

He Daqing gave a wry smile: "What great achievement? I was almost scared to death. Zhuzi, this kind of thing must never happen again."

"No more." He Yuzhu looked at his father, who was still in shock, and knew he had reached his limit. The value of this information could not be told to him for the time being, otherwise it would only make him more terrified.

That night, He Yuzhu lit a kerosene lamp in his room. Instead of using a pen, he took out the special medicine Lin Wanqiu had given him, dipped a thin cotton swab in the colorless and odorless liquid, and quickly wrote down the information his father had brought back on a piece of ordinary straw paper.

The medicine had dried up, and the straw paper was completely empty, looking just like a piece of waste paper.

The next morning, before dawn, He Yuzhu quietly slipped out of his house. Like a cat, he moved silently through the quiet alley and arrived at the designated donation box in a dilapidated temple—the place where he had agreed to meet his organization. He carefully folded the seemingly blank piece of paper and stuffed it inside.

After doing all this, he rushed to another emergency contact point and left an emergency mark on the corner of the wall with chalk, a mark that only he and Lin Wanqiu understood. The mark meant: the intelligence is extremely important and urgent, and must be reported immediately.

The organization's response speed was beyond expectations.

Just two days later, Lin Wanqiu sent a note through a new contact. The note was short and vague: "The goods have been received, and the shopkeeper takes them very seriously. There might have been some 'trouble' on the way, but someone has been arranged to handle it. The deliveryman (referring to He Daqing) may be questioned recently, so be sure to be prepared and insist that you know nothing."

After reading it, He Yuzhu immediately burned the note. He knew that "trouble" was the organization's code word, meaning they had already launched an operation against this batch of "special ore." The warning to his father foreshadowed the risks to come.

Sure enough, trouble ensued.

Three days later, Director Zhang of the puppet government, his face ashen, sent someone to "invite" He Daqing over again. This time, there was no polite smile, only a cold scrutiny.

Inside the mansion, Director Zhang and a translator from a Japanese intelligence agency interrogated He Daqing for two hours.

"Master He, who have you been in contact with since the last banquet?"

Have you told anyone about what happened at the banquet?

Do you understand Japanese?

He Daqing trembled with fear, his face deathly pale. This wasn't an act; it was his genuine reaction. He remembered his son's instructions, repeating the same few sentences over and over.

"Sir... I... I'm just a cook... I spend all day in the kitchen, I haven't seen or heard anything..."

"Japanese? Sir, I can't read a single word, how could I understand a foreign language..."

"I just took the reward money, was happy, went home and had a couple of drinks, that's all I know..."

His answer was full of holes, but his fear was the most genuine. He portrayed the image of a cowardly, greedy, and timid cook to the fullest extent.

The Japanese translator scrutinized him for a long time, and finally seemed to realize that he couldn't get anything out of such a useless person. As for Director Zhang, he was more concerned with absolving himself of responsibility.

Just then, an unexpected person saved He Daqing.

The mansion's butler rushed in and whispered a few words in Director Zhang's ear. Director Zhang's expression changed, then he waved his hand, telling He Daqing to get out.

He Daqing felt as if he had been granted a pardon and ran out of the mansion in a panic. Later, he learned from the side that it was the Japanese major from last time who had been thinking about his food and had inquired about his whereabouts through other puppet government officials, preparing to hold another banquet.

Since his superiors needed him, Director Zhang naturally dared not touch him again. Ultimately, the matter was left unresolved, hastily concluded with the excuse that "what secrets would a cook know?" But He Daqing was also given a stern warning: "Watch your mouth, or next time, not even a god can save you!"

Upon returning home, He Daqing fell ill for three days.

He Yuzhu received the organization's final feedback a few days later.

The feedback was delivered personally by the "shopkeeper," and it was still a slip of paper, but the content shocked He Yuzhu.

"The ambush outside Tianjin Port was successful. Most of the 'ore' was intercepted, and a small amount sank into the sea. Seven comrades from the Pingxi side sacrificed their lives. Your father's identity was not exposed, but he has come into the sights of the Japanese and their puppet regime and can no longer be used. Comrade 'Apprentice,' you have made a great contribution to the organization, and the organization will award you a first-class merit."

First-class merit.

He Yuzhu clutched the note, his heart heavy with sorrow, devoid of joy. Seven precious lives had been exchanged for a vital batch of strategic supplies. This was the cruelty of war.

Looking at his father, still shaken on the hospital bed, he made a silent vow. He had to get his family out of this dangerous vortex as soon as possible. As for himself, he would go further and deeper down this path.

With his father's line of communication broken, he needed to find a new, safer, and more covert source of intelligence.

His gaze fell upon the campus.

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