The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

At noon, the streets of Liulin Town were crowded with stalls.

The firewood sellers propped their bundles against the wall, the salt sellers laid out their salt bags by the roadside, and the old woman selling needles and thread squatted on a street corner, a blue cloth spread out in front of her with needles, thread, thimbles, and scissors on it. The air was filled with the smells of firewood smoke, salt, and the sulfurous fumes of angelica, making one's nose sting. On the street, there were donkey drivers, water carriers, old men basking in the sun by the wall, and children chasing chickens.

Zhao Weiguo walked down the street, carrying a cloth bag filled with several packets of medicinal herbs. He wore a coarse cotton-padded jacket, an old felt hat, and straw sandals, looking like a soldier running errands for the camp to buy medicine. His pace was neither fast nor slow, his eyes scanning both sides of the street, but not as if he were looking for someone; it was more like he was watching a spectacle.

Staff Officer Luo followed behind him, also carrying a cloth bag filled with salt and dried vegetables. He wore a short jacket, a cloth belt around his waist, and cloth shoes with multi-layered soles, looking like a commoner going to the market. His eyes weren't on the stalls, but on the people, observing everyone's gait and what they were carrying.

Chen An walked at the very back, carrying a carrying pole with empty baskets hanging from both ends. His eyes scanned both sides of the street, the shop entrances, the alleyways, and every person standing by the roadside. A short knife was tucked into his belt, wrapped in cloth and unseen.

Next to the tea stall at the east end of the street sat a man in a short jacket, with a bowl of tea in front of him. The tea had gone cold, but he hadn't drunk it. Next to the wonton stall at the west end of the street sat a man in a cotton-padded coat, with a bowl of wontons in front of him. The wontons had clumped together, but he hadn't eaten them.

These two people are plainclothes officers from the gifted youth program.

Zhao Weiguo walked to the entrance of Hengchang Pharmacy, stopped, and looked across the street.

Across the street was the Jihetang Pharmacy. The pharmacy's window was only a crack an inch wide; through this narrow opening, you couldn't see anyone, only a corner of the medicine cabinet. The window frame was old, the paint peeling off, revealing the wood beneath. The crack was so narrow that only one hand could fit through, but one hand was enough. Enough to see the face of everyone on the street.

He didn't look at it much, turned around and walked into Hengchang Pharmacy.

There was a clerk in the pharmacy, a man in his early twenties with pockmarked face, holding a scale in his hand. He recognized Zhao Weiguo and greeted him with a smile.

"Little battalion commander, here to buy medicine again?"

Zhao Weiguo placed the cloth bag on the counter.

"Angelica sinensis, hawthorn, astragalus. And any sulfur?"

The man was taken aback.

"Sulfur? What do you need sulfur for?"

Zhao Weiguo patted his stomach with a smile.

"Someone in the camp has diarrhea; sulfur can stop it."

The shop assistant nodded and turned to get the medicine. Zhao Weiguo stood in front of the counter, touching the herbs with his hands—the texture of the angelica root, the firmness of the hawthorn, and the moisture of the astragalus root. The sulfurous smell of the angelica root was pungent, and he frowned.

He was glancing across the street out of the corner of his eye.

The window of Jihetang was still slightly ajar. There was no one in the crack, but a hand rested on the window frame. The hand had thick knuckles, steady fingers, and short nails; it didn't look like a hand that had handled medicine, but rather a hand that had held a knife. The hand withdrew, and the crack was empty, but the window remained open.

My chest suddenly felt hot.

The heat started in his chest and spread to his limbs, as if someone had set his heart on fire. He recognized this feeling. It had happened before the mines were planted at Hulukou, and before the firing at Willow Bay. The system was sounding an alarm, a sense of imminent danger, but it only alerted him, not revealed his identity.

He didn't look up and continued to haggle with the shop assistant.

"I'll give you two ounces of hawthorn. I'm craving some."

The waiter smiled, weighed out two extra ounces of hawthorn for him, wrapped it in paper, and put it in a cloth bag.

Zhao Weiguo paid the money, hugged the cloth bag to his chest, and walked out of the pharmacy.

As he left, he glanced at Jihetang.

A man stood at the entrance of Jihetang. He was dressed in a long robe and mandarin jacket, with a melon-shaped hat on his head. He held a steelyard in his hand, on which were several medicinal herbs. He was weighing the herbs, his movements steady, the steelyard stable, the weight perfectly balanced, like a seasoned shopkeeper who had spent his entire life in the business.

But his fingers are wrong.

Zhao Weiguo noticed thin calluses on the inside of his fingers. The calluses on the thumb and forefinger of someone handling medicine are from gripping a steelyard. But this man's calluses were on the web of his hand and the base of his forefinger, the result of years of handling short knives and pistols. The calluses were thin but hard, yellowish in color, and different from the surrounding skin.

This is not the shopkeeper's hand.

Zhao Weiguo was certain.

This person is not the shopkeeper.

He didn't call out, but simply clutched the medicine bag tightly and slowly walked towards the street corner. His pace was neither fast nor slow, like a soldier returning to camp after buying medicine.

He walked up to the stall and whispered to Staff Officer Luo.

"Closing up. Let's go via the west route."

Staff Officer Luo was taken aback.

"The western route? The eastern route we took here?"

"Don't take the eastern route," Zhao Weiguo said. "No looking back."

Staff Officer Luo didn't ask any more questions. He slung the cloth bag over his shoulder and began packing up.

Chen An came up from behind, about to ask a question, but Zhao Weiguo silenced him with a look. Chen An opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again.

The plainclothes officer next to the tea stall at the east end of the street stood up, walked to the west end of the street, and said something to the plainclothes officer at the wonton stall. The two of them walked one after the other towards the entrance of the town.

One went to buy candy, while the other pretended to chase a dog.

Zhao Weiguo, along with Staff Officer Luo and Chen An, exited from the west entrance of Liulin Town and embarked on the mountain path to the west. The path was narrow, with withered grass and shrubs on both sides. The shrubs were not tall, but they were dense enough to provide cover.

They walked for five miles and stopped at a bend in the road.

He turned around and looked at Staff Officer Luo and Chen An.

"Jihetang had Japanese special agents."

Staff Officer Luo's expression changed.

"What?"

"The window was only a crack an inch wide, and a hand rested on the window frame; the knuckles didn't look like someone who handled medicine," Zhao Weiguo said. "The man weighing medicine at the door had thin calluses on the inside of his fingers, located between his thumb and forefinger, from handling short knives and pistols."

He paused for a moment.

"Also, I feel a burning sensation in my chest. I felt that same before the landmines were planted at Hulukou."

Chen An's back was sweating, the sweat soaking through the back of his cotton-padded jacket. He remembered walking down the street earlier and seeing someone watching them from behind that window across the street, that window that was only slightly ajar.

"We were just across the street."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

"That's why we won't take the eastern route. If we take the eastern route, they can figure out where we came from. If we take the western route, they can't."

Staff Officer Luo put down the cloth bag, squatted on the ground, and drew a circle on the ground with a twig.

"What will we do next? We can't stop purchasing."

Zhao Weiguo squatted down and looked at the circle on the ground.

"The three routes will be rotated. East route, west route, and north route, with different routes taken each time. Hengchang Pharmacy in Liulin Town will continue to be used, but the shopkeeper will be given a secret code. The transaction will only proceed if the code matches; otherwise, they will leave."

Staff Officer Luo nodded and drew three lines around the circle with a twig.

"What's the code?" he asked.

Zhao Weiguo thought for a moment.

"Angelica sinensis. If you ask, 'How much is the angelica sinensis?' and the answer is, 'Today's angelica sinensis is not sulfur-treated,' then they're one of us. If they answer anything else, then leave."

Staff Officer Luo wrote the code in his notebook, closed it, and stood up.

"Let's go. We'll get back to camp before dark."

Zhao Weiguo stood up and looked at the mountains in the distance. Behind the mountains was Liulin Town, and in Jihetang in Liulin Town, the man in the long robe and mandarin jacket was still weighing medicine.

He remembered those hands. The thin calluses on the tiger's mouth, the window with only an inch of opening in the crack.

This person is no ordinary person.

He turned and walked back to the mountain path, his steps neither fast nor slow, like a soldier returning to camp after buying medicine.

---

Liulin Town, Jihetang.

Yamamoto stood behind the window, watching Zhao Weiguo's departing figure. His silhouette was small; he walked along the western mountain path and quickly disappeared behind the bushes.

Masuko stood beside him, holding a gun.

"Should we pursue them or not?"

Yamamoto shook his head.

"Don't chase. There are at least two plainclothes Eighth Route Army officers on the street. He's testing whether we'll give chase."

Masuko put the gun away.

"Did he notice?"

Yamamoto looked out the window. People were still walking around on the street outside, some buying groceries, some chatting, as if nothing had happened.

"He noticed. But he didn't say anything."

He walked to the table, sat down, took out the Taihang map, and drew a circle around Liulin Town with a red pencil.

"Starting tomorrow, monitor three lines: the Xingshuping procurement line, the New First Regiment liaison line, and the Independent Regiment's direction."

He put down his pencil and looked at the circles and lines on the map.

"His decision to take the western route instead of the eastern one indicates he knows we're watching. His refusal to turn back suggests he doesn't want us to know he knows."

Masuko stood to the side without saying a word.

Yamamoto folded the map and put it in his pocket.

"This child is more dangerous than I anticipated."

He opened the cigarette pack, took out Zhao Weiguo's photo, and looked at the bright eyes in the photo.

"Fourteen years old," he muttered to himself. "Interesting."

A vendor's cry came from outside the window. Someone was shouting "Tofu for sale!" The sound was drawn out and drifted down the street.