Nominal: Hou Liangping blocking the door? He was slapped away!

Zhao Lichun locked the wooden doors of the side rooms in the courtyard from the inside.

The door was very old, and the paint on the door panel had several cracks.

Zhao Lichun sat on the edge of the wooden bed, his hands supporting his knees, his whole body curled up in a ball.

Everything that just happened in the yard is etched into my mind.

More than thirty rifles, fully armed soldiers, black troop carriers, and an old man with white hair wearing a military overcoat.

Who was it? It all happened so fast that he didn't even have time to see the old man's face clearly. He only remembered Su Zhenhai calling him "Old Squad Leader."

From the moment they entered the room to the moment they took Su Zhenhai away, it took less than three minutes.

"No...no..."

He kept repeating the same few words over and over, like chanting a sutra.

The old leader has been running things in Kyoto for most of his life. What kind of situation hasn't he handled? At most, he'll get a scolding, but he'll be back in a couple of days.

Zhao Lichun stood up again, walked to the window, and glanced into the courtyard.

The courtyard was empty and clean.

The two black marks left by the troop transport vehicle rolling over the bluestone slabs are still there, stretching from the main gate all the way down to the steps of the main hall.

Apart from that, there were no other traces.

Even Su Zhenhai's two bodyguards were gone, and the entire courtyard was unusually quiet.

Zhao Lichun retreated to the bedside and sat down, looking at the black landline phone next to him, wanting to try to use his connections in Kyoto to find out the situation.

He pressed a few keys on the dial pad, then put his finger down.

can not fight.

At this critical juncture, who knows if someone is listening in? If this call is intercepted, it won't be a matter of "asking for help," it will be "collusion."

He put the phone back in his pocket.

and so on.

We can only wait.

……

Time passed second by second.

it's dark.

No one came to bring food to the side room, and no one came to greet them.

Zhao Lichun lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep at all.

My mind was filled with images—Shen Zhong's face as he slammed the table at the Standing Committee meeting, Wu Chunlin's shifty eyes when he betrayed me, and Liu Changchun's hypocritical face as he added insult to injury.

And that guy surnamed Shen.

Zhao Lichun turned over and stared at the blackened beam on the ceiling.

The old commander personally intervened and used his connections within the Central Military Commission to investigate this person, resulting in the person and his car being taken away.

Who exactly is this Shen Zhong?

He's just a major general, what makes him so special?

My stomach started growling; it felt dry and empty, with stomach acid churning up and burning my throat.

Zhao Lichun did not move.

It's not that I don't want to eat, it's that there's nothing to eat. Everyone in the courtyard has left, the kitchen lights are off, and the stove is completely cold.

The dignified Party Secretary of Handong Province was holed up in a guest room in a courtyard house in Beijing, starving and without even a sip of hot water.

Who would believe that if I told them?

……

Its daybreak.

When Zhao Lichun sat up in bed, his legs felt weak and his head was buzzing.

He hadn't slept all night; his eyes were bloodshot, and he had bluish-gray stubble on his chin.

I walked to the guest room door, opened it, and peeked out.

The courtyard was still empty, the main hall door was closed, and there wasn't a soul in sight on the veranda.

Zhao Lichun shrank back again.

Every one or two hours, he would repeat this action—walk to the door, peek out, look around, and then pull back in.

It's no different from a caged beast.

After noon, the sun climbed from the east wall of the courtyard to the west wall, casting long shadows.

No one came.

Afternoon passed, and the sky began to darken. In the October evening in Kyoto, a cold wind blew in from the alley entrance.

Zhao Lichun, wrapped in that suit jacket, squatted on the doorstep of the guest room.

His lips were chapped, his eye sockets were sunken, and he looked like a dehydrated salted fish.

Just then—

Outside the courtyard gate, the sound of a vehicle engine shutting off could be heard.

Zhao Lichun shuddered and sprang up from the threshold.

coming!

He stumbled out of the guest room and ran along the veranda towards the main hall. His leather shoes clattered on the brick floor. He almost tripped on the threshold after a few steps, only managing to steady himself by grabbing a pillar.

The courtyard gate creaked open.

It wasn't Su Zhenhai who walked in.

A middle-aged man in his forties, wearing a dark gray Zhongshan suit, was carrying a black briefcase.

Su Zhenhai's personal secretary, surnamed Ma, made Zhao Lichun stop in his tracks.

"Secretary Ma! Where is the old commander?"

Secretary Ma stood still in the center of the courtyard, maintaining a two-meter distance from Zhao Lichun who was running towards him, without taking a single step forward.

"Secretary Zhao."

His tone was dry and monotonous, like reading a document aloud.

"The old commander asked me to pass on a few words to you."

Zhao Lichun's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"First, the old commander will no longer concern himself with matters in Handong from today onwards."

"Secondly, the old commander has no right to interfere in Shen Zhong's affairs, nor will he interfere again."

Secretary Ma's face was devoid of any extraneous expression; her words flowed out one by one, completely formulaic.

"third--"

It paused for a moment.

"The old commander said he will never see you again."

Zhao Lichun took half a step back, his heel hitting the edge of the step.

"Please leave now and don't come back."

After saying this, Secretary Ma extended his left hand and made a standard gesture of farewell towards the gate of the courtyard house.

Clean and neat, without even lifting an extra eyelid.

"Secretary Ma..."

Zhao Lichun's voice was hoarse and rough, as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper.

"Could you make a phone call to the old commander for me? Just a few words, I'll explain a few things—"

"Secretary Zhao."

Secretary Ma interrupted him, her hand still pointing towards the door, without moving an inch.

"I have conveyed the old commander's original words. I have no other tasks."

The cold wind blew in from the alley entrance, making Zhao Lichun's wrinkled suit jacket rustle loudly.

I stood there for a few seconds.

Zhao Lichun turned around.

One step, two steps, three steps.

The soles of the leather shoes scraped against the bluestone slabs, making a dull slurring sound, and each step was dragged along.

His back was hunched over, a stark contrast to his image as the person sitting in the main seat at the Standing Committee meeting of the Handong Provincial Party Committee, a figure of absolute authority.

As I reached the main gate, I heard Secretary Ma's last words from behind.

"Secretary Zhao, you'd better watch yourself."

"You'll have to clean up the mess in Handong yourself."

Zhao Lichun paused for a moment.

He didn't turn around.

They stepped out of the courtyard house.

The alley was very narrow, with high gray brick walls on both sides, and only a sliver of sky could be seen overhead.

In the evening in Kyoto, the wind blew from the north, dry and cold, feeling like knives on my face.

Zhao Lichun stood at the entrance of the alley, looking dazed.

My biggest backer is gone.

Back in Handong, Shen Zhong was still waiting for him to return.