Republic of China, 1928: Starting from a Wonton Shop

After leaving the steamed bun shop, Li Chunsheng did not go straight home, but instead went to a general store and bought a lot of things.

Brooms, stiff-bristled brushes, lime powder, and several large bundles of straw paper.

It was already afternoon when I returned to the courtyard.

Yunniang was teaching Yaya how to sew shoe soles in the courtyard when she saw Li Chunsheng returning with large and small bags, and she quickly went to greet him.

"Chunsheng, how is it?" Yunniang asked expectantly.

"The shop has been secured!" Li Chunsheng put down his things, wiped his sweat, and took out the red paper with black characters from his pocket. "Two silver dollars a month, rented for a year!"

"Two yuan?" Yunniang was a little surprised. "Even the shops near the front gate, if they're a bit out of the way, would cost at least four or five yuan, right? How come it's so cheap? Could it be...?"

Yunniang was a clever woman, and she immediately realized something, her expression changing slightly: "Could it be that haunted Old Liu's steamed bun shop?"

"You're smart, sister-in-law!" Li Chunsheng gave a thumbs up. "That's the one."

"Oh? Chunsheng, you mustn't go to that place! I heard that in that well..."

"Sister-in-law!" Li Chunsheng interrupted her, "We're not afraid of being poor, why would we be afraid of ghosts? I went to check today, there's nothing there, just a bit dirty. The so-called ghost stories are mostly just rumors."

Seeing that Yunniang was still somewhat frightened, Li Chunsheng softened his tone: "Besides, I've already thought of a plan. Tomorrow morning, we'll take our gear and go over there. I'll set off a string of firecrackers at the door to drive away all the bad luck! Then we'll kill a rooster and sprinkle its blood around the area; how about that?"

Yunniang's fear subsided slightly.

"Alright! Since you've decided, then I'll listen to you!" Yunniang gritted her teeth. "Tomorrow, Yaya and I will help you clean! We'll scrub the place clean inside and out!"

The next day, just as dawn was breaking.

A deafening burst of firecrackers shattered the morning's tranquility.

Li Chunsheng stood in front of Lao Liu's Steamed Bun Shop—no, it should be Li's Restaurant, which doesn't have a signboard yet—holding a bamboo pole with a string of exploding red firecrackers on it, his face beaming with joy.

Ya Ya covered her ears and hid behind Yun Niang.

The surrounding neighbors were alarmed, and they all peeked out or gathered at a distance, pointing and whispering.

"Wow! Someone actually dares to rent this haunted house?"

"I heard it's Li Chunsheng, the wonton seller. He's really got some nerve!"

"Just you wait, they'll be scared away in less than three days!"

Li Chunsheng ignored these discussions. After the firecrackers were finished, the ground was covered with red paper, which looked festive.

"start!"

Li Chunsheng waved his hand and led Yunniang and Yaya into the shop.

The front was the shop, about forty square meters, with enough space for five or six tables. Li Chunsheng directed Yunniang and Yaya to clean the front hall, while he carried a large bag of lime powder and cleaning tools straight to the backyard.

The three of them spent most of the day working on this.

Li Chunsheng was in charge of the heavy lifting, moving tables and repairing doors and windows; Yunniang was in charge of the finer tasks, wiping down cabinets and cleaning the stove; and Yaya, with her short legs, carried the garbage out in trip after trip.

As the sun began to set, the front hall, though still old, had revealed its original appearance. The blue bricks on the floor were now exposed, and the cobwebs on the window frames had been swept clean.

Looking at the gradually improving shop, Li Chunsheng was in a great mood. As he climbed onto the roof to repair the tiles, looking at the city of Beiping under the setting sun, he was filled with emotion. All his feelings boiled down to one sentence: Since I'm here, I might as well make the best of it.

As night falls, a quiet little courtyard house appears outside Xuanwu Gate.

This is Zhou Zhengnan's residence.

The room was warm and cozy with a fireplace, and several delicate dishes were laid out on the table: a plate of peanuts, a plate of sliced ​​braised beef, a plate of stir-fried bean sprouts, and a pot of warm yellow wine.

In those years of scarcity, this meal was a luxury for ordinary people, but for the three people sitting here, what they ate was not important; what mattered was that it was safe here.

Zhou Zhengnan sat in the main seat, opposite Lao Wu and Xiao Wu.

Old Wu took a sip of wine, his face still sallow; Little Wu, on the other hand, was wolfing down a steamed bun and eating beef.

"Old Wu, how's your wound?" Zhou Zhengnan put down his wine glass and asked softly.

"It's nothing," Old Wu grinned, "It's just that I almost got caught out today; that shop has been empty for more than half a year, I didn't expect it to be rented out today."

"Who rents the house?" Zhou Zhengnan pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses.

"He doesn't look like a bad guy." Xiao Wu said indistinctly with his mouth full of steamed bun. "He's a young man, fair-skinned and clean-cut. I asked around this afternoon, and his name is Li Chunsheng. I think he's the owner of Li's Wonton Shop outside Qianmen."

"And," Old Wu chimed in, his expression turning somewhat strange. He put down his cup. "Old Zhou, there's something I need to tell you. Today we were hiding on the roof beam. Xiao Wu was planning to play tricks to scare him away, but as soon as that young man entered the house, before we could even make a move, he started singing himself."

"Sing a tune?" Zhou Zhengnan laughed. "These days, anyone with a bit of leisure can hum a few lines. What's wrong with that?"

"No, it's not opera." Old Wu shook his head. "That tune, I've traveled all over the country for so many years, and I've never heard it before. It's neither our Internationale, nor a Soviet tune, nor a Kuomintang tune, and this song sounds particularly energetic!"

Zhou Zhengnan suppressed his smile. As the head of the underground Communist Party in Beiping, he was highly sensitive to any unusual intelligence.

"What were the lyrics? Do you remember them?"

Old Wu frowned, recalled for a moment, and then muttered:

"We are the successors of socialism."

Zhou Zhengnan's wine glass trembled violently, spilling some wine.

"What did you say? Say it again!" Zhou Zhengnan's voice unconsciously rose a few decibels.

"We are the successors of socialism," Old Wu repeated. "And what follows... inheriting the glorious traditions of our revolutionary predecessors, loving our motherland, loving our people, the bright red scarf fluttering on our chests..."

A deathly silence fell over the room.

Only the occasional crackling sound of coal in the stove could be heard.

Zhou Zhengnan took off his glasses, took out a handkerchief from his pocket, and slowly wiped the lenses. This was a habitual action he took when thinking, and he only did it so frequently when he was extremely confused or nervous.

"Successor?" Zhou Zhengnan muttered to himself.

It is now 1928. White terror grips the country, countless comrades fall in pools of blood, and the Party organization is forced to go underground.

They didn't even know if they would live to see the day of victory.

"What is a red scarf?" Xiao Wu swallowed the last bite of his steamed bun.

Zhou Zhengnan put his glasses back on. "The Young Pioneers in the Soviet Union do wear red scarves; but the grammar and vocabulary of these lyrics are completely Chinese, not like a translation."

He stood up and paced back and forth in the room.

"Old Zhou, do you think this guy could be one of our comrades?" Old Wu asked tentatively. "Or maybe he came back from Moscow? And isn't he on our side?"

"If they were returning from Moscow, the organization would have informed me." Zhou Zhengnan shook his head. "Besides, if they were undercover agents, who would sing this kind of song all the time? Would they have a death wish?"

"That's strange then." Old Wu scratched his head.

Zhou Zhengnan stopped in his tracks. "Old Wu, we must find out more about this man. Since he's rented that shop, he can't run away anytime soon. Don't go to that shop again recently, so as not to alert him."

He paused, then picked up his glass and downed it in one gulp. "I'll make contact myself."