Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

He Yuzhu started to limp. He had to grit his teeth to support himself when his left leg landed. He Yushui saw this and asked him what was wrong. He said he was fine, he had just twisted his ankle. She didn't ask any more questions, but her eyes remained fixed on his leg for a long time before she looked away.

That night, he lay in bed and brought up the system interface.

[Rapid Healing Potion (Intermediate)]

【Function: Repairs moderate trauma and accelerates bone and muscle healing】

[Points consumed: 10,000]

He stared at the line of text, his thumb hovering over the screen for a moment.

One and a half million. Enough for three emergency injections, enough to buy a surveillance system. But if the leg injury is left untreated any longer, it will really cause problems later.

Clicked.

[Redeem successful. Points consumed: 150,000]

Current points: 47,940,000

He retrieved the syringe from his system space. The small, transparent vial contained a pale blue liquid that shimmered under the light. He rolled up his left sleeve, paused briefly at the needle tip against his skin—then pushed it all the way in.

I don't feel anything.

He put the empty syringe back into his storage space, lay flat, and stared at the ceiling.

When I woke up the next morning, my leg didn't hurt anymore.

He tried to take a few steps. He landed steadily, and the sore spot subsided. He squatted down, then stood up again, and was perfectly fine.

Systems are great, but they're also expensive.

He Yuzhu investigated the "insider" that Lao Wu mentioned for three days.

He went through the list one by one. There were eleven people in total, from the factory, the neighborhood committee, and the security bureau, who could have any contact with this line of work. He pulled out each person's file and went through their movements over the past three months.

He stopped when he got to the seventh person in line.

Zhou Zhiming. Deputy Chief of the Security Section, 35 years old. We usually call each other brothers, drink together, chat together, and sometimes when we work overtime late, we eat noodles together at a small restaurant near the factory gate.

There's nothing wrong with this person. Clean resume, positive attitude, and always smiling.

But He Yuzhu remembered something.

The night Lao Wu ran away, Zhou Zhiming came to his office and sat for twenty minutes. They talked about trivial matters in the security department, and then Zhou left. The next day, Lao Wu ran away.

I didn't think much of it at the time. Now I wonder—did Zhou Zhiming come that night to test his words?

There's something else. About two weeks ago, he was walking home from get off work when he saw Zhou Zhiming's back at the alley entrance. The man was riding his bicycle, slowly passing by the alley entrance, without entering the courtyard or saying hello. He didn't pay attention at the time, but now that he thinks about it, that road wasn't the way back to the security office.

He told Lao Sun about it.

Old Sun remained silent for a while.

"Zhou Zhiming, I've checked. No problem."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Check it again. Don't check the records, check his wife and children. Find out where the money came from."

Old Sun didn't say anything, and picked up the phone.

Three days later, the results came out.

There were no financial problems. Zhou Zhiming's wife's new coat came from her dowry, and their son transferred schools because of a scholarship for good grades. The accounts were clean.

But Old Sun discovered something else.

"On the afternoon that Lao Wu ran away, Zhou Zhiming took two hours off, saying he was going to pick up his child. But his son got out of school normally that day, and his wife picked him up."

He Yuzhu's brow twitched slightly.

Where was he during those two hours?

Old Sun shook his head.

"Nobody knows. He said he strolled around the street and bought a pack of cigarettes. But the cigarette stall owner on that street doesn't remember ever seeing him."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

He read the document over and over again. There was no solid evidence, but there was a hole—a hole that had been there for two hours.

"That's enough." He put the materials down. "I'll test him."

The trial was scheduled for the weekend.

He Yuzhu invited Zhou Zhiming for drinks at the same small restaurant near the factory gate. The two sat in a corner, ordered two dishes and a bottle of Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor). Zhou Zhiming, as always, was all smiles, pouring the liquor, picking up food, and chatting about things at the factory.

Halfway through his drink, He Yuzhu put down his glass.

Zhou Zhiming looked at him.

"Director He, what's wrong?"

He Yuzhu shook his head.

"It's nothing. I've just been busy and tired lately."

Zhou Zhiming nodded.

"That's true. Old Wu's matter caused quite a stir. I heard the higher-ups are still investigating?"

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Tell me, how did Old Wu manage to escape?"

Zhou Zhiming was stunned for a moment.

"Didn't someone tip you off?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

"Yes. I just can't figure out who tipped him off."

Zhou Zhiming picked up his wine glass and took a sip.

"We'll know once we find out."

He Yuzhu also picked up his wine glass, but didn't drink.

I suspect someone.

Zhou Zhiming's hand paused for a moment. It was very light, but He Yuzhu saw it.

"Who?"

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"you."

Zhou Zhiming's face froze. His wine glass remained raised in mid-air, unmoved.

One second. Two seconds.

He put down his glass and smiled. The smile was a beat slower than usual, and the twitch of his lips was slightly off.

"Director He, are you kidding me?"

He Yuzhu didn't laugh. He looked into Zhou Zhiming's eyes.

Zhou Zhiming's smile slowly faded.

The two stared at each other. At the next table, people were playing a drinking game, making a lot of noise. He Yuzhu suddenly wondered, what if he was wrong? What if he really had only spent those two hours buying cigarettes?

But the thought only flashed through my mind for a moment.

Zhou Zhiming spoke, his voice lowering.

What evidence do you have?

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Zhou Zhiming stood up and walked out.

After taking a few steps, two people entered through the door. They were in plainclothes, but their demeanor made them instantly recognizable.

Zhou Zhiming stopped.

He turned around and looked at He Yuzhu. He Yuzhu recognized that look—it was the look in Lao Wu's eyes the night he was arrested, the look in Zheng Yunting's eyes when he was dragged out the door. Hatred, and something else. But beneath that look, He Yuzhu saw something else—a sense of relief.

"You fucking..."

Before he could finish speaking, he was stopped by the two plainclothes officers.

He Yuzhu sat there, picked up his wine glass, and drank the rest of the wine.

The wine was cold.

The interrogation took place the following day.

He Yuzhu didn't participate. He waited for news in his office. The window was open, and people were moving things outside, with shouts coming in waves.

In the afternoon, Old Sun arrived.

"They confessed everything."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Who else?"

Old Sun sat down and lit a cigarette.

"There's another place in Tianjin. He doesn't know the exact address; he's only received one letter. The letter was sent from Tanggu Wharf, and it was signed with only a surname."

He took something out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

A torn piece of paper, its edges burned. There were only two lines of writing on it, the handwriting messy, and only half of the signature remained—"That".

He Yuzhu picked up the letter and examined it against the light. The paper was ordinary, but it was yellowish, as if it had been stored for some time.

"Just this one word?"

Old Sun nodded.

"He said the other party never used their real name. This letter was the only thing he kept; he was going to burn it, but it wasn't completely burned."

He Yuzhu put the letter down.

Tanggu Wharf. There.

He remembered the fog on the dock that day, the way Old Wu lay on the stone slab, and Zheng Yunting's smile before he died.

Old Sun stood up and walked to the window.

"Zhou Zhiming has worked with us for three years, and nobody could tell. If it weren't for those two hours of mismatch, we'd still be calling each other brothers."

He turned around and looked at He Yuzhu.

"How are you? Is your leg better?"

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

"alright."

Old Sun nodded and left.

He Yuzhu sat alone in his office, looking out the window. The sky was overcast, and it looked like it was going to rain. The torn letter was still lying on the table, with half of the character "那" facing him.

He recalled Zhou Zhiming's eyes when he was arrested. Hatred, and a sense of relief. Did he feel anything at that moment? For a fleeting instant, he hoped he was wrong. He hoped those two hours really were spent buying cigarettes, that they could drink together again tomorrow.

But the drink was cold.

When he got home that evening, He Yushui was collecting laundry in the yard. Seeing him come in, she ran over.

"Brother, why isn't Uncle Zhou coming?"

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

"Which Uncle Zhou?"

"That Uncle Zhou from the security department. He used to come to our compound all the time, but he hasn't been coming lately."

He Yuzhu looked at her.

"He's coming to our hospital?"

He Yushui nodded.

"Yes. He came by a week ago and spoke a few words with Grandma. Grandma even praised him for being polite."

He Yuzhu stood there, motionless.

A week ago—just as he began investigating "insiders"—what was Zhou Zhiming doing at the hospital?

He remembered the figure he had seen at the alley entrance that day. It turned out it wasn't just passing by.

He Yushui looked at him.

"Brother, what's wrong?"

He Yuzhu shook his head.

"It's alright. Just let me know if anyone comes to the yard in the future."

He Yushui nodded.

"it is good."

He Yuzhu walked into the room and sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).

It started raining outside. The rain pattered against the windowpane.

He remembered the fog at Tanggu Wharf that day, the half-word "that" on the torn letter, and the look in Zhou Zhiming's eyes when he was arrested.

It's not over yet. He knew it.