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

The person in the photo is so thin he looks like a withered twig.

He Yuzhu stared at those eyes—deep-set, yet bright, like two lumps of charcoal buried in ashes. He was in his sixties, with high cheekbones, wearing a dark gray long gown, standing before an antique-style storefront. The plaque above the door bore four characters: Qingzhai Antiques. Written in the Yan style, neat and orderly.

"A descendant of Manchu nobility." Old Sun pointed to the photo, his knuckles stained yellow. "His grandfather worked for the Imperial Household Department during the Guangxu era, managing the storeroom. By his time, the family fortune was almost gone, so he opened this antique shop in Tianjin."

He Yuzhu turned the photo over, and on the back were three words written in pen: That Jinzhong.

"A rendezvous point?"

Old Sun nodded and pulled out a few more sheets of paper from the file folder. They were photocopies of Zhou Zhiming's interrogation record, the handwriting was messy, and there were several water stains that blurred the pages.

"Zhou Zhiming confessed that Lao Wu met Liu Fusheng twice, both times behind that shop. The things Liu Fusheng brought back from Hong Kong were also delivered there first."

He pulled out another photo—a hand-drawn floor plan, drawn in pencil, with the locations of doors and windows clearly marked. The shop wasn't large, with a courtyard at the back containing three rooms. Zhou Zhiming had never been inside; Liu Fusheng wouldn't allow it.

He Yuzhu paused his fingertip on the words "backyard" on the picture.

How many people?

Old Sun stubbed out his cigarette in the enamel mug.

"I don't know. Zhou Zhiming was only in charge of the outer perimeter; he knew nothing about what happened inside. But Jinzhong keeps a group of people who do dirty work. We'd guess at least four or five."

He Yuzhu put the photo into his pocket.

"I'll go."

On the train to Tianjin, he looked at those photos again.

The fields outside the window receded, piece by piece, like old cloth torn apart. He sat by the window, next to a cloth vendor who had been dozing the whole way, his head bobbing up and down. He Yuzhu wasn't asleep. He kept going over the floor plan of the shop in his mind—front door, back door, yard, three rooms. If a fight broke out, where to enter from, where to retreat from, which window to climb through, which wall to lean against.

The sky was already overcast when the train pulled into the station.

Old Sun was waiting for him at the exit. Several people stood nearby, some in plainclothes and some in uniform, all huddled under the eaves smoking. A gust of wind blew by, carrying the smell of coal ash.

"The police," Old Sun said in a low voice, gesturing with his chin, "We'll make our move tonight. We'll scout the location first."

He Yuzhu nodded and followed him into the alley.

The alley was narrow, lined with old houses on both sides, their blue bricks and gray tiles, their walls peeling and their doors close together. An old woman was picking vegetables at her door, and children were running around chasing after her. When they saw them come in, they all stopped to look, then lowered their heads again. He Yuzhu walked slowly, his eyes scanning the surroundings—telephone poles, wall corners, doorways that could hide someone, and side paths that could lead out.

That antique shop is in the middle of the alley.

Two black lacquered wooden doors, most of the paint peeled away, revealing the whitish wood underneath. The doors were ajar, leaving a crack. He Yuzhu passed by the doorway, glancing inside sideways. The shop was small; an old man sat behind the counter, wearing reading glasses, head down, reading a book. Several calligraphy and paintings hung on the wall, mottled with mold spots. On the shelves were bottles and jars, blue and white porcelain, famille rose porcelain, some of which looked genuine.

He didn't stop, walking all the way to the end of the alley and turning into another alley.

Old Sun caught up and lowered his voice: "The alley behind is even narrower, only wide enough for a tricycle. The back door is a small wooden door, always locked, with a bolt bolted from the inside."

He Yuzhu went around to the back alley and took a look. It was indeed narrow, with high walls on both sides, and the windows were all on the second floor. The small wooden door was not much bigger than a dog hole, painted black, blending in with the wall.

He remembered it.

At eight o'clock in the evening, it was completely dark.

The wind stopped, and the alley was so quiet that only the sound of his own heartbeat could be heard. He Yuzhu squatted behind the locust tree at the alley entrance, looking at the two black lacquered wooden doors. A sliver of light shone through the cracks in the doors, dim and yellowish, like thinned porridge.

Old Sun was next to him, his watch resting on his knee, the second hand ticking away.

"Both the front and back roads are blocked. We'll wait for your signal and then go in together."

He Yuzhu nodded. He touched the gun tucked into his waistband—borrowed from the security bureau, it was a bit heavier than his own. The wound on his left leg had been healed with the medicine, and he felt nothing at all, as if he had never been injured.

He stood up and walked into the alley.

He knocked on the door when he got to the shop.

There was no movement inside.

He knocked three more times, two short and one long. This was the code Zhou Zhiming had given him.

The door opened a crack, revealing a face. It wasn't the old man from earlier in the day; it was a young man, around thirty years old, with a dark complexion, high cheekbones, and a piercing look in his eyes.

"Who should I look for?"

He Yuzhu lowered his voice: "Zhou Zhiming sent me."

The man's eyes flickered for a moment—warning, and something else. He looked He Yuzhu up and down a few times, then opened the door.

"Come in."

He Yuzhu stepped across the threshold. The shop was empty; the light behind the counter was on, but the old man from earlier that day was gone. The young man closed the door, bolted it, and gestured with his chin towards the backyard.

"Walk."

Passing through the shopfront and pushing open the back door, there was a square courtyard. The ground was paved with blue bricks, and in the center was a water vat filled with water lilies, their leaves all wilted. There were three rooms, one on the east and one on the west, and one in the main room. All the lights were on, and there were many shadowy figures in the windows.

The young man led him to the door of the main house and pushed it open.

Five people were sitting inside the room.

The man in the middle, wearing a dark gray long gown, thin, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes—that's the person in the photo. He sat at the octagonal table, holding a blue-and-white porcelain covered bowl, using the lid to skim off the tea leaves. Standing beside him were four young men, all wearing black cloth jackets, their waists bulging, their eyes fixed on He Yuzhu.

Jinzhong raised his head.

When he looked at someone, he would squint for a moment, then slowly open his eyes. In that instant, He Yuzhu felt as if his internal organs had been turned inside out.

"Did Zhou Zhiming send you?"

The voice was soft and slow, as if asking how the weather was today.

He Yuzhu nodded. He didn't speak, and waited.

Jin Zhong stared at him for a full three seconds.

"What's wrong with him?"

He Yuzhu took a step forward.

"He's been arrested."

The room fell silent for a moment.

The hand holding the covered bowl in Jinzhong didn't tremble, but the lid remained suspended in mid-air; he didn't flick the tea leaves again. He slowly placed the covered bowl on the table and reached into his robes—

He Yuzhu didn't wait for him to pull out his gun.

He kicked over the table next to him and dodged to the side. A gunshot rang out; the bullet flew past his ear, hit the wall, and chipped off a piece of plaster.

The house exploded.

The four young men all reached for their guns. He Yuzhu had already rushed to the doorway, grabbed the collar of the young man who had brought him in, and slammed him to the ground. The man groaned, and before he could react, He Yuzhu slammed his elbow into his face—the sound of a broken nose was crisp and clear.

The gun fired again.

He Yuzhu rolled over into the yard and hid behind a water vat. The bullet hit the vat, shattering the porcelain, and water gushed out, spilling all over the ground.

Two men rushed out of the main house, each carrying a gun. He Yuzhu peeked out from behind the water vat and shot one of them down. The other man dodged to the side, firing as he went, the bullets sparking as they hit the blue bricks.

Suddenly, a whistle rang out from the alleyway entrance—sharp, urgent, like a knife slicing through the night.

The police took action.

He Yuzhu heard the sound of the front and back doors being kicked open, the sound of hurried footsteps, and shouts. Na Jinzhong rushed out of the main room and ran towards the east wing. He limped and staggered as he ran, but he was still clutching the gun in his hand.

He Yuzhu chased after him.

Three meters, two meters, one meter away—Jin Zhong turned around, aiming his gun at him. He Yuzhu didn't stop, and shot him in the back of the knee.

Jin Zhong fell to the ground, his gun flying far away.

He Yuzhu ran over, kicked the gun away, and slammed him to the ground. Jin Zhong lay there, his face pressed against the cold blue bricks, panting heavily. He turned his head to look at He Yuzhu. His eyes were bloodshot, but frighteningly bright.

"You think," he forced out each word, "just the people like us?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

The gunfire in the courtyard stopped. Police officers rushed in and pinned the thugs to the ground. Old Sun ran over and glanced at He Yuzhu.

"Are you alright?"

He Yuzhu shook his head. He handed Jinzhong over to the police, stood up, and walked into the main room.

The room was a mess—an overturned table, broken porcelain, and papers scattered all over the floor. On the shelf against the wall, dozens of antiques were still neatly arranged, bottles and jars, bronze and jade artifacts, and a gilded Buddha statue, gleaming faintly under the lamp.

He Yuzhu didn't look at those.

He saw the door in the corner.

The door was open, and inside was a staircase leading down.

basement.

He went down the stairs.

The basement was larger than he had expected. It contained three rooms, all brightly lit. Wooden crates were stacked against the wall, some open, containing guns—long rifles, short rifles, and several brand-new submachine guns, their barrels still smeared with grease. A radio sat on a nearby table, along with several stacks of papers, densely covered with writing.

Old Sun followed him down and stood at the door, his face ashen.

"This is a fucking armory."

He Yuzhu walked to the table, picked up the stacks of papers, and began to look through them. Lists, plans, contact information. He turned the pages one by one; the handwriting was neat and meticulous. When he reached the last page, his hand paused.

It had a few words written on it: Beijing, National Day, Option 3.

Option three. There were no specific details, but those three words were like three nails, driven into his eyes.

He handed the paper to Old Sun.

Old Sun took it, glanced at it, and his expression completely changed.

When I came out of the basement, it was almost dawn.

He Yuzhu stood in the courtyard, watching the police carry the wooden crates out one by one. Jin Zhong was carried by two men, dragging one leg on the ground, as he walked past him.

He looked up and glanced at He Yuzhu.

He Yuzhu had seen that look in his eyes many times—it was hatred, and resignation. But beyond those two, there was something else. It was the look of the last witness to the collapse of an old world.

He didn't say anything and was carried away.

He Yuzhu stood there, watching his figure disappear into the alleyway.

A voice sounded in my mind, a system notification.

Side Quest 4: Annihilate the Qing Dynasty Outpost

[Mission Reward Points: +3,000,000]

Current total points: 49,440,000

He Yuzhu didn't count the number.

The sky began to lighten, like a golden ray of light shining out from the clouds.

A new day is about to begin.