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

Old Zhou waited outside the police station all morning.

A bit of cigarette ash was stuck to his trouser leg, but he didn't bother to brush it off. When He Yuzhu arrived at eight o'clock, he was squatting on the steps, having stubbed out three cigarette butts beside him.

He stood up when he saw He Yuzhu coming over.

"Deputy Factory Director He, please come in."

The office was small, with a table and two chairs. A public security management regulation hung on the wall, its frame askew, unattended. Old Zhou poured him a glass of water, took a stack of papers from a drawer, and spread them out.

"Seven burglaries have occurred in the city in the past month."

He Yuzhu picked up the top police report. The photo was blurry, and the details were unclear, but the method was obvious—climbing over the wall to break into a house, avoiding the doorman, and specifically targeting valuables.

"Seven incidents, not a single eyewitness." Old Zhou pointed to the photos. "The windows were pried open, the locks were opened, and they did it swiftly. We've been watching for half a month, but we haven't found a single clue."

He Yuzhu looked at the photos one by one.

"What kind of families were the victims of the theft?"

Old Zhou flipped through the records.

"The first four cases involved ordinary residents, the last three..." He paused, "...were families of government officials. One family belonged to a section chief in the Commerce Bureau; they lost a radio and two watches."

He Yuzhu's finger stopped on that photo.

"From the Commerce Bureau?"

Old Zhou nodded: "You know them?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He put the photo down, leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tapped the edge of the table twice with his fingertips.

Old Zhou is waiting.

After about ten seconds, He Yuzhu opened his eyes.

"I served in the military."

Old Zhou was stunned for a moment: "What?"

He Yuzhu pulled out the photo of the window and pushed it to the middle of the table.

"This window is 2.3 meters off the ground. It's a brick wall with no handholds. An ordinary person couldn't climb up there, and even if they did, they couldn't pry it open." He then pulled out another window. "This household has a dog. The dog didn't bark. He knew where the dog was and went around it."

Old Zhou stared at the photo, his brows furrowing.

He Yuzhu slammed the photo on the table.

"He can scale walls, pick locks, and dodge dogs. He's not your average thief." He paused, then added, "He's a reconnaissance soldier. He's done that before."

When the portrait came out, Old Zhou stared at it for a long time.

"Between 25 and 35, former soldier, reconnaissance soldier, skilled at scaling walls and knowledgeable in counter-surveillance. He targets valuables, and recently he has targeted the families of officials in three separate cases."

He flipped the portrait over, then flipped it back over.

"That's all?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"There's one more."

Old Zhou is waiting.

He Yuzhu pointed to the record of the theft from the Commercial Bureau.

"This person is not on the same track as you are following."

Old Zhou was stunned for a moment.

He Yuzhu did not explain further.

"Let's set up a control point first."

The stakeout began that night.

Old Zhou assigned four people, divided into two groups, to patrol the target area. He Yuzhu followed, dressed in plainclothes, riding his old bicycle, weaving through the alleys.

On the first day, nothing happened.

The next day, there was still no movement.

On the third night, He Yuzhu squatted in the shadows of an alley, his legs a little stiff. He shifted his position and continued to stare at the house across the street—another cadre from the Commerce Bureau, whose newly bought radio had become the talk of the entire alley.

Just after 11 o'clock, a dark shadow flashed across the wall.

He Yuzhu didn't move.

A dark figure slipped into the courtyard, crouching low and creeping along the wall. The movements were light and quick, each step taken in the shadows.

He Yuzhu stood up, went around to the other end of the alley, and blocked the entrance to the alley.

About ten minutes later, the dark figure climbed out of the wall. As soon as his feet touched the ground, He Yuzhu grabbed him by the back of the collar.

The man reacted quickly, elbowing him backward. He Yuzhu dodged to the side, his knee striking the man's back of the knee. The man stumbled forward, bracing himself with his hands, and tried to get up again—

He Yuzhu stepped on his wrist.

"Don't move."

The man lay on the ground, panting heavily, his face pressed against the cold stone slab. He turned his head and glanced at He Yuzhu.

Under the moonlight, that face looked somewhat familiar.

The interrogation took place the following day.

He Yuzhu sat in the corner of the interrogation room without saying a word.

Sun Desheng, 32 years old, a former reconnaissance soldier, couldn't find a decent job after being discharged. He Yuzhu had expected this. What surprised him was how stubborn Sun Desheng was.

Old Zhou questioned him for fifteen minutes, and Sun Desheng only said one sentence: "I did it myself."

When asked why he specifically targeted the families of high-ranking officials, he remained silent. When asked who he sold the goods to, he said he kept them for himself. When asked if he had any accomplices, he smiled but said nothing more.

He Yuzhu sat in the corner, watching Sun Desheng.

Sun Desheng had calluses on the web of his right hand, the result of years of holding a gun. His eyes didn't dart around, and he would pause before answering a question—he was thinking about what he could and couldn't say.

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the table, and poured himself a glass of water.

"Seven cases," he took a sip of water, "nine crime scenes. At each one, you avoided people, dogs, and all possible routes that could expose you."

Sun Desheng remained silent.

"That's the kind of work scouts do," He Yuzhu put down his cup, "learned on the battlefield. And after being discharged, you're using that skill for this?"

Sun Desheng looked up and glanced at him.

He Yuzhu sat down in the chair and leaned forward.

"I served in the military. I know how tough the training is for reconnaissance soldiers." He paused, "and I also know that some people get lost after being discharged."

Sun Desheng's eyes flickered.

"The item is hidden in a brick kiln outside the city," He Yuzhu leaned back. "You hid it quite well. But I've passed by that place several times."

Sun Desheng looked at him.

"I didn't grab you," He Yuzhu said. "You ran into me on your own."

Sun Desheng remained silent for a while.

"Someone made me do it," he said.

Old Zhou took a step forward: "Who?"

Sun Desheng shook his head: "I don't know. I only met him once. He gave me a sum of money and told me to steal from these houses from now on. I gave him the radios, watches, and documents. The rest was mine."

Old Zhou asked what the man looked like.

Sun Desheng thought for a moment: "Around forty years old, round face, wears glasses, speaks with a southern accent."

He Yuzhu tapped his fingers lightly on the edge of the table.

Southern accent.

Sun Desheng confessed to nine cases, two more than Lao Zhou had counted. Some of the stolen goods were hidden in an abandoned brick kiln outside the city, and some had already been given to the "southern accent" man.

When Lao Zhou led his men to recover the stolen goods, He Yuzhu did not go with them.

He sat at the entrance of the police station and lit a cigarette.

Sun Desheng was being used as a pawn. The round-faced man with a southern accent was the real culprit. He was in his forties and wore glasses—he matched the man surnamed Liu from Tianjin.

He recalled the words he had spoken when he was arrested in Jinzhong.

"You think it's just us?"

He stubbed out his cigarette on the steps.

Not finished yet.

When he got home, He Yushui sat on the doorstep waiting for him.

"Brother, you went out again tonight."

He Yuzhu sat down next to her.

"I need to take care of something."

He Yushui looked at him: "Is it about the police station again?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

He Yushui remained silent for a while.

"Brother, I can't interfere in your affairs, but you need to be careful."

He Yuzhu looked at her and said, "I understand."

He Yushui leaned on his shoulder: "Brother, you smell really strongly of cigarettes."

He Yuzhu lowered his head and sniffed his sleeve.

A cool night breeze blew by. He Yuzhu remained seated, his mind still swirling with the image of the round-faced man with the southern accent.

The warmth emanating from his sister helped him recover a little from the stiffness he had felt after three days of waiting.

He knew that the real battle might have just begun.