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

Yang Xiaobing had been squatting under the eaves opposite the photo studio for three hours.

The winter wind was like a knife, seeping in along the base of the wall. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, his toes numb with cold, but his eyes remained fixed on the glass door. A light was on inside, and shadowy figures moved about. Old Lu squatted beside him, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, which he chewed until it resembled rotten hemp rope.

"Are you sure this is the place?"

Yang Xiaobing nodded.

"That kid will definitely have to come and get his photos washed after he takes them."

Old Lu took the cigarette out of his mouth and squeezed it.

"Okay, let's wait a little longer."

Almost another hour passed before a figure turned the corner. He wore a gray cloth jacket, his hat pulled down low, and walked quickly. He paused at the entrance of the photo studio, looked around, and then pushed open the door and went inside.

Yang Xiaobing stood up.

"Walk."

The two crossed the street and pushed open the door. The photo studio smelled strongly of chemicals. An old man stood behind the counter, arranging photographic paper on the shelves. The man in the gray cloth jacket stood beside the counter, clutching a roll of film in his hand.

He paused for a moment when he saw them come in, and took a step back.

Old Lu leaned forward.

"Let me take a look at the film roll."

The man's face turned pale.

"What...what are you doing?"

Without saying a word, Yang Xiaobing snatched the film roll and showed it to him.

On the film reel, He Yuzhu, Qin Huairu, and He Yushui stand by the railing of the overpass, all smiles.

The man turned to run, but Old Lu grabbed him by the back of the collar and slammed him against the counter.

"Behave yourself."

The old man at the photo studio was so frightened that he shrank into the corner and dared not move.

Yang Xiaobing tucked the roll of film into his pocket and nodded to Lao Lu.

"take away."

The interrogation took place in that small room in the security department.

The light was bright, illuminating the man's face. He was in his early twenties, thin, with shifty eyes; he didn't look like a respectable person at all.

Old Lu sat opposite him and slammed his hand on the table.

"What's your name?"

The man shuddered.

"Liu... Liu Er."

"Who gave you permission to take these photos?"

Liu Er's eyes darted around.

"Nobody allowed it; I wanted to take the picture myself."

Old Lu stood up and walked over to him.

"You want to take the picture yourself? Why are you taking pictures of other people?"

Liu Er stepped back, but was blocked by a chair.

"I...I thought that woman was quite pretty..."

Old Lu punched the wall next to him. With a dull thud, plaster crumbled down. Liu Er cowered in fear.

"I'll talk! I'll talk!"

He swallowed hard.

"Boss Chen asked me to take these photos. He said it would cost five yuan per photo of these people."

Old Lu stared at him.

"Who is Boss Chen?"

Liu Er shook his head.

"I don't know. I've only met him twice, and each time I gave him money. He said we should meet in Zhongshan Park in three days and asked me to give him the photos."

Old Lu looked back.

He Yuzhu stood at the door without saying a word.

After Liu Er was taken away, He Yuzhu saw Lao Lu quietly put his right hand behind his back. Blood was seeping from the knuckles of that hand. He didn't say anything, but his heart sank.

Old Sun arrived very quickly.

After listening to the situation, he lit a cigarette.

"fishing."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"I'll go."

Old Sun shook his head.

"You can't show your face. Let Yang Xiaobing go."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Old Sun stubbed out his cigarette.

"If we can catch them this time, things will be much easier from here on out."

Three days later, Zhongshan Park.

Yang Xiaobing, wearing his gray cloth jacket and Liu Er's hat, waited at the agreed-upon spot. Old Lu and his men hid in the surrounding bushes, their eyes fixed on everyone who passed by. His hands were bandaged, and his joints still ached as he gripped the gun handle.

After waiting for almost half an hour, a person came out from behind the artificial hill.

He was in his forties, with a round face, wearing glasses and a Zhongshan suit, and walked at a leisurely pace. He walked up to Yang Xiaobing and looked him up and down.

"Liu Er?"

Yang Xiaobing nodded.

The man extended his hand.

"Where are the photos?"

Yang Xiaobing handed over the envelope.

The man took it, pulled out the photo, glanced at it, his lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh, but he held it back. He put the photo in his pocket.

"Okay. The money's in the usual place, go get it yourself."

He turned to leave.

Yang Xiaobing grabbed his arm.

"Don't rush."

The man was stunned for a moment, and before he could react, Old Lu had already led his men to surround him.

He was pinned to the ground, his face pressed against dry grass, and he was still shouting.

"What are you doing! I'm a legitimate businessman! I have my credentials!"

Yang Xiaobing took out his work ID from his pocket, glanced at it, and handed it to Lao Lu.

Old Lu took it and glanced at it as well.

Technical consultant at the steel rolling mill. Surname Zheng.

He looked up at the person.

Zheng lay on the ground, panting heavily, his glasses askew and the lenses covered in mud. All his previous composure was gone.

He Yuzhu saw him in the security department.

The man sat in the chair, handcuffed, his expression changed. The panic from before was gone, replaced by something indescribable—not calmness, but something else entirely.

He Yuzhu walked in and sat down opposite him.

The man looked up; the lenses of his glasses reflected the light, obscuring his eyes.

"Deputy Factory Director He, we've met before."

He Yuzhu nodded.

"Yes, I've met you. Consultant Zheng."

Zheng's lip muscles twitched, as if he was trying to force a smile, but in the end, he only managed an awkward curve that looked worse than crying.

"Your lab is doing a great job."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Zheng leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

"You'll find out sooner or later who I work for. But I won't tell you what you want to know."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked out.

As they reached the door, Zheng said something from behind.

"Deputy Factory Director He, you should keep a close eye on the people around you."

He Yuzhu paused for a moment, but didn't turn around.

The door closed.

That evening, He Yuzhu sat in his office and took out the gloves to examine them.

Qin Huairu's clothes were neatly stitched and quite warm to wear. He remembered her standing on the overpass, her blushing as she said, "Be careful on the road." Those images overlapped with the pictures on the film, making his heart tighten.

He took off his gloves and gently placed them on the table.

Outside the window, the foot of the mountain was pitch black, with only a few lights from the factory area shivering in the cold wind. He couldn't see how many eyes were hidden there.

The gloves were tightly stitched and warm, like the unspoken words Qin Huairu had woven into them. She had hidden her feelings, stitch by stitch, in the wool, but those people were pointing their cameras at her.

He tucked the gloves back into his clothes, right up against his chest.

That line finally emerged.

The person on the other end of the line was much closer than he had imagined.