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

There weren't many people in Zhongshan Park in the morning.

He Yuzhu stood behind the old locust tree, his hands in his pockets, touching the miniature camera. The film was just loaded; he could take about thirty more shots. He stared at the artificial hill opposite—the rendezvous point Liu Er had given him.

Old Sun's men were scattered all around. There were old men doing their morning exercises, workers sweeping the streets, and cadres reading newspapers. Yang Xiaobing, wearing a gray cloth jacket and Liu Er's hat, squatted on a rock next to the artificial hill, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth, swaying back and forth.

I waited for almost half an hour.

A person walked over from the other side of the archway.

He was in his forties, with a round face, gold-rimmed glasses, and a dark gray Zhongshan suit. He walked at a steady pace, but his left foot dragged slightly when it landed—very lightly, as if from an old injury.

He walked up to the artificial hill, looked around, and then walked towards Yang Xiaobing.

He Yuzhu's finger was on the shutter button.

The man stopped in front of Yang Xiaobing.

"Liu Er?"

Yang Xiaobing stood up and nodded.

The man extended his hand.

"Where are the photos?"

Yang Xiaobing took out an envelope and handed it over. The man took it, pulled out the photo, glanced at it, and his lips twitched as if he were smiling.

"Okay. The money's in the usual place."

He turned to leave.

He Yuzhu pressed the shutter.

click-

The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet morning.

He Yuzhu's heart jumped into his throat.

The man's head turned as if pulled by a string, his gaze sweeping straight at the locust tree. His eyes were so sharp that even from more than twenty meters away, He Yuzhu could feel the chilling scrutiny emanating from him.

He held his breath. His hand rested on the camera, motionless. He didn't even dare to move his eyes.

The man's gaze lingered among the shadows of the trees for a few seconds—those few seconds felt like an eternity—before finally turning away.

he's gone.

He Yuzhu waited until he was far away before putting the camera back in his pocket. His palms were sweaty.

He recognized that person's face.

Zheng Huaiyuan. The one at the Beijing Hotel who claimed to be an engineer who had returned from the United States, and whom he exposed using micro-expression analysis.

He's still alive. He's even changed his identity and gotten a job at a steel rolling mill.

Old Sun's office is in that small house at the end of the alley.

He Yuzhu spread the photos out on the table. Zheng Huaiyuan's face was photographed from various angles—front, side, and even one with a slight smile. The smile in the photos was particularly glaring under the kerosene lamp.

"Who is this person?"

He Yuzhu recounted the events at the Beijing Hotel.

After listening, Old Sun lit a cigarette. The smoke rose slowly in the dim light.

"From Taiwan. One of Liu Fusheng's people."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Should we arrest him or not?"

Old Sun took a drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled. The smoke obscured his face, leaving only his eyes visible, which gleamed behind the smoke.

"Catching Zheng Huaiyuan is easy. But what about the people behind him?"

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He looked at the photo on the table again. Zheng Huaiyuan's face looked like that of an ordinary technical cadre—who would have thought he was a venomous snake?

Old Sun carefully put the photos away in the drawer. His movements were slow, as if he were putting in a bomb, not just a few photos.

"Play the long game. See who he contacts and where he goes."

He looked at He Yuzhu.

"You keep an eye on him. But don't alert him."

He Yuzhu nodded.

Old Sun stood up and walked to the window. Outside the window was a dark alley, with a street lamp shining in the distance, its dim yellow light obscuring any human figure.

"The fact that this person dared to change his identity and come back means he has powerful backers. And not just one."

He Yuzhu recalled the words he said when he was arrested in Jinzhong.

"You think it's just us?"

The voice resurfaced from the depths of my memory, like a thorn stuck in my heart.

He stood up and walked over to Old Sun.

"That line might actually be connected."

That evening, Yang Xiaobing came to report.

He Yuzhu was writing materials in his office. The door was pushed open, and Yang Xiaobing came in with a strange expression on his face—not fear, but a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

He Yuzhu put down his pen. Seeing that expression, his heart skipped a beat.

"What's wrong?"

"Commander, Zheng Huaiyuan has entered the eastern part of the city."

He Yuzhu was stunned.

"What are you doing going to the east side of the city?"

Yang Xiaobing shook his head.

"I don't know. After he finished work, he changed his clothes and took a bus to the east of the city. I followed him and saw him enter an old house."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the wall, and looked at the map of the eastern part of the city.

"What kind of house?"

"The house had blue bricks and gray tiles, and the door wasn't big. There were two locust trees in front of the door. He knocked on the door, and someone opened it for him to come in. He stayed for more than half an hour before coming out."

He Yuzhu placed his hand on the map.

Blue bricks and gray tiles, two locust trees.

He remembered the address that Jinzhong had given him.

An old house in the east of the city. A gathering place for remnants of the Qing Dynasty.

He turned around.

"What's the house number?"

Yang Xiaobing gave a number.

He Yuzhu pressed his hand on the table, his knuckles turning slightly white.

really.

Zheng Huaiyuan joined the steel rolling mill three months ago.

Yang Deming personally brought him in, saying that this person was technically skilled, understood management, and could help the factory with reforms. He Yuzhu was busy with laboratory matters at the time and didn't have time to look at him closely. Now, thinking back, when Yang Deming introduced him, his eyes were a little shifty—that kind of shifty look is the kind of evasiveness that only a guilty person would have.

He picked up the phone and dialed Lao Sun's number.

When the call connected, Old Sun's voice was a little hoarse.

"You found it?"

He Yuzhu held the microphone.

"Zheng Huaiyuan went to that old house in the east of the city tonight. The one Jinzhong told us about."

Old Sun was silent for a few seconds. Only a faint static could be heard on the phone, along with the distant, indistinct sound of a train whistle.

"The two lines are now connected."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Old Sun sighed on the other end of the phone.

"You keep an eye on things over there. I'll investigate Yang Deming over here."

The phone hangs up.

He Yuzhu stood there, looking out the window at the pitch-black night. The factory lights twinkled like fireflies scattered in the darkness.

The voice in my head rang.

Side Quest: Double Agent Activated

[Mission Objective: Find out Zheng Huaiyuan's superior and his purpose]

[Mission Reward: +6,000,000 points]

He Yuzhu closed the interface.

Yang Xiaobing was still standing at the door.

"Keep a close eye on Zheng Huaiyuan's situation. Report back daily."

Yang Xiaobing nodded.

"clear."

He turned to leave.

"etc."

Yang Xiaobing stopped.

He Yuzhu looked at him. Under the light, his face still had a touch of childishness, but his eyes already held the look of a seasoned detective.

"Be careful. This guy is no ordinary person."

Yang Xiaobing smiled, revealing his white teeth.

"Commander, don't worry. I'm even more formidable than him."

He pushed open the door and went out. The door closed softly behind him, and the sound of his footsteps gradually faded away.

He Yuzhu sat back down in his chair.

He took the gloves out of the drawer and looked at them. Qin Huairu had woven them, and she hadn't been willing to wear them. The gloves were dark gray, with fine and even stitches, each stitch revealing the woman's care. He remembered the way she had handed them to him—her face slightly flushed, but her eyes bright.

He put the gloves back.

Pick up the photo on the table.

Zheng Huaiyuan's face was somewhat blurry under the light. But his eyes were clear—small, bright, cold, like the eyes of a snake.

He recalled the expression on Zheng Huaiyuan's face when he saw through him at the Beijing Hotel that day. That expression lasted only a second. But in that second, He Yuzhu saw it—he saw fear, he saw anger, and he also saw something indescribable…smugness?

The man realized he was being suspected.

He found out, yet he still dared to come back, dared to enter the steel rolling mill, and dared to make contact.

He Yuzhu put the photo down and leaned back in his chair.

Outside the window, the wind rustled through the trees. The sound was like someone whispering in the shadows.

He turned off the light.

In the darkness, he stared at the ceiling. The gloves were in the drawer. He wondered what Qin Huairu's expression would be if she knew what he was doing.

The line was finally connected.

But who is being held at the other end of the line?

In the distance, someone's dog suddenly started barking, one bark after another, carrying far into the night.