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

It was completely dark.

He Yuzhu lay sprawled on the branches of the old locust tree, his legs already numb. He dared not move. Below the tree was a narrow alley, and across the street stood the old brick house. The gate was tightly shut, and the shadows of the two locust trees in front of the house swayed in the moonlight.

He held up the night vision binoculars and pressed them against his eyes.

Through the telescope, the world turned a dark green. The blue bricks of the courtyard wall, the tiles of the roof, and the carvings on the window frames all emerged from the darkness. A light was on in the window of the east wing, and shadowy figures moved inside.

two.

One was sitting, and the other was standing.

The seated one was thin, wearing a dark long gown, with gray hair, and looked to be over sixty. The standing one had a round face and wore gold-rimmed glasses—Zheng Huaiyuan.

They were talking, but you couldn't hear what they were saying.

He Yuzhu lowered the binoculars slightly. A cat was lying motionless on the windowsill, like a dark shadow.

A gust of wind blew in from the alley entrance, carrying the stench of a garbage dump. He tucked his face into his sleeve and continued staring at the window.

Zheng Huaiyuan paced back and forth in the room, gesturing with his hands to indicate something. The old man nodded occasionally. The two talked for almost an hour before Zheng Huaiyuan finally stopped and took an envelope out of his pocket.

The old man took it, opened it, glanced at it, and put it into his pocket.

Zheng Huaiyuan said a few more words, then turned and walked out.

He Yuzhu pointed the binoculars at the doorway.

The door opened. Zheng Huaiyuan came out, followed by the old man. The old man saw him to the door, and the two exchanged a few more words, their voices very low, but one sentence still drifted over—

"...That shipment must be delivered next week..."

The rest of the conversation was drowned out by the sound of the wind.

He Yuzhu perked up his ears.

The old man took a step forward and lowered his voice: "I'll have my second son cooperate with the internal combustion engine blueprints. He's at the steel rolling mill, so it'll be convenient for him."

Zheng Huaiyuan nodded, turned around and left.

The old man stood at the door, watching his figure disappear into the alley before closing the door.

He Yuzhu lay on the tree, repeating that sentence in his mind three times: Internal combustion engine blueprints. The second-in-command of the steel rolling mill.

He began to slide down. The moment his foot touched a branch, it creaked. He froze, holding his breath, staring at the old house's door. The door didn't open. He slowly shifted his position, gripping the trunk firmly, and inching his way down. When his foot touched the ground, it went weak, and he almost fell—there was a puddle of swill on the ground, covered with a thin layer of ice.

He stood leaning against the tree for a few seconds, waiting for the numbness to subside.

After walking a few dozen steps, he inexplicably turned back for a glance.

The windows of the old house were already dark. But in the shadow of the courtyard wall, there seemed to be a long, thin shadow, motionless. He Yuzhu blinked, and when he looked again, only the shadows of two old locust trees were swaying in the moonlight.

He didn't linger and crouched down as he walked to the other end of the alley.

It was already 2 a.m. when I got back to the lab.

He Yuzhu didn't go back to his dormitory; he went straight to the office. He sat down in a chair and placed the night vision binoculars on the table. Only then did he realize that his shirt was soaked with cold sweat, clinging coldly to his spine.

The internal combustion engine project was initiated three months ago. The higher-ups are pressing for it, saying that once it's developed, domestically produced engines can be used in cars and tanks. Ma Yuejin and a small team are working on it, and they've already produced two versions of blueprints, but neither is satisfactory.

Now someone's watching.

He picked up the phone and dialed Lao Sun's number. As his fingers touched the dial pad, he noticed his fingertips trembling slightly. It wasn't fear, but the alertness unique to an undercover agent—danger was approaching.

The person on the other end answered, their voice sounding sleepy.

"So late?"

He Yuzhu recounted what he had heard.

Old Sun remained silent for a few seconds.

"Internal combustion engine blueprints? They want to steal those?"

"Not only that," He Yuzhu said. "That old man said that the steel rolling mill has a second-in-command working for them."

I heard the sound of a lighter coming from Old Sun's end.

"Second son? Who?"

He Yuzhu shook his head.

"I don't know. But Zheng Huaiyuan got into the steel rolling mill through Yang Deming's introduction. That second brother might also be working at the steel rolling mill."

Old Sun took a drag of his cigarette.

"I checked Yang Deming's background. His background is clean, and I didn't find any problems."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Old Sun continued, "But cleanliness doesn't mean there are no problems. You keep a close eye on the blueprints."

He Yuzhu hummed in agreement.

The phone hangs up.

He sat there, looking out the window at the pitch-black sky. That unfathomable darkness, like a silent adversary, was brewing its next attack somewhere.

Internal combustion engines. That batch of goods. The second-largest supplier at the steel rolling mill.

The more they dug, the deeper they went.

The next morning, He Yuzhu called Ma Yuejin to his office.

When Ma Yue entered, he was still clutching the blueprint in his hand. He had dark circles under his eyes, but his eyes were very bright.

"Dean, take a look, this is the new version."

He Yuzhu took the blueprints and flipped through them.

"The security level has been raised to the highest level."

Ma Yuejin was stunned for a moment.

"Highest?"

He Yuzhu nodded. Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on a stack of discarded draft papers. The dense lines, at this moment, seemed to have become a secret that needed to be kept.

"From today onwards, keep only one copy of all documents related to the internal combustion engine project, locked in your safe. Destroy all other copies."

Ma Yuejin looked at him, his gaze shifting from He Yuzhu's face to the night vision binoculars on the table.

"Dean, something's happened?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

"Do as I say."

Ma Yuejin nodded, put away the blueprints, his movements slower and more solemn than usual, as if he were wrapping up something fragile.

"OK."

He walked to the door, then turned back.

"Dean, is someone watching us?"

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Just focus on studying the blueprints; you don't need to worry about anything else."

Ma Yuejin nodded, pushed open the door, and went out.

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the window.

Outside the window, people were coming and going in the lab. Some were moving equipment, some were squatting on the floor smoking, and some were discussing something as they walked. Over three hundred people—who was the ghost?

he does not know.

But he knew that the ghost would show itself sooner or later.

That evening, news came from Old Sun.

Old Man Tong, whose full name is Tong Zehou, is a descendant of the Manchu imperial family. His grandfather was a minister of the Imperial Household Department during the Guangxu era. The family fortune was almost entirely lost during the Republic of China period, leaving only the old house in the east of the city. After the liberation, he didn't flee but stayed there. On the surface, he was an ordinary citizen, but secretly he maintained connections with the Manchu remnants.

Old Sun said, "This man is no ordinary person. Unlike Jin Zhong, he doesn't show his face in public; instead, he works behind the scenes, specializing in liaison. Zheng Huaiyuan approached him to explain that Taiwan wanted to utilize the connections of Manchu remnants."

He Yuzhu listened without saying a word.

Old Sun concluded by saying, "Be careful on your end lately. That 'batch of goods' they're talking about might be arriving soon."

The phone hangs up.

He Yuzhu sat there, took the gloves out of the drawer, and put them on. They were a little tight, but warm.

He stood up and walked out of the office.

Outside, the moon was bright. The moonlight, white as frost, quietly spread across the corridor and the courtyard. In the distance, the footsteps of night shift workers changing shifts and the faint sounds of laughter could be heard; everything seemed the same as usual.

He Yuzhu stood in the moonlight and tightened his gloves even more.

He knew that beneath this peaceful night, countless eyes were fixed on those blueprints, and countless "second-in-commands" were lurking in the shadows.

The moon was bright, but it couldn't shine into those shady corners.