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

The fog in Tianjin is so thick it could bury a person alive.

He Yuzhu stood at the entrance of the Western-style building and looked up. It was a three-story gray brick building with narrow, long windows covered by thick curtains. Two plane trees stood at the entrance, their leaves long gone, their bare branches poking at the gray sky like a few dry bones.

Deputy Factory Director Li stood beside him, rubbing his hands together with a smile on his face.

"Director He, this is it. Boss Chen is waiting inside."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything and followed him inside.

The stairs were narrow, and the wooden planks creaked underfoot. Upon reaching the second floor, Deputy Factory Director Li stopped in front of a door and knocked three times—two short knocks and one long one.

The door opened.

A man in his forties, wearing a dark gray suit, stood in the doorway with blond hair and blue eyes, a smile on his face—a smile that looked practiced, the corners of his mouth pulled just right, any more would be obsequious, any less would be cold. He stepped aside.

"Mr. He, please come in."

He Yuzhu went inside. The room wasn't big, with a round table, a few chairs, thick curtains drawn on the windows, and dim lighting. On the table were a teapot and teacups, as well as a plate of fruit, cut into pieces and pierced with toothpicks.

The American gestured for him to sit down, and then sat down himself. Deputy Factory Director Li stood beside him, his smile never fading, as if it were glued on.

The American took out an ID card from his pocket and handed it over.

He Yuzhu took it and glanced at it. It was an American passport, the name was "James Wilson," and the occupation was listed as "businessman." He returned the document without saying a word.

Wilson smiled.

"Mr. He, Deputy Factory Director Li has mentioned you to me many times. He said you are the best engineer in China."

He Yuzhu looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Wilson poured him a cup of tea and pushed it towards him.

"Mr. He, let's get straight to the point. I'm very interested in your internal combustion engine technology. 1200 horsepower, that's good stuff. I'm willing to pay that amount."

He held up five fingers.

He Yuzhu picked up his teacup, blew on it, and took a sip.

"fifty thousand?"

Wilson smiled.

"Five hundred thousand. US dollars."

He Yuzhu put down his teacup without even lifting his eyelids.

"Mr. Wilson, is your life worth half a million in America?"

Wilson's smile froze on his face.

He Yuzhu looked up at him.

"I know your limitations. Don't try to fool me."

Wilson paused for two seconds, his face twitched, then he forced a smile. He reached under the table.

"Mr. He is joking. Let's look at the things first—"

Before he could finish speaking, his hand had already reached for the handle of the suitcase.

He Yuzhu stood up.

"Let's do it."

Wilson reacted faster than expected.

He abruptly reached into his pocket, and Yang Xiaobing burst in from outside, kicking over a chair and lunging at him. Wilson dodged, pulling a gun from his pocket—

The gun barrel had just been exposed when Old Lu climbed in through the window and kicked him in the wrist.

boom--

The bullet missed, grazing He Yuzhu's ear before striking the wall and chipping off a piece of plaster. The smell of gunpowder suddenly filled the air, making everyone's nose sting.

The gun flew out, hit the ground, and slid to the corner of the wall.

Wilson stumbled backward, knocking over the table. Teapot and teacups shattered on the floor, and scalding tea splashed onto his legs. Ignoring the pain, he steadied himself and punched Old Lu in the face.

Old Lu dodged to the side, grabbed his arm and twisted it downwards. Wilson screamed, and his other elbow swung back, hitting Old Lu in the ribs.

Old Lu grunted and loosened his grip slightly.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Wilson turned and rushed towards the door.

Yang Xiaobing blocked the doorway and punched him in the face. The punch landed squarely, Wilson's head snapped back, blood gushing from his nose, arcing through the air and splattering against the wall. He didn't stop, slamming his head into Yang Xiaobing's chest, the two of them tumbling out the door and rolling around in the corridor, crashing against the stair railing with a thud.

Old Lu chased after him, grabbed Wilson by the collar, and pulled him off Yang Xiaobing. Wilson broke free and kicked Old Lu in the knee, causing Old Lu's legs to buckle. Wilson then turned and ran towards the stairs.

He stopped after running only two steps.

He Yuzhu stood at the end of the corridor, motionless.

The two stood seven or eight steps apart, neither of them moving.

Wilson stared at He Yuzhu, breathing heavily. He Yuzhu looked at him, his face expressionless.

Wilson lunged toward the window next to him.

wow-

The glass shattered, and Wilson climbed out of the window, landing on the second-floor platform. Broken glass followed him, flashing a few times in the mist before falling silent.

Old Lu followed and climbed over as well.

The platform was narrow; two people could stand on it with the street below. The fog was so thick that they couldn't see anything down there, except for a shout from below: "There are people up there!"

Wilson took a step back, his foot landing on the edge, breaking a tile. The tile clattered down, and it took a while to hear the sound of it hitting the ground.

Old Lu stared at him.

"Don't move."

Wilson, panting heavily, looked at Old Lu, then down below.

Below, Yang Xiaobing had already surrounded the area with his men. Seven or eight people stood there, their figures indistinct in the fog, completely blocking this section of the street.

He stood there, hesitating for a second.

Old Lu took a step forward, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back from the edge of the platform. Wilson struggled and kicked Old Lu in the stomach. Old Lu didn't let go and punched him in the face.

The punch landed solidly. Wilson's body went limp, collapsing onto the platform, blood and foam coming from his mouth.

Old Lu, panting heavily, picked him up and threw him to the men below.

Inside the room, Deputy Factory Director Li lay sprawled on the floor, his face as white as paper.

He Yuzhu walked up to him and squatted down.

Deputy Factory Director Li opened his mouth, but no words came out. His lips trembled, and gurgling sounds came from his throat, as if something was stuck.

"Deputy Factory Director Li," He Yuzhu looked at him, "don't just lie there. Do you think kneeling down will make things go away?"

Deputy Factory Director Li shuddered.

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the corner, picked up the gun, and placed it on the table.

Old Sun came in from outside, carrying a leather suitcase. He opened the suitcase, and stacks of US dollars were neatly stacked inside.

"Forty-seven hundred thousand. And this too."

He placed a small object on the table.

Miniature film roll. Made in Japan, smaller than a little fingernail.

He Yuzhu picked it up and looked at it under the light.

"Wash it out. See what's inside."

Old Sun nodded.

Wilson was brought in, his hands cuffed behind his back, his face covered in blood, his nose crooked to one side, and his eyes swollen shut. He was forced into a chair, head bowed, breathing heavily.

Old Sun sat opposite him.

"Mr. Wilson, tell me. Who sent you?"

Wilson looked up at Old Sun. He grinned, and blood seeped from between his teeth.

"I have diplomatic immunity."

Old Sun laughed.

"Immunity? You just fired a shot. Immunity won't protect you."

Wilson's expression changed.

He was silent for a while.

"I need to see the consul."

Old Sun stood up.

"Okay. We'll let you see him once we've found out what happened."

He waved to the people at the door.

Wilson was taken away.

He Yuzhu walked up to Lao Lu. Lao Lu was leaning against the wall, clutching his ribs, his face covered in sweat. He Yuzhu didn't say anything, but reached out and pressed the spot where Lao Lu had been kicked.

Old Lu gasped in pain, but then grinned.

"This kid's got some strength."

He Yuzhu withdrew his hand.

"I'll treat you to drinks tonight."

Old Lu chuckled twice.

When Deputy Factory Director Li was carried out, his legs were so weak that two people had to drag him to move. As he passed He Yuzhu, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.

He Yuzhu stood by the window, looking at the fog outside.

The fog hadn't lifted yet, and it felt cool as he pressed himself against the glass to get inside. He stood there for a while, then lit a cigarette.

Old Sun walked over and stood next to him.

"Wilson just gave me another briefing."

He Yuzhu did not turn around.

"What did you say?"

Old Sun flicked away the cigarette ash.

"He said there was another batch of things hidden in Tianjin. They were from the Qing Dynasty and were in the possession of Old Man Tong's son."

He Yuzhu paused for a moment while smoking.

"Old Man Tong's son?"

Old Sun nodded.

"Yes. His name is Tong Jiagui, and it's said he's been hiding outside the Great Wall for decades. Those things were a treasure trove hidden by the Manchu remnants, and they've been in their hands for decades."

He Yuzhu looked out the window.

Nothing could be seen clearly in the fog.

He took a drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled.

"Outside the pass..."

The sound of a car starting could be heard outside. Wilson was forced into the car, and the door slammed shut.

He Yuzhu stubbed out his cigarette on the windowsill.

"Let's go. We'll talk about it when we get back."

He turned and walked out. Reaching the door, he glanced back at the table—a shattered teapot and teacups, an overturned chair, and a bullet hole in the wall.

He looked away and went downstairs.

In the fog, the car headlights were dim and yellow, illuminating very little distance.