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

The train was six hours late the day He Yuzhu returned from Yunnan.

The carriage was stuffy; the windows weren't closed properly, and a draft, carrying the smell of burning coal, seeped in through the cracks. He leaned back in his seat, half-asleep, his mind a jumble of thoughts. One moment he saw the forests of Ruili, so dense he couldn't see the sky; the next, "Falcon's" face, so thin his cheekbones protruded, a mole under his eye; then the heavy iron cabinets in the archives, the keys in his pocket. Yang Xiaobing sat opposite him, his dagger already polished three times, the cloth covered in black marks. Old Lu's eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, but He Yuzhu knew he wasn't asleep. Zhao Tiezhu sat across the aisle, raised his military binoculars, glanced out the window, then lowered them again. It was pitch black outside; he couldn't see anything.

When the train arrived in Beijing, the platform was nearly empty. A few lights were on, casting long, yellow shadows on the empty benches. Old Sun stood at the exit, wearing a faded old military overcoat with the collar turned up, his face reddened by the wind. He saw He Yuzhu come out but didn't go to greet him. He waited until He Yuzhu was right in front of him before speaking, his voice hoarse as if he had sandpaper in his mouth.

"You're back?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

Old Sun reached into his pocket for cigarettes, but couldn't find any after a while. He glanced down, his hand still clutching the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, not taking them out. "We have news about the second group."

He Yuzhu waited for him to continue.

Old Sun pulled his hand out of his pocket, empty-handed. "The signal was intercepted at Guangzhou Station. The people have already come from Hong Kong, by sea, and landed in Shantou." He paused, something stuck in his throat, "Three people. One used the alias 'Engineer Liu,' saying he works in machinery. Another used the alias 'Teacher Wang,' saying he's a teacher. And the third used the alias 'Little Li,' and didn't give his identity."

He spat on the ground. "They've already got their eyes on it in Guangzhou, but haven't made a move yet. They'll decide when you get back."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. They walked towards the parking lot, with Old Sun leading the way, taking long strides, the hem of his military overcoat swaying back and forth. The streetlights cast a long shadow of him, leaving a dark trail on the concrete. He Yuzhu followed behind, his mind racing with those three code names—"Engineer Liu," "Teacher Wang," and "Little Li"—who had come from Hong Kong, traveled by sea, and landed in Shantou.

Once in the car, Old Sun sat in the passenger seat and turned around. "The group 'Falcon' assigned has matched up with this one. Three of them, and their target is still the archives. But this time they won't bomb it; they'll steal it." He paused. "Bombing is the first step; if that fails, the second will steal. If that doesn't work, there will be a third. Pu Zheng's side won't give up until they achieve their goal."

He Yuzhu leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Notify Guangzhou to let them in."

Old Sun was taken aback. "Let it in?"

He Yuzhu opened his eyes and looked out the window. The streetlights flickered, casting an inverted glow on his face. "Let them in. Take them to Beijing. Once they're in Beijing, we can close the net."

Old Sun looked at him without saying a word. After a while, he turned away. "Alright. I'll notify Guangzhou."

The car turned into the alley and stopped at the back gate of the research institute. When He Yuzhu got out of the car, his legs were a little stiff, and he stomped his feet twice on the ground. Some of the paint on the iron gate had chipped off, revealing the rust underneath, and the doorknob felt cold to the touch. He took out his key, inserted it into the lock, and turned it; the door opened.

The courtyard was quiet. A few streetlights were still on, casting a cold glow on the concrete. Several bicycles were piled in the corner, their handlebars covered in a layer of dust. He walked to the door of the archives room and paused. The door was closed and securely locked. He reached out and touched the lock; it was iron, cold and sharp to the touch. The key was in his pocket, digging into his thigh. He stood there for a few seconds, then continued walking.

He pushed open the office door, and a musty smell filled the air, like something had gone moldy. He drew back the curtains; the sky outside was still a hazy gray, not yet fully bright. He took the items out of his pocket and laid them out on the table one by one—"Falcon's" confession, the hand-drawn map, and the note with the three code names. He unfolded the map and traced the line with his finger, from Shantou to Guangzhou, and from Guangzhou to Beijing. The train journey would take two days and two nights, stopping at more than a dozen stations along the way. He stared at the line for a long time.

At daybreak, Yang Xiaobing arrived. He stood at the door, carrying two enamel mugs with the words "Serve the People" printed on them, half of the red paint chipped off. He came in, placed one mug in front of He Yuzhu, and sat down opposite him with the other. He Yuzhu picked up the mug, took a sip, and found it cold. He put the mug down, folded the map, and put it in the drawer.

"Have people moved in Guangzhou yet?"

Yang Xiaobing nodded. "I took the train from Shantou last night. Heading north. At the current speed, I should arrive in Beijing the day after tomorrow."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the window. It was already daylight outside, but the sun hadn't risen yet; everything was still hazy. There were people moving around in the yard, their footsteps very light, and the brooms making a soft, sweeping sound.

"Call Li Jianguo and tell him to get ready. Once the men arrive, we'll close the net."

Yang Xiaobing responded and left. The jar remained on the table, a speck of ash floating on the water. He Yuzhu stood by the window, watching the light gradually brighten.

On the afternoon of the third day, a call came from Guangzhou. It was Lin Jianguo calling, his voice very low, as if afraid something would hear. "Dean, the people are on the train. Three people, traveling separately. One in a hard seat, one in a sleeper berth, and the other in a soft sleeper. They bought tickets to Beijing, but they might have to change trains along the way."

He Yuzhu gripped the microphone. "Keep an eye on them. Don't let them find out."

Lin Jianguo said, "Okay. The people from Guangzhou will switch hands in Zhengzhou, and then the people from Zhengzhou will take over. When we get to Beijing, Yang Xiaobing will take over."

The phone call ended. He Yuzhu stood by the window, took the map out of the drawer again, and spread it on the table. He looked at the line, winding its way from Shantou to Beijing, and pressed his finger on the endpoint for a long time.

In the early hours of the fourth day, the phone rang again. He Yuzhu answered, and it was Yang Xiaobing on the other end, panting heavily. "Commander, the people have arrived. They just got off the train and are waiting for a taxi."

He Yuzhu gripped the microphone. "Keep an eye on them. Don't let them get away."

Yang Xiaobing said, "They can't escape. Old Lu will keep an eye on one, Zhao Tiezhu will keep an eye on one, and I'll keep an eye on one."

He Yuzhu put down the phone and walked out of the office. One of the lights in the corridor was broken, making it dim, but the emergency exit light was on, its green glow illuminating the mottled white plaster on the walls. He slowed his pace as he reached the door of the records room. The door was closed, the lock hanging there, unmoving. He looked at it for two seconds, then continued walking.