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

When Yang Xiaobing brought her in, one of the corridor lights was out. The green light from the emergency exit illuminated Yu Li's face, making it appear ashen and her lips bloodless. She stood at the doorway, hesitant to go in, her knuckles white as she clutched the strap of her cloth bag.

He Yuzhu didn't urge her. He looked down at the documents on the table, flipped through a couple of pages, and looked up. She was still standing.

"sit."

The chair leg creaked as it scraped against the cement floor. She didn't sit down properly, only touching half of the chair seat, her hands gripping the armrests, her fingernails digging into the wood grain.

He Yuzhu took the photo out of the drawer and placed it on the table. In the photo, Yu Li was standing at the entrance of a teahouse, a cloth bag slung over her arm, talking to a man. The man was turned to the side, his hat pulled low.

"Who is this person?"

Yu Li glanced at the photo, then withdrew her hand as if burned. She turned her head to the side, staring at the map on the wall, remaining silent. He Yuzhu didn't ask any more questions. He opened a drawer, took out the tape recorder, and placed it on the table. When Yu Li saw the tape recorder, her shoulders tensed abruptly, and she froze in her chair.

"You recognize the sound in this thing."

It wasn't a question. Yu Li's Adam's apple bobbed.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice was shaky, and she didn't even believe it herself.

He Yuzhu didn't press play; he just left it there. The tape recorder sat between the two of them, its black casing reflecting a dim light under the lamp. Yu Li stared at it, biting her lower lip until it turned white. The silence stretched on endlessly, like a rope stretched to its limit. She was the first to give in.

"Director He..." The voice was forced out of his throat, hoarse. "I had no choice. They came to me."

He Yuzhu didn't move.

"Last autumn," she said haltingly, as if she were picking out shards of glass. "Someone stopped me on the street. He said he was one of 'Third Master's' men. He said they had records of everything that happened before, and if I didn't listen to them, they would expose those things and let everyone in the compound know, let Dongxu know."

She paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

"They made me keep track of the people coming and going at the research institute, who came, who left, and on what day they came and what day they left. They also told me to find an opportunity to bring people into the archives."

He Yuzhu pressed his hand on the table. "You brought people in?"

Yu Li shook her head. "No. I wouldn't dare."

"How many times have you seen that man?"

"Three times. The first time was on the street, the second time was in a teahouse, and the third time was when you recorded it."

He Yuzhu pushed the tape recorder a little further away and leaned back in his chair. "Yu Li, do you know who these people are?"

"I know. They're from Manchuria. From Taiwan." She looked up, her eyes reddening. "Director He, I'm scared. I'm scared they'll expose me, I'm scared Dongxu won't want me anymore, I'm scared the people in the hospital will talk behind my back."

"So you just do it for them?"

Tears streamed down Yu Li's face. She wiped them with the back of her hand, but they wouldn't dry; she wiped again, until her hand was soaked with tears. "I didn't do it for them. They asked me to pass on messages, and I stalled. They asked me to bring people in, and I made excuses. I don't know what to do. I'm afraid to tell anyone, I'm scared..."

He Yuzhu interrupted her. "What are you afraid of? Afraid of their retaliation?"

Yu Li nodded, her shoulders shaking. "They said if I didn't listen to them, they'd make me too ashamed to face anyone."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the window. Dawn was breaking outside; the east was tinged with the pale light of dawn. The large-character posters on the courtyard wall were damp with dew, the ink spreading and blurring. He stood there for a long time before turning around.

"Yu Li, you've come to see me this time. Do you want to go back, or do you want to continue working for them?"

Yu Li stood up from her chair, her hands gripping the back, her knuckles white. "Director He, I want to turn back. I've wanted to turn back for a long time."

He Yuzhu looked at her. Tears streamed down her face from the corners of her eyes to her chin, glistening on her skin.

"You can turn back. But you must atone for your sins through good deeds."

Yu Li nodded vigorously. "I'll do whatever you ask me to do."

He Yuzhu walked back to the table and sat down. "Next Wednesday, go to the teahouse again. Whatever that person asks you to do, agree to it. Then come back and tell me."

Yu Li was taken aback. "You mean you want me to continue associating with them?"

"Yes. But you can't actually do anything for them. If they ask you to pass on a message, you pass on a false one. If they ask you to bring people in, you make excuses to stall until we close the net."

Yu Li thought for a moment and nodded. "Okay."

He Yuzhu took out paper and pen from the drawer and handed them over. "Draw that person's face. Draw as much as you can."

Yu Li took the pen, her hand still trembling. She drew slowly, stroke by stroke, pausing occasionally to think. After finishing the outline, she drew the facial features, then the clothing. Finally, she put down the pen and pushed the paper towards her. He Yuzhu looked down. Thin, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, thin lips. It matched the photograph of Yang Xiaobing, and also matched the portrait of "Mr." from back then.

"Go back. Do what you're supposed to do. Don't let Jia Dongxu find out."

Yu Li stood up, walked to the door, then turned back. "Director He, what about Dongxu...?"

"Don't tell him yet. Tell him yourself after everything is settled."

Yu Li nodded and followed Yang Xiaobing. The footsteps in the corridor faded into the distance and soon disappeared. He Yuzhu sat down at the table, put the portrait into the drawer, and locked it. Outside the window, it was dawn. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, its light shining on the courtyard wall, where the ink on the poster was drying and the edges of the paper were curling up. He looked at it for a while, then drew the curtains.

Next Wednesday, at the teahouse.

I hope that person comes.