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

Yu Li arrived at the teahouse ten minutes early. She didn't dare sit by the window, choosing a table in the corner instead, leaning against the wall and staring at the entrance. A waiter came over with the teapot, but she waved him off, saying she was waiting for someone. After the waiter left, she clutched her teacup, rubbing her fingers back and forth along the rim until her fingertips turned red.

He Yuzhu stood in front of the grain and oil shop across the alley, clutching his grain coupons, behind three people in line. He tilted his head, his gaze passing through the crowd and landing on the half-open wooden door of the teahouse. Yang Xiaobing squatted under a utility pole, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes fixed on the alley entrance. Old Lu and his men were scattered around, shoe repairmen, vegetable vendors, newspaper readers, each occupying their own spot.

At 3:15, a man turned into the alley from the south entrance. He wore a gray cloth Zhongshan suit, his hat pulled low, and walked slowly but steadily. As he passed the grain and oil shop, He Yuzhu lowered his head, pretending to count grain coupons. The man didn't stop, but walked straight to the teahouse, pushed open the door, and went inside.

He Yuzhu stuffed the grain coupons into his pocket, turned around, and walked behind the candied hawthorn stall opposite the teahouse. Yang Xiaobing stood up from under the telephone pole and took a few steps toward the teahouse entrance.

In the teahouse, the man sat down opposite Yu Li. A waiter came by, and he ordered a pot of tea. Only after the waiter had walked away did he take off his hat and place it on the table. He had a thin face, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and thin lips. He picked up his teacup, didn't drink, but smelled it before putting it down.

"I've never seen that shoe repairman by the door before." His voice was low, as if it were being squeezed out of his throat.

Yu Li's heart skipped a beat. "They're probably new here."

The man stared at her for two seconds. "Are you sure?"

Yu Li nodded, not daring to speak. Her palms were sweaty, and she gripped the teacup so tightly it felt hot.

"Where's the stuff?" The man pushed the teacup forward.

Yu Li took a piece of paper from her pocket, folded it into quarters, and placed it under her teacup. "Personnel coming and going at the research institute. This month's data."

The man didn't rush to take it; he glanced out the window first. Behind the candied hawthorn stall stood a person, their back to the teahouse. The shoemaker sat on a small stool, head down, nailing soles. The man reading the newspaper leaned against the wall, the newspaper obscuring half his face. He looked away and used his teacup to weigh down the paper.

"What about the archives?"

"I can't get in. They're strict; there are three keys and three people. I have no chance."

The man tapped his fingers twice on the table. "If you can't get in, figure something out. 'The Prince' can't wait any longer."

Yu Li's hands gripped her trouser leg tightly under the table, her knuckles turning white. "I..."

Before she could finish speaking, the teahouse door was pushed open. Not pushed open, but kicked open. Yang Xiaobing rushed in first, followed by Lao Lu and two plainclothes officers, completely blocking the entrance. The man reacted faster than expected, reaching into his pocket, pushing back his chair, and springing himself into the air.

Yang Xiaobing didn't give him a chance, kicking over the table. Teapots and teacups flew up and smashed on the ground, scattering shards of porcelain everywhere. The man pulled a dagger from his pocket, its narrow blade gleaming coldly in the dim light. He lunged at Yang Xiaobing, who dodged to the side. The tip of the dagger grazed Yang's ribs, tearing his jacket, and cotton wadding out of the gap.

Old Lu pounced from the side, grabbing the man's wrist holding the knife and twisting it downwards. The dagger fell to the ground with a clink, rolling to the corner. The man's other elbow struck Old Lu in the ribs. Old Lu groaned, but didn't let go. Yang Xiaobing punched the man in the face, blood spurting from his nose. The man's legs went weak, and Old Lu slammed him onto the table, face pressed against the surface, arms twisted behind his back, handcuffs snapping shut.

Yu Li huddled in the corner, trembling all over. A teacup rolled off the table and shattered at her feet, splashing tea all over her trouser leg. She didn't move, just stayed there, curled up with her hands around her knees.

He Yuzhu came in through the door, squatted down, picked up the piece of paper that had been kicked under the table, folded it, and stuffed it into his pocket. He walked up to the man and took off his hat. The thin face was tilted to one side on the table, and blood from his nose dripped onto the floor, spreading in a small patch.

"What's your name?"

The man didn't speak, his eyes fixed on the table.

Yang Xiaobing searched He Yuzhu and found an envelope on him, handing it to him. Inside the envelope were several sheets of paper with six or seven names and organizations written on them. The pencil handwriting was messy, but each word was written with force. He Yuzhu glanced at them, put the papers back in the envelope, and stuffed them into his pocket.

"take away."

The man was lifted up and led out. At the door, he turned back and glanced at Yu Li. His gaze wasn't filled with hatred or fear, but with resignation. He Yuzhu had seen that look before—on the faces of captured spies, in the eyes of those dragged out of interrogation rooms. Like a dry well, its bottom unseen.

He Yuzhu walked up to Yu Li and squatted down. "It's alright. You can go back now. I'll handle the rest."

Yu Li looked up, her eyes filled with tears. "Director He, what about Dongxu...?"

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

Yu Li nodded, leaned against the wall to stand up, her legs feeling weak for a moment. He Yuzhu helped her up, she steadied herself, let go, lowered her head, and quickly walked out of the teahouse.

The interrogation took place that evening. He Yuzhu stood behind the one-way glass, looking inside. Zhao Desheng sat in a chair, handcuffed, head bowed. Old Sun sat opposite him, placing the items on the table one by one: a dagger, an envelope, and a piece of paper taken from the envelope.

"Name?"

Zhao Desheng did not move.

Old Sun read out the names. "You know all of these people?"

Zhao Desheng looked up, glanced at Lao Sun, then lowered his head again. Lao Sun didn't urge him; he took a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and took a puff. The smoke slowly dissipated in the interrogation room.

"Even if you don't tell us, we can find out. Your supplier is 'Third Master'? He's already been arrested. We already have a list of your subordinates."

Zhao Desheng's Adam's apple bobbed. He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot. "My name is Zhao Desheng. I'm one of 'Third Master's' men. I'm in charge of liaising with several points in Beijing."

Old Sun stubbed out his cigarette. "Who else?"

Zhao Desheng lowered his head and remained silent for a long time. He Yuzhu watched through the glass as his shoulders slowly slumped down, as if weighed down by something.

"There are about ten more. They're located in Beijing, Tianjin, and Tangshan. The list is in my place, under my bed."

Old Sun stood up and walked out of the interrogation room. He Yuzhu turned around.

"I'll go to Tianjin and Tangshan. You can send Yang Xiaobing to Beijing."

Old Sun nodded, turned, and left. He Yuzhu stood in the corridor, looking at Zhao Desheng in the interrogation room. Zhao Desheng's head was down, and his shoulders were trembling.

Yang Xiaobing and his men spent the entire night making arrests in Beijing. He Yuzhu waited for news in his office, the cup of tea on his desk going cold and being refilled repeatedly. The phone rang again and again. Two people in the east of the city were blocked in a hutong and were about to escape. One person in the west of the city was in a factory dormitory, sending a telegram. One person in the south of the city was in a bathhouse, shirtless and being held down on the ground.

At dawn, Yang Xiaobing returned. He placed the notebook on He Yuzhu's desk. "Commander, seven have been arrested in Beijing. Adding the four in Tianjin, three in Tangshan, and one by Zhao Desheng, that makes a total of fifteen. Two are still at large."

He Yuzhu opened the notebook and looked at the names one by one. "Keep pursuing those two."

Yang Xiaobing responded and turned to leave.

In the morning, those arrested were escorted into police cars. He Yuzhu stood in the yard, watching them being led out one by one. Some had their heads down, some had their necks stiff, and some were so weak in the legs that they couldn't stand and were being supported by two policemen. They were wearing work uniforms, blue and gray, no different from the factory workers. As a young man got into the car, he turned back, glanced into the yard, his gaze sweeping over He Yuzhu before turning back. The car door closed, the police car started, a plume of black smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe, drove out of the yard, turned into the alley, and disappeared.

He Yuzhu turned around and walked towards his office. The voice in his head echoed.

[Hidden Mission: Eliminating Remaining Defenders Triggered]

[Mission Reward: 100,000,000 points]

He ignored it, walked back to the table, and took the list out of the drawer. Turning to the page on "Remnants of the Gang," he added a line after the words "Third Master": Zhao Desheng and seventeen others have been arrested; the operation was carried out in Beijing, Tianjin, and Tangshan.

During the interrogation, Zhao Desheng revealed another clue. Old Sun came out of the interrogation room, stood at the door of He Yuzhu's office, and opened his notebook.

"Zhao Desheng said that there is another group of Manchu remnants in Northeast China. The leader is codenamed 'Old Guy' and is active in Jilin. This person has direct contact with the 'Prince' and is of a higher rank than the 'Third Master'."

He Yuzhu looked up. "The youngest son?"

Old Sun shook his head. "Never heard of him. But Zhao Desheng said that this person is very cautious and never shows up in person. He has businesses in Jilin, openly dealing in timber."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the wall, and looked at the map. Jilin is located in the middle of Northeast China, at the foot of Changbai Mountain. It's densely forested and sparsely populated. Those in the timber business have forest farms and logging teams in the mountains; hiding a few people there is too easy for them.

"This line hasn't been broken yet."

Old Sun closed the notebook. "It's not broken. Someone needs to go to Jilin to investigate."

He Yuzhu turned around. "I'll go."

That evening, He Yuzhu returned home. He Nianhua was already asleep, and Qin Huairu was sewing clothes under the lamp. She looked up and glanced at him.

Have you eaten?

He Yuzhu shook his head. Qin Huairu put down her needlework and went to the kitchen to bring out a bowl of noodles. It was noodles with soybean paste; the noodles were a little clumped together, but still steaming. He Yuzhu sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and ate a few bites.

"Has the matter of Yu Li been investigated and resolved?"

He Yuzhu hummed in agreement. "I've been threatened. I'm willing to cooperate."

Qin Huairu didn't ask any more questions. She lowered her head and continued sewing, the stitches very fine, one after another.

"Going on another long trip?" She didn't look up.

"Going to Jilin. Will be back in a few days."

Qin Huairu paused for a moment, then continued sewing. "Be careful."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything and finished the noodles in his bowl. Qin Huairu took the bowl, washed it, and put it back in the cupboard.

The light went out. He Yuzhu lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), listening to the wind outside. He Nianhua turned over, her little hand resting on his face, warm and comforting. He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling. Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the room. He gently placed He Nianhua's little hand back under the covers and turned over as well.

Jilin, Changbai Mountain, an old man in the timber business. That line hasn't broken yet; we have to cut it off.