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

When the train arrived in Jilin, it was just dawn. The platform lights were still on, casting long shadows on the people carrying large and small bags. He Yuzhu jumped off the train, a cold wind rushing into his collar, and he shivered. Yang Xiaobing followed behind, carrying a canvas bag, while Lao Lu walked at the very back, silent.

A man with a round face, wearing a police uniform, was standing at the exit, holding a sign that read, "Welcome Comrade He Yuzhu from Beijing." He saw He Yuzhu and took two steps forward to greet him.

"Where is the director? From the provincial department, Liu Desheng."

He Yuzhu shook hands with him. Liu Desheng's hands were rough, with calluses on the base of his thumb and forefinger, and black dirt embedded in his fingernails.

"We've been keeping an eye on that 'old bastard' for a few days. He runs a forest farm in the Changbai Mountain forest area near Tonghua."

He Yuzhu followed him outside. "Is anyone there?"

Liu Desheng lowered his voice. "Yes. Our men saw him yesterday. The farm headquarters is in a ravine, with only one road in and out. There's a small path behind the mountain that leads to the border, less than fifty kilometers away."

They got into a jeep. As they drove out of the city, the houses outside the window grew shorter and sparser, until finally only a vast expanse of white snow and dark forests remained. The road was rough, the wheels slipped, and the driver reduced the speed to a minimum. Yang Xiaobing leaned against the window, his head bobbing up and down; he had fallen asleep. Old Lu kept his eyes open, staring out the window.

Liu Desheng pointed ahead. "That area is the foothills of Changbai Mountain. The forest farm is deep in the mountains; it's more than an hour's drive there."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He saw that the snow by the roadside was getting deeper and deeper, the pine trees were getting denser and denser, and the branches were covered with thick snow, which fell down with a rustling sound when the wind blew.

It was completely dark.

The forest farm was nestled in a ravine, with rows of log cabins. The farm headquarters was at the front, illuminated by a few lamps that cast a dim yellow light on the sawdust piles and stacks of firewood. Yang Xiaobing led his men infiltrating from the front, hugging the wall, their steps as light as cats. Old Lu led his men around from the back of the mountain, blocking the path leading to the border.

The door to the factory headquarters was ajar, and the sounds of drinking games and the clinking of bottles against the table could be heard from inside. Yang Xiaobing crouched under the windowsill, and when the noise subsided a bit, he waved his hand, and several men rushed in at the same time.

Six people were sitting around a table inside. Several bottles of liquor were overturned, and some were slumped over the table, while others leaned against their chairs. They paused for a moment when someone rushed in. Yang Xiaobing didn't give them time to react; he kicked the table over, shattering the bowls, chopsticks, and bottles all over the floor. Old Lu entered through the back door and cornered two of the men who were trying to escape.

"Don't move!"

The men were pinned to the ground, handcuffed, their faces pressed against the spilled liquor and broken porcelain shards on the floor. One of the younger men struggled a few times, but Yang Xiaobing kneed him in the waist, rendering him immobile.

Yang Xiaobing walked to the front of the innermost room. The door was closed, so he raised his foot and kicked it open.

The room was lit, and an old man sat at a table, pen in hand, writing something. Hearing the door open, he looked up, glanced at Yang Xiaobing, then lowered his head again to continue writing.

Yang Xiaobing walked over and took the pen from his hand. "'Oldest kid'?"

The old man didn't speak. Yang Xiaobing pulled him up from the chair, pressed him against the wall, and searched him. He pulled a knife from his pocket, then rummaged through a drawer and found a radio and a small notebook filled with names and code names. Yang Xiaobing glanced at the notebook, then put it in his pocket.

"take away."

When the old man was carried out, his steps were steady and unhurried. He wore an old cotton-padded coat with a frayed collar and patched cuffs, looking like an ordinary old lumberjack. When he reached the door, he stopped, glanced at the people being held down in the yard, and then looked at He Yuzhu standing in the center of the yard.

His gaze lingered on He Yuzhu's face for two seconds.

"Are you He Yuzhu?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

The old man's lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but he didn't. "Arresting me is useless. You can't arrest all the people over there."

Yang Xiaobing gave him a push. "Let's go."

He was helped into the car. The door closed, the engine roared to life, and the car drove out of the forest, bumping and jolting its way out of the mountains. He Yuzhu stood in the yard, watching the car's taillights flash in the darkness, growing farther and farther away until they were finally swallowed by the forest.

Yang Xiaobing walked over and handed him the small notebook. "Commander, this was found in his drawer. A list. Twenty-three people, distributed across Jilin, Heilongjiang, and Liaoning."

He Yuzhu took it and turned to the first page. The page was filled with names, some circled, some crossed out, followed by the company name and address. He looked at a few pages, closed it, and tucked it into his pocket.

"Arrest them tonight. Don't let them escape."

Yang Xiaobing responded and turned to leave.

The arrests lasted three days. He Yuzhu didn't leave Tonghua; he waited for news at the county public security bureau. On the first day, Yang Xiaobing called from Jilin City, saying that seven people had been arrested, some in factories, some in government offices, and they were taken away while they were at work. On the second day, Lao Sun called from Harbin, saying that nine people had been arrested, including those from the forestry bureau, a timber mill, and one at a border checkpoint. On the third day, news came from Liaoning, saying that seven people had been arrested, one of whom was the forest farm's accountant, in charge of financial transactions.

He Yuzhu wrote down those numbers one by one in his notebook. Twenty-three, they were all arrested.

Early on the fourth day, Yang Xiaobing called from the border. The wind was howling loudly on the other end, making his voice intermittent.

"Commander, 'Old Guy' has escaped. We interrogated the people at the forest farm, and they said he had arranged an escape route three days ago. Before we made our move, he had already left via a small path in the back mountains and crossed the border."

He Yuzhu held the microphone. "Are you sure?"

"Confirmed. The border patrol spotted several people crossing the border in the middle of the night. They gave chase for a while but couldn't catch them. That side is Soviet territory; they can't cross."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He stood by the window, looking at the sky outside. It was a hazy gray, looking like it was about to snow. The distant mountain shadows were dark and low. He remembered what the old man had said when he was taken away—calm and composed, his steps steady. He had already planned his escape route, knowing someone would come to arrest him.

"What did Lao Sun say?"

"Old Sun said that this guy has escaped, so we still need to be careful. He has connections in the Soviet Union, and he might sneak back at any time."

He Yuzhu hung up the phone. He stood by the window, lit a cigarette, took two puffs, and then put it out.

In the afternoon, He Yuzhu went to the border.

After driving for more than two hours, the road grew narrower and narrower, flanked by dense forests that obscured the sky. Liu Desheng pointed to a small river ahead. "Beyond that river lies the Soviet Union."

He Yuzhu got out of the car and stood by the river. The river wasn't wide, and the water was shallow enough to see the stones at the bottom. The opposite bank was also covered in woods, exactly the same as this side. The wind blew from the opposite bank, carrying the scent of pine resin and snowmelt. Yang Xiaobing stood beside him and handed him the binoculars.

He Yuzhu took it and looked at the opposite bank. There was nothing there—no woods, no rocks, no snow. In the distance, there was a boundary marker, crookedly stuck in the snow, painted with red and white paint, much of the paint peeling off.

He put the binoculars down.

"Commander, he can't have gone far."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He turned around and got into the car. "Let's go back."

The car started moving. The woods outside the window rushed past, the snow crunching under the wheels. He Yuzhu leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes. His mind raced with the names in the small notebook—twenty-three, all arrested. But the trail hadn't been broken. That "youngest" had fled to the Soviet Union, where "Old Chen" was there to meet him. He had access to the forest farm, border trade, a radio station, and a codebook. More people would likely sneak over via that path in the future.

Back in Tonghua, it was already dark. He Yuzhu sat on the bed in the guesthouse, took the list out of the drawer, turned to the page with "Old Guy," and added a line after the name: "On the run, crossed the border into the Soviet Union, 23 remaining accomplices have been arrested."

After finishing writing, I put the list back and locked the drawer. Then that voice echoed in my head.

[Hidden Mission: Eliminate Remaining Strike Forces Completed]

[Reward Points: 2,000,000]

He glanced at it but didn't say anything. His points had increased again—two million. He closed the interface, stood up, and walked to the window.

It was pitch black outside, and the distant mountains were no longer visible. He was about to draw the curtains when a muffled sound came from afar. It wasn't thunder, but artillery fire, coming from the border, deep and muffled, like someone beating a drum in the distance. Yang Xiaobing also woke up and stood barefoot in the doorway.

"Commander, what's happening at the border..."

Just then, the phone rang. He Yuzhu answered it, and it was Old Sun on the other end, his voice very low.

"Old He, the Soviets are reinforcing their troops on the other side. Tanks, armored vehicles, helicopters—they've all come up. More than during Zhenbao Island."

He Yuzhu held the microphone but didn't speak. He listened to Old Sun's breathing on the other end of the line, and the sound of cannon fire outside the window rang out again, getting closer.

"They said you need to come back as soon as possible. The rocket needs to be test-flown, the satellite needs to be developed, and the border situation needs to be kept in mind."

"I'll go back tomorrow."

The phone call ended. He Yuzhu stood by the window, looking out at the dark night. The gunfire had stopped, only the sound of the wind remained. He drew the curtains and lay down. He had to travel again tomorrow.