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

The intelligence was delivered to He Yuzhu at 2:40 a.m. Old Sun placed the paper on the table, said nothing, and lit a cigarette. The red glow of the cigarette butt flickered between his fingers.

He Yuzhu picked up the paper. The first few lines were written in hasty, illegible handwriting, but each character was like a nail: "Chengshan Research Institute, 4 AM, explosives, three people."

He put the paper down, stood up, and walked to the window. It was pitch black outside; the moon had disappeared. The branches of the locust tree in the yard pointed towards the sky, motionless.

"What time did you receive it?"

"Two forty." Old Sun stubbed out his cigarette. "One hour and twenty minutes left."

He Yuzhu turned around, picked up the phone, and dialed Yang Xiaobing's number. It rang twice before being answered; the voice was so clear-headed it didn't sound like someone waking up from a dream.

"Commander?"

"Someone's going to bomb the archives. Three of them, strapped with explosives. They'll make their move at four o'clock."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone. Yang Xiaobing's breathing became heavier, no longer the groggy sound of someone just waking up, but a sharp, taut breath.

"How many people?"

"Three. They'll be here at four."

"Understood." — Not a crisp "Understood," but a suppressed, menacing "Understood."

He Yuzhu put down the phone, put on his coat, and walked outside. One of the lights in the corridor was broken, and the green light from the emergency exit reflected on the wall, casting his shadow, sometimes long, sometimes short.

He ran downstairs and pushed open the door.

Yang Xiaobing was already waiting in the courtyard. Behind him stood Lao Lu and four special forces soldiers, all dressed in dark civilian clothes with guns tucked into their belts. No one spoke; only the night wind blew in from the alley entrance, chilly and cold.

"Two main gates, two back gates, and a perimeter wall. Lao Lu, you take your men and go around to the back alley to block their retreat." Yang Xiaobing's voice was low, but every word was clear.

He Yuzhu walked to the courtyard gate and squatted behind the locust tree. The bark was rough and brushed against his arm. He touched the dagger in his pocket; it was icy cold. Yang Xiaobing squatted beside him, his eyes fixed on the alley entrance.

Time passes slowly.

It was 3:40. Footsteps echoed in the alley, not by one person, but by three or four, walking very lightly, yet clearly audible in the night. He Yuzhu kept his hand on the dagger, but didn't pull it out.

Three figures crept in from the other end of the alley. The leader was tall and thin, while the two behind him were short and stocky, all dressed in dark clothes. They walked very slowly, close to the wall, each step hidden in the shadows.

It's less than 20 meters from the entrance of the research institute.

Yang Xiaobing stepped out from behind the locust tree.

"Don't move. Put your hands up."

The three men suddenly stopped. The tall leader waved his hand, and the three turned and ran. Yang Xiaobing rushed forward, grabbed the last short, stocky man by the collar, and pulled him to the ground. Old Lu and his men blocked the alley from both ends, trapping the other two in the middle.

The tall man suddenly reached into his coat.

"He has explosives!" Old Lu shouted, kicking the wrist. Something flew out, hit the wall, bounced, and fell to the ground. It was a detonator, black, with a crack from the impact.

The tall man was pinned to the ground, his arms twisted behind his back, his face pressed against the cold cement. He struggled a couple of times, then stopped moving.

He Yuzhu walked over, squatted down, and looked at the face. Thin, with high cheekbones and a mole under the eye.

"Who sent you?"

The man didn't speak. Yang Xiaobing searched the short, stocky man and found a package wrapped in duct tape, which he then tied behind his back. He gently placed the package on the ground, his face turning pale instantly.

"Commander, there are ten minutes left."

He Yuzhu squatted down, looking at the timer. The red numbers were jumping: nine minutes and forty-one seconds, nine minutes and forty seconds, nine minutes and thirty-nine seconds. Beep, beep, beep, each sound felt like a hammer blow to his heart.

Two wires, one red and one blue.

He pulled the dagger from his waist, the tip pointing towards the red line. Yang Xiaobing squatted beside him, holding his breath, his face as white as paper.

"Commander..."

He Yuzhu ignored him. He pressed the blade against the insulation and gently pulled. The insulation split open, revealing the copper wire. He took a deep breath and exerted force with his wrist—

Click.

The line broke. The numbers stopped at nine minutes and thirty-two seconds.

He Yuzhu sat against the wall, the dagger slipping from his hand and falling to the ground with a clink. He looked down at his hands—they were trembling, trembling violently. He put his hands in his pockets and clenched them tightly. Yang Xiaobing squatted beside him, staring at the timed screen for a long while before letting out a long breath.

"Commander, your hands are still shaking."

"fine."

He Yuzhu stood up, picked up the bag of explosives, walked outside, and placed it on the open ground. He turned around, walked back into the yard, and stood in front of the three people who were being held down on the ground.

"Who sent you?"

No one spoke. He Yuzhu didn't ask any more questions and turned to walk into his office.

The interrogation took place after dawn. He Yuzhu stood outside the interrogation room, looking at the tall man inside through the glass. Old Sun sat opposite him, placing the bag of explosives and the timer on the table.

"Who sent you?"

The tall man kept his head down and didn't speak. Old Sun picked up the shattered detonator and placed it on the table.

"Where did this thing come from?"

The tall man looked up, his eyes bloodshot. He stared at the detonator, his lips moving.

"From Taiwan. Sent by the Prince."

Old Sun slammed his hand on the table. "What else does the Prince want you to do?"

The tall man lowered his head. "Blow up the records room. After that, escape through the back door. Someone will be there to meet you."

"Where are the people who will be there to meet us?"

The tall man shook his head. "I don't know. He only said someone would be there to meet him."

He Yuzhu stood behind the glass, staring at the tall man's face. As the man was being led away, he reached the door, suddenly turned back, and glanced at He Yuzhu. His gaze wasn't filled with hatred or fear, but something else—as if he hadn't finished speaking. He opened his mouth, but Yang Xiaobing shoved him, and he staggered away.

Old Sun came out of the interrogation room and stood next to He Yuzhu.

"He said one last thing. 'The prince' said that blowing up the research institute was just an appetizer."

He Yuzhu's hands clenched tightly in his pockets. "Appetizer? What's the main course?"

Old Sun shook his head. "He doesn't know. But he does know one thing—the Prince sent another group of people before National Day, and their target wasn't the research institute."

The lights in the corridor flickered. He Yuzhu stood there for a long time, then turned around and walked out of the police station.

It was daylight outside, but the sun hadn't risen yet; everything was still hazy. The large-character posters on the courtyard wall were damp with night dew, the edges drooping, making it impossible to read what they said.

He climbed into the car, leaned back in his seat, and closed his eyes. The tall man's gaze as he was led away echoed in his mind. There was another group, their target not the research institute. Who were they? Where were they? When would they make their move? He didn't know. But he knew this wasn't over yet.