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

Footsteps approached from afar in the corridor, leather shoes clicking slowly on the terrazzo floor. He Yuzhu didn't turn around. He stood by the window, his hand resting on the windowsill, his fingers touching a crack. The sun outside was setting, casting a reddish glow on the courtyard wall before gradually darkening. The plaster on the wall turned a dull gray, until finally, its original color was completely obscured.

The door opened. Yang Xiaobing stood in the doorway, clutching a manila envelope. He didn't come in immediately, but stood there for two seconds.

"Commander, we've found it."

He Yuzhu turned around. Yang Xiaobing's expression was off; his lips were pursed, as if he didn't know what to say. He walked in, placed the envelope on the table, took out the photos inside, and laid them out one by one. He moved slowly, and after arranging them, he pressed his hand on each photo.

The black-and-white photo was blurry. But He Yuzhu recognized the man instantly. Thin, high cheekbones, gold-rimmed glasses, dark suit. Standing in front of a Western-style building, his hair neatly combed. Pu Zheng. Ten years had passed, and he looked the same. A bit older, his hair much whiter, but his eyes remained unchanged. He Yuzhu had seen that kind of look before, on the faces of captured spies, in the eyes of those dragged out of interrogation rooms. Like a dry well, bottomless, but something burning within.

"Brazil. A rubber plantation on the outskirts of São Paulo." Yang Xiaobing paused, then pushed the second photo forward. Vast rubber plantations stretched as far as the eye could see, workers tapping rubber, buckets filled with milky-white latex. "He came from Taiwan three years ago, bought this land, changed his name to Wang Fusheng. That's information provided by the local overseas Chinese. He lives a secluded life and doesn't interact much with others."

He Yuzhu picked up the photograph of Pu Zheng and examined it against the light. The edges of the photograph were slightly curled; he pressed them flat with his fingers, then picked it up again and put it down. He didn't say anything.

Yang Xiaobing stood to the side and waited for a while.

"Commander, that's South America. We can't reach it. We don't have diplomatic relations, no embassy, ​​and no connections. If we go there and something happens, no one will be there to bail us out."

He Yuzhu carefully collected the photos, folding them one by one and stuffing them back into the envelope. He moved slowly, pressing his finger on each photo as if counting. Once he was done, he placed the envelope on the corner of the table, turned around, and walked to the window. It was completely dark outside; the streetlights had just come on, casting a dim, yellowish light on the courtyard wall, making it appear grayish. He stood there for a long time.

Yang Xiaobing didn't leave; he stood behind him.

He Yuzhu recalled that year when his old leader lay on his sickbed, holding his hand tightly, so thin he was just skin and bones. The old leader said, "From now on, you'll walk this road alone." Later, he knelt before the coffin, kowtowing three times, his knees hitting the terrazzo floor with a resounding thud. He still remembered that sound. In those years, he traveled far alone. From Beijing to Shenyang, from Shenyang to Guangzhou, from Guangzhou to Hong Kong, from Hong Kong to Thailand, from Thailand to Myanmar, from Myanmar to Taiwan, from Taiwan to Brazil. Pu Zheng ran, and he chased. He chased as far as Pu Zheng ran.

No matter how far they run, we will bring them back.

The voice wasn't loud, but each word seemed to be squeezed out from between clenched teeth. Yang Xiaobing stood behind him, silent. The streetlights shone through the window, casting long shadows of the two people on the ground, one in front of the other.

He Yuzhu turned around, walked back to the table, picked up the envelope, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Yang Xiaobing, is it possible to find out his specific situation in the rubber plantation in Brazil?"

Yang Xiaobing thought for a moment. "Yes, we can. There are channels with overseas Chinese, but we have to take it slowly. We can't rush it."

He Yuzhu nodded. "No rush. We've waited ten years already, a few more days won't make a difference."

Yang Xiaobing responded and turned to leave. The footsteps in the corridor grew fainter and fainter, click, click, click, until they could no longer be heard.

That evening, He Yuzhu locked his office door. One of the corridor lights was broken, and the green light from the emergency exit illuminated the water stains on the floor, making them appear patchy. He walked slowly, descending the stairs one step at a time. Once outside, a chilly wind rushed into his collar. He stood there for a while before heading home.

The gate to the courtyard was ajar, and a dim light shone through the kitchen window. The smell of cooking oil wafted out, mingling with the aroma of scallions frying in a pan. He Nianhua was hunched over the table doing her homework, her pen scratching on the paper, her head almost touching the notebook. Qin Huairu was busy at the stove, the spatula clanging against the iron pot.

"You're back?" Qin Huairu didn't look up, her hands didn't stop.

He Yuzhu sat down in the chair. "He's back. Pu Zheng went to Brazil."

Qin Huairu paused for a moment, the spatula hovering in mid-air for two seconds before continuing to stir-fry.

"Brazil? The Brazil in South America?"

He Yuzhu nodded. Qin Huairu served the dishes on the table: a plate of scrambled eggs, a plate of stewed cabbage, and a bowl of soup. She took off her apron, draped it over the back of the chair, and sat down.

"Can I grab onto that spot?" The voice wasn't loud, as if asking himself.

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He Nianhua put down his pen and looked up. He was taller than He Yuzhu, and a layer of downy hair had sprouted on his chin.

"Dad, where is Brazil?"

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the wall, and pointed to the world map. South America, that vast, brownish-yellow continent, was visible. He Nianhua stared at it for a few seconds, then asked, "It's so far away, is it even possible to catch it?"

He Yuzhu looked at him for a few seconds. Then he reached out and gently patted the back of his head.

"able."

He Nianhua didn't ask any more questions and lowered her head to continue eating. Qin Huairu sat beside her, not touching her chopsticks. He Yuzhu put a piece of food on her plate, and she lowered her head to eat slowly.

That night, He Yuzhu lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), listening to the wind outside. He Nianhua slept at the other end, his breathing heavy. Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the room. He closed his eyes, and the face of his old leader appeared in his mind. Thin, with high cheekbones and deep-set eyes, but bright eyes like stars. Pu Zheng's eyes were dark, like dry wells.

The old leader said, "From now on, you'll walk this road alone."

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. The screen lit up in the darkness, and a line of text floated in mid-air.

[Side Quest: Global Pursuit Triggered]

[Mission Objective: Investigate Pu Zheng's activities in South America and sever his connection with mainland spies.]

He Yuzhu stared at the words, motionless. After a few seconds, he reached out and made a gesture in the air; the screen went dark. He rolled over and pulled the blanket up higher. Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows.