Chapter 113

Footsteps thumped in the corridor, growing closer. Li Ping'an shielded Ping le behind him, his short dagger flashing cold light in the dark. Sun Kezhang broke into a sweat, lowering his voice: "Quick! Get under the bed!"

As the cell door was flung open, Li Ping'an and Ping le nimbly rolled under the bed. Yamamoto Ichiro burst in with two Japanese soldiers, the flashlight beam sweeping back and forth inside the cell.

Sun Kezhang, heard you've caught an important suspect? Yamamoto Ichiro's leather shoes clacked on the concrete floor.

Sun Kezhang forced a smile: "Your Excellency, they really are two suspicious persons; we're interrogating them now."

Yamamoto Ichiro suddenly shone the flashlight on Sun Kezhang's face: "Why are they being held at the police station? Shouldn't they be sent to the Thought Police?"

Sun Kezhang feigned calm: "I just wanted to pump them for some leads first, so I could claim credit from Your Excellency."

Yamamoto Ichiro snorted coldly, then barked an order in Japanese:

The Japanese soldiers began rummaging through boxes and overturning cabinets. Ping le under the bed trembled with fright, and Li Ping'an gripped her hand tightly. Just then, the embroidery tucked in her bosom slipped out, making a faint sound.

"What was that?" Yamamoto Ichiro snapped his head toward the noise.

Sun Kezhang thought quickly: "Probably just a rat. This old building is crawling with them."

Yamamoto Ichiro was unmoved, stepping slowly toward the bed. Li Ping'an clenched his short dagger, ready to fight to the death.

At the critical moment, a sudden urgent whistle and shouting came from outside: "Fire! The embroidery workshop is on fire!"

Yamamoto Ichiro's face changed; he hurriedly led his men out. Sun Kezhang exhaled in relief, then hastily locked the door: "Phew! Come out now!"

Li Ping'an crawled out from under the bed, his expression grave: "Is the embroidery workshop really on fire? Su Shifu is still inside!"

Sun Kezhang shook his head: "I had someone spread that false rumor. But we need to hurry—Yamamoto will soon realize we've been duped."

He produced a key and opened the rear window: "Go out this way, turn right—there's a dog hole that leads to the outside alley."

Ping le suddenly grabbed Sun Kezhang's sleeve: "Uncle Sun, come with us! Yamamoto will definitely not let you off!"

Sun Kezhang gave a wry smile: "I still have family here; I can't leave. You two flee quickly, and remember to protect that Shang cauldron—don't let the national treasure end up overseas!"

Li Ping'an nodded solemnly, pulling Ping le out the window. Just as Sun Kezhang had said, they quickly found the dog hole and made a clean escape from the police station.

Outside, the streets were in chaos as Japanese soldiers ran toward the embroidery workshop. Li Ping'an seized the chance, leading Ping le into a familiar lane.

"Brother, where are we headed now?" Ping le whispered.

Li Ping'an pondered a moment: "First we find Li San. He's the only one who can help us now."

They arrived at the sugar figurine stall of Lao Sun Tou beneath the bridge; the old man was packing up. Li Ping'an stepped forward and whispered low: "Old Sun, the swallow returns to its nest."

Lao Sun Tou's eyes lit up, then dimmed: "The nest is destroyed; the hawk circles overhead."

"What does that mean?" Ping le asked urgently.

Lao Sun Tou sighed: "Li San's hideout has been discovered by the Japanese; he's wounded and is now recuperating at my place."

He led the siblings through a maze of twists and turns to a secluded compound. Inside, Li San lay in bed, his chest wrapped in bandages, his face ashen.

"Brother, you've come." Li San gave a weak smile: "That old bastard Yamamoto is vicious—he nearly killed me."

Li Ping'an gently lifted the bandage; the wound had festered and inflamed. Ping le covered her mouth in alarm: "Master San, this wound…"

"It's nothing, I won't die." Li San tried to act tough, but the pain made him suck in sharp breaths.

Li Ping'an examined the wound closely: "We need to drain the pus first. Ping le, go fetch a basin of hot water and some clean cloth."

He turned to Lao Sun Tou: "Uncle Sun, could you please get some honeysuckle, dandelion, and some liquor?"

Once the supplies were ready, Li Ping'an first disinfected his hands with liquor. He'd seen folks in Dongbei do this, saying it prevents wounds from worsening.

"Hold steady, Master San." Li Ping'an said, skillfully squeezing out the pus and blood. Li San gritted his teeth, beads of sweat the size of beans popping onto his forehead.

After cleaning the wound, Li Ping'an crushed the gathered herbs and applied them: "These folk remedies are what I learned from the villagers in Dongbei; they work pretty well for external injuries."

Ping le asked curiously: "Brother, when did you learn these?"

"Back when we were fighting the Japanese, getting wounded was routine. Li Ping'an said while bandaging, 'Our unit lacked medicine and doctors, so we picked up some local tricks from the villagers. Over time we got good at handling simple injuries.'"

Li San tried moving a bit and exclaimed: "Hey! Much better! Bro, your skill is impressive!"

Li Ping'an frowned, though: "Master San's injury is minor; the real trouble is that Shang cauldron. Yamamoto's gone mad trying to find it."

Li San nodded: "That old devil clings like a rabid dog."

Ping le interjected: "Why do we have to go after the cauldron? Why not just take out the Japanese commander?"

Those words hit like a wake‑up call. Li Ping'an slapped his thigh: "Exactly! Instead of guarding the cauldron and worrying ourselves sick, we should just eliminate the root of the problem!"

Li San shook his head: "That old Yamamoto is wily—he's heavily guarded coming and going, so it's tough!"

"Open spears are easy to dodge, hidden arrows hard to guard against." Li Ping'an smirked: "No matter how fierce he is, he still has to eat and drink, right?"

Ping le blinked: "Brother, are you going to use those folk remedies again?"

"This time it's not about healing wounds—it's about curing the source of trouble." Li Ping'an's eyes hardened: "I've taught myself to make poisons; I know which substances will wreak havoc when ingested."

Li San perked up: "Exactly how do we do it?"

"Yamamoto loves his drink, doesn't he?" Li Ping'an said. "I know a few wild grasses whose juice, mixed into alcohol, is colorless and tasteless but causes vomiting and diarrhea when swallowed."

Ping le worried: "Brother, will that work?"

"We'll have to give it a try." Li Ping'an began preparations: Li San would gather intel on Yamamoto's movements, Ping le would keep watch, and I'd go find the needed herbs.

The next day, Li San brought word: Yamamoto goes to a Japanese restaurant every noon for lunch and always drinks sake.

At noon, Li Ping'an disguised himself as a vegetable deliveryman and slipped into the restaurant's back courtyard. Sure enough, he saw a few Japanese soldiers guarding a private room, from which Yamamoto Ichiro's loud laughter drifted out.

Li Ping'an sneaked to the kitchen's rear window, saw the cook warming the wine, and, taking advantage of the cook turning away, quickly dripped the prepared herb juice into the sake jug.

Just as he was about to slip away, he suddenly heard Yamamoto Ichiro's voice: "Why does today's sake have a strange taste?"

Li Ping'an's heart tightened. Yamamoto was a sake connoisseur and had instantly detected the off‑note.

Yamamoto stormed into the kitchen, seized the cook's collar, and snarled: "Damn it! What did you put in the sake?"

The cook trembled all over: "Your Excellency, I didn't put anything in!"

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, then barked at the guards: "Arrest everyone who went in or out of the kitchen today!"

Seeing the situation turn sour, Li Ping'an was about to vault the wall and flee when a Japanese soldier spotted him: "Halt!"

In the nick of time, Li San leapt down from the roof, flung a handful of lime at the Japanese soldiers, and shouted: "Brother, run!"

Li Ping'an took the opportunity to climb over the wall and escape; gunshots and shouts came from behind. After he was safe, he discovered that Li San had not followed.

That night, Li San returned to the hiding place covered in wounds: "Damn, I almost got caught!" Shanben that Old Fox is too vigilant!

Li Ping'an treated his new wounds while saying: "Brute force won't work; we need to think of a more clever method."

Ping Le suddenly said: "Brother, since Shanben values that cauldron so much, why not use the cauldron as bait?"

Li Ping'an and Li San exchanged a glance, both feeling the idea was excellent.

A few days later, Shanben Ichiro received a letter saying that if he came alone to the church, they would tell him the whereabouts of the Shang cauldron. Although Shanben suspected it was a trap, his desire for the Shang cauldron still led him to decide to take the risk.

Late at night, Shanben brought a few personal guards to the church. He cautiously entered the main hall, seeing only a candle lit on the altar, but no one was there.

"Come out!" Shanben shouted, "I know you're here!"

Suddenly, all the doors and windows of the church shut. Shanben thought to himself, 'Not good,' and was about to retreat when he smelled a strange fragrance, instantly feeling dizzy.

"Bewildering incense!" Shanben exclaimed in shock, hastily holding his breath, but it was too late. His guards collapsed one by one.

Li Ping'an stepped out from the darkness, his short blade flashing with cold light: "Shanben Ichiro, your time has come!"

Shanben staggered, raising his gun: "Damn... you..."

Before he could finish speaking, Li Ping'an approached like a ghost, his short blade precisely slicing his wrist. The handgun clanged to the ground.

This strike was for Xiao Shunzi. Li Ping'an's voice icy, this strike was for Su Shifu.

Shanben stumbled back in fear: "Wait! I can give you money... a lot of money..."

"I don't want money." Li Ping'an stepped closer, "I only want your life."

Just then, the church doors were suddenly burst open. Sun Kezhang led the police charging in: "Stop!"

Li Ping'an blinked: "Sun Kezhang? You..."

Sun Kezhang pointed his gun at Shanben: "This person should face trial!"

Seeing this, Shanben suddenly burst into mad laughter: "Trial? You don't have that chance!" Saying that, he fiercely bit the poison pill on his collar.

By the time everyone reacted, Shanben had already frothed at the mouth and collapsed dead.

Sun Kezhang sighed: "That old devil got off easy."

Li Ping'an, however, furrowed his brow: "Things aren't over. Although Shanben is dead, his accomplices remain, and that Shang cauldron is still not safe."

"Brother, come look!" Ping Le suddenly shouted from behind the altar, "There's a diary here!"

It turned out that Shanben had recorded his plan in detail in the diary: he not only wanted to obtain the Shang cauldron, but also to establish a vast spy network in Beiping.

Li Ping'an flipped through the diary, his expression growing increasingly grave: "It seems our troubles have only just begun..."