Chapter 161

He carefully put away the note that said "don't cause trouble." Li Ping'an stood by the window of Xi Kua Yuan, his eyes scanning every corner of the Siheyuan. With the morning light just breaking, a few sparrows chattered and hopped on the Old Locust Tree in the courtyard.

"Brother, didn't you sleep well last night?" Li Pingle carried breakfast out of the kitchen and saw the dark bruises under his brother's eyes.

Li Ping'an took the bowl of porridge, lowered his voice: "These days, go straight home after school; don't linger outside."

What happened?

Just remember brother's words. Li Ping'an ruffled his sister's hair, "Eat quickly; I'll take you to school."

In the Steel Rolling Mill Security Department, Wang Dahu was frowning at the map: "Section Chief, the lead Outside Yongding Gate has gone cold; where should we investigate next?"

Li Ping'an pulled the note from his pocket: "Since they warned us, it means we've hit their sore spot."

But the note only has three characters—what can we tell?

"Look at the way this character is written." Li Ping'an pointed to the lower‑right corner of the note; "this vertical stroke has a little hook—only old private‑academy teachers write like that."

Wang Dahu widened his eyes: "You mean…"

"Go find any surviving private‑academy teachers in Four Nine City, especially those who have taught high officials and nobles."

The investigation was not proceeding smoothly. After liberation most private academies were closed, and only a handful of old teachers could be found. Just when they were at a loss, the Police Substation delivered an unexpected lead.

"Section Chief Li, while we were clearing enemy counterfeit files, we found this." The veteran officer handed over a yellowed roster, a list of staff who had worked in a Japanese‑run foreign firm back then.

Li Ping'an opened the roster, his eyes fixed on a familiar name: Zhou Wenyuan. That name had appeared three times in previous spy files.

"Where is this Zhou Wenyuan now?"

"Dead. Died in a car accident in 1949."

Li Ping'an furrowed his brows: "Car accident? What a coincidence?"

He immediately sent a team to the archives bureau and retrieved the 1949 traffic‑accident records. The records showed that Zhou Wenyuan indeed died in an accident, the offending vehicle fled, and the case remains unsolved.

"Section Chief, this case has been unresolved for so many years…"

"The cleaner the case, the more suspicious." Li Ping'an pointed to a detail in the record: the incident occurred Outside Yongding Gate.

"Outside Yongding Gate!" The place name gave everyone a jolt.

Re‑examining the original crash site was impossible; the road had long been rebuilt. Li Ping'an turned to investigate Zhou Wenyuan's social connections and found he had a nephew, Zhou Ming, who now works as a language teacher at Hongxing Primary School.

"Hongxing Primary School…" Li Ping'an mused, "Let's go meet Teacher Zhou."

Hongxing Primary School sits in a quiet Alley. During a break, children frolic on the playground. Zhou Ming is a refined middle‑aged man wearing black‑framed glasses.

"Teacher Zhou, I'd like to learn about your uncle Zhou Wenyuan."

Zhou Ming adjusted his glasses: "My uncle has been dead for so many years; what else is there to ask?"

"We've been sorting historical files recently and want to compile a complete biography for him."

Zhou Ming smiled: "My uncle was just an ordinary employee, nothing special."

During the conversation, Li Ping'an noticed a copy of *Classics of Ancient Prose* on Zhou Ming's desk, with a bookmark between the pages; the character on the bookmark had that familiar little hook on its vertical stroke.

"Teacher Zhou, you like ancient prose?"

"Teaching language, you have to know something." Zhou Ming closed the book without a flicker of emotion.

Leaving the school, Wang Dahu asked impatiently: "Section Chief, what have you discovered?"

"The way the character meaning 'affair' is written is exactly the same as on Zhou Ming's bookmark."

"But what does that indicate? Maybe it's just a coincidence?"

"Too many coincidences become something else." Li Ping'an glanced back at the school, ordered a team to keep an eye on Zhou Ming, but warned to be careful not to spook the snake.

Surveillance lasted three days; Zhou Ming's routine was clockwork: home → school, school → home, occasional trips to the bookstore. Just when everyone thought the trail was lost, Zhou Ming acted oddly on a rainy night.

That night the rain poured heavily; Zhou Ming held a black umbrella, circled the Alley several times, and finally entered an old bookstore that had already closed. He knocked rhythmically five times at the door; the door opened a crack, and he slipped inside.

"Section Chief, should we rush in?"

"Wait a bit longer." Li Ping'an stared at the wooden door, watching to see if anyone else would come.

The rain grew heavier, and pedestrians on the street thinned out. After about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, a figure in a raincoat appeared at the corner. After looking left and right, the person also approached the bookstore door and knocked with the same rhythm.

At the instant the door opened, Li Ping'an saw the man's profile—it was Deputy Section Chief Zhao Zhigang of the Steel Rolling Mill's publicity section!

"Net!" At Li Ping'an's command, the operatives closed in from all four sides.

In the bookstore, Zhou Ming and Zhao Zhigang were handing over an Iron Box. Seeing Li Ping'an and his men burst in, Zhao Zhigang abruptly tucked the Iron Box into his chest.

Deputy Section Chief Zhao, what a coincidence. Li Ping'an's gaze was like a knife.

Zhao Zhigang forced himself to stay calm: "Section Chief Li, I… I came to buy a book…"

Buying a book after closing on a rainy day? Li Ping'an reached out and took the Iron Box.

The Iron Box contained confidential documents of a new Steel Rolling Mill project. Zhao Zhigang finally collapsed to the ground: "I… I was forced…"

In the Interrogation Room, Zhao Zhigang revealed a shocking fact: the spy organization was Zhou Wenyuan! It turned out that Zhao Zhigang had once been greatly helped by Zhou Wenyuan in his youth, was tightly controlled by him, and became his Inside Agent at the Steel Rolling Mill.

Zhou Wenyuan didn't die; that car accident was fabricated. Zhao Zhigang said tremblingly that he had been directing from the shadows all these years…

Where is he?

I don't know; each time he contacts me through a single line.

Meanwhile, Zhou Ming remained silent in another Interrogation Room. No matter what was asked, he only replied, "I have nothing to say."

The case seemed to hit a stalemate again. But Li Ping'an noticed a detail: whenever Zhou Ming was mentioned, his right index finger would unconsciously tap the table—three long, two short beats, very rhythmic.

He was sending a signal. Li Ping'an suddenly realized someone was eavesdropping on our interrogation!

He immediately led a search of the Interrogation Room and found a tiny bug behind the radiator.

Good grief, they installed it right under our noses! Wang Dahu was both shocked and angry.

Li Ping'an, however, smiled: "That's a good sign; it shows we're getting closer."

He deliberately spread false information in the Interrogation Room, saying they would focus on inspecting the abandoned factory Outside Yongding Gate. Sure enough, that night someone appeared at an old factory Outside Yongding Gate.

The ambushed operatives captured the person who came to investigate; after interrogation, he disclosed important intelligence: he had been frequently operating around the Liuli Factory.

Li Ping'an personally led a team to set up a net at the Liuli Factory. The place is filled with bookstores and antique calligraphy and painting shops, truly a good hideout.

On the dusk of the third day, on the second floor of an antique bookshop, they finally met the legendary—an elderly man with silver hair, wearing gold‑thread glasses, leisurely leafing through ancient books.

Mr. Zhou Wenyuan, I have long admired you. Li Ping'an stepped forward.

The elderly man lifted his head, showed a hint of surprise, then regained his composure: "Young man, you have the wrong person."

In 1945 you worked for Mitsui Trading Company in Japan; in 1949 you faked a fatal car accident; over the years you have been organizing espionage activities. Li Ping'an spoke each word deliberately, "Do you want me to continue?"

Zhou Wenyuan closed the book and sighed softly: "Since you've uncovered everything, I have nothing more to say."

Why did you do this?

Why? Zhou Wenyuan suddenly became agitated, "You have taken everything from me! My trading firm, my status, my—"

Your Japanese master's wealth and honor? Li Ping'an interrupted, "Those were built on the suffering of countless Chinese?"

Zhou Wenyuan fell silent. After a long while, he slowly stood: "The victor becomes king, the vanquished become bandits; I admit defeat."

Just as the team was about to cuff him, Zhou Wenyuan suddenly coughed violently, his body tilting as he fell toward the window.

Careful! Li Ping'an lunged forward in a single swift step and grabbed him.

Zhou Wenyuan gave a wry smile, opened his mouth, revealing an empty Poison Fang Slot: "I never imagined that, in the end, the one who would see me off would be you, a young man."

The case was finally solved, but Li Ping'an felt no joy of victory. When he returned to the Siheyuan, night had deepened. His younger sister had already gone to sleep, and dinner was still left for him on the table.

He sat at the table, picked up his chopsticks, and found his hand trembling slightly. Though this battle was won, he knew the hidden struggle would never cease.

Outside the window, a bright moon hung high. Moonlight, like water, quietly spread over the Siheyuan's blue‑brick floor.