Chapter 221: Re‑Interrogation of the Deaf Old Lady

While the barely perceptible "dark line" in the Trust Store was being watched intently, Li Ping'an did not ease his deep probing of the already captured enemy. He knows that to completely cut off the poisonous vine, one must not only clear the spreading branches but also dig up the deeply buried roots that connect to the distant source of poison.

Deaf Old Lady, codename "Old Cat", the most deeply hidden veteran operative, her motives, her handler, especially her concrete links with that isolated island across the sea, must be uncovered completely.

The re‑interrogation proceeds. This time, not in the Security Department, but in a more solemn, dimly weighted Interrogation Room of the City Bureau.

Li Ping'an sat in person, with an experienced pre‑interrogator from the City Bureau beside him. Facing the gray‑faced yet still stubborn Deaf Old Lady, Li Ping'an did not rush to question, but slowly pushed a thick stack of secret investigative files about her early years onto her lap.

The files contain information on her husband—who once served in an old warlord intelligence agency, not a mere clerk; also that she was a merchant's daughter, later married a Prince, bore a child, who grew up to work for Military Statistics, and is now still serving as Military Statistics in Wanwan.

These past events, long buried by the dust of years and thought even she herself unknown, case by case, like a cold scalpel, peeled away her layers of disguise, stabbing straight into the darkest corners of her soul.

Deaf Old Lady's wrinkled face convulsed violently, and in her clouded old eyes for the first time appeared sheer panic and a hint of despair pierced to the core. The foundation she relied on to sustain her belief—or hatred—was being mercilessly dismantled.

"Why?" Li Ping'an's voice was not loud, yet unusually clear in the silent Interrogation Room, carrying a penetrating force, "Is it for your husband who followed the old master and deserved death? Or for that son in Military Statistics? Or perhaps for the illusory notion of the 'homeland' they promised you, a place that will never return?"

Each word hammered like a heavy mallet on her already riddled heart. She kept her mouth shut, her gaunt fingers clawing the chair edge, knuckles turning white.

The pre‑interrogator seized the moment, placing several blurry yet recognizable photos before her: "Do you know them? Your sole handler, the Shopkeeper. And his contact in Wanwan, the messenger. They are now living well, holding generous bounties, enjoying the 'fruit' you people earned with your lives in a warm southern land. And you, Old Cat, what have you gained? Nothing but an indelible sin and this cold cell!"

The silhouettes in the photos, and that stark contrast, became the final straw that broke the camel. The long‑instilled fantasies of 'loyalty' and 'restoring the nation' shattered violently before harsh reality and betrayal.

She was not acting for lofty ideals; she was merely a used, abandoned pawn, a stepping stone for others to exchange for wealth and honor.

A wave of immense sorrow and anger at being fooled finally broke her mental defenses. She collapsed miserably in the chair, as if all her bones had been drawn out, and began to recount in halting fragments.

Her husband was indeed a Prince of the previous regime; after that regime fell, the Prince's family left, leaving her and her child behind, granting them the house of Siheyuan No. 95 and some gold and silver ornaments. Later she aligned with a warlord, which sowed the initial seed. Her son's departure then buried her resentment toward the new society deep in her heart.

On the eve of Beiping's liberation, she took on a covert assignment, using the identity of a solitary elderly woman as perfect camouflage. The codename "Old Cat" has lain dormant ever since.

Her handler was the Shopkeeper in the photos, communicating one‑way through an extremely secretive channel, transmitting orders and funds.

Her primary mission was not direct sabotage but long‑term infiltration, gathering intelligence on politics, economy, especially key industrial units and senior technical talent, building a covert network, awaiting the "turn of the heavens".

Her contact with the Wanwan side was indirect, routed through the Shopkeeper and the Radio Station behind him, receiving overseas orders that had been relayed multiple times.

The directives often mentioned a "recruitment" plan for senior mainland technicians, as well as strategies to opportunistically create social panic and disturb public sentiment. Those actions, using lingering feudal forces to spread rumors and test hearts, stemmed from this.

She was like an old spider weaving a web, silently perched in a corner of the Siheyuan, yet extending poisonous silk unnoticed into a wider space.

"…They promised…to take good care of my relatives in the south…to let us…go back…" she muttered hoarsely, laced with endless sarcasm and remorse, unsure whether she was mocking her own naivety or that unattainable promise.

The interrogation transcript was swiftly compiled and reported. Deaf Old Lady's testimony, like the pivotal puzzle piece, linked many scattered clues, not only confirming her crimes but also exposing a hidden, malignant intelligence chain stretching from overseas to this ordinary Siheyuan.

This provides an extremely valuable direction for further purging remaining enemy agents and preventing similar infiltration.

The information remains strictly confidential, yet the people in the Siheyuan can still vaguely sense that the sealed shed in the back yard has undergone another intangible tremor, becoming even more ominous.

Meanwhile, life inside the courtyard continues.

The three elders' street study finally ended. Yi Zhonghai became even more silent and withdrawn, as if he had suddenly lost all vigor, walking with a lingering dusk. Liu Haizhong still tried to puff out his belly, but the "leadership" façade could no longer be upheld, appearing rather out of place. Yan Bu Gui turned completely "Buddhist", caring about nothing, only self‑preservation, and even the clacking of his abacus grew sparse.

Jia's Bang Geng still starved, crying day and night; Qin Huairu washed her face with tears; yet Jia Zhangshi regarded the money for buying formula as more precious than life, intensifying her orders for Qin Huairu to work, calling it "activities must start to have milk".

In the West Overlapping Courtyard, Li Ping'e carefully tended to his sister‑in‑law. Lin Xueqing's abdomen was slightly swollen, her pregnancy evident, her face radiating a maternal glow.

Li Ping'an returned home to find his wife safe and his sister sensible; the icy resentment born from the interrogation began to ease slightly.

That evening, Li Ping'an pushed his bicycle into the courtyard and happened to see Qin Huairu carrying a large basin of wet clothes, stumbling from the sink toward the Jia house, her complexion pale and steps unsteady. Jia Zhangshi was inside, loudly cursing the crying child that irritated her.

Li Ping'an paused, his gaze sweeping over the Jia direction, his brow briefly furrowing imperceptibly, yet he said nothing, pushing the bike into the West Overlapping Courtyard. Personal suffering, amid the tide of the era and family shackles, often cannot be freed by external forces.

He returned inside, where Lin Xueqing was sewing tiny clothes for the unborn child by the lamp, and Li Ping'e was busy with dinner at the stove. The warm light, the aroma of food, his wife and sister's murmurs formed a tranquil, harmonious tableau.

He walked to the window and looked out. Deep winter had set in, all things bleak. Yet the crabapple tree's branches, in the biting air, still stubbornly stretched, as if gathering every force to resist the cold.

Deaf Old Lady's solitary lamp had gone out; her testimony put a period on a dark chapter. Yet Li Ping'an knows the struggle is far from over, and across the sea, hostile eyes still watch.

And his mission is to safeguard this very light, this ever‑lasting hope built from countless ordinary families.

He turned, took the hot tea handed by his sister, and gave his wife a gentle smile.

Outside, the north wind howls. Inside, warmth abounds. The crabapple stands silent, bearing witness to the end of evil and guarding new hope. The long winter will eventually pass, and the guardian's gaze forever looks toward the direction of arriving light.