Chapter 222: The Silent Whistle in the Late‑Spring Cold Snap

Deaf Old Lady's testimony, like a stone thrown into a deep pool, stirred considerable waves within the City Bureau and the security system, but in the Siheyuan it only made the sealed rear cottage even more shrouded in secrecy.

Days seemed to have returned to surface calm, but beneath that calm there were added notes of post‑event caution and alienation.

The spring of '57 arrived hesitantly; an unexpected late‑spring cold snap came, with biting wind carrying moisture that chilled people to the bone. The furnace in the Siheyuan burned a little longer than in previous years.

In the Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an's vigilance did not slacken at all because Deaf Old Lady had been captured.

He knew that cutting a clear line often meant that opponents in the shadows would become more cautious and their actions more covert. He compiled the information he had extracted from Deaf Old Lady—her envy of enemy agents for intelligence on senior technicians and the methods they might use to exploit the complex layers of society for cover—into an internal bulletin, and reinforced security within the Steel Rolling Mill, especially around the technical backbone.

At the same time, he instructed Wang Dahu to keep silent surveillance on the "dark line" working at the Trust Store; he wanted to cast a long line and see if he could hook a bigger fish.

The three elders in the courtyard, after the "baptism" of the street study class, had far less prestige than before.

Yi Zhonghai fell into complete silence; apart from commuting to work, he hardly left his house, and the former "First Elder" demeanor had vanished.

Liu Haizhong still tried to maintain a "leadership" authority at home, but his voice was noticeably softer, lacking confidence.

Yan Bu Gui had become a complete "transparent person"; when trouble arose he would hide if he could, and his scheming now focused entirely on his own household necessities, no longer meddling in courtyard affairs.

This subtle shift in the power structure left the Siheyuan in a loosely managed, ineffective state.

Jia Zhangshi seemed to have spotted this opening and began to cause trouble again. Qin Huairu, weakened after childbirth, had insufficient milk; Bang Geng was so hungry he was skin‑and‑bone, crying day and night.

Jia Zhangshi, however, clutched tightly the money for formula and supplements, and instead intensified his exploitation of Qin Huairu, forcing her to do all sorts of heavy chores, while muttering uncleanly, "You're just useless! You can't even feed the child! I think you're lazy! Move more, and the milk will come down naturally!"

Forced with no choice, Qin Huairu could only drag her frail body, washing herself in the cold wind of the late‑spring cold snap, her complexion waxy yellow, eyes sunken.

Occasionally she lifted her eyes toward the Xi Kua Yuan and saw Lin Xueqing being carefully tended by Li Ping'an and Li Pingle, strolling slowly in the courtyard, her face showing privileged rosy calm, while her heart felt like it was being pricked by countless needles.

People share the same world but different fates; why is this world so unjust?

Xu Damao has lately been obedient, focusing most of his energy on having someone vouch for a bride for himself.

Now a regular employee with his own apartment, he feels his conditions are good and is determined to find a city girl prettier and more cultured than Ma Dongmei, to give Sha Zhu a good scolding. Unfortunately, after meeting several, either they think he's slick or he thinks they aren't refined enough; they're neither high nor low, and he harbors a burning frustration.

Sha Zhu and Ma Dongmei's little life is thriving. Ma Dongmei runs the household wisely, keeping Sha Zhu tidy, and the family's meals have risen sharply.

The couple occasionally bickers, mostly with Sha Zhu being "suppressed"; the courtyard folk watch and smirk that Sha Zhu finally has someone to keep him in line. He Yushui has fully accepted this sister‑in‑law, and the aunt‑nie relationship is harmonious.

That evening, continuous drizzle and bone‑chilling cold. Li Ping'an was delayed returning because of matters at the factory.

He pushed his bicycle into the courtyard, a wax‑paper parcel hanging from the handlebar—he had deliberately detoured to a cooked‑food shop to buy sauce‑marinated pork knuckle for Lin Xueqing, thinking her appetite had improved and wanting to change her flavor.

Just as he entered the front courtyard, he heard a child's heart‑wrenching cries from the central courtyard and Jia Zhangshi's alternating high and low curses. He frowned, not intending to pay attention. As he was about to head to the rear courtyard, a corner of his eye caught a figure flashing by the moon gate leading to the rear, moving quickly and seeming furtive.

Was it Xu Damao? The build didn't quite match. Yan Bu Gui? He wasn't that nimble. Moreover, the direction the figure vanished toward wasn't toward any house, but rather… sliding along the base of the wall into the deep rear courtyard.

Li Ping'an's heart suddenly tightened. The rear courtyard, aside from Liu Haizhong's home and the sealed spy room, consisted of some cluttered corners. On this rainy, early‑darkening day, who would be skulking there?

He made no sound, calmly propping his bicycle at the Xi Kua Yuan entrance, and whispered to the emerging Li Pingle, "I left something at the factory, I'll go get it, tell your sister‑in‑law not to wait for me for dinner."

After speaking, he turned, using the deepening dusk and rain as cover, slipping like a raccoon to the connecting covered corridor between the front and central courtyards, his sharp gaze fixed toward the rear direction where the figure had vanished.

Rainwater dripped from the eaves, splashing tiny droplets onto the ground. The other households kept their doors shut, sheltering from wind, rain, and cold; only the Jia family's child's cries and curses continued.

Li Ping'an held his breath, focusing his senses to the limit. He heard the rain, the Jia household's clamor, the faint sound of frying from Sha Zhu's room… and also an extremely subtle sound, like footsteps on slick moss, coming from the direction of the rear‑courtyard junk pile.

Sure enough, someone!

He didn't rush forward; instead, using the shadows of the corridor pillars and walls, he slowly approached the moon gate.

He wanted to see what a furtive person sneaking into the rear courtyard at this weather and hour intended to do—whether someone in the courtyard had some hidden dealings, or… whether it related to the still‑uncleared "dark line".

The cold rain of the late‑spring cold snap seemed to carry a murderous chill. The Siheyuan appeared especially tranquil beneath the rain curtain, yet beneath that tranquility an invisible hunting net had silently unfolded.

Li Ping'an, like the most patient hunter, waited in the damp, cold air for the prey hidden in the shadows, exposing his own movements.

A new contest seemed to silently begin on this seemingly ordinary rainy night.