Chapter 223: Rainy Night Apparition

Rainwater patters, striking the tiles and ground of the Siheyuan, darkening the blue bricks. The cold is like invisible fine needles, piercing the cotton coat and drilling into the bone seams.

Li Ping'an hides in the shadows of the corridor arcade, his figure almost merging with the column, only his sharp gaze pierces the rain curtain, firmly locking onto the direction of the junk pile in the back courtyard.

The faint rubbing sound comes and goes, showing the opponent's caution and hesitation. It is not the familiar footsteps of the courtyard, but more like a deliberate, trying‑to‑conceal movement.

In the Central Courtyard, the Jia Zhangshi children's cries gradually weaken, probably from crying themselves tired. Jia Zhangshi's curses turn into muttering complaints, mixed with commands to Qin Huairu.

The Sha Zhu house emits the aroma of stir‑fried cabbage and the low voices of the couple.

All these everyday sounds constitute the best cover on a rainy night.

Li Ping'an's patience is excellent, like a coiled leopard.

He does not draw a sidearm, merely adjusts all his muscles to a state ready to explode at any moment.

He is judging what the goal of this unexpected guest is. Is it Liu Haizhong's family? Unlikely.

Is it that sealed, empty spy room? Even less necessary. The remaining places are only the corners piled with broken furniture, rotten bricks, and various households' temporarily unused junk.

What could be hidden there? Or rather, what does the other side intend to leave there, or take away?

Time passes second by second, the rain shows no sign of stopping.

Just as Li Ping'an considers whether to get closer, behind the junk pile a very faint, crisp sound like a tile being nudged comes.

Immediately, a vague black silhouette darts out from behind the junk pile, moving swiftly, but not toward any household; instead it crouches along the wall base of the back courtyard, slinking toward another, narrower side‑door passage leading to the outer yard!

Want to run?

Li Ping'an's eyes harden, no longer hesitating, his figure shoots from under the corridor like an arrow released, leaping several steps to cross the Moon Gate between the Central and Back Courtyards, lunging at the black silhouette!

His movement is rapid and silent, only the puddles under his feet are lightly splashed.

The black silhouette clearly did not expect anyone to intercept, and at such speed it is startled, stumbling and almost falling.

In that split‑second hesitation, Li Ping'an is already close; his right hand, like iron tongs, darts out, precisely clamping the opponent's nape!

The opponent reacts equally fast, sensing the ill wind, does not turn the head, the body suddenly crouches lower, while the elbow strikes hard backward! The move is ruthless, bearing the vigor of a desperado!

Li Ping'an hums coldly in his heart, neither dodging nor evading; the hand that clamped the opponent's nape turns into a palm, meeting the elbow with a block and release, while the other hand, like a poison snake emerging from a hole, goes straight for the opponent's rib‑gap!

"Ugh!" a muffled groan, the black silhouette is hit precisely on the soft ribs; in excruciating pain, the body instantly goes limp and collapses forward.

Li Ping'an seizes the chance, pushes forward, his knee presses the opponent's lower back, one hand twists the opponent's arms, the other hand swiftly covers the mouth that was about to scream! The whole action is completed in a flash, occurring between lightning and fire, and apart from the rain and the two heavy breaths, it hardly draws any attention.

Only then does Li Ping'an, by the faint light leaking from the Liu family's back‑yard window, see the person's profile—a completely unfamiliar, scarred and hostile face, about thirty‑something years old, eyes fierce yet with a hint of panic.

Not a resident of the courtyard, not even like nearby tenants.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Li Ping'an's voice is pressed extremely low, yet carries undeniable authority and coldness, the force in his hand leaves the person unable to move at all.

The person struggles a few times, finds it futile, a flash of desperation passes through the eyes, then tightly shuts the mouth, assuming a posture of stubborn resistance.

Li Ping'an asks no more.

He quickly searches this person, the movements professional and thorough. In the outer coat pocket are only a few copper coins and a pack of low‑quality cigarettes.

But when his hand touches the opponent's waist, he feels a hard object. Lifting the damp coat, he discovers on the inner side of the belt, fixed with tape, a small item slightly larger than a matchbox, tightly wrapped in oilcloth!

Li Ping'an's heart stirs, and he carefully removes it. It feels heavy in the hand, its shape regular.

He does not open it on the spot, but swiftly slips it into his inner pocket. Then, like dragging a dead dog, he lifts the person from the ground, low‑shouting, "Move!"

He does not alert anyone in the courtyard, but escorts the person, along the way they came, swiftly and silently passing through the Moon Gate, Central Courtyard, Front Courtyard, and out the Siheyuan gate, disappearing into the rain‑shrouded Alley depths.

The whole process is clean and tidy; apart from a few scattered water stains on the ground, there is no trace.

In the Xi Kua Yuan, Li Pingle has finished the meal and waits together with Lin Xueqing. Lin Xueqing looks out the window with some worry: "Where has Ping'an been so long? The rain is so heavy…"

"Brother definitely has important business, sister‑in‑law don't worry, eat first." Li Pingle comforts, his heart also a little uneasy.

Not until after eight o'clock at night does Li Ping'an return, drenched with cold moisture. He says little, only that the factory had an urgent matter that was handled.

Yet Lin Xueqing and Li Pingle can see that a trace of lingering sharpness still lingers in his brows.

After soothing his wife and sister, Li Ping'an walks alone into the inner room, closes the door, and then takes out the small package searched from that person. By the lamp light, he carefully peels away the layers of oilcloth.

What emerges makes his eyes freeze instantly — a small piece of yellow‑gold bar! Though not large, its quality is excellent.

Beneath the gold bar lies a small slip of paper, on which a very fine pen has written two lines of seemingly unrelated numbers and letters!

Gold bar? Code?

Li Ping'an's brows knit tightly.

An unidentified stranger slipped into the Siheyuan back courtyard on a rainy night, only to hide or hand over a gold bar and a code? That is too unusual! Is the gold bar activity funds? Is the code a new contact instruction?

Who is his target? Is it someone in the courtyard not yet exposed? Or merely using the Siheyuan as an inconspicuous handoff point?

Recalling the Deaf Old Lady's testimony, and that still‑monitored Trust Store "Dark Line", Li Ping'an realizes the enemy has not given up because of the "Lao Mao" being captured; they changed tactics, actions more covert, more dispersed, possibly activating new low‑level operatives with single‑line contact, just like tonight's "abandoned pawn".

He picks up the slip, looks carefully at the lamp. The combination of numbers and letters looks chaotic, but must represent some meaning.

This is not a code type he knows; it requires professional deciphering.

Early the next morning, Li Ping'an takes the gold bar and code slip directly to the City Bureau, finding the comrade in charge of the related case.

After appraisal, the gold bar is a pre‑Liberation circulation style, its source hard to trace.

And that code slip, after preliminary analysis by a code expert, is confirmed to be a one‑time, simple substitution code, extremely short; once deciphered it yields four characters: "Silence, await aid."

Silence, await aid.

These four characters are like four cold needles, stabbing Li Ping'an's heart.

This shows the enemy indeed suffered heavy blows ("Lao Mao" and part of its network destroyed), forced into deeper infiltration, yet they have not given up, waiting for new orders and support.

"This 'await aid', where does the aid come from? From overseas new dispatches? Or have they activated deeper 'Sleeper'?" the City Bureau comrade says gravely.

Li Ping'an's gaze is deep: "No matter which, it shows the struggle is far from over. They are like winter weeds, yellowed on the surface, but roots still buried in the soil."

He pauses, "In the Siheyuan, I'll increase vigilance. This handoff point was unintentionally broken by us; they may try other methods, or focus more on a particular target in the courtyard."

Back at the Steel Rolling Mill, Li Ping'an immediately adjusts the deployment. On one hand, he asks the City Bureau to strengthen monitoring of possible enemy infiltration channels; on the other, he has Wang Dahu conduct a more meticulous background review of the Siheyuan personnel, especially those who moved in recently or have complicated social ties.

Although he does not think there is a second "Lao Mao" in the courtyard, he cannot guarantee there won't be a role unwittingly used.

The Siheyuan, after the Deaf Old Lady's incident, seems to have returned to ordinary family affairs, yet unbeknownst, last night's icy spring rain once again brushed past the invisible enemy.

And that crabapple of Xi Kua Yuan, nurtured by the spring rain, quietly sprouted tender green shoots; it stood silently, as if recording this courtyard's peace and hidden currents without a sound, bearing witness to the endless silent clash between the guardian and the shadows.