Chapter 242: Capture Operation

The spring of 1960 arrived unusually late and unusually cold. Hunger was like an invisible net, tightening around the whole Siheyuan, even the bark of the old trees at the courtyard corners was stripped to a mottled, bleak wood. On people's faces the pallor deepened, and their eyes grew increasingly numb.

At the Central Courtyard, the Jia family's atmosphere fell to the ice point due to the newly added baby girl.

Jia Zhangshi harbored a lingering grudge over Qin Huairu giving birth to a "loss-making commodity." She not only refused to help with care, but intensified her orders toward the newly delivered, extremely weak Qin Huairu, and spat uncleanly, "Useless thing! Can't even bear a son! Wasted so much grain! What's the use of raising a little girl? She'll sooner or later belong to someone else!"

The baby girl was as frail as a kitten, her cries thin as silk thread. Qin Huairu looked at the unwanted life in her womb, feeling as if an ice block pressed on her heart.

She trudged with listless steps, juggling her mother‑in‑law's harshness and heavy chores while trying to scrounge food to keep her daughter alive. Her breast milk had long dried up; she could only secretly stir a pinch of stick noodles into an ultra‑thin porridge, dip her finger, and dab it into the child's mouth bit by bit.

She once held her daughter and timidly said to Jia Dongxu, who was staring blankly at the doorway, "Dongxu, give the child a name..."

Jia Dongxu, already fretting over tomorrow's rations and his mother's nagging, didn't lift his head, waved impatiently and said, "A little girl—what name? Just call her whatever! Let's call her Xiao Dang, Jia Dang!"

"Jia Dang..." Qin Huairu whispered the name in her mind, a wave of indescribable sorrow and humiliation instantly engulfed her. Her daughter, in this household, was like an object that could be discarded at any moment, unworthy even of a decent name.

Qin Huairu lowered her head to stare at her daughter's tiny face, those eyes, enlarged by hunger, gazing blankly at her; an unprecedented, icy resolve, like an undercurrent, began to stir deep within her dead‑still heart.

She could no longer let herself be butchered; for herself and for this innocent child, she had to act. In the eyes, honed nearly numb by life, a faint yet firm sharpness flashed for the first time.

In stark contrast to the Jia family's chill, the warmth stubbornly maintained by the Sha Zhu Family in the Xi Kua Yuan and the Central Courtyard stood out.

Every day after work, Li Ping'an and Sha Zhu almost always entered the courtyard one after another. As soon as Li Ping'an stepped in, the first thing he did was wash his hands, then he took from Lin Xueqing or his sister the son Li Yaozong, already over half a year old and chubby‑cheeked.

The little fellow was nourished excellently by Spirit Spring Water and carefully blended food, becoming white and plump, his arms and legs like tender lotus stalk segments.

He was unusually clever and low‑maintenance; when hungry, tired, or needing to pee, he would signal with different cries or gestures, rarely crying without cause, eating then sleeping, sleeping then eating, so easy to manage that Lin Xueqing often sighed that Heaven favored him.

Sha Zhu was the same; cradling his own son He Xiao (Dongdong), the stubble on his face could not hide his smile, and together with Li Ping'an he exchanged "parenting tips," though mostly Sha Zhu bragged and Li Ping'an listened. Yet that scene, in this bleak courtyard of sorrowful clouds, appeared especially precious.

Lin Xueqing and Ma Dongmei also often held their children while visiting each other. One cultured, the other from the countryside, the two women gathered to whisper feeding tips, how to treat a red bottom with home remedies, and how to fashion a warm little garment for the child from limited scraps of cloth.

This subtle, maternal resilience and wisdom became a bright splash against the external harsh cold.

However, Li Ping'an knew that beneath the courtyard's calm lurked a greater danger. The shadow of enemy agents, like maggots in the heel bone, had never strayed far.

After prolonged meticulous surveillance and intelligence gathering, the moment to cast the net finally matured.

The target was locked on a nondescript large mixed courtyard deep within East City Cotton Alley. Cross‑verified intelligence and the latest signal triangulation placed the mysterious Shopkeeper and a small Radio Station nest there.

The operation was set for a moonless deep night. Li Ping'an personally led the team, and Wang Dahu selected the eight most elite comrades from the Security Section to join. Everyone changed into dark civilian clothes, checked sidearms and necessary gear, their expressions solemn. They all knew they were confronting cunning, possibly armed outlaws.

"Remember, the primary objective is to capture the Shopkeeper, seize the Radio Station and the Code Book! Move fast, be ruthless! But also watch your own safety!" Li Ping'an said during the final briefing, his voice low and powerful, his gaze sweeping over each young, determined face.

The night was as black as ink, the wind biting. The group moved like ghosts in the dark, silently approaching the target courtyard. According to plan, some blocked the exits, others took the high ground; Li Ping'an led Wang Dahu and two of the most capable operatives, ready to breach the gate.

Just as Wang Dahu silently pried open the courtyard gate latch with a special tool, a short bark rang out from the yard, and immediately the main house's lights went out with a sudden flash.

"We've been spotted! Full assault!" Li Ping'an barked decisively, a low shout.

"Bang!" Wang Dahu kicked the door open, and the men surged in like tigers!

The interior was pitch black; only the faint outside light allowed them to see silhouettes shifting.

"Don't move!"

"Surrender your weapons, no killing!"

The rebuke rang out suddenly!

Almost simultaneously, "Bang! Bang!" two gunshots erupted from a corner inside; amid flashing firelight, a bullet whizzed past Li Ping'an's ear, striking the doorframe and splintering wood.

The opponent indeed had guns, and reacted extremely fast!

"Careful!" Li Ping'an roared, and using the sound and flash as cues, lifted his hand and fired a retaliatory shot!

"Ah!" a muffled groan came from the darkness.

In the cramped room, an intense gunfight and melee erupted instantly. Gunfire, rebukes, the clatter of tables and chairs, and muffled groans blended together, breaking the night's dead silence. Outside, the comrades on guard had their hearts in their throats, gripping their weapons tightly and watching the surroundings vigilantly.

The fight ended swiftly, yet the process was heart‑pounding. When Wang Dahu boldly switched on the dim lamp inside, he saw two bodies on the floor: one with a bullet lodged in the shoulder, the Trust Store employee, and another with blood gushing from the temple, already lifeless, still clutching a Shell Gun.

In the corner, a bespectacled, pale‑skinned middle‑aged man was pinned to the ground by two operatives; he was the enemy agent codenamed "Shopkeeper." The Radio Station and Code Book lay scattered nearby.

After tallying casualties, a young Security Section operative was killed by a stray bullet to the chest during the breach; another's arm was grazed by a bullet.

Seeing his young comrade's lifeless face, Li Ping'an's eyes reddened and his fists clenched tightly. He inhaled deeply, forced down his grief, and hoarsely ordered, "Clear the scene, take the perpetrators and evidence! Notify the City Bureau!"

The follow‑up proceeded according to procedure. The fallen comrade was posthumously recognized as a martyr; the factory and Li Ping'an himself personally arranged proper compensation for the family and future livelihood, ensuring the hero would not bleed and weep again. The injured comrade also received timely medical treatment.

The capture of the Shopkeeper, along with the seizure of the Radio Station and Code Book, dealt a heavy blow to the lurking enemy agents, uncovering a deeply hidden intelligence outpost and safeguarding vital industrial intelligence.

The news spread within a limited circle; although the Steel Factory workers didn't know the details, they all knew that Li Chief had again led a team to great success, eradicating a national pest, and they held Li Ping'an in even higher esteem.

In the Siheyuan, hunger still loomed. Jia Zhangshi kept cursing, Qin Huairu silently amassed strength, her gaze growing ever calmer and colder. Yan Bu Gui still plotted the next meal, and Xu Damao still could not raise his head under his fiery wife's oppression.

Qin Huairu cradled her daughter Xiao Dang in the cold corner of the kang, listening to her mother‑in‑law's snoring, and for the first time began to think calmly about how to use everything around her, including the seemingly simple‑minded neighbor cook, to carve a chance for herself and her daughter to survive. The gradual shift of humanity can be quieter than guns, yet even more heart‑stopping.