Chapter 372: Reverse Tracking

The next day, Li Ping'an still went to the Yongding River.

It was the same river bend, the same old willow, the same bamboo fishing rod.

It seemed as if the watcher hidden in the reeds yesterday had never existed.

He was even more leisurely than usual, and midway took a steamed bun from his cloth pouch, chewing it slowly with the cool boiled water from his military canteen.

The float bobbed a few times, and he pulled up two small crucian carps.

He casually tossed them back into the river.

It was a purely time‑killing, fruitless display.

The sun gradually shifted westward.

Li Ping'an began packing up his fishing gear.

His movements were neither hurried nor slow; he carefully coiled the fishing line and strapped the small folding stool to the back of the bike.

Then, pushing his bike, he pedaled back along the same earthen path, swaying lazily.

His figure gradually vanished at the bend in the road.

About a incense‑stick's length of time after he left,

the edge of the taller reed thicket rustled softly.

The straw‑hat‑wearing watcher from yesterday reappeared.

He stared toward the direction where Li Ping'an vanished, the hint of doubt in his eyes seeming deeper.

For two consecutive days, the suspended Head of the Security Department, aside from fishing, returned empty‑handed.

He had no contact with any suspicious persons, nor went anywhere he shouldn't.

Even the fish he caught were pitifully few.

Has he truly resigned himself? Just drifting away like this?

The watcher frowned, pulled a small notebook from his chest, and jotted down a few more entries.

Then he turned and briskly walked in the opposite direction from Li Ping'an.

He did not notice.

About two hundred meters behind him, in the shadow of an abandoned earthen irrigation ditch,

Li Ping'an lay low like a phantom, his breath barely audible.

The bike had long vanished from sight.

The watcher had just stepped out of Lu Wei Dang's bounds onto a slightly wider earthen road.

A few crooked locust trees grew along the roadside.

He stopped beneath one of them, scanning left and right warily.

Then, reaching into an inconspicuous earth hole half‑covered by weeds near the roots, he felt out something.

He swiftly stuffed it into his chest.

He then continued forward, quickening his pace.

Li Ping'an, in the distant shadows, fixed his gaze.

Retrieving something?

Was it passing information? Or receiving new orders?

He did not follow too closely right away.

The watcher was evidently trained, his anti‑tracking awareness not weak.

Li Ping'an gathered his Divine Perception into a beam, locking onto the target from afar.

At the same time, his form glided, using terrain and foliage as cover, hanging at a distance.

The subtlety of Carefree Step was fully displayed at that moment.

His footsteps on the dry earthen road made almost no sound.

His breath was restrained to the utmost, as if merged with the surroundings.

The watcher walked about three li along the earthen road, then turned onto a gravel path leading to a nearby small town.

There were more pedestrians on the road, mostly farmers returning from work or peddlers carrying baskets.

The watcher blended into the crowd, pulling his straw hat lower.

Li Ping'an closed the distance slightly, yet still remained dozens of meters away.

Meanwhile, his appearance underwent subtle changes as he moved.

His shoulders and back slumped a bit, his gait became sluggish, and dust had somehow settled on his face.

He transformed from a lean, leisurely fisherman into an ordinary countryside man with a weary face, hurrying home.

He even casually snapped a dead branch from the roadside, using it as a cane.

The watcher passed through the small town without stopping.

He headed straight toward the opposite end of the town, a relatively secluded area with a few rows of old houses.

It seemed to be a craftspeople's quarter on the town's edge, the air tinged with faint coal smoke and rubber odor.

The watcher arrived at a doorway bearing a broken wooden sign that read "Bike Repair & Tire Patch".

The door was ajar.

He again glanced back warily.

Li Ping'an had already slipped into a corner opposite, among piled broken baskets, his presence nearly vanished.

The watcher sensed nothing amiss and swiftly pushed the door open, slipping inside.

The door closed softly.

Li Ping'an did not approach immediately.

His Divine Perception was like invisible mercury, silently seeping in through the door crack and window gap.

The indoor light was dim.

Various bicycle parts, old tires, and air pumps were piled up, the air mixed with the smell of machine oil and rubber.

A man over fifty, wearing an oil-stained apron and a face full of wrinkles, was squatting on the ground, straining to turn an axle with a wrench.

Hearing the movement, the old man raised his head and glanced at the observer.

His eyes were cloudy, bearing the numbness left by years of labor.

"Boss, the axle's rusted through; we need extra money." The old man's voice was hoarse.

The observer said nothing, merely walked over to the old man, squatted down, and appeared to be looking at that axle.

At the same time, an extremely faint, almost whisper-like voice sounded.

"The target shows no abnormality; for two consecutive days he's been fishing by the river, returning empty-handed. No contact, no unusual behavior."

The old man's wrench paused, then he continued turning it, replying in the same low voice.

Got it. Keep watching. The Shopkeeper said, the calmer you are, the less you can relax. He's not someone who gives up easily.

"Yes," the watcher replied, then casually reached into his chest and pulled out the thing he had taken from the tree hollow—a small, oil‑paper‑wrapped cube—and slipped it into the greasy apron pocket of the old man.

"New bait, same place, three days later."

The old man gave a barely perceptible nod.

The watcher stood up, brushed the dust from his hands, and shouted, "Master, take your time repairing; I'll come in two days to collect the vehicle."

Having said that, he pushed the door open and walked out.

Li Ping'an, in the opposite corner, saw everything clearly and heard everything plainly.

Shopkeeper!

That greasy old man at the repair shop turned out to be a member of the Shopkeeper network!

Moreover, it seemed his rank was higher than the watcher's; he was the intermediary who directly relayed the Shopkeeper's orders!

He forced down the impulse to act immediately.

He must not stir up the grass and frighten the snake.

This old man is an even more important fish.

The watcher left the repair shop, didn't return right away, but circled the town, bought a pack of cigarettes, ate a bowl of noodles at a stall, loitered for about half an hour, and then headed back the way he came.

Li Ping'an no longer followed him.

His target was the old man at the repair shop.

After the watcher left, the old man slowly repaired the bike for a while.

Then he got up, walked to the back of the shop, where a small partition made of broken planks formed a little room that seemed to be his dwelling.

He closed the door of the partition.

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception slipped through.

Inside the partition was very simple: a wooden plank bed and a broken table.

The old man sat on the edge of the bed, fished the oil‑paper packet from his apron pocket, and opened it gingerly.

Inside was neither intelligence nor an order.

Instead were several carefully oil‑paper‑wrapped, dark‑brown… tobacco strands?

The old man pinched a bit, held it under his nose and inhaled deeply, his face showing an almost rapt expression.

Then he produced an old pipe and carefully packed the tobacco strands into it.

He walked to the doorway, peeked out to confirm no one was there, then struck a match and lit the pipe.

He took a deep drag; amid the swirling smoke he squinted, the numb expression on his face fading, replaced by an indescribable, dark yet indulgent look.

He seemed merely a courier, unconcerned about exactly what the bait in the oil‑paper packet was.

He only cared about his "payment"—this specially made, potent tobacco.

Li Ping'an waited patiently.

After finishing a bowl of smoke, the old man carefully knocked out the ash, then re‑hid the pipe and the remaining tobacco.

Then he stepped out of the partition and continued fiddling with the bicycle parts.

Only when night was completely black did he close the shop door and bolt the latch.

But he did not go to sleep.

Instead he returned to the partition and dragged out a small wooden box, dust‑covered, from under the bed.

He opened the box; inside was nothing valuable.

Only a few items: an old, stopped‑hand watch; a rust‑spotted steel pen; and… a thin, hard‑cover notebook bound with thread, its cover bearing no markings.

Seeing that notebook, Li Ping'an's heart leapt.

Its style differed somewhat from the few dark‑green notebooks he 'saw' at Deputy Director Zhao's house.

Thinner, older.

The old man picked up the notebook, ran his fingers over the cover, his gaze complex.

There was nostalgia, fear, and a deeply buried resentment.

He opened the notebook.

Inside were densely packed pencil‑written tiny characters, along with some simple charts and numbers.

Li Ping'an focused his Divine Perception, striving to "read".

The handwriting was somewhat sloppy, but some phrase fragments could be made out.

"... Yongli Factory... Workshop No. 3... blueprints... incomplete..."

"... Foreman Tan... highly suspicious... hard to control..."

... backup plan... archives room... fire...

...'Yingzi' already laid... silently waiting...

These fragmented words and phrases are like scattered puzzle pieces.

Pointing to the Eternal Profit Factory old case, pointing to Foreman Tan, pointing to possibly destroyed blueprints, pointing to the 'Yingzi' plan!

This old man knows more than imagined!

He is very likely not only an intermediary, but also an old member in the Shopkeeper network responsible for records, or who once participated in certain specific operations!

The old man looked at a few pages, seemed to fall into some memory, facial muscles twitching slightly.

He suddenly snapped the notebook shut, as if afraid of being burned by its contents.

Quickly putting it back into the wooden crate, he pushed it back under the bed.

Then he blew out the dim oil lamp in the compartment.

The shop fell into darkness and silence.

Li Ping'an in the opposite corner slowly exhaled a breath of foul air.

Tonight's harvest far exceeded expectations.

Not only did he find the superior of the watcher, but he also discovered an important notebook possibly recording the early activities of the Shopkeeper network!

This repairman old man, possibly codenamed 'Lao Yandou', is the key!

We must get that notebook!

But we cannot seize it by force.

This old man seems ordinary, but being able to hide for so long, he surely has means to preserve himself and destroy evidence.

A plan is needed.

An opportunity is needed.

Li Ping'an finally used Divine Perception to carefully note the location of the repair shop, the surrounding environment, and the old man's appearance.

Then he quietly withdrew.

In a small grove far from the market town, he took out a bicycle from his jade pendant space.

He mounted the bike and headed toward Four Nine City.

The night wind blew in, bringing a chill.

Li Ping'an's mind, however, was unusually clear and excited.

The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind.

The Shopkeeper's people thought they were surveilling him.

But they didn't know he had already probed outward to the edge of their deeper nest.

That notebook is one of the key keys to opening the Shopkeeper's true nature.

Next.

We need to find a way to obtain it without alerting the other side.

This requires more meticulous planning.

Perhaps we could start from that watcher, or... from Deputy Director Zhao's side, think of a way?

A glint of sharp light flashed in Li Ping'an's eyes.

The fish have already swum to the edge of the net.

What needs to be done now is to steadily lift it up.