Chapter 373: Following the Repair Master

Night fell like ink, heavily blanketing Four Nine City.

The daytime clamor had long faded, leaving only a few scattered dim yellow lights, barely surviving in the deep alley.

In the front courtyard, Yan Bu Gui's Chrysanthemum Stamp hid its trace in the darkness.

In the central courtyard, Jia Zhangshi's snoring could be faintly heard through the window paper.

In the rear courtyard, Liu Haizhong was probably still scolding his good-for-nothing son in his dream.

In Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an rose silently.

His movements were even more gentle than last night, like a true shadow gliding over the ground.

His wife Lin Xueqing seemed to sense the slight movement beside the pillow, her eyelashes fluttered, but she did not wake.

Li Ping'an changed into dark gray clothes that almost blended into the night, and soft-soled cloth shoes.

He did not go out the window, but instead flashed out through the rear door of the main hall, then left it ajar.

In the courtyard, moonlight was cut by the high walls, casting large patches of heavy shadow.

He merged into it like a fish, and with a few leaps he had already vaulted over the low wall of Xi Kua Yuan, landing in the narrow lane outside.

Without pausing, he unfolded the Carefree Step, his form swiftly weaving through the maze-like alley.

Avoiding the occasional drunkard returning home at night, avoiding the swaying beams of flashlights from the patrol squad.

His target was clear—the repair shop on the edge of the market town in South of City.

Tonight, he intended to retrieve that notebook.

His intuition told him that this seemingly inconspicuous hardcover notebook was the key to uncovering the early context of the shopkeeper's network.

He chose to act after midnight.

At this time, people are most fatigued and their defenses are most lax.

Even if the repairman old-timer, Lao Yan Dou, was somewhat alert, he could not maintain high vigilance for long.

However, when he hid, just as last night, in the corner across from the repair shop piled with broken baskets.

His Divine Perception swept over, yet his heart sank slightly.

Inside the repair shop, there was no one.

The wooden door, left ajar during the day, now hung an old iron lock from the outside.

Inside, there was no breath, no heartbeat.

Only the cold bicycle parts and rubber tires remained silent in the darkness.

The old man was not there.

So late, where had he gone?

Li Ping'an did not rush forward.

He was like a true stone, frozen in the shadow, while his Divine Perception acted like an invisible radar, centered on the repair shop and slowly spreading outward.

One hundred fifty meters.

No trace of the old man was found.

Nor were there any other lurkers.

Only the wind's whimper through the dilapidated shantytown and the distant, sporadic barks of wild dogs.

Had he gone out temporarily on business?

Or… had he sensed something and relocated?

Li Ping'an leaned more toward the former.

If the old man had noticed being watched, his first reaction should have been to destroy or move that important notebook, rather than lock the door and leave.

Was that notebook still in the wooden box under the bed?

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception penetrated the wooden door and walls, precisely locating that small compartment, that wooden box.

The notebook's aura still lingered.

This gave him slight reassurance.

But the old man going out late at night was itself unusual.

A veteran secret agent who had lain low for years would not lightly leave his stronghold late at night unless there was an important matter.

Li Ping'an decided to wait.

He adjusted his posture slightly, letting his body settle more comfortably among the debris in the corner.

His breath was restrained to the extreme, his heartbeat slowed, as if entering some kind of tortoise-breathing state.

Only his pair of eyes, flashing a calm light in the darkness, through the gaps in the broken baskets, firmly locked onto the front of the repair shop.

Time flowed slowly in the silence.

The moon quietly shifted its position.

About half an hour passed.

In the distance, from the direction of the market town, came an extremely faint footstep, its rhythm unlike any other night sound.

The footsteps were steady, neither hurried nor slow, carrying a deliberate caution of having been softened.

Li Ping'an's spirit lifted.

His Divine Perception instantly focused there.

The comer was precisely that repairman old-timer, Lao Yan Dou.

He still wore that oily blue cloth work uniform, with an old cap pulled low over his brow.

In his hand he seemed to be carrying a small cloth bag.

He walked to the repair shop's door, but did not immediately open it.

Instead, he stopped his steps, stood in the shadow before the door, and stood there silently for a full minute.

His head turned slightly, his gaze like a probe, sweeping over the path in front of the door, then over the pitch-black house opposite and the corners.

Li Ping'an held his breath, not even blinking his eyelids.

The old man ultimately seemed not to have noticed anything unusual.

He pulled out his key, rustled as he unlocked the door, then pushed it open and slipped inside.

The door was immediately shut.

But there was no sound of a bolt being slid into place.

Li Ping'an's Divine Perception followed right in.

After the old man entered, he did not light a lamp.

He seemed to stand silently in the darkness for a moment, listening intently.

Then he felt his way to the small compartment at the back.

Li Ping'an could "see" him walk to the bedside, bend down, and drag out that small wooden box from under the bed.

He opened it.

The old man's hand rummaged inside the box and took out that hardcover notebook.

Holding the notebook, he rubbed its cover in the darkness.

Then he did something that surprised Li Ping'an.

He did not put the notebook back, but instead slipped it into his inner pocket.

Next, he closed the wooden box and pushed it back under the bed.

He got up and went to the outer room.

From that cloth bag he took out a somewhat worn dark coat, taking off his work clothes.

He also took out a different style, even more inconspicuous old hat and put it on.

Finally, from a hidden compartment in a toolbox in the corner, he felt out a small, flat iron tin box, which he also slipped into his inner pocket.

After doing all this, he walked to the door again and listened for a moment.

Then he gently pulled the door open and slipped out.

He relocked the door.

This time he did not linger at the door, but turned around and headed straight back the way he came, walking briskly.

His steps were lighter and faster than before.

The direction was deeper into the town, leading to the more remote outskirts where town meets countryside.

Li Ping'an hesitated not at all, immediately sliding out from his hiding place.

Like a bone‑attached maggot, he followed far behind.

This tailing was more difficult than yesterday's.

The old man was obviously in a state of high alert.

He avoided the main roads, choosing only narrow, dim alleys.

From time to time he would suddenly stop, pretending to tie his shoelaces or leaning against a wall to "rest," actually using the corner of his eye to scan behind him.

Sometimes he would even turn abruptly into a side lane, make a small loop, then return to the original path.

His counter‑tailing tactics were quite practiced.

Li Ping'an had to increase the distance and rely more on his Divine Perception to lock on.

At the same time he brought the subtlety of the Carefree Step to its utmost.

Sometimes he clung to a wall like a gecko, sometimes he drifted like a wisp of smoke through a crack, using every shadow and every corner to perfectly conceal his movements.

One ahead, one behind, they weaved through the labyrinthine suburban shantytown and abandoned factory area.

They walked for nearly an hour.

The terrain ahead gradually opened up.

A piece of wasteland appeared, overgrown with waist‑high mugwort.

In the distance, a sizable, dark‑looking building silhouette could be faintly seen.

It looked like an abandoned warehouse, or perhaps… an old theatre?

The old man reached the edge of the wasteland and stopped again.

He squatted down, seemingly adjusting his shoes.

Li Ping'an lay in a dry earth ditch dozens of meters away, his Divine Perception firmly locked on.

He saw the old man pull out that flat iron tin box from his bosom, open it, take something out, and quickly slip it into the lining of his shoe.

Then he stood up, no longer concealing his tracks, and strode swiftly toward that dark building.

Li Ping'an recognized that it was indeed an abandoned old theatre.

Its walls were mottled and peeling, doors and windows broken, and under the moonlight it resembled a crouching giant beast.

Behind the theatre there seemed to be several rows of low huts, probably former staff dormitories or backstage areas.

The old man did not go through the front door; instead he went around to the side of the theatre and slipped in through a gap in a broken fence.

He vanished into the building's shadow.

Li Ping'an did not immediately follow him inside.

The theatre's interior structure is complex, sightlines are blocked, and his Divine Perception would be greatly weakened by the many brick walls.

Rashly entering would be too risky.

He hid in the mugwort thickets at the edge of the wasteland, condensed his Divine Perception into a thread, and cautiously probed toward the direction where the old man disappeared.

The old man seemed quite familiar with this place.

He passed through a narrow passage piled with miscellaneous items on the side of the theatre and arrived at the backstage area.

This place is even more dilapidated, with scattered costume fragments, rotted props, and broken lenses everywhere.

Moonlight streamed in through the window opening without glass, casting eerie, twisted patches of light on the ground.

The old man walked up to a relatively intact small room whose door was still in place.

The door was ajar.

He raised his hand and, using a specific rhythm, lightly knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice more.

The door was pulled open a crack from inside.

An eye flashed in the gap of the door, warily scanning the outside.

Then the door opened a little wider.

The old man slipped sideways inside.

The door promptly closed.

Li Ping'an's divine perception barely penetrated the not-so-thick wooden door.

The room was darker than outside.

There was only a point of extremely faint light, as if from a flashlight covered with cloth.

Besides the old man, there was another person in the room.

That person sat with their back to the door, at a broken table missing a leg and propped up with bricks.

The figure was somewhat blurry, but judging by the clothing, they looked like an ordinary worker.

"Did you bring the stuff?" the seated person spoke, voice pressed low, with a deliberately altered hoarseness.

"I brought it." The old man's voice was equally low; he took out that hardcover notebook from his pocket and passed it over.

The seated person took the notebook but did not open it right away.

Instead, they carefully felt the cover and binding with their hand.

"Confirm it's the original?"

"Confirmed. I've checked the handwriting, paper, and the hidden marks inside." The old man affirmed, "The shopkeeper wants this… is there… new movement?"

The seated person fell silent for a moment.

"Don't ask what you shouldn't. The shopkeeper's meaning is that it's time to completely 'archive' these old things. You did well tonight; this is for you."

The person produced a small cloth bag from under the table and pushed it toward the old man.

The old man took it, weighed it, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face, and quickly tucked it into his pocket.

"What should I do next? Go back to the shop?"

"You can't return to the shop for now."

The seated person's tone turned cold and hard: "Your exposure risk is increasing. The shopkeeper has arranged for you to go west to lay low. The specific route and contacts will be given to you tomorrow at the old place. Tonight, rest first in the neighboring room; someone will escort you out before dawn."

The old man seemed a bit hesitant, but eventually nodded.

"Understood."

"I'll take the notebook. Dispose of any other odds and ends you're carrying."

The seated person stood up, carefully placing the notebook into their own old canvas bag they carried with them.

Li Ping'an's mind and spirit were violently shaken.

The notebook is about to be taken away!

Moreover, from what they said, the shopkeeper seems to have sensed danger and begun cleaning up early traces and personnel?

This seated "worker" is very likely the person the shopkeeper sent to retrieve and destroy the crucial evidence!

We must stop it!

At least we need to see that person's face, or get hold of that notebook!

Just as Li Ping'an's thoughts raced, weighing whether to risk approaching or to create a disturbance by some means.

Outside the theater, in the wild grounds, a sudden clamor of voices and beams of flashlights arose!

It seemed to be a night‑patrolling militia squad that happened to be passing through this desolate area!

The two people in the small room obviously heard the commotion as well.

"What's going on?!" the old man's voice sounded panicked.

"Don't panic!" the seated person, however, stayed calm and immediately snuffed out that faint light source.

The room plunged into total darkness.

The two held their breath, listening to the outside sounds.

The patrol squad's voices and light beams swayed outside the theater's perimeter, seeming to be just a routine check with no intention of entering.

They gradually faded away.

But after this interruption, the two people in the room were noticeably more alert.

"We can't wait; I'm leaving now." the seated person said softly, "Follow the plan—go to the neighboring room and wait for someone to pick you up."

Having said that, he slung the canvas bag over his shoulder, gently pulled open the door, and vanished like a ghost, quickly disappearing into the complex shadows backstage.

The old man, meanwhile, followed instructions and quietly moved to the neighboring room.

Li Ping'an faced a choice.

Should he tail the mysterious "worker" who took the notebook?

Or should he continue monitoring the "old smoke pipe," who might know more but is about to be transferred?

In the flash of lightning, he made his decision.

The notebook is more important!

That "worker" is the key link directly to the shopkeeper!

He immediately leapt from his hiding place, pushed the Carefree Step to its limit, and silently pursued the direction in which the "worker" had vanished.

The night was thick as ink.

A new pursuit suddenly unfolded on the edge of this desolate land.

And in the small room backstage of the theater, the old agent 'Lao Yan Dou', who was about to be transferred, leaned against the cold wall, felt the newly obtained reward in his bosom, but a fleeting, deeply hidden resentment and unease flashed in his eyes.