Chapter 378

Morning light again brightened the gray tiles of the Siheyuan.

In the Xi Kua Yuan, Li Ping'an's daily routine had resumed a certain rigid regularity.

The sky was dimly bright, and he rose.

In the courtyard, Li Yaozong had already set his horse stance, his little face taut, waiting for his father's guidance.

"Toe gripping the ground, like pine yet not pine." Li Ping'an's voice was low, his palm gently pressing on his son's slightly swaying lower back.

"The hips must be heavy, power rising from the ground, don't stay floating."

Li Yaozong strained to adjust, his breathing gradually becoming steady.

After practicing a set of boxing techniques, sweat appeared at the corners of his forehead, but his gaze stayed bright.

"Dad, can I practice another round today?"

"Too much and you can't chew it properly." Li Ping'an wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel, "Cultivation is like brewing medicine; the timing must be right. Go wash your face, have breakfast, then get ready for school."

On the way to drop his son at kindergarten, Li Ping'an pushed the stroller, listening to his son chattering about the class's amusing incidents.

His gaze calmly swept the street, while his Divine Perception, like the most precise instrument, noted every seemingly ordinary detail.

Whether the early‑snack stall owner had been replaced.

At the intersection, the bicycle‑repair master—does he have old calluses on his hands?

From the distant second‑floor window, is there a lingering gaze that has stayed for a long time?

Everything is as usual.

And yet, it seems overly tranquil.

He knows that the Shopkeeper side would never remain idle.

The suspension is only the first step.

A more covert oppression may be brewing.

He must be more patient than the other side.

During the day, he sometimes goes to the Yongding River.

He still sits under the old willow, a bamboo pole hanging down.

The catch in the fish basket remains scant.

Occasionally, he can feel a faint, intermittent stare from afar.

It differs from the previous hat‑wearing observer.

This time the gaze is more scattered and more concealed, as if a different group had taken over, or a more advanced rotating surveillance was employed.

Li Ping'an pretended not to know.

He stared intently at the float's rise and fall, like a true fishing enthusiast escaping reality.

In the evening he fetched his son back, checked his homework, and accompanied Xiao Nuanqing as she wobbly learned to walk.

After dinner, he waited until the family had all fallen asleep.

Only then would he spread the thick manuscript paper under the lamp.

It is not ordinary paper.

It is a special paper with high absorbency that ignites upon contact with fire.

He employed a self‑created symbol system that blends military codes with old shop‑keeper ciphers, and began drafting the material for Zhou Zhengwei.

Each character was repeatedly scrutinized.

Ensuring accuracy, conciseness, and no ambiguity.

From Xu Damao's discovery of the Iron Box, to Su Xiulan's testimony, Lao Sun Tou's arrest, Lao Dao's skill and resolve, the explosives in the hardware vault, Deputy Director Zhao's house buttons and dream mutterings, the makeup man at the scrap factory, the black sedan, the dragon‑pattern cufflinks…

Finally, the shocking identity confirmation of Shi Potian.

He did not write down a name.

He only used the codename "Shopkeeper" and a metaphor that only Zhou Zhengwei would understand, pointing unambiguously.

At the end of the material, he analyzed several possible weak points of the "Shopkeeper" network: the instability of early personnel (such as "Lao Yandou"), Deputy Director Zhao's dream‑talk exposing psychological pressure, and the fact that the "Shopkeeper" himself, being high‑ranking and powerful, inevitably has certain potential friction points with the current system.

He suggested that by targeting these weak links and carrying out ultra‑covert peripheral investigations and pressure, internal fissures might be induced.

After writing a few pages, he would carefully air‑dry them, then lock them into an iron tin box with a compartment that he had scavenged from the Old Goods Street.

The box had only one key.

He hid it in the most inconspicuous corner of the jade pendant's space.

At the deepest hour of night, he sometimes went to Gui Street.

It is not a dining night market, but a nickname for Four Nine City's true "Ghost Market".

The market opens in the latter half of the night and disperses before dawn.

Mostly sold are obscure or unsightly ancient objects of unknown origin.

Li Ping'an, like a true scavenger, pocketed a modest amount of money and slowly wandered under the flickering lanterns and carbide lights.

His goal is not truly to pick up any treasure.

Rather, through the complex flow of people and information here, he observes whether there are abnormal individuals or transactions.

At the same time, this also serves as a cover for his information transmission.

The "old place" mentioned by Zhou Zhengwei is deep within Gui Street, beneath the incense burner of an abandoned earth temple.

There is a waterproof hidden compartment there.

Every few days, Li Ping'an would wrap a portion of the written material in an oilcloth bag and, during the most noisy and chaotic pre‑dawn market, silently slip it in.

He never looks back to see if anyone has taken it.

This is absolute trust in Zhou Zhengwei.

It is also confidence in his own anti‑tracking ability.

Just as Li Ping'an, like a precise clock, carried out this daily routine that seemed lax on the surface but was tense inside.

In the siheyuan, the restless hearts of the three elders began to stir again.

Li Ping'an's suspension initially excited them for a while.

But seeing Li Ping'an fishing, strolling, and caring for his children every day, seemingly living comfortably, showed no trace of the dejection and misery they had expected.

This left them somewhat disappointed, even a bit… unhappy.

Especially Liu Haizhong.

The second elder's craving for officialdom swelled unprecedentedly as Li Ping'an, this "big tree," seemed to fall.

He felt the time had come to reestablish the three elders' (mainly the second elder's) absolute authority in the courtyard.

That evening, while everyone was cooking, Liu Haizhong strolled with his hands behind his back to the front courtyard.

Yan Bu Gui was trimming the dead leaves of his few pots of chrysanthemums in the last light of day.

"Old Yan, busy?" Liu Haizhong cleared his throat.

"Oh, Old Liu." Yan Bu Gui pushed up his glasses, "What's up?"

"There's a matter concerning the courtyard's moral atmosphere."

Liu Haizhong puffed out his belly and said, "Look, lately our courtyard seems a bit lax—some young comrades show no respect for elders, some families keep to themselves behind closed doors, lacking a sense of collectivity. This isn't conducive to unity, nor does it meet the current situation's demands, right?"

Yan Bu Gui's small eyes shifted, and he put down the scissors.

"Old Liu, you mean..."

"What I mean is, we three elders need to take charge of the courtyard's affairs again!"

Liu Haizhong raised his voice slightly: "Let's hold regular courtyard-wide meetings to study the documents' spirit, straighten out discipline. If any household has difficulties, they can bring them up, and we three elders will help resolve them, showing the organization's care!"

Yi Zhonghai also came over from the central courtyard at some point, holding a cigarette.

"Old Liu makes sense."

Yi Zhonghai nodded, his tone steady as usual: "The courtyard has been a bit lax lately. As longtime residents and the courtyard's recognized managers, we can't let the moral atmosphere deteriorate. We should hold a meeting to unify thinking."

Yan Bu Gui's mind raced with calculations.

A meeting? Study?

That was something he was good at.

He could show off his erudition at the meeting, maybe even gain some empty fame.

As for practical problems… that wasn't something the third elder should worry about.

"I think it's fine." Yan Bu Gui declared, "Then let's set a time—how about this weekend evening, when everyone will be home?"

"Good!" Liu Haizhong said satisfied, "Then it's settled. Old Yi, you're the courtyard's first elder—you'll preside."

Yi Zhonghai gave a slight nod, appearing ready to take on the duty.

The three again whispered a few details, settling on the meeting's general content—nothing more than emphasizing public hygiene, neighborly harmony, fire and theft prevention, then reading a few newspaper editorials.

The news quickly spread through the courtyard.

Each household reacted differently.

Jia Zhangshi pursed her lips: "What's the point of a meeting? We'd be better off thinking how to fill our stomachs." But thinking she could criticize others at the meeting, she felt a bit of anticipation.

Qin Huairu sighed silently, knowing she'd have to sacrifice her evening time pasting matchbox labels again.

Sha Zhu was peeling garlic at his own door when he heard Ma Dongmei's retort and snorted.

"The three elders? Just indulging their official cravings again—if they had that leisure, they'd be better off fixing the courtyard's drains!"

Ma Dongmei tugged at him: "Say less! Let the meeting happen—there'll still be meat."

In the rear courtyard, Xu Damao's household kept its door shut, and Wang Cuihua spent most of her time at the hospital, so naturally no one paid them any mind.

In the west annex courtyard, Lin Xueqing anxiously told Li Ping'an, "Peace, I heard there's going to be a general courtyard meeting—could it be… aimed at our family?"

Li Ping'an was teaching Li Yaozong to recognize characters; hearing this, he didn't even lift his head.

"What for? Our family obeys the law and lives peacefully—what's there to target? Just go to the meeting and hear what they have to say."

His tone was calm and unruffled.

It seemed the forthcoming courtyard-wide meeting, possibly with undercurrents, was no different from the wind blowing outside the window.

Lin Xueqing looked at his calm profile, and her unease eased a little.

But a faint worry still lingered.

She knew that although her husband seemed to have resumed his daily routine on the surface, that hint of heaviness and vigilance deep in his eyes had never disappeared.

Indeed, it was even deeper than during the initial suspension.

The night grew darker.

Li Ping'an lulled his two children to sleep.

Watching his wife also drift off to sleep, weary.

He sat alone in the main hall.

He didn't turn on a light.

Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, casting fuzzy shadows on the ground.

In his ears, he seemed to hear Yan Bu Gui's scheming mutterings from the front courtyard, Yi Zhonghai's hypocritical calculations from the central courtyard, and Liu Haizhong's swelling ambitions from the rear courtyard.

These petty, ridiculous sounds.

Along with the icy dragon-patterned cufflink from the western suburbs scrap yard.

Along with Zhou Zhengwei's heavy decision, visible in the glow and fade of his pipe.

Along with this night that seemed calm but actually seethed with undercurrents.

Interwoven together.

Together they formed an extraordinarily strange yet true picture.

He gently rubbed his fingertips.

There still seemed to linger the faint sensation of the pen tip gliding over the special paper when writing a secret letter.

On Zhou Zhengwei's side, he should have already begun to act.

And the shopkeeper?

What is he doing now?

Is he in some brightly lit venue, delivering a grand report?

Or is he in some hidden study, examining that notebook that might record his early crimes?

Or has he already turned his gaze back to the Head of the Security Department at the Steel Rolling Mill, who appears to have been sidelined and is now "keeping his nose clean" day by day?

Li Ping'an slowly exhaled a foul breath.

He knew.

He himself was in the center of the storm.

In a huge storm's eye formed by conspiracy, power, betrayal, and protection.

The calmer the surface,

the undercurrents below become more turbulent and more deadly.

He must be like a nail.

Firmly nailed here.

Waiting.

Waiting for Zhou Zhengwei to complete his layout.

Waiting for the opponent to reveal a flaw.

Or waiting for the moment when the plot is exhausted and the dagger appears.

By then.

Whether it is the three grand uncles' laughable calculations.

or the shopkeeper's seemingly unshakable authority.

will all face the torrent of this era and justice.

and meet their final end.

The night, gently enveloping the Siheyuan.

and coldly covering all the covert struggles and conspiracies beneath this city.

The wind rose.