Chapter 46: Lu Wei Dang Deal

The three days of waiting felt like simmering a pot of sticky paste, every moment dragging slowly; Li Ping'an as usual pretended his sickly self each day, but only he knew the inner restlessness. He repeatedly mulled over the possible snags in the deal, thought of many countermeasures, and even slipped ahead to scout points at Lu Wei Dang Outside Yongding Gate.

The spot was truly perfect. Winter was approaching; the reed stalks were withered and yellow, taller than a person, rustling loudly in the wind, forming a natural screen. The ditches wound and twisted, their bottoms full of muck; aside from fishermen or shortcut seekers, the usual Japanese Soldiers were scarce. If anything happened, it would be easy to hide or flee, and likewise easy to set a trap.

Yan Bu Gui seemed to notice his unease these days, probing indirectly twice, but Li Ping'an brushed him off with a cough and a claim of "feeling empty inside from illness." Yet the old man's shrewdness made him stay on guard, moving more cautiously.

On the third day, after dusk, he returned home early and latched the door. As night deepened, his heart steadied, like an ancient well reflecting the approaching storm.

When the rat hour passed, assuming everyone in the courtyard was sound asleep, he donned his Night Cloak again and checked his gear—not for the deal, but for any contingency. A short knife, a dart, and the turtle‑shell box he had taken from a killer were hidden in convenient spots. Then, recalling his plan, he retrieved the prepared fifty jin of smoking earth and five packs of sulfonamide from his pocket space, packed them into a sturdy burlap sack, and slung it over his shoulder.

The weight was not light, but for his refined body it meant little.

He pushed open the back window, and the night wind, chilled, poured in. He moved like a falling leaf, silently melting into the darkness, hurrying toward the outside of Yongding Gate.

The closer he got to the gate, the denser the patrol posts and spotlights became. Li Ping'an had to push his footwork to the limit, like a gecko scaling a wall, fully exploiting every shadow and architectural nook, evading all sentries and hidden traps without a hitch, leaping over the broken city wall and slipping out of the city.

Outside the city was even more desolate. The moon was hidden by clouds, darkness all around, only the wind sighing through the withered grass and reeds, and the faint murmur of the Yongding River in the distance.

He followed the route he had noted, stepping deep then shallow toward that massive Lu Wei Dang. The withered yellow reeds towered over a person, dense and tangled like a huge maze. The mud beneath his feet turned soggy.

When he neared the edge of Lu Wei Dang, he halted and pricked his ears again. Apart from the sound of wind and water, there seemed no other movement. Yet he dared not be careless; he gently set the burlap sack beneath a concealed thicket, and, like a raccoon, scrambled onto a crooked old tree, using the height to scrutinize the reed marsh.

Time ticked away, and the hour of the Ox was fast approaching.

Just as he wondered whether the other side was playing a trick, the reeds downstream trembled ever so slightly, not like wind. Then a faint glow, as weak as a firefly, flickered three times and vanished.

Signal!

Li Ping'an's heart lifted. He didn't respond immediately, still holding his breath and waiting.

After a while, the light flashed again a short distance away.

The other side was also observing, confirming.

Li Ping'an slipped down from the tree, inhaled deeply, and pulled a small bronze mirror from his chest—a piece of old stock he had salvaged from the space junk pile—and, aiming toward the general direction where the light had vanished, used the faint moonlight leaking through a cloud gap to reflect it.

The beam was so weak it was almost invisible.

Having done that, he immediately left the spot, moved to another pre‑chosen position, crouched low, and fixed his eyes on the front.

A faint rustle came from the reeds, very light, but in the dead‑silent night it sounded especially clear.

A black silhouette slowly pushed aside the reeds and emerged. He was tall, looking just like the man Li had seen that night at the chaotic burial mound. He stood at the edge of a slightly open water puddle, not moving forward, silent as if welded into the night.

Li Ping'an did not hesitate. He hoisted the burlap sack, stepped out of his hiding place, and stopped about ten paces from the other side. That distance allowed whispered speech while leaving room for reaction.

The two faced each other across the gap, neither speaking first. The air seemed frozen, only the rustle of wind through the reeds. Both could feel the other's taut vigilance and a faint pressure.

Finally, the tall black figure spoke first, his voice low and hoarse, with a deliberately restrained force: "Goods?"

Li Ping'an said nothing, set the burlap sack down, untied the rope, and revealed the Oilcloth Bag's square of smoking earth and several sturdy paper packs of sulfonamide.

The black figure's gaze swept over the sack, nodding slightly as if approving the goods' quality. Yet he did not step forward to inspect, but spoke again, his question sharp and direct: "From which route? Why target us?"

Li Ping'an had prepared his reply, his voice equally low and steady, revealing no emotion: "I'm just trying to make a living, can't stand the Japanese Soldiers and traitors, happen to have some goods you might need, looking for a safe exchange, or… a clean cut."

His words were half‑truth, half‑lie, making clear he was no official and only a limited partner, yet subtly showing his alignment with their business.

The black figure fell silent for a moment, as if weighing his words. After a while, he spoke again: "What price?"

"No money," Li Ping'an replied, surprising the other side, "I'll trade information, or the Hard Currency you don't use, or perhaps a favor."

He deliberately adopted an attitude of not seeking immediate profit, which earned more trust from these life‑risking men.

The black figure seemed startled, then emitted a very soft, ambiguous hum: "A favor? In these times, favors are the least valuable."

"Depends on who," Li Ping'an said coolly, "a coal in the snow is always better than a flower on silk."

The black figure fell silent again, this time for a longer stretch. Li Ping'an could feel the other's scrutinizing gaze, like a small knife scraping his skin.

Suddenly, the black figure changed the subject, asking an unrelated question: "The other night, the drama at the Deputy Director of Nan Cheng's outer residence—does it involve you?"

Li Ping'an felt a sudden jolt inside! The other had indeed linked the two incidents! He forced himself to stay steady, his voice tinged with just‑right bewilderment and surprise: "Outer residence? What drama? I was so ill those days I couldn't get out of bed, only heard the ruckus outside… heard someone died?"

He acted out a clueless outsider who merely happened to have goods to supply.

The black figure stared at him for a few seconds, as if trying to find a flaw on his face, but Li Ping'an's act was watertight.

Finally, the black figure seemed to temporarily believe the story, or thought further probing pointless. He did not press further, but took two steps forward.

Li Ping'an's body tensed instantly.

But the black figure simply pulled a Small Cloth Bag from his chest, tossed it, and it landed at Li Ping'an's feet.

"This is the down‑payment. Next time you want 'iron nuggets' (arms), fifty 'long pieces' (rifles), five thousand 'peanuts' (bullets). The time and place will be relayed to you."

After speaking, he said no more, bent to lift the heavy burlap sack, moving cleanly and swiftly, turned and vanished into the deep reeds, disappearing in a few strides as if he had never been there.

The whole process was frighteningly fast.

Li Ping'an stood where he was, not immediately picking up the bag, but refocusing his senses on the surroundings, and after confirming nothing was amiss, he swiftly bent to retrieve the bag.

It was heavy. He opened it and found a dozen or so silver dollars and a small, golden‑yellow gold bar!

The value of this 'down‑payment' far exceeded the smoking earth and medicine he offered! It was both a display of power and a further test and lure—seeing how he would react to this 'windfall.'

Li Ping'an weighed the bag, a barely perceptible curl at his mouth. He tucked the bag away, without delay, and retraced his route quickly and cautiously.

Only after he was far from Lu Wei Dang and saw the dark outline of Beiping City again did he slightly slow his pace.

The first transaction succeeded. Not only that, he also secured a larger upcoming deal and a hefty 'down‑payment.'

Blood Plum's appetite and strength seemed larger than expected. They were desperate for arms and had channels for acquiring money.

But that gold bar was also scorching to hold. It meant a deeper trap, greater risk.

The wind grew colder, blowing Lu Wei Dang like a black sea, ever shifting.

Li Ping'an glanced back at the darkness that had swallowed the secret exchange, his gaze complex.

He knew that from this night onward, he and the mysterious organization 'Blood Plum' were truly hooked. A path fraught with danger, yet possibly offering a sliver of hope and power, unfolded beneath his feet.

The road ahead was uncertain, but having taken this step, there was no turning back.

He turned, quickened his stride, and slipped toward the sleeping yet turbulent city.

On the city wall, the spotlight's beam was like a beast's single eye, coldly sweeping the desolate ground.