Chapter 47: Safe Escape

In Lu Wei Dang he again confirmed there was no one around, swiftly slipped his hand into his pocket, and with a flicker of thought the scorching "Deposit" vanished instantly, settling safely into his absolutely secure personal space. His body felt light, but his mind did not relax much.

The outline of Beiping City grew more snarling in the night, the searchlights on the walls were no longer cold giant eyes but like judgmental beams that could focus on him at any moment.

The way back seemed longer and more dangerous than the way out. The wind howled, the grass and trees seemed like soldiers. Every shadow resembled a lurking spy, every call of the Night Owl sounded like a pursuit whistle. He still pushed his senses to the limit, took a route twice as long as usual, and after confirming absolute safety, he slipped back into the city through a more concealed breach in the wall.

The Siheyuan remained deathly silent, save for the thunderous snore from Yan Bu Gui's house, attesting to the "normalcy" here. Li Ping'an slipped back to his cold little room like a phantom, gently shut the door, pressed his back against the doorboard, and then exhaled a long, soundless breath of pent‑up foul air.

He no longer carried the physical item, yet its weight seemed to press on his heart. Blood Plum… fifty rifles, five thousand rounds… the next deal… these words swirled in his mind, bringing a strange thrill but mostly a heavy pressure. This Deposit was both trust and a shackles.

The room was unlit; he groped in total darkness to the edge of the kang and sat down. The gold bars and dollars in his space were intact, which gave him a slight reassurance.

But Yan Bu Gui, that Old Fox, has lately had a strange look, constantly circling him; although he probably lacks the nerve or ability to step into his house, Li still has to stay on guard.

He must appear as if everything is normal, even feign greater "illness" to dispel any suspicion.

That night he slept very lightly; any rustle of wind or grass would jolt him awake.

In the following days, the Siheyuan appeared calm on the surface, but undercurrents swirled below. Yan Bu Gui indeed paid closer attention to Li Ping'an's movements; his sharp eyes kept circling him, occasionally probing indirectly.

"Ping'an, you've looked much healthier these past two days, your face even a bit flushed… did something happy happen?" Yan Bu Gui, holding his ever‑present cracked teapot, asked as if casually.

Li Ping'an felt a tightening in his chest, but coughed at the right moment, sounding weak: "Cough… Teacher Yan, please stop pestering me… perhaps… cough… I took two doses of the right medicine, so I can barely get a decent sleep… still far from good…" He subtly hinted it was the medicine's effect, not anything else.

"Oh? What prescription is that so effective? I'll go fetch two doses tomorrow…" Yan Bu Gui clearly didn't believe him, continuing to probe.

"It's… just a barefoot doctor's home‑brew… random bark and grass roots… I can't even name it properly. How about it, Teacher Yan, you've got too much money, taking medicine even when you're not sick?" Li Ping'an mumbled ambiguously, putting on a clueless "desperate‑times‑any‑doctor" act.

Yan Bu Gui was half‑believing, half‑skeptical, but didn't press further; the glint in his small eyes told Li Ping'an the matter was far from over.

Greater pressure came from outside. The city's atmosphere grew increasingly tense. Patrol Squad numbers had nearly doubled, and inspections became more frequent and severe. Plain‑clothes agents prowled the streets like hyenas, their eyes scanning every passerby ferociously. From time to time news arrived— which Alley had arrests, which shop had its premises seized— all reportedly linked to "illicit party collusion" or "arms trafficking".

Li Ping'an knew this likely involved Blood Plum and the massive cache of arms they desperately needed. The Japanese weren't fools; with such a force moving in the city, they couldn't remain oblivious. Present‑day Beiping was like a net tightening continuously.

He grew more cautious, minimizing outings; even when he left, he never approached overpasses or any places that might connect to Blood Plum. He was like a startled rabbit, ears perked, catching any dangerous signal.

At the same time, he anxiously awaited Blood Plum's next contact. Those fifty guns and five thousand rounds weighed on his heart like a boulder. He had the arms in his space, but how to deliver them safely? The risk of the next deal would undoubtedly be ten‑ to a hundred‑times greater than the Lu Wei Dang incident.

How would the other side contact him? Clay Figurine Zhang? Old Blade‑Sharpening Smith? Or some brand‑new, unforeseeable signal?

This torment of awaiting the unknown was even more agonizing than facing a clear danger.

Two more days passed, and on a drizzly afternoon, Li Ping'an leaned by the window, appearing dazed but actually watching the courtyard's movements. Rainwater ran down the eaves, splashing tiny droplets on the blue‑stone slabs.

At that moment, a half‑grown child, drenched and holding a cracked oiled‑paper umbrella, craned his neck and ran into the Alley, slipping something into door cracks house by house. A newspaper seller? An ad‑leaflet distributor?

The child reached the Siheyuan entrance, hesitated briefly, then also slipped a garishly colored sheet of paper through the door gap.

Yan Bu Gui, who had just come out to pour water, casually picked it up, muttering, "Ugh… more of those dog‑skin plaster ads for strength pills… scams…" He was about to crumple it away.

Li Ping'an felt a sudden stir inside, an inexplicable intuition prompting him to say, "Teacher Yan, what's that? Let me see… lying here feels odd…"

Yan Bu Gui glanced at him, uninterested, and handed over the damp paper bundle, "Here, just some nonsense…"

Li Ping'an took it; it was an extremely ordinary, low‑quality ink‑printed flyer advertising a "Tiger‑bone Strength Pill" that claimed to "strengthen the body, cure illness, and prolong life," featuring an exaggerated, bulging‑muscle strongman illustration.

His heart suddenly raced faster.

Because in the lower‑right corner of that strongman image, in an almost invisible spot drawn with barely discernible fine lines, was a vague pattern—a tiny, faint plum blossom.

On the flyer's reverse, in equally tiny type, a line of inconspicuous address and date was printed among exaggerated efficacy claims: "Huimin Grocery, new batch of southern goods, purchase quickly, valid for three days."

Huimin Grocery… he recalled, that was an unremarkable shop in Nan Cheng. The date meant tomorrow.

The signal arrived!

Li Ping'an's palms sweated slightly, but a disdainful expression crossed his face as he casually crumpled the flyer and tossed it into the corner: "Really… they'll brag about anything…"

Yan Bu Gui nodded knowingly, "Exactly! In these times, you've got all kinds of people."

Li Ping'an said nothing more, retreated into his room, and shut the door. His heart hammered powerfully within his chest.

Tomorrow, Nan Cheng, Huimin Grocery.

A new trial is about to begin. This time, it's no longer just a delivery; he must confront Blood Plum's core members and negotiate the arms deal capable of stirring a massive storm.

He knows he is moving step by step toward the very heart of the storm.