Chapter 48: Huimin Grocery

That night Li Ping'an didn't close his eyes at all; the sound of raindrops beating the window rang in his ears like thunder. In his mind he replayed every possible snag that could arise tomorrow—the layout of the Huimin Grocery, the shortcuts, the meeting methods, the words to use for inspections… He dissected each detail, examined it over and over.

At dawn the rain stopped. The air carried a damp, earthy smell that made it hard to breathe. He got up early, still wearing that sickly pallor, the gaunt look of a night without sleep that he pretended not to hide.

Yan Bu Gui, with a pipe clenched in his teeth, squatted at the doorway rinsing his mouth; when he saw him emerge, he mumbled, "Up this early? Going to fetch medicine again?"

"Hmm…" Li Ping'an replied weakly, covering his chest and coughing twice, "My heart's racing… need to go check again…"

Yan Bu Gui squinted at him, as if trying to scrape something off his face, then just spat out his mouthwash and said nothing more.

Li Ping'an felt a slight relief, tucked his chin, and slowly shuffled out of the Siheyuan. Once he left the Alley, his steps quietly quickened, yet he kept that feigned frailty, slipping into the thin early‑morning crowd.

He didn't head straight for Nan Cheng; instead he detoured to an inconspicuous pharmacy in North City, bought two bundles of cheap calming, soothing herbs, tied them with a grass rope and slung them over his arm. It made a good cover.

The closer he got to Nan Cheng, the tighter the street atmosphere became. Patrols of Japanese Soldiers and Black Dogs were noticeably more numerous, their eyes scraping pedestrians like knives. The shadows of plainclothes agents flickered in and out, like wraiths drifting through alleys. Li Ping'an's heart quickened; Blood Plum picking this critical moment and place for a meeting showed boldness, and also meant the matter was truly urgent.

The Huimin Grocery was tucked at the end of a narrow, sewage‑filled alley; its door was shabby, the sign's characters faded. A broken birdcage hung at the entrance, empty inside except for a few withered grasses. It was a signal—safe, you could enter.

Li Ping'an paused at the alley mouth, pretended to adjust the herb bundle in his hand, and flicked his peripheral vision left, right, forward, backward. He saw no obvious tail, but the feeling of unseen eyes watching lingered. He took a deep breath, suppressed his unease, lowered his head, and slipped into the store.

Inside, the shop was dim, filled with a weird odor of mildew, salty fish, and cheap tobacco. The shelves were a chaotic mess, coated with a thin layer of dust. Behind the counter sat a gaunt old man with bifocals and graying hair, fiddling with an abacus in the sliver of light from the window; when he heard someone enter, he didn't even lift his head.

"What would you like to buy?" the voice said, hoarse and flat.

Li Ping'an's eyes darted quickly around the shop. Apart from the old man, there was a young man who looked like a clerk, back turned to the doorway, laboriously hauling a sack of heavy provisions.

"Boss, do you have… any cinnamon from the south?" Li Ping'an spoke, using the code from the flyer, his voice a little tense.

The hand on the abacus paused. The old man finally raised his head, his clouded eyes peering through the bifocals to size him up, and said slowly, "We have cinnamon, but not much, and the price is higher than up north."

"As long as the goods are good, the price is negotiable," Li Ping'an replied, matching the second line.

The old man stared silently for a few seconds, his gaze seeming able to pierce through Li Ping'an's feigned illness. Then he mouthed toward the back room, "There might be some in the storage; go check yourself. Watch your footing, it's messy."

Li Ping'an's heart jumped. He nodded, lifted the dirty cloth curtain beside the counter, and slipped sideways inside.

The back room was darker and narrower than the front, packed with all sorts of assorted crates, leaving barely any room to stand. The mildew smell was even stronger.

Just as he adjusted to the dim light, a black silhouette slipped silently from behind a stack of burlap sacks, blocking the doorway and cutting off the view from outside.

It wasn't the tall man from Lu Wei Dang last time.

The person was of average height, wearing a plain coarse‑cloth short jacket, looking like a dock laborer, but their eyes flashed sharply, temples slightly bulged, standing there like a nailed post, their aura unnervingly steady. They stared silently at Li Ping'an, unmoving, and the oppressive pressure made his whole body tense.

A master! Definitely a cultivator, and surely has seen blood!

Li Ping'an forced himself to settle, likewise remaining silent as he looked back at the other, showing no hint of fear. He understood this was another hurdle; Blood Plum could not trust a stranger with an unknown background.

The two faced each other silently in the dim storage, the air seemed frozen, only their faint breaths remaining.

A few seconds later, the man gave a slight nod, the sharpness in his eyes easing a bit, though his vigilance did not slacken. He lowered his voice, got straight to the point, speaking quickly and crisply: "Short and sweet. When can the 'Iron Nodule' be ready?"

Li Ping'an pretended to ponder, then replied cautiously, "The goods are available. But fifty 'Long Fellow' and five thousand 'Peanut'—not a small amount. How to transport? Where to deliver? The risk is too great."

The man stared at him, "The risk is on us. You just prepare the goods. The day after tomorrow night, at the hour of the Rat, under the old cypress tree at Luan Feng Gang outside Fucheng Gate. Only you may come."

Fucheng Gate? Luan Feng Gang? What the hell kind of place is that! Li Ping'an cursed inwardly, but his face remained unchanged: "What about the price?"

"According to the road's rules, add thirty percent," the man replied bluntly, "Settle in cash and gold bars. But the goods must be inspected."

"Agreed," Li Ping'an nodded, "but I have conditions too."

The man's gaze sharpened, "Speak."

"First, before and after the deal, guarantee that the route I take is clean," he meant the safety of the approach.

"Don't worry, there are eyes outside."

"Second, I need to know, once you take this batch, what will you do with it?" Li Ping'an stared intently at the other's eyes, "I don't want to get tangled up in a disaster that wipes us out."

Hearing that, a cold flash shot through the man's eyes, the storage temperature dropping sharply. He took a half‑step forward, his voice even lower, tinged with a metallic rust smell, "What? Coward? Or just probing?"

Li Ping'an sensed a cold murderous intent locked onto him, but he didn't retreat, meeting the man's gaze, his voice equally low yet firm: "I'm not a coward. I just want to know which kind of immortal I'm helping, whether it's worth risking my life."

Both froze. The air chilled again.

The man stared at Li Ping'an, as if trying to read truth or falsehood from every subtle twitch on his face.

Suddenly, a burst of chaotic footsteps and loud shouts erupted from the shop outside!

"Search the shop! Everyone be honest! Any unfamiliar faces here?"

"Black Dogs! Plenty of people heard the commotion!"

Both faces in the storage changed at once!

The man reacted instantly, shoved several stacked empty wooden crates aside with a crash, and low‑growled, "Run out the back! Quick!"

He, however, without hesitation turned, flung the curtain aside and rushed out, instantly adopting a panicked tone, "Boss! Boss! What's happening? This small trade… can't stand a raid…"

Li Ping'an's throat tightened, and without a half‑second hesitation he lunged toward the direction the man had just indicated—behind the pile of junk there was indeed a tiny, highly concealed back door, hidden beneath a broken mat.

He yanked the door open; outside was an even narrower, dirtier dead‑end alley piled with trash.

He darted out, swung the door shut behind him, then without pause, like a startled wildcat, he sprinted along the shadowed wall base! He could hear the shouts and clamor from the front shop, and the man's low‑pitched explanations.

The Alley mouth might be blocked by police! Can't go that way!

He slammed on the brakes, glanced left and right, inhaled deeply, sprinted two strides, his toes tapping the slick wall several times, both hands clawing the wall top, waist and abdomen powering him; he vaulted like a light‑weight monkey over a wall nearly two men high, then without pause leapt into the opposite courtyard, rolling to absorb the impact.

In the courtyard, an elderly woman hanging laundry let out a startled scream, and the wooden basin in her hands clanged onto the ground.

Li Ping'an didn't look back, scrambled up and kept running, crossed the courtyard, vaulted over a low wall on the other side, and dropped into another unfamiliar alley.

He dared not rest, relying on his vague memory of the city's layout and a post‑refinement sense of direction far beyond ordinary, he darted and flipped through the maze‑like alleys until he was completely away from the Huimin Grocery area, blending into a busier street, then slowed his pace, leaned against a wall, pretended to gasp for air, though his heart kept pounding in his chest.

Really risky!

Just now being a beat late and getting trapped inside—couldn't imagine the consequences!

Were those Black Dogs doing a routine shop check, or targeting him or Blood Plum? That man… did he rush out to protect him? How is he now?

A cluster of question marks floated outward.

He looked down at himself; his clothes were smeared with mud and dust from climbing the wall, a bit disheveled. He quickly brushed them off, ruffled his hair, trying to look like an ordinary citizen in a hurry.

The herb bundle was still in his hand. He lifted it, inhaled deeply, forced himself to steady his mind, merged into the crowd, and headed toward the Siheyuan.

With each step, he felt countless eyes watching his back.

Blood Plum, arms, police, pursuit… all of this is like a huge net, slowly tightening from all sides.

And he knew that the night after, the chaotic graveyard outside Fucheng Gate would be the stage for an even more dangerous gamble.