Chapter 99

August 1945, the woods of Dongbei were still shrouded in morning mist. Li Ping'an held the freshly received telegram, his fingers trembling a little.

"The Little Devils really surrendered?" he muttered, his throat dry.

Er Gazi snatched the telegram, his eyes bulging: "We won! Really won!"

The whole camp erupted in chaos. Everyone cried and laughed, tossing their hats sky‑high. Fifteen years—how many brothers fell on this black soil, never to see this sky again.

Li Ping'an watched the jubilant crowd, a smile tugging at his mouth while his eyes reddened. He recalled his mother's parting words and Pingle's tear‑filled eyes.

"Instructor, what do we do next?" Er Gazi leaned in, tears still glistening on his face.

Li Ping'an looked toward the southwest: "Back to Beiping, to find my sister."

Zhou Zhengwei patted his shoulder: "The Nationalists and Communists are still uneasy; watch yourself on the road. Remember to send a message back."

On the day of departure, the Flying Eagle Team lined up to see them off. Er Gazi sobbed uncontrollably: "Instructor, when you find Pingle, be sure to write back!"

Li Ping'an laughed and gave him a light punch: "Why cry? It's not like you can't see her."

He slung his bundle, which held only a few sets of clothes. Important documents and gear were packed into the compartment.

The train station was packed with people all heading home. Li Ping'an squeezed into the crowd, smelling the familiar scent of sweat and smoke.

"Documents!" the Black Dogs at the ticket gate shouted, eyes darting.

When Li Ping'an handed over his documents, his fingers trembled involuntarily. He recalled that night Miyamoto Musashi chased him, the injury forcing him to flee. Had he not run fast, he would have been handed over in Four Nine City long ago.

"What are you looking at? Move!" the Black Dogs impatiently shoved him.

As the train clattered away, Li Ping'an leaned against the window, watching Dongbei's landscape recede. In his mind, years flashed like a revolving lantern: Tianjin's Arsenal bombing, Japanese Soldiers' nests at Dongbei's edge, and that snow‑storm night when they raided the old 731 hideout...

The most unforgettable moment was the day he joined the organization; his hands shook during the oath. From then on, he was no longer that naive kid who only knew how to look for his sister.

When the train pulled into the station, Beiping City's walls came into view. Li Ping'an inhaled deeply; the scent was the same—bean‑juice mingled with coal smoke.

He tipped his old hat and followed the crowd out of the station. Everywhere on the street were banners reading "Welcome National Army," and a few men in American‑style uniforms strode proudly past.

Li Ping'an squinted. He recognized several familiar faces—those who had been Japanese Soldiers' lackeys, now swaggering down the street as if they were respectable.

"Just a change of soup, same old medicine," he spat, turning into an Alley.

Number 95 courtyard was off‑limits. The beasts in that courtyard might be scheming to trade him for reward money. He recalled Jia Zhangshi's Sanjiao Yan, Yi Zhonghai's feigned smile, and Yan Bu Gui's calculating nature, always looking for a profit.

"Let's first find a place outside the Front Gate," he thought. "Before we only looked inside the inner city; maybe Pingle is in the outer city."

The street outside the Front Gate was still bustling—candy sellers, film reel pushers, storytellers, the clamor making one's head ache. Li Ping'an found a teahouse, sat down, ordered a pot of high‑grade tea, and kept his ears tuned to the surrounding chatter.

"Did you hear? Lao Wang's shop was extorted for protection again yesterday." "These people now are even blacker than the Japanese Soldiers back then!"

Just then, the opposite side of the street erupted. A few thugs shoved an old farmer; the chicken the old man cradled squawked wildly.

"Damn, you have no shame?" the ringleader kicked a vegetable basket over. "Did you ask Biao Ge while setting up your stall here?"

Li Ping'an's hand froze. Biao Ge? The name sounded familiar...

He examined the ringleader closely—Sanjiao Yan, a scarred face; wasn't he the Biao who served as a lackey in the western city years ago? This kid is still collecting protection fees!

Seeing Biao about to strike, Li Ping'an set down his teapot and walked over.

"Hey, isn't this Biao Ge?" he said softly, causing Biao to freeze abruptly.

Biao turned his head, his face turning ashen at the sight of Li Ping'an: "You... you are..."

"What? Can't you recognize an old acquaintance?" Li Ping'an said cheerfully, his gaze icy. "If you hadn't ratted me out back then, would Miyamoto Musashi have chased me through the streets?"

Biao's calf cramped; he abruptly turned and fled!

Li Ping'an didn't chase, but followed at a leisurely pace. When Biao slipped into an Alley, Li went into the same Alley; when Biao scaled a wall, Li scaled the same wall, always staying about three zhang away, like a cat playing with a mouse.

Finally Biao could run no more, collapsing in a dead‑end, gasping: "Li... Li Ye... spare me..."

Li Ping'an walked over slowly, crouched, and patted his face: "Tell me, why did you betray me back then?"

Biao was on the verge of crying: "It was pork‑fat clouding my mind; I didn't realize you were a true Buddha. You spared my little life."

Li Ping'an's gaze hardened; he grabbed Biao's collar. "Because of your pork‑fat clouding, I was almost blown apart by stray bullets! How do you reckon this debt?"

A nearby henchman tried to step forward, but Biao shouted, "Get out! You want to kill me!"

He turned his face and forced out a grin uglier than crying: "Li Ye, can I not repay? I've saved some cash over the years, all for you..."

Li Ping'an released him, a half‑smile on his lips: "Oh? Then show me the way."

Biao's home was deep within the Alley. He pulled a small Iron Box from a kang opening, inside neatly packed thirty small yellow fish.

"That's... that's all..." Biao shivered, his flesh aching.

Li Ping'an weighed it, slipped it into his pocket: "Fine, that's settled. But Biao—" he lowered his voice, "if I ever learn you're still snitching, next time we meet won't be so courteous."

When he emerged from the Alley, the sunset was perfect. Li Ping'an squinted at the sky, his mind clear—people like Biao never change; a dog can't stop eating feces.

Sure enough, as he rounded the corner, he heard a commotion erupting from Biao's courtyard.

"Biao Ge, you just let him take it? That's what we saved for years!" "So what? You going to steal it back?" "Or... we report to the Police Station? Say he's a Communist..."

Li Ping'an sneered, slipped into the shadows. Divine Perception spread like a net, hearing every sound in the courtyard with crystal clarity.

Biao shouted, "You mother‑f***ing death‑seeker, stop pulling me! Li Ping'an survived the Japanese Soldiers' gunfire and is still alive—it's not you I can mess with! Believe it or not, he's right there listening!"

The henchman fell silent instantly.

Li Ping'an shook his head, turned, and melted into the crowd. He had no time to deal with these scraps; finding his sister was urgent.

After wandering the Front Gate street, he set his sights on a small courtyard. The landlord, a grizzled old man, initially ignored him because of his plain clothes, until Li Ping'an produced a small yellow fish.

"Fine, fine!" the old man's eyes lit up. "This courtyard just became vacant; you've got it!"

After settling in, Li Ping'an stood in the middle of the courtyard, surveying. There were two north rooms, a small kitchen; though old, they were fairly tidy. Most importantly, it was close to the Front Gate and well‑connected.

Early the next morning, he began inquiring about the whereabouts of Lin Ji Cloth Shop.

"Lin Ji Cloth Shop?" the teahouse attendant said, wiping the table. "There seems to be one outside the Front Gate, but I don't know if the owner's surname is Lin."

Li Ping'an's heart leapt; he tossed a few copper coins and headed out.

Outside the Front Gate, shops lined the street; after checking each, he finally saw a sign at the grain store corner: Lin Ji Silk and Cloth Shop.

The shop was small but kept quite clean. Behind the counter sat a gentleman wearing magnifying glasses, busy calculating.

Li Ping'an stood under the eaves of the opposite tea house, motionless for a long time. Four years have passed, finally he has gotten a clue.

He recalled the day Ping Le was taken away, wearing a patched flowered shirt, her hair braided neatly; back then he had no choice but to sell his sister to Lin Ji Bu Zhuang, otherwise survival would be a problem. Lin Guan Jia pulled her to leave, and the little girl clung desperately to his cuff, tears swirling in her eyes but she held back from crying.

"Brother, is there candy to eat in the cloth shop?" That was the last thing his sister said to him.

Li Ping'an's nose felt sour; he quickly lifted his head to look at the sky. Beiping's sky was still that blue, just lacking a decent home.

He sat in the tea house until the sun slanted west, watching people come and go at the cloth shop. Buddies, customers, porters delivering cloth... but he never saw the girl named Ping Le.

At dusk, the cloth shop closed its doors. Li Ping'an followed from afar that old shopkeeper, watching him enter a siheyuan in an alley.

He stood outside the courtyard gate for a while, until lights lit up inside the courtyard.

Returning to his rented small courtyard, Li Ping'an took out an iron box from his space. Inside he carefully kept the silver bracelet left by his mother, and the clapper drum Ping Le played with as a child.

He placed the bracelet against his chest, as if he could feel his mother's body temperature.

"Mother, I have found a clue." He whispered softly, "I will definitely bring Ping Le back, so you can rest in peace underground."

Outside the window, Beiping's night had just begun.