Chapter 221: Moon

On New Year's Day 1950, Gongde Lin made an exception and improved the meals; at the noon table appeared pork‑and‑cabbage dumplings, twenty per person, plus a small dish of vinegar, and the war criminals carried enamel rice bowls, sat around the cafeteria, and ate with sweat beading on their foreheads.

Du Yuming picked up a dumpling, dipped it in vinegar, and said with emotion, "This is the first dumpling I've eaten since arriving at Gongde Lin."

Huang Wei ate quickly, already finishing ten, and said vaguely, "The Republic still claims humanity; they even give dumplings for the New Year."

Li Yuxuan ate slowly, chewing and swallowing carefully. His stomach was weak, and the doctor advised him to eat small, frequent meals. Yet with today's dumplings he ate very seriously, one after another, as if completing some ritual.

The cafeteria broadcast was playing the New Year's editorial, People's Daily's "Complete Victory, Consolidate Victory." The announcer's resonant, forceful voice echoed through the cafeteria:

"…1949 was the year the Huaxia people achieved a great victory… 1950, our task is to continue completing national liberation, restoring and developing the national economy, and consolidating people's democratic dictatorship…"

Du Yuming leaned in, listening, and whispered to Li Yuxuan, "Director, does this mean the Southwest hasn't been fully liberated?"

"Probably not," Li Yuxuan put down his chopsticks, "I read the newspaper the day before yesterday; it said the Second Field Army, under the command of Liu He 1516, is still suppressing bandits in Sichuan and Yunnan. The Kuomintang remnants are colluding with local bandits, and the scale is not small."

Wang Yaowu interjected, "When I was in Shandong, I heard that the bandits in Sichuan numbered over a hundred thousand, all of them… all were scattered soldiers left behind when the Kuomintang retreated, plus local gang members and secret societies."

"Over a hundred thousand?" Huang Wei widened his eyes, "Then how long will the suppression take?"

"It depends on how we suppress it," Li Yuxuan wiped his mouth, "If it's only a military sweep, it's hard. The bandits know the terrain, they fragment; you advance they retreat, you retreat they harass. We need a three‑pronged approach—military, political, and economic. Military strikes the backbone, politics divides and coerces, economics solves livelihoods so the people have food and no one wants to be a bandit."

That remark was spot on. Du Yuming nodded, "Director is right. Back then when we suppressed that area… when we fought the Red Army, we relied only on the military, and the more we suppressed, the more they appeared."

The broadcast continued: "…imperialism and the reactionary Kuomintang are unwilling to accept defeat and continue various sabotage activities. We must stay vigilant and resolutely crack down on all counter‑revolutionary sabotage…"

After the meal, the war criminals returned to their dormitories for a nap. Li Yuxuan did not sleep; he sat by the window, leafing through the newly delivered newspapers—Gongde Lin's management was becoming increasingly regulated, and now each dormitory subscribed to the People's Daily and the Guangming Daily.

The front page of the January 2 People's Daily carried a report: "Southwest Military Region Headquarters Issues Anti‑Bandit War Report." The article said that since December 1949, the Second Field Army has annihilated over 30,000 bandit fighters in the Sichuan, Yunnan, and Guizhou areas, seizing a large cache of weapons, but "the bandit problem remains serious, and the anti‑bandit struggle has entered a critical stage."

The article mentioned the bandits' tactics: "They often disguise themselves as civilians to infiltrate villages and towns, attack grassroots authorities, sabotage transportation lines, and spread rumors…"

Li Yuxuan set the newspaper down and looked out the window. The Southwest—that was a place he had once managed. Before the 1931 anti‑Japanese war, he served as director of the Southwest Mobile Camp of the Military Committee, training troops in Sichuan, Yunnan, and Guizhou. At that time he indeed commanded an army of three hundred thousand, but later…

Later everything went with Li Nian'an to the Nanyang.

Thinking of his son, Li Yuxuan took a letter from the drawer. It had been received half a month ago, forwarded from Hong Kong. The letter was written by Li Nian'an, using a business‑letter format, tucked inside a copy of a rubber export contract—this was the secret code the father and son had agreed upon.

The letter was brief, only saying, "South Sea business is going smoothly, we've established a foothold, don't worry." But Li Yuxuan knew his son's territory in Borneo had likely expanded. Of the three hundred thousand former troops, not all could be taken, but the core few tens of thousands should have gone. There are troops, ports, and resources; in the Nanyang, where colonial power is waning and local warlords are weak, one can indeed carve out a realm.

"Director, what are you thinking?" Du Yuming pushed the door open, holding a chessboard, "Play two games?"

Li Yuxuan folded the letter away: "Fine."

Meanwhile, in a courtyard house within Yanjing City.

Inside, the lights were off, the curtains drawn tight. Three people sat around a table, on which lay a hand‑drawn map of Gongde Lin.

"This is the latest situation," said a man in his forties, wearing a cotton robe, looking like a teacher but with sharp eyes, "Gongde Lin is divided into four zones: East Zone holds senior war criminals, Li Yuxuan is in Hao Fang; West Zone holds mid‑level officers; South Zone holds civilian officials; North Zone is the administrative office and dormitories for staff."

"Guard situation?" asked a young man wearing glasses.

"Outside there's a reinforced company, four corner towers have sentry posts, with 24‑hour patrols. Inside each zone has two shifts, rotating day and night. Because Li Yuxuan is a 'key monitored individual,' there's usually a guard at his door."

"Difficult," the third person shook his head, "A forced entry is impossible. What about bribing the inside?"

"We've tried," the middle‑aged man lowered his voice, "Gongde Lin's administrators are carefully selected by the Republic, politically reliable, and well‑paid. We've approached two people; one demanded too high a price, the other immediately reported us—thankfully our agents withdrew quickly."

Silence fell in the room. Outside, the wind howled.

"The superior's intent is clear," the middle‑aged man finally said, "The old man wants to rescue Li Yuxuan, but the superior says Li Yuxuan knows too many secrets. During the anti‑Japanese war he handled the Third War Zone's contacts with the United States and the Soviet Union. He was involved in the behind‑the‑scenes deals of the 1945 Kuomintang–Communist negotiations in Shancheng. He was aware of the 1948 internal power struggles among the Kuomintang elite. Now he's in the Republic's hands, and if—"

He didn't finish, but the other two understood.

"What then?" the young man asked.

"Two options," the middle‑aged man raised two fingers, "First, create an opportunity for him to 'die naturally.' His stomach is weak and he's constantly taking medicine. Our people have gotten close to Gongde Lin's doctor, but haven't succeeded yet."

"And the second?"

"Second, convey a message, let him know we're outside, and let him… figure out his own way out."

"That's even more impossible," the glasses‑wearer shook his head, "Gongde Lin is under tight security; how could he get out?"

"So the focus is the first option," the middle‑aged man pulled a small paper packet from his coat, "This is a newly obtained drug, colorless and tasteless, to be mixed into food or medicine; after three days it causes heart failure, looking like a sudden heart attack. As long as we get it in…"

"How to deliver it?"

"Gongde Lin allows families to deliver items once every half month. Li Yuxuan's son, Officer Li Xuewen, is in the Nanyang, but he still has a few former subordinates in Beiping, though they're monitored, we can try," the middle‑aged man paused, "If that fails, there's a final move—lacing Gongde Lin's food supply with the drug to cause a mass poisoning, and strike amid the chaos…"

"Too risky!" the young man objected, "Gongde Lin's food procurement and preparation follow strict procedures; our people can't get into the kitchen at all."

The three argued for a while longer, and finally decided: first concentrate forces to get close to the doctor while searching for other delivery routes. If nothing works within a month, they'll consider a more extreme plan.

The meeting ended, and the three left the courtyard house one after another, disappearing into the alleys of Yanjing's winter night.

What they didn't know was that on the opposite roof, two public security investigators in cotton coats had been watching this spot for three days.

"Recorded?" the senior investigator asked.

"Recorded," the younger one wrote quickly in his notebook, "The one in the cotton robe is the deputy station chief of the Secret Bureau's Yanjing Station, alias 'Lao Chen.' The one with glasses is a former military communications technician; the third is a local Qing gang member. They plan to act against Li Yuxuan in Hao Fang."

"Continue surveillance, don't alert them," the senior said, "When they contact their superiors, we'll sweep them up in one net."