In the early morning, Xinjing is shrouded in a misty fog, and there are few vehicles and pedestrians on the road.

Postman Song Tianmeng, a 29-year-old young man, is tall, fair-skinned, and has a pair of big eyes. He was pushing his bicycle down the street slowly, preoccupied. In the past, he had to open the post box at the entrance of Kaiyun Street every morning, and according to the regulations, he would open it once at 12 noon and 4 o'clock in the afternoon every day to collect the mail and send it back to the post office. According to the organization's arrangement, every morning he received information from the mailbox under the pretext of checking whether it was damaged, and was responsible for forwarding it to the next traffic officer, so that it was neither conspicuous nor easily confused with other letters. However, for two days, every time I opened the mailbox in the morning, it was empty, or other normal letters, except for the letters with five-petal plum blossoms painted on the back. This is not normal. Ever since the Manchuria Provincial Party Committee asked Nalan Songhan to preside over the work of Xinjing, his request to all communication lines was that in order to keep the channels open, even if there was no task to be carried out, a blank intelligence letter should be written every day to ensure the normal operation of the intelligence network.

However, this situation made Song Tianmeng restless for a few days, and he thought that there was no intelligence letter today, and he had to activate the emergency traffic officer on the third day according to the agreement to notify the organization to do a good job of remedial work. Each of the 3 lines of communication does not cross each other, and maintains a single-line connection with the Xinjing Party organization.

Unconsciously, Song Tianmeng walked to the post box at the entrance of Kaiyun Street, and hopefully opened the small door under the post box with a key, which was empty, because he had already collected the remaining letters at four o'clock yesterday afternoon.

He was a little frustrated, but he didn't dare to slack off, so he quickly locked the mailbox, got on his bicycle, and quickly disappeared into the fog.

Zhao Ou, deputy director of Kuancheng Railway Station, is a member of the Xinjing Party Organization, specializing in intelligence work, and has just been on the night shift, spreading out his navy blue uniform, rubbing his beard with his right hand, and leaving the station room sleepily, humming in a Beijing accent, "I am watching the mountains in the city tower - Jing ——, ears can hear the chaos outside the city......

There was a worker at the station who walked by, "Go home, Sixth Brother!" ”

"Ah...... Go home ......" Just as he yawned and responded, he saw such a notice posted on the "information board" on the edge of the station square - "Missing person notice, an old man is lost, and there is no hair on his head; He was my second uncle, and he saw the manger. Donkey hurry! Immanuel Kant three years of autumn month. ”

After Zhao Ou saw this notice, he immediately fell asleep, took three steps and made two steps, and walked to the bungalow area opposite the station, which was once a Russian railway workers' settlement, after the Japanese took over the South Manchurian Railway, the Russians were evacuated, and many South Manchurian conscripted railway workers lived here.

Someone saw him still not forgetting to joke, "Sixth brother? Why is it on night duty again? Anxious to go home to see your sister-in-law? ”

"Go-go-come!" Where did Zhao Ou still listen to this, strode into No. 52 Hongcaigou Hutong, pushed open the door of the pine plank courtyard, and saw his wife Ma Cuihua cooking on the earthen stove at the edge of the courtyard, "The rice is not good?" Damn. ”

"You said you, you were in a hurry when you got home, it's not good. You pour it in the house for a while, and when you are ready, you will be greeted with cabbage and potstickers. ”

"Pull it down, don't eat it yet. You get your clothes out, I've got to get out on business. Although Zhao Ou was hungry, he couldn't delay, he pulled up the squatting mother-in-law and walked into the house.

"You said you, you haven't slept well all night, what do you have to go out for?" Ma Cui chattered.

"You scumbag, what are you talking about? Ma Yu found me a daughter-in-law. Zhao Ou slapped his wife's ass twice with his hand without smiling.

"Master, come back early—" Ma Cuihua said affectionately with a wink.

"Go--this woman is looking for a fight-"

Zhao Ou changed into brown trousers, picked up a jacket and put it on his body, thinking that this gown was still bought by Nalan, he hadn't been on it a few times, smelled the fragrance of vegetables on the stove in the yard, chirped, picked up half a cucumber on the cutting board, and went out of the house.

"Boss, come back early-" Ma Cuihua shouted behind her fat body.

Zhao Ou came to the corner of the street and stopped a rickshaw, "Master, go to the Pan Asian Metropolis." ”

(End of chapter)