Chapter Seventy-Three: Preparing to Take Action

After spending two days at the embassy, he had become well acquainted with everyone inside. Whether it was the elderly Qing Dynasty maid in the backyard doing laundry, or the Frenchman Montot, who attended to Minister Shirley’s daily needs, they all held Yang Xiaolin in high regard.

This “Lu San” was witty in conversation, meticulous in his work, and always eager to help others—such a person was welcome wherever he went.

Yang Xiaolin’s fight with those South Asian servants, his refusal to be bullied, earned him the admiration of all the Chinese people in the embassy. Even Wu Daoliang’s attitude toward him became particularly amiable.

Whenever he had free time, Yang Xiaolin would wander outside, and soon he had a good grasp of the situation in Legation Street. The foreigners there were exceedingly afraid for their lives. To prevent any attacks by the Chinese, nearly every street in Legation Street was manned by sentries. Any Chinese person entering, regardless of their status or whether they had a pass, would be searched.

Moreover, if anyone became suspicious of you as you walked down the street, they could immediately come up to question you. The sentries had this authority, and so did the soldiers from various countries guarding their embassies.

As the date of the banquet drew closer, Yang Xiaolin still hadn’t come up with a suitable plan to pull off his “deal,” and was becoming increasingly anxious.

This sort of operation required inside and outside cooperation—someone inside to scout the place, decide where to act, and how to move things out—all needing specialized people. There also had to be someone outside to provide cover afterwards, and others to create delays so the act wouldn’t be discovered too quickly, ensuring a safe getaway.

No single person could manage all this, so he needed to find a way to bring in a few brothers.

The opportunity arose three days before the banquet. The French steward, Montot, declared that over two hundred guests had been invited to the event, and the twenty or so servants in the embassy were clearly insufficient. To ensure the banquet would outshine the Italian one, he decided to temporarily hire a few more hands from outside.

These helpers were only needed for a day, so Montot told Wu Daoliang that it would be best if the new hires were relatives or family members of those already working at the French embassy.

At first, Yang Xiaolin was taken aback by this request. He had already established “Lu San’s” background: he had only one relative—Lu Er, who had already passed on. If a group of relatives suddenly appeared, not only would it arouse suspicion in others, even Yang Xiaolin himself wouldn’t believe it.

But then Wu Daoliang privately instructed him to find a few trusted helpers. Shirley intended to serve a table of Chinese dishes for some important guests during the banquet, and Yang Xiaolin was to be in charge of it. This made him genuinely excited.

He immediately returned to Lumo Zong and gathered his brothers.

In the past two days, the men had kept out of trouble. Biaozi had done an excellent job, arranging their movements each day, while the rest stayed quietly at home. They had thoroughly scouted the outskirts of Beijing, and Biaozi had even worked out two escape routes in case their plan succeeded or failed, which pleased Yang Xiaolin greatly.

Combining his inside knowledge with what the others had learned, Yang Xiaolin and Biaozi began to discuss the details of their action. “Biaozi, among our brothers, who else can cook?”

Biaozi pointed to a tall man. “Third Brother can. He’s been making all our meals these past few days.”

Third Brother shrank back a bit. “Chief, I’m not really up to it. I can cook well enough for us, but I’m no professional chef.”

Yang Xiaolin brushed aside his concerns. “You just need to put on an act. Can you handle chopping vegetables?”

Third Brother nodded. “That I can do.”

Yang Xiaolin made the decision at once. “Good, then tomorrow you and Biaozi will come with me to the embassy kitchen.”

Biaozi and Third Brother both nodded, and Yang Xiaolin looked at Lumo Zong. “Mo Zong, you take four brothers and help with odd jobs—probably cleaning. I’ve already spoken to Wu Daoliang; you have a Beijing accent, so he won’t suspect a thing. Pick whichever four you want, understand?”

Lumo Zong nodded. “Yes, got it.”

“Erganzhi, you take the rest and wait outside to provide backup. Once we’re inside tomorrow, we might not be able to send any messages out. You know the teahouse on the west side of Legation Street? Wait for us there.”

Erganzhi was, after all, not as foolish as his nickname suggested. To survive as a bandit for so many years, he had his own methods. “That teahouse won’t do. They close too early each night. Next door is a small tavern, ‘Little Pour Tavern,’ just a few steps away. I’ll have the brothers wait there.”

Yang Xiaolin pointed a finger at him. “No drinking.”

“Understood.”

Biaozi did a quick count, then asked, “Chief, isn’t eight men a bit too few?”

Yang Xiaolin nodded. “It is, but we can’t use any more. Everyone inside needs to stay sharp, and the same goes for those outside. Erganzhi, on the day of the banquet, I’ll have Biaozi go out to buy groceries, with a foreigner escort. You must find a way to get the guns to us, understand?”

Erganzhi replied, “Don’t worry, Chief. You won’t go in empty-handed.”

Guns were, indeed, the most important thing. Nearly every foreigner in Beijing was armed these days. Minister Shirley kept his pistol beside him even when eating. Kidnapping them couldn’t be done with kitchen knives—Yang Xiaolin was not one of those Boxer rebels and didn’t believe that knives were more intimidating than guns.

Yang Xiaolin looked at Biaozi. “Anything else to add?”

Biaozi said, “Chief, I’ve secured a big house. In case we run into trouble after leaving Legation Street, we’ll have a place to hide.”

Better to be prepared—another good suggestion. However, big mansions were usually owned by wealthy families who might not be willing to rent to them.

Yang Xiaolin looked at Biaozi. “Did you find one already?”

Biaozi replied, “I did, but I think it would be better if you went to negotiate.”

Yang Xiaolin paused, then understood. “Don’t tell me you have your eye on the Zhao family’s house? A widow with a child—let’s not bring them trouble.”

Biaozi didn’t reply, but his expression became a little odd. The other brothers also looked at Yang Xiaolin with meaningful eyes, making him uneasy. Yang Xiaolin knocked on the table. “Stop looking at me like that. I just think we shouldn’t drag a widow into this! She wants to live a peaceful life—let’s not get her involved. Lumo Zong, return the house tomorrow and pay double the rent, understood?”

But Lumo Zong didn’t answer. He leaned in. “Chief, I think you should go yourself. The young mistress of the Zhao family wants to see you.”

Yang Xiaolin was surprised. “She wants to see me? What for?”

Biaozi and the others gave him a look that said, “If you don’t know, how would we?” “No idea, she won’t tell us.”

The Zhao family’s young mistress had come to see Yang Xiaolin the day before. She wanted to borrow some money—to put up a tombstone for young master Zhao.

In Beijing, it was tradition to erect a tombstone one year after a person was buried.