Chapter Thirty: Infiltration

Zhang Ye knew that, after all, this was a house dog—it hadn’t undergone any professional training. If it was hungry, it would eat, so he wasn’t in a hurry. Beside him, Liu Guangxiang remained wary; he didn’t keep his eyes fixed on the door, lest someone notice and their reasonable excuse turn into trouble, not to mention that what they were doing wasn’t exactly aboveboard.

“It ate it, the dog ate it. The drug will take a bit of time to work—let’s wait a few minutes,” Liu Guangxiang said, stepping away from the door and pacing about outside. He frequently surveyed the surroundings, his gaze sweeping over every corner, keeping an eye on the flow of people coming and going.

Zhang Ye was all too aware of the consequences of being discovered. In his past life, he’d been chased through several streets, which left him with lingering dread. If he had to go through that again now, he’d never live down the embarrassment.

They circled the surrounding streets a few times, and only when Monkey confirmed that the wolfdog was asleep did they approach the perimeter of Gao Ming’s house.

“All right, there’s not much else for you to do now. Stay outside and keep watch—let me know if Gao Ming comes back. You haven’t seen him before, but that doesn’t matter; his face is bruised from me hitting him. If you see someone with an injured face approaching, alert me.” As he spoke, Zhang Ye paced back and forth, surveying the environment.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Liu Guangxiang was nervous too—breaking into someone’s house in broad daylight was serious. But recalling what his cousin Liu Wentao had said, he asked anyway.

“No need,” Zhang Ye replied without looking back. He sprang forward, his body shooting up, and in an instant, he’d scaled the two-meter-high wall, clearing the top without even touching it, and landed on the other side.

Monkey Chen Fang stared in astonishment and exclaimed, “Amazing!” His eyes gleamed with admiration.

Liu Guangxiang felt his blood surge with excitement. He could climb a two or three meter wall himself, but never with such ease and grace. On top of that, the wall was lined with sharp shards of glass. He knew his cousin had learned boxing while in detention and was quite skilled, but he hadn’t expected Zhang Ye to be just as capable—if not more agile. “I wonder who’d win if the two fought?” he muttered, a thrill running through him.

He recalled the scene of his cousin splitting a long wooden bench with a single strike, and now Zhang Ye’s feat, almost like something out of a martial arts film, left him full of anticipation. At this time, kung fu movies were all the rage, and young men like them nursed a longing for martial arts that words could scarcely capture.

Zhang Ye vaulted over the wall, his body spreading midair, and landed as lightly as a cat, hardly making a sound. Once on the ground, he eyed the wolfdog sprawled at the entrance, hesitantly tossing a stone in its direction, his body tensed to flee at the first sign of a growl. His childhood fear of dogs lingered—he’d rather run into Gao Ming head-on than be chased by a snarling beast.

Fortunately, Liu Guangxiang had been reliable; the dog was already fast asleep, and Zhang Ye let out a breath of relief. He looked around, taking in the layout.

It was a two-story house. The yard was cluttered with miscellaneous items and a few flowers and plants, lending it a touch of freshness. The front door was tightly shut, indicating that the owner was out. The windows were all barred with iron grilles—wide enough for a kitten, but no person could squeeze through.

But this didn’t trouble Zhang Ye. On the second floor, there was a small open balcony with some clothes hanging out to dry—presumably belonging to that brute Gao Ming. Zhang Ye stretched, loosening his body, then took a running start. About two meters from the wall below the balcony, he leapt powerfully, soaring a meter and a half up. At the peak of his jump, he thrust his right foot against the wall, kicked hard, twisted his body, and grabbed the concrete pillar of the balcony four meters above. Using his momentum, he swung himself up and over.

Outside, Liu Guangxiang, who’d been keeping an eye on both the street and the house, was stunned—just like that, Zhang Ye had scaled a four-meter-high balcony.

“Incredible, absolutely incredible,” he blurted out, unable to suppress his admiration.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Monkey called from where he was keeping lookout.

Liu Guangxiang waved him off. “Nothing. Keep watching—stay alert.” He turned his attention back to the upper floor, still buzzing with excitement.

On the balcony, Zhang Ye frowned as he glanced down at the wall—his kick had left a faint footprint. Not obvious, but it could be found if someone looked closely. He realized this wasn’t the time to worry about such things and let the matter go, moving into the room.

The balcony was attached to a bedroom. The door was closed but, luckily, not locked—otherwise he’d have had to put in more effort. He opened it and entered a room of about forty or fifty square meters. No one lived here, but a spare bed and some other items suggested it was kept for guests.

Zhang Ye left the room, opened nearly every door on the upper floor for a quick look, then closed them again. None of them were Gao Ming’s bedroom, and he smiled wryly—of course, Gao Ming’s room was downstairs. He’d come in from above and searched the upper floor, only to find nothing.

Descending the stairs, Zhang Ye headed straight for the room to the left of the main entrance. That was Gao Ming’s room, as far as he remembered. The door was closed, and the house was a bit dark, but not enough to impede his movement. If he turned on a light, he’d only draw attention. At the bedroom door, he twisted the handle. Locked. But he wasn't concerned.

He crouched down, lifted the rectangular rug from beneath the door, and immediately found a metal key. Heart leaping, he slipped it into the lock, and sure enough, the door opened.

This came from his memories of a previous life—he’d once torn the whole house apart searching for this key. Clearly, old habits died hard.

Inside, the bedroom was about sixty square meters, but felt cozy rather than empty. The wardrobe and furniture were all there, along with a large color television, a VCR set up on a double-tiered rack by the wall, and even a desktop computer—the kind that looked like a black-and-white TV. Zhang Ye marveled at Gao Ming’s wealth and taste, but wasted no time and headed straight for his target.

It was one of the small tables beside Gao Ming’s bed, with two drawers. One was locked. Zhang Ye inserted the bedroom key—he’d tried this before, and it worked on the drawer as well.

Sure enough, he found a black notebook inside, with a fountain pen wedged in the middle, placed right on top as if it were used frequently.