Chapter 100: Feint East, Strike West

“Let’s go to the Yamato Hotel...” As Armand’s car just turned onto Central Avenue, he suddenly instructed the driver.

“Yes, sir.” The driver dared not ask any questions and immediately changed direction.

...

“There’s no one in the room that made the call, and no one checked in. Are you sure?” Saburo Shibuya asked after receiving a call from Section Chief Sadakichi Kawai of the Special Higher Police, who was lying in wait at the Madiel Hotel.

“What? That’s impossible. Are you sure there’s no mistake? Could it be an issue with the hotel’s phone lines?” Shibuya abruptly stood up from his chair, questioning sharply.

“Your Excellency Shibuya, there’s no mistake. We’ve checked multiple times. Room 207, from which the call was made, has no occupant tonight, and there’s no sign that anyone has entered or disturbed the room,” Kawai confirmed decisively.

“What about Armand? Has he arrived yet?”

“Not yet. I’ve stationed people at the entrance, lobby, restaurant, and corridors. The moment he appears, I’ll know immediately.”

“Be careful. Don’t underestimate Armand just because he’s a diplomat. He is also a seasoned intelligence operative,” Saburo Shibuya solemnly warned. This Soviet vice-consul was no easy adversary; Shibuya had learned that the hard way.

“Yes, sir!”

...

Time ticked by slowly, unbearable for Zhousen inside the room, and just as long for Kawai. If Armand didn’t show up, tonight’s entire setup would be ruined.

Now, the surveillance point reported that the Soviet consulate general’s Armand’s car had left. At this hour, who else but Armand would be using that vehicle?

Judging by the time, he should have arrived by now. So why was there no sign of him?

Kawai was nearly cursing in frustration. If not for the fear of being discovered, he would have sent someone to tail him all the way, but so far, Armand’s people had not appeared.

Zhousen observed Central Avenue from the window. The room was dark, with the curtains drawn slightly open to catch the neon lights outside, allowing him to see the hotel entrance. However, he could only monitor that one direction; the other side was out of view.

According to his calculations, unless Armand took a deliberate detour, he should be coming from the consulate in the direction visible to him.

He also calculated the time but had no idea if or when Armand would come.

Half an hour had passed since the Japanese came to verify identification.

He had yet to see Armand’s car, let alone Armand himself. He was anxious but also secretly hoped Armand wouldn’t arrive.

Whether Armand came or not, the Japanese would likely investigate the guests at the Madiel Hotel, which could lead them to the name “Natasha.”

Of course, the name “Natasha” might exist, but the person behind it might not, making this identity unfortunately useless.

Zhousen could not leave now; doing so would surely arouse suspicion.

An hour passed, and Armand still hadn’t shown. He knew Armand wouldn’t come; the man must have understood the purpose of his call. This realization eased his tension.

...

“What? Armand went to the Yamato Hotel...” Zhousen was unaware that Kawai had just received a call from Saburo Shibuya.

Armand hadn’t come to the Madiel Hotel but to the Yamato Hotel, two completely different places.

They had been deceived.

Damn it!

This diversion tactic infuriated Shibuya when he was informed. Purposely having someone make a call at the Madiel Hotel, while the actual meeting was arranged elsewhere — it was a clear ruse.

The Soviets had long known their phone lines were compromised and had orchestrated this all deliberately.

...

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside the door. Forgetting all caution, Zhousen tiptoed over and pressed his ear to the door, hearing a Japanese agent in the corridor shout, “Quickly, to the Yamato Hotel immediately...”

Hearing this, Zhousen was momentarily puzzled—why were the Japanese agents rushing to the Yamato Hotel? But then it dawned on him.

He realized Armand’s intention.

Knowing the Madiel Hotel was likely a trap set by the Japanese, with himself possibly trapped there, Armand naturally wouldn’t come.

He used this diversion to draw the Japanese agents away from the Madiel Hotel, convincing them that the call was a mere decoy and that his real destination was the Yamato Hotel.

This cleared all suspicion from the guests at the Madiel Hotel, ensuring Zhousen’s safety among them.

A brilliant move!

Now, Armand would have to find a way to contact him. At this point, he might not even know who Zhousen really was or when he would set out.

Zhousen looked forward to seeing how it would unfold.

This dangerous game on the edge of death was truly thrilling. He downed the red wine in his glass and went straight to bed.

Zhousen didn’t dare sleep deeply.

He woke before six in the morning, washed up, refreshed his makeup, then checked out, dragging his small suitcase as the front desk clerk wished him a pleasant day.

After confirming he wasn’t being followed, Zhousen entered a public restroom in a nearby park, which was nearly empty at this hour.

He quickly changed back into men’s clothing and caught an early train.

“Senpai...”

“Shh, keep your voice down. Don’t alert anyone.” Zhousen found it easy to enter the Ningxiang Pavilion; he didn’t even need Ah Xiang to open the door for him.

He happened upon Ah Xiang preparing breakfast.

“Senpai, how did you get in? I thought the doors were locked?” Ah Xiang’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Your door lock is no challenge for me,” Zhousen grinned. “Remember, I slept here last night, didn’t come this morning. Got it?”

“Why?”

“You’ll understand later. If anyone asks, you have to say that; otherwise, I’ll get into trouble. Of course, if no one asks, just keep quiet...”

“I understand. No one will say a word.”

“Smart. Here’s a reward.” Zhousen smiled and playfully flicked Ah Xiang’s delicate nose.

“What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

“Cornmeal porridge, steamed corn bread, and rice cakes,” Ah Xiang replied.

“Good. Bring me a bowl too—I haven’t eaten breakfast yet.” Zhousen was indeed hungry; he had eaten little last night, only half a bottle of red wine.

“Okay.”

“Why are you here?” Bai Yulan was surprised to see Zhousen having breakfast.

“I came last night. Didn’t tell Ah Xiang to let you know,” Zhousen chuckled, glancing at Ah Xiang.

“Oh, um, yes...” Ah Xiang’s voice was hesitant; it was clear she wasn’t good at lying.

Bai Yulan sensed something was amiss but wisely refrained from pressing further to avoid awkwardness.

Zhousen, famished, took a large sip of the warm cornmeal porridge, which immediately eased his hunger by a third.

A bite of salty pickles, a mouthful of porridge, then a nibble of steamed bread—he wouldn’t trade this even for the finest feast.

“Today I’m meeting Mrs. Fu, the owner of Fu Cheng Company, to discuss our renovation project. Do you have any instructions?” Bai Yulan sipped her porridge slowly.

“How’s Fu Cheng’s reputation? I’m not familiar with the renovation business.”

“Very good. They handled the projects for Quanye Department Store and the New World Grand Hotel,” Bai Yulan said. “Mrs. Fu has been in the business over twenty years—it’s a prestigious construction and renovation company in Ice City.”

“Alright, you’re in charge then. I hereby appoint you as general manager of ‘Sen’ Corporation, and Ah Xiang will be your assistant.”

Bai Yulan gave Zhousen a glance but didn’t object. With Zhousen going into closed training, the company needed someone reliable; the secretary Anna was out of the question.

The Ningxiang Pavilion’s tea house also required renovation, purchasing tea sets, and staff training. She would be busier than ever in the coming days.

Once Bai Yulan was officially general manager, it essentially announced to the world that their husband-and-wife business was open.

“What about Wuen while you’re in training?”

“Why not lend him to you? Besides strength and obedience, he’s good for little else,” Zhousen chuckled. If Wuen were smarter, he’d train him more seriously. Though not very bright, his loyalty made him trustworthy.

Old Gu and Ye Saner were useful but couldn’t be entrusted with secrets due to their obvious weaknesses.

Compared to them, Bai Yulan was more trustworthy—smart and understanding.

...

Zhousen arrived late and alone by train. Anna frowned slightly at this.

With Wuen accompanying him, she wouldn’t be worried. Though not clever, Wuen was an expert fighter and a reliable protector.

“Why are you alone? Didn’t Wuen come to pick you up?”

“Oh, I sent Wuen on an errand,” Zhousen explained.

“Do you realize your safety is vital to the empire’s grand cause? Why don’t you take better care of yourself?” Anna reproached.

“You overstate it. I’m just a lowly policeman. What influence could I have? You all insisted on pushing me forward.”

“Many would kill for this chance. Don’t be ungrateful,” Anna snorted.

“Whoever wants it can have it. I’m thankful,” Zhousen said nonchalantly.

Entering ‘Sen’ Corporation, they found a stranger inside—a man around thirty, short in stature, Caucasian, with a pale complexion as if just recovering from illness.

“Front, intelligence specialist, sent by Mr. Shibuya to assist you in locating the ‘roster,’” Anna introduced, pointing at the man.

“Hello.” Front extended his hand with a polite smile, humble in demeanor, speaking Japanese.

He probably assumed Zhousen was Japanese.

Zhousen smiled awkwardly, shook his hand, and replied in Russian, “Hello, I’m not Japanese.”

Hearing Zhousen speak Russian and learning he wasn’t Japanese, Front’s eyes brightened immediately, and he straightened his posture considerably.