Chapter 121: Fronte's Discovery

"What, something on your mind?" Because Zhou Sen was recuperating at the Ningxiang Pavilion, Bai Yulan spent much more time in his room, and their relationship had progressed a step further as a result.

Bai Yulan was naturally changing herself as well; she could no longer treat him as she had before, in order to adapt to their new relationship and roles.

"Yulan, after we get married, what should you call me?" Zhou Sen turned his head to ask.

Bai Yulan felt her cheeks flush. Zhou Sen’s train of thought had jumped a little too quickly; how had he suddenly arrived at this topic?

"What do you want me to call you?" Bai Yulan reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling as she countered.

"Darling? No, that’s too mushy; it gives me goosebumps. Master? No, I’m not old enough for that—it makes me sound ancient. Young Master? That feels like some kind of playboy, doesn't suit my temperament at all. A-Sen? Sounds like a servant..."

Listening to Zhou Sen mutter to himself, clearly taking the question seriously, Bai Yulan couldn't help but rest her hand against her forehead.

"Why not just call me 'Master'? That’s quite good!"

No sooner had the words left Zhou Sen's mouth than Bai Yulan gave him a sharp rap on the forehead. "Do you take me for that kind of woman? 'Master'? Do you really think of yourself as some grand lord?"

"Then you tell me what to call me. We can't just have no titles at home, can we?" Zhou Sen rubbed his forehead, nursing the pain.

"You're younger than me, so just call you Little Sen," Bai Yulan suggested after a moment's thought.

"Where am I little?"

"Stop picking up the flowery, frivolous talk of those playboys." Bai Yulan shot him a fierce glare. What kind of work was she in? How could she not understand the hidden meaning in Zhou Sen’s words?

Seeing her angry expression, Zhou Sen felt a stir in his heart and couldn't resist reaching out to rest his hand on her shapely hip.

"My dear wife..."

"Forget it, 'husband.' I'm leaving. Get some rest early." Bai Yulan stood up calmly.

"Don't go yet, let's chat a while longer. The night is long..." The sensation was too good; it had only been a little while, and he wasn't satisfied yet.

This little enchantress...

...

Bai Yulan left the room, closing the door without looking back. Lying in bed, Zhou Sen sighed. The road ahead is long and arduous, and I shall seek its truth high and low!

Life, he mused, is truly a heavy burden with a long road to travel.

Checking the time, Zhou Sen sat up slightly and turned on the radio on his nightstand, adjusting the volume to a level that could only be heard within the room.

Then, he tuned the frequency to the one he remembered. Ever since moving into the Ningxiang Pavilion and obtaining the radio, he had done this every night.

However, he had never heard that fable again.

Intuition told him that the fable was related to both himself and Father Anthony, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what the connection was.

In his current situation, how would Arman try to contact him?

Zhou Sen speculated. He wasn't a professional agent, so his thinking was bound to have limitations. After all, many methods of contact used by agents were so inconceivable that a normal person would never think of them.

Therefore, it had to be something conventional—something a normal person could do and would think of, otherwise, it would be like playing the lute for a cow.

He remembered the time he called the Soviet Consulate from the Modern Hotel. He had used a flashlight to illuminate his watch; that call had been timed down to the second...

Eight-fourteen. If one were to reinterpret that time, it could be understood as 81.4 megahertz...

Would Arman use this method to get in touch with him?

Zhou Sen didn't know, but it was worth a try. If nothing happened, there would be no consequences anyway.

Zhou Sen slowly turned the tuning knob, bringing the frequency near that number, and then began fine-tuning.

*Sssss...*

It was just static. He turned it circle after circle, his patience nearly exhausted. Perhaps the timing was wrong. Zhou Sen was almost ready to give up and try again tomorrow when his hand gave a slight tremor.

A voice reached his ears.

It was a man broadcasting a story about the Virgin Mary. The content was naturally familiar to Zhou Sen; after all, he had lived in the home of a Russian Orthodox believer for over a decade. He might not have been a believer himself, but he understood the tenets and customs of the Orthodox Church.

However, it was strange that Father Anthony, a devout Orthodox believer, never forced him to attend church gatherings or rituals.

He had guessed it was because he was Chinese, but there was likely another possibility—though there was no one left to ask now.

He didn't know if the story was on a loop; after all, to tell the entire life of the Virgin Mary would take a very long time.

Zhou Sen couldn't possibly listen to the whole thing.

The Orthodox Church places the Lord and the Virgin Mary on equal footing; Orthodox churches worship both, which is different from Christian churches.

There were several such Orthodox churches in the Ice City, but only one was dedicated solely to the Virgin Mary: the Church of the Intercession of the Holy Virgin.

(The above is derived from research and analysis. If there are errors, please feel free to correct them. The author is not familiar with foreign religions and relies on online materials. This book is a fictional background based on a real city and has no connection to reality. Please understand.)

If this was a message released by Arman, was he trying to arrange a meeting at the Church of the Intercession of the Holy Virgin?

The Japanese were not fools. If they were also monitoring this frequency, would they be able to decipher the meaning?

One had to remember that the Japanese intelligence agencies included many "Cheka" defectors from the Soviet Union. They were very familiar with the "Cheka" way of doing things, were fluent in Russian, and understood the internal situation of the Soviet Union.

Furthermore, they were in the shadows. Once he appeared, he would be under suspicion. Even if he played the part of a woman again, it would be difficult...

Arman's whereabouts would certainly be under heavy surveillance by the Japanese. Even if he could move around, there was no guarantee he wouldn't be discovered.

In his current state, he couldn't leave. He had to find a way to make contact so that he could control the power of the meeting; that might be the safest way.

What a headache...

If only he had a radio transmitter. The Japanese wouldn't have the ability to track him the moment he sent a message.

...

While Zhou Sen was at the Ningxiang Pavilion and Irina was in the hospital for observation, Front decided to move into Zhou Sen’s home on Gaoshi Street.

Although he had thoroughly searched every possible hiding place in Zhou Sen’s home, he was still not satisfied.

If the roster couldn't be found, Zhou Sen might be fine, as he was likely an outsider who truly knew nothing.

But he was different. He had been sent specifically to assist Zhou Sen in finding the roster. Zhou Sen could afford to be lazy, but he could not.

His eyes were bloodshot from searching; he hadn't closed his eyes for two nights.

He thought and thought.

There was only one place he had been once and never returned to: the small attic on the top floor, the dirty and smelly cat house.

He didn't like cats to begin with, and he loathed that sickening smell.

Front found a towel to cover his nose and mouth, put on gloves, grabbed a flashlight, and once again climbed up to that terrifying place.

The key to the door lock was still there. Front reached out, touched it, and easily unlocked the door.

He took a breath of fresh air and pulled the door open.

A nauseating odor rushed toward him; even with the towel covering his nose and mouth, he could barely withstand it.

Front suppressed his urge to vomit and shone his flashlight inside. It was exactly as it had been when he and Zhou Sen were there last time—nothing had changed.

Using a wooden stick he had prepared, he pushed aside the dead rat on the floor to clear a path.

The attic was originally hollowed out; supports had been installed and floorboards laid down. Over time, the boards had inevitably weakened, so he had to tread carefully.

He observed the situation in the attic; the only place to hide something was the cat house built of logs in front of him.

That little beast really knew how to enjoy life. So many poor people didn't even have a decent place to shelter from the wind and rain, yet it had such a cozy nest. These rich people's cats were truly different.

The cat named Lucy had been taken away by Zhou Sen, so he didn't have to worry about it coming back suddenly to scare him. He knelt on one knee, reached into the cat house, and felt around.

He was cautious; even if there were no traps inside, there might be "wood splinters" or something that could cut his hand.

He felt around, finding nothing but hay and cotton batting.

Front didn't believe it. He cleared out all the hay and cotton, then lay flat on the ground and poked his head inside.

The cat house wasn't actually small. Front shoved not only his head but his entire upper body inside, lying down.

Holding the flashlight, he carefully shone it on every inch of the cat house's frame. Finally, he discovered a slight protrusion on the back of a crossbeam supporting the roof.

He reached out and touched it, feeling something wrong. Ignoring the filth, he used his teeth to pull off his glove and pried off a piece of wood.

He reached in again, and a small brass key appeared in his hand.

What was this?

Front’s eyes widened. He was instantly ecstatic and jerked his head up, *thud*—he slammed his forehead against the crossbeam, the pain making tears stream down his face.

Intuition told him that this key must be closely related to the "roster" he was looking for. Anthony was crafty enough to hide things in such an unexpected place.

It was truly beyond his imagination.

Having secured the key, an ecstatic Front climbed down from the attic and went straight to Zhou Sen’s study. He made a phone call to Shibuya Saburo, who was enjoying the services of a young and beautiful geisha.

The phone rang sharply. Startled, Shibuya Saburo shivered. Dragging his exhausted body, he irritably picked up the receiver. "Moshi, moshi, who is this?"

"Officer Shibuya, it’s me, Front..." Front began to report, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Nani? Return immediately! No, I will send someone to pick you up. Do not leave under any circumstances, and be sure to protect yourself!" Shibuya Saburo was incredibly agitated, his previous thought of tearing the caller limb from limb completely forgotten.