Chapter 71: The Messenger Arrives

Nangang Police Station, second floor, Akiyama Nosuke’s office.

“Seeing how pale you look, did you have another argument with Zhou Sen?” Akiyama Nosuke chuckled as he approached Jin Suying upon her return.

“He’s been promoted, and his temper has grown with it.”

“That’s only natural. Power is the source of strength for men,” Akiyama Nosuke laughed. “A man who holds authority inevitably changes.”

“Mr. Akiyama, do you truly think it’s power that has made him this way?” Jin Suying retorted.

“What are you trying to say?” Akiyama Nosuke asked with a hint of amusement.

“I think he’s changed a lot recently. The way he speaks, his behavior—it’s as if he’s a different person altogether. Besides, he’s quite resistant to going to the Special Operations Division.”

“His changes are partly your responsibility. It’s not uncommon for a man’s temperament to shift when love turns to resentment. And there’s the matter with his adoptive father—he learned about it before you did. Losing a close relative can explain some of his behavior. As for his reluctance to join the Special Operations, I’ve noticed that too,” Akiyama Nosuke said.

“Since he doesn’t want to go, why are you assigning him there?” Jin Suying asked, puzzled.

“In truth, it’s not my decision. It’s Chief Shibuya’s arrangement. I’m not sure why he wants it, but orders from above are to be executed without question,” Akiyama Nosuke replied, unwilling to elaborate further, pushing the matter onto Saburo Shibuya.

“Chief Shibuya’s arrangement...” Jin Suying was taken aback.

“Have you chosen his assistant yet?” Akiyama Nosuke asked.

“There are a few candidates, but nothing final. Should we let him pick, or make the choice ourselves?” Jin Suying inquired.

“If we choose, will he trust them?”

“Why wouldn’t he? Does he have other ideas?”

“I’m certain he’ll select someone from his former subordinates to join him in the Special Operations Division. Old Gu is out of the question, so it’s down to Ye San and Wu En. Which do you think he’ll pick?” Akiyama Nosuke queried.

“Ye San is clever and slick, familiar with all aspects. Wu En, on the other hand, is clumsy and simply follows orders. I’d say he’ll choose Ye San; he needs someone agile and sharp to handle affairs for him,” Jin Suying analyzed.

Akiyama Nosuke smiled.

“Or might he actually pick Wu En?”

“It will be Wu En, without a doubt. The Special Operations Division isn’t like patrolling; loyalty matters more than skill,” Akiyama Nosuke said. “Just watch and see.”

“Should I take him to the Chunming Photo Studio tomorrow?” Jin Suying asked.

“Of course.”

...

22 Yaojing Street (formerly Yaojin Street), Soviet Consulate General in Harbin.

The gates were firmly shut. The building was silent.

Although the Soviet Union maintained diplomatic relations with the puppet Manchukuo, it had not appointed a consul general; instead, a deputy consul general was acting in that capacity. (No relevant information found on this.)

The staff had dwindled from over three hundred in its heyday to less than one hundred now, including the consulate’s security force.

Last year, an “internal upheaval” in the Far East intelligence agency led to the escape of senior figures privy to core secrets, causing disastrous losses to the Soviet intelligence station in Harbin, and the consulate was deeply affected.

At that time, over a hundred Soviet agents and intelligence operatives working for the Soviets in Harbin were arrested or killed. The years of painstaking efforts by the Far East Bureau and the Comintern were all but wiped out.

Thud, thud...

A dull knock sounded outside Deputy Consul General Arman’s office door.

“Come in.”

A young man pushed open the heavy office door, stepping onto the dark-red carpet and approaching Arman, who was in his forties. He handed over a telegram sheet: “Deputy Consul General, secret telegram from the Far East Bureau.”

“What is it?”

“General Peshkov says someone will be sent to Harbin soon, codename: Old Gun,” the young secretary reported.

“Did he mention the mission?”

“No.”

“How’s the Manchurian we’ve been watching?” Arman shifted the subject.

“‘Wild Bear’ reports that the police headquarters and Harbin intelligence collaborated to stage a fake kidnapping, and used him to exchange for the captured Susanna.”

“Seems we can’t delay any longer. If we do, the situation will turn increasingly unfavorable for us,” Arman said, his face grave.

“Please summon Chief Poporov from the Certificates Department.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shortly after the secretary left, a Russian man in his thirties entered. Sharp-eyed, his stride exuded a fierce energy. He was the head of the Certificates Department, Arman’s trusted aide, and the deputy head of the Harbin intelligence station.

“Deputy Consul General Arman, you called for me?” Poporov greeted respectfully.

“Has the courier arrived?”

“Yes, but must we really proceed this way?” Poporov hesitated.

“If we approach him ourselves, he won’t believe us. We must rely on our Chinese comrades. Don’t worry, the Chinese comrade is trustworthy, and our courier has been trained by our special department,” Arman explained.

“Very well, I’ll send the task immediately. Should ‘Wild Bear’ be informed?”

“I’ll relay the message to him myself,” Arman said after a pause.

“Yes, sir.”

“Any movement from across the street?”

“Same as always, nothing new. Recently, Obata went to Xinjing, and the others have grown lax.”

“Keep an eye on it. Don’t let him cause us trouble. For the past half year, we’ve been entirely on the defensive. This must change, especially regarding intelligence within the Kwantung Army. Our work has left the Far East Bureau and Comrade Joseph quite dissatisfied,” Arman said forcefully.

“But the problem isn’t with us. The blunder back home caused all this, and it led to Vorn’s downfall. That traitor Liushikov must be eliminated!” Poporov gritted his teeth.

“He’s under tight Japanese protection now. We don’t even know where he is, so how can we eliminate him?” Arman said. “Let’s focus on the tasks at hand.”

“Yes,” Poporov wanted to say more, but held his tongue, nodded, and left.

...

Ironworks Street.

Zhou Sen brought Wu En along, intending to buy some training equipment. He searched numerous department stores, malls, and hardware shops, but found nothing suitable.

After some thought, he decided to order custom pieces from craftsmen on Ironworks Street.

“Master, I want two pairs of dumbbells—one pair at ten jin, another at twenty. Also, iron plates for leg weights…”

“Training arm and leg strength, are you?” the smith asked.

“Master, you’ve got a keen eye. I’m a bit frail, so I thought I’d train and strengthen myself,” Zhou Sen admitted, not bothering to conceal it.

“Alright, I’ll make them for you. It’s no complicated job. Just leave a deposit, and you can pick them up in three days,” the smith said, accepting Zhou Sen’s hand-drawn diagrams with a cheerful grin. It was his first day open, and already business had come—naturally, he was happy.

“It’s settled then—three days, I’ll pick them up!” Zhou Sen nodded, trusting that a craftsman wouldn’t cheat him.

Sandbags were easy enough to buy, but Zhou Sen also wanted a wooden dummy. That was harder to find. On Carpenter Street, after much inquiry, he finally located a master who could make them. Zhou Sen ordered three at once, choosing sturdy elm as the material.

He also purchased materials for mounting calligraphy and paintings.

By the time he’d finished his rounds, most of the day had passed.

“Wu En, are you going home tonight?”

“Yes, my parents said to come home for dinner,” Wu En replied, an obedient, filial child.

“Alright, drop me at the Fragrant Pavilion, then drive home. Come pick me up early tomorrow,” Zhou Sen instructed as he boarded the carriage.

“Brother, where should I pick you up?”

“If there’s no one at the Fragrant Pavilion, go to my house,” Zhou Sen thought for a moment and explained.

“Got it.”

At the back entrance of the Fragrant Pavilion, Wu En dropped Zhou Sen from the carriage and drove home.

Ah Xiang opened the door.

Bai Yulan stood in the courtyard, cradling a brass heater in her arms, draped in a white cloak with red patterns, like a goddess—slender and graceful.

“In the north there’s a beauty, peerless and alone. One glance topples a city, another glance a nation. Yet who knows that cities and nations fall, rare is such a beauty.”

“How can such a fine poem sound so vulgar when you recite it?” Bai Yulan turned to see who was reciting and could not help but criticize.

“You’re just jealous that I’m not only handsome but also brilliant!”

“Shameless! Still, if you went on stage, your looks might make you a famous performer,” Bai Yulan said.

Zhou Sen laughed awkwardly. The original Zhou was sold to the opera troupe because of his delicate features. The master intended to train him as a female role, but he couldn’t endure the hard practice or the abuse, so he fled, ending up a beggar on the streets.

“Who knows, maybe one day I’ll really perform on stage. Boss Bai, you must come support me then!” Zhou Sen winked, striking a pose.

“Ugh…” Bai Yulan shuddered. This man could be so infuriating sometimes.

“Brother Sen, Sister Lan can dance with a sword—it’s beautiful!” Ah Xiang chimed in.

“Really? I must see it for myself.”

“You want to watch?”

“Of course. To see Yulan dance with a sword, I’d gladly forgo a bowl of braised pork!” Zhou Sen declared earnestly.

“My sword dance is worth only a bowl of braised pork?” Bai Yulan was incensed. This fellow always managed to stoke the fire in her heart, driving her mad.

“One bowl is too little—make it two…”

“Scoundrel!” Bai Yulan hurled the brass heater in her hands at Zhou Sen.

Seeing the hefty brass heater, at least the size of a vinegar jar, flying toward him, Zhou Sen thought to dodge. But its ornate design marked it as a rare item; if it shattered, it would be a real loss.

So, he braced himself and took the hit.

His reaction startled Bai Yulan. She’d held back her strength, but the heater was heavy, and it could cause real harm.

“Ouch!” Zhou Sen caught the heater, bent over, clutching it in apparent pain.

“Fool, you don’t even try to dodge…” Bai Yulan’s expression changed, scolding him, though her eyes betrayed a trace of concern and tenderness.