Chapter 041: Schemes and Seeing Through Schemes

On December 21st, 1928, at the Aoki Apothecary in the city of Fengtian.

Upon realizing that he and Liu Junze were being watched, Zhou Yongsu quickly stopped Liu Junze from opening the door. The two retreated to their secret room, dismantled and disguised the radio, hid it away, and made the room look like an ordinary storeroom again. Then they returned upstairs and arranged the counter to appear as if they were doing accounting work.

While feigning normal business, Zhou Yongsu pondered carefully. At this hour, those monitoring either him or Liu Junze were, most likely, Japanese.

If their watchers were Japanese—especially those from the notorious Tufei circle—things could get troublesome. He had noticed surveillance before, but never as blatant as today, and now there were several people involved.

Just moments ago, Chen Jiehua’s telegram had reported passing Tufei’s scrutiny. Perhaps, unable to find flaws elsewhere, they had shifted focus onto the two of them. That seemed highly probable—targeting them required no concern for their identities.

This was a problem. If he and Old Liu continued their normal routines, things might remain safe for now. But if they tried to shake off their tail, it would be as good as announcing to Tufei: "I’m a spy, and I know you’re watching." That would only expose themselves and Chen Jiehua further.

Yet, if they allowed themselves to be strung along like this, nothing else could be accomplished. Their scheduled rendezvous with Shao Mazi at the safehouse would become impossible.

What to do?

After a swift analysis, Zhou Yongsu conferred with Liu Junze. "In a moment, I’ll leave and try to draw away a few of those following us. I’ll return to Lushun to fetch Aoki Qingxuan. You know Fengtian well—be careful, slip out the back door, head to Safehouse No. 4, and, as instructed, signal Shao Mazi. Meet with him quickly and share the information. Give him the key, then hurry back."

"For the time that follows, until Qingxuan and I return, you must go about your activities as usual. Also, find a reason as soon as possible to get yourself back into the Young Marshal’s Mansion—take a post if you can. We need someone inside the Young Marshal’s army, and you’re the best fit. After all, the Police Bureau is now under the Young Marshal’s command."

After their exchange, Zhou Yongsu opened the door and left the pharmacy through the front, hailed a rickshaw, and headed for the station.

Ten minutes later, Liu Junze slipped out the rear, twisted and turned through the alleys, and arrived at Safehouse No. 4, checking carefully to make sure he wasn’t followed. He unlocked the door, entered, and hung a red cotton coat in the courtyard as a signal.

Ten minutes later, a knock sounded. Liu Junze peered through the viewing hole—only one person outside—so he quickly opened up.

Shao Mazi, unfamiliar with the man who opened the door, hesitated for a fleeting moment. Cautious and wary, he was about to retreat when Liu Junze whispered, "Mr. Shao, quickly, come inside!"

Once inside, the two confirmed their identities.

"Mr. Shao, among the thirteen inside, are there any you know? Or anyone familiar with their family backgrounds? Ideally, a local from Fengtian!"

"I only arrived recently myself, but I do know Wu Lishi, the Organization Minister of the Manchuria Provincial Committee. He’s originally from Jiangsu but has lived in Manchuria for more than four years. Speaks the Northeastern dialect fluently."

"Do you know his age?"

"Not exactly. But I know they’re all quite young."

"Anyone else?"

"Chen Weiren, an official in the Manchuria Province. I only know his name, haven’t seen his face, nor do I know his age. But one piece of information: all documents sent from the Manchuria Provincial Committee to Shanghai bear the stamp of someone named Zhao Yunrong."

"Zhao Yunrong—a woman’s name? No matter, I’ll figure out the rest myself."

"Mr. Shao, I’m giving you the key to this safehouse. Zhou Yongsu has explained everything inside; use it as you wish. Yongsu is being watched by Japanese agents and cannot come, so he’s gone back to Lushun to find a way. Yongsu advises that for now, we must not make any bold moves; wait until Mr. Zhao returns before deciding."

After briefing Shao Mazi, night had already fallen. Liu Junze stealthily slipped back to the pharmacy.

The next morning, Liu Junze headed to the Young Marshal’s Mansion. Thanks to his secret efforts in escorting the Young Marshal back to the northeast, the Young Marshal was delighted at Liu Junze’s return and appointed him as artillery instructor once more. Donning his uniform again, Liu Junze returned to the barracks and reconnected with his old comrades.

That afternoon, Zhao Shiyu, under the alias Zhao Weigang, arrived at Lushun Port, transferred to a train bound for Fengtian, and met up with Shao Mazi that evening.

That same night, Liu Junze played host, inviting comrades with whom he had enjoyed good relations in the army to a restaurant near the Police Bureau for drinks.

Usually not the sharpest, Liu Junze showed rare cleverness this time. He had chosen a venue near the Police Bureau specifically to lure out Zhao Ruilong, whom he had spotted previously. Last time, he had confirmed the man's identity, but hadn’t had the chance to approach.

"Brothers, doesn’t it feel like someone’s missing from our usual drinking crowd?"

"Who could it be? Isn’t it Zhao Ruilong?"

"Last time, Zhao Ruilong got a piece of shrapnel in his eye, lost the sight in one, and now we call him One-eyed Zhao! Can’t work the artillery anymore, so the Young Marshal transferred him to the Police Bureau as a junior police captain—a real act of kindness."

"The Police Bureau’s right across the street—is anyone going to drag him over for drinks?"

"I’ll go! Haven’t seen that guy in ages, good chance to drop by."

After a short while, Zhao Ruilong, still in his police uniform, was brought over.

Old comrades reunited—nothing breaks the ice like alcohol. In the frozen December of the northeast, a few large bowls of liquor and a succession of steaming local dishes soon had the seven or eight burly men eating and drinking with gusto.

"Hey, Old Liu, looks like you’ve made some real money these past months—living large! You used to be stingy about ordering so many dishes!"

"Brother Qijin, you’re not wrong! These past months, I worked with a Japanese officer selling Western medicine and actually made a bit! So tonight, I’m showing off—plenty of food, plenty of drink! If anyone calls me stingy again, I’ll smack him with silver dollars! Old Zhao, here, drink!"

"Western medicine pays that well?"

"You wouldn’t believe it! My former boss was a major in the Japanese Kwantung Army, had connections. He shipped boatloads of medicine from the West. The bigwigs and officers’ wives bought it like rice, piling up their purchases."

"Then why’d you quit and come back?"

"Don’t ask! I heard someone got jealous, caused trouble behind his back. The pharmaceutical factory in the West ran into issues, so all the pharmacies closed."

"Too bad! Otherwise, Old Liu could’ve helped his old brothers live well for a few more days."

"Listen to yourselves—we artillerymen live hand to mouth, never knowing what tomorrow brings. Money isn’t something you take with you when you die. If you ever hit hard times and need it urgently, come to me!"

"Old Liu’s a true friend! For those words, brothers, bottoms up!"

Since time immemorial, meat and wine are unreliable—only schemes win hearts.

Those who speak have intentions, and those who listen understand!

Ever since Zhao Ruilong lost an eye and became One-eyed Zhao, he’d grown despondent and fallen into gambling. His companions had just hauled him from the gambling table at the Police Bureau! He’d lost his wages within half an hour and owed a mountain of debt.

That day, Liu Junze had followed him all the way to the gambling den, deliberately holding back from revealing himself.