Spy game? Stop guessing, I really am an undercover agent!

Chapter 221 You're Not Suitable for Business

The sky over Shanghai looked as if it had been repeatedly splashed with a basin of dirty water, gray and heavy, with a continuous drizzle carrying a biting chill, seeping into every nook and cranny.

The salty, damp air from the dock mingled with the faint smell of gunpowder in the air, weaving an invisible and oppressive net.

Wan Tianmu was wrapped in a worn-out dark gray cotton robe, with the brim of his hat pulled low, almost covering half of his face.

The moment he stepped down the gangway, the soles of his leather shoes made a slight, sticky sound as they landed on the rain-soaked, oil-stained dock planks.

Behind him followed two silent, stone-like youths, their eyes sharp and shoulders tense, keeping pace with him and openly scanning any suspicious shadows around them!
The man in the shadows of the station, his eyes gleaming as he stared at the ticket price; the tall, thin man in the rickshaw pile, his face mostly hidden by his hat brim.

"The atmosphere in Shanghai is still so complicated." Wan Tianmu's voice was not loud, and it was almost inaudible amidst the noise of the dock and the sound of rain.

He seemed to be speaking to himself, or perhaps lamenting about this isolated island steeped in a mixture of despair and opportunism.

Two weeks ago, Jinling failed in his assassination attempt on a member of the Executive Committee, which led to him being reprimanded by headquarters.

Immediately following this was the murder of Zheng Huan, Zheng Zhiyao's nephew.

This was no ordinary young man. Boss Dai immediately ordered Wan Tianmu to investigate thoroughly and give Zheng Zhiyao an explanation.

Wan Tianmu took a risk and retrieved Zheng Huan's body, finding a list wrapped in a thin film inside his stomach that had not yet been digested by stomach acid.

This is a list of Kuomintang secret agents lurking in Nanjing.

The document clearly records the detailed information of nearly thirty agents, and the only people who could have such detailed information, besides Xiong Jiandong of the action team, were Li Tao, the director of the intelligence department.

After analysis, Wan Tianmu still felt that Li Tao was highly suspicious. Just as he was preparing to take action himself, headquarters suddenly issued an emergency transfer order, transferring him to Shanghai to take over Zhao Lijun's position.

The reason is simple: Zhao Lijun's assassination attempts on Chen Mingchu and Huang Xianggu have completely failed.

Having lost more than a dozen agents, headquarters ordered him to return to the mountain city immediately for questioning.

I, Wan Tianmu, will temporarily take over the position of station manager in Shanghai.

After receiving the order, Wan Tianmu boarded a passenger ship bound for Shanghai with only two trusted confidants.

At the ship port, the words "Manager of Wanfu Trading Company" were clearly visible on the credentials he handed over.

The Japanese military police at the checkpoint glanced at him casually, their gaze lingering for a second on Wan Tianmu's calm and expressionless face. His face was so ordinary that it had almost no distinguishing features, except for his murderous eyes, which concealed a kind of unsettling stillness.

Wan Tianmu nodded slightly, revealing a hint of a businessman's caution and humility.

After inspecting the vehicle, the military police impatiently waved it away.

In Shanghai, in the back room of an inconspicuous tea and snack shop on Xiafei Road.

Under the dim light bulb, Wu Ming, the "accountant" who stayed behind, handed Wan Tianmu a thin file.

"Station chief, the new counterattack order from headquarters targets this person."

Wan Tianmu took the file and opened it. The first page, written in bold black font, read: Chen Lu, Minister of Foreign Affairs of the Nanjing Reformed Government.

"It's him?" Wan Tianmu's fingertip touched the name.

Wu Ming pushed up his reading glasses, which had slipped down to the tip of his nose: "Yes, definitely a big fish, the new foreign minister of the Jinling government."

“Three days ago, to celebrate the so-called ‘new chapter in Sino-Japanese friendship,’ this old scoundrel rode in a convertible car covered with puppet flags and paraded around Nanjing Road, currying favor with the Japanese and patting himself on the back.”

Wan Tianmu said slowly, "Is headquarters planning to make an example of him?"

Wu Ming nodded: "Yes, we have also figured out most of his route and guard force."

Wan Tianmu's gaze slowly moved across the documents, his voice as deep as the twilight outside the window: "Just the majority is not enough; we need to ensure absolute certainty."

"Station Chief," Wu Ming said somewhat awkwardly, "the Shanghai station has suffered heavy losses, and the intelligence department's manpower..."

"I know." Wan Tianmu closed the file, his voice not loud, but carrying a metallic coldness and determination.

"Because we have failed once, we cannot fail a second time."

"Old Liu, you're in charge of this matter. Team Leader Wu, you'll assist Old Liu."

"The bloodshed at the Paramount Ballroom will be settled starting with Chen Lu."

The "Old Liu" mentioned by Wan Tianmu is named Liu Geqing, a native of Yunlin County, Taiwan, but originally from Fujian Province.

He graduated from National Chi Nan University in 1935, then participated in police work training, and joined the Military Intelligence Bureau's Nanjing Station in 1938.

He studied reconnaissance at the police academy and is an all-rounder who is proficient in both reconnaissance and operational work.

He was also one of Wan Tianmu's most valued subordinates.

This time, Wan Tianmu brought two people with him when he came from Nanjing to take over Zhao Lijun's position: Liu Geqing and Xiong Jiandong.
"Station Chief, how about I take over this job?" Xiong Jiandong stepped forward and said, "I have experience with operations."

Wan Tianmu looked at Xiong Jiandong and said in a deep voice, "Team Leader Xiong, we have another mission."

"Old Liu, are you alright?"

Liu Geqing stood tall and saluted, saying, "Rest assured, Station Chief, I guarantee the mission will be completed."

In Shanghai, on Yuyuan Road, time is compressed into the ticking hands of a clock.

The rain intensified from dusk onwards, with large raindrops pounding densely on the tin roof of the makeshift shelter, creating a deafening drumbeat.

In this room located in the attic of an old residential building at No. 666 Yuyuan Road, the windows are covered with thick dust and grease, leaving only a crack to observe the outside.

In the cramped space, Liu Geqing and his three-person action team were squeezed together: Wu Ming from the Shanghai Intelligence Bureau and his teammate Fang Ze. The atmosphere inside the room was as tense as a fully drawn bowstring.

The map of Yuyuan Road, spread out on the table, was clearly marked with red pencil lines.

Several key points were repeatedly highlighted: shops lined both sides of Chen Lu's old house, the French Concession police station was on the left, the Japanese-established police station was on the right, and there were also sentry posts specially set up by the Nanjing Special Service Committee.

To protect the newly appointed foreign minister, the Nanjing Special Service Committee set up a guard post at the gatehouse, which was manned 24 hours a day.

Liu Geqing peered through the crack, gazing at the wet Yuyuan Road below.

Rainwater washed over the uneven road surface, creating turbid and rapid water flows.

Shop signs on both sides of the street swayed in the wind and rain: "Rongchang Silk Shop," "Wang's Clocks,"...

Under the old sycamore tree at the street corner, several figures holding umbrellas could be seen in and out of sight; they seemed to be just ordinary pedestrians.

"Team Leader Liu, the mission is very difficult." Wu Ming put down his binoculars and said leisurely, "The police station is on the left, the police station is on the right, and the Jinling Special Service Committee has also assigned him sentries."

"The chances of assassinating someone at close range are close to zero."

Liu Geqing remained silent, simply staring at the gate of the Chen Mansion at 668 Yuyuan Road.

Suddenly, Liu Geqing's gaze sharpened slightly. He wondered if it was just his imagination, but a familiar figure walked out from the side door of the Chen Mansion.

Liu Geqing snatched the binoculars from Wu Ming's hand and carefully looked at the figure.

"As expected, it was him."

"Team Leader Wu, I'm leaving this to you. There might still be a chance for this mission to turn things around."

After speaking, Liu Geqing turned and left the surveillance point.
As evening fell and the rain gradually stopped, the sun began to set. In the chilly early spring twilight, fine water droplets clung to the edges of the newsstand's wooden frame.

Liu Geqing wrapped his patched cotton-padded coat tightly around himself, huddled on the shaft of the rickshaw, his gaze beneath his felt hat as sharp as a frozen scalpel, scraping inch by inch across the carved cast-iron gate of Chen Lu's mansion.

The bodyguards in black wool coats rotated positions every half hour, their leather boots shattering the glow of the streetlights, their gun holsters peeking out from under their ribs.

At five o'clock sharp, half a face suddenly peeked out from the shadow of the pillar on the right side of the iron gate.

When the light from the gas streetlamp swept across his cheek, Liu Geqing's gaze instantly turned intense.
It really was him.
The man was exceptionally tall and burly, with a dark brown, centipede-like scar coiled below his right ear.

That scar was left from saving him.

Liu Geqing's thoughts were pulled far away when the man appeared. At that time, he was still participating in an operation in Jinling. When the crisis came, a heavy body suddenly pushed him into the snowdrift.

"Ge Qing, lie down!"

The bullet grazed the man's face, leaving a scar that should have been on his left cheek, but instead was branded on the right side of his former savior's face.

"Sir, do you need a rickshaw?" Liu Geqing took a breath and pulled the rickshaw to block the man's way.

Liu Haishan paid no attention to the rickshaw driver in front of him. In Shanghai, a brick could kill at least seven or eight rickshaw drivers like this.

"No, no!" Liu Haishan waved his hand in refusal, but in an instant, his body seemed to be struck by lightning, and he stood there stunned.

"Brother Haishan," Liu Geqing called softly. "Come with me."

Liu Haishan trembled slightly and immediately got into the other party's rickshaw.
With a final push, Liu Geqing propelled the rickshaw toward Foch Road at high speed.
Fuxu Road, roadside noodle stalls
Foch Road was one of the main thoroughfares of the French Concession in Shanghai. It was a very prosperous place, with champagne-colored light shining through the stained glass windows of the French-style buildings, and waiters in black vests carrying silver trays moving among them.

Beside the noodle stall, the faint strains of Zhou Xuan's "When Will You Return?" drifted over.
The rickshaw's rubber wheels rolled over cracks in the bluestone slabs, blocking the way. Liu Geqing put down the handlebars, his felt hat still on, and said to the noodle stall owner, his hoarse voice carried on the evening breeze, "Boss, two bowls of eel noodles, extra chili oil."

"Sit down." The wooden bench scraped against the ground as Liu Geqing dragged it. "Brother Haishan, is your usual spicy food preferred?"

"Mmm," Liu Haishan responded softly.
After that sound, the two fell silent again. The owner skillfully cooked noodles and stir-fried the toppings. The hot oil crackled and sparked, and a fragrant aroma wafted over.

Soon, the noodles were placed in front of the two of them. Liu Haishan unceremoniously scooped up a large spoonful of chili oil and began to eat heartily, the centipede scar below his right cheek twitching slightly as he chewed.

Liu Geqing gazed at the weathered face before him. Though only over thirty, he was no longer the man who once commanded the Marshal's Guard.

"Looking for me? What's up?" Liu Haishan took out his cigarette case and lit one. "It's nothing serious," Liu Geqing said while taking small bites of noodles, "You heard about what happened at the Paramount a few days ago, right?"

"More than a dozen of our brothers have died."

"I know, it's all in the newspapers. They said it was the Nanjing Special Service Committee that did it."

Liu Haishan took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled a cloud of white smoke. "You want to make a move against Chen Lu?"

Liu Geqing wiped his mouth and said, "When the country is in crisis, some people are thinking of exchanging national interests for their own."

"At times like these, someone always has to step forward and do what needs to be done,"

Liu Haishan was silent for a moment, then took out the tin foil from his cigarette pack and drew a draft of the mansion's floor plan on the back: "Twelve bodyguards, six living in the east wing guard room, and all the guns are in the iron cabinets by the beds."

He slowly moved his fingernail to the left side of the Chen mansion: "This is the Buddhist hall of the Chen mansion. Incense is burned at midnight on the first and fifteenth of each month, and all the servants must go to the front yard."

"Chen Lu will participate in the sacrificial ceremony with the eldest son, Chen Youtao, for half an hour..."

Liu Geqing looked at the route map drawn by Liu Haishan: "Explosives were buried under the incense table in the Buddhist hall, and the fuse was hidden behind the prayer flags..."

"Too slow!" Liu Haishan tapped the table: "On the night of the Lantern Festival, two bodyguards took turns resting. There were twelve wall lamps in total, from the stairwell to the Buddhist hall."

"Did you run the entire 21-meter corridor in the ten seconds I held the switch off?"

"It should be possible." Liu Geqing nodded affirmatively.

"Then let's do it that way. There's one more thing I need you to do."

“Take Tiger and his mother to Hong Kong Island,” he crumpled the photo and scattered it into the darkness, “and check if the willows at Xuanwu Lake have sprouted any buds by Qingming Festival.”

Liu Geqing was stunned for a moment. Perhaps this was the true tacit understanding between men.

Liu Haishan knew what Liu Geqing was planning to do the moment he saw her.

And he knew what he should do.

There was no word, not even a basic inquiry.
"Brother Haishan, thank you." Liu Geqing remained silent for a long time before finally saying only, "Thank you..."

A corner of a street-facing café in the French Concession.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass window, casting dappled shadows on the small round table covered with a lace tablecloth.

The café played soft jazz music and was sparsely populated, making it a perfect place for quiet conversations.

Shen Qingyao was wearing an elegant cheongsam with a knitted cardigan over it, making her look like an ordinary office worker.

She sat down at a window seat, ordered a coffee, and occasionally glanced at the doorway with a hint of barely perceptible wariness.

A moment later, a black Austin sedan pulled up in front of the coffee shop.

Chen Yang got out of the car, glanced at the sign above the coffee shop, and then walked in casually.
“Mr. Chen, over here…” Shen Qingyao waved to Chen Yang at the door.

"Miss Shen, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting." Chen Yang's voice was calm, revealing little emotion.

He recognized Shen Qingyao and knew that she represented more than just herself.

"Director Chen is very punctual." Shen Qingyao smiled slightly and pushed the menu over. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Just a cup of tea will do," Chen Yang said to the approaching waiter.

"Miss Shen asked me out; it can't be just for something as simple as having coffee, right?"

Shen Qingyao's smile faded, she leaned forward slightly, and lowered her voice even further: "Director Chen is a sensible person, so I'll just be frank."

"We've prepared a batch of high-quality tungsten ore. I heard Director Chen has been looking for a stable supply for some... 'special' factory channels?"

Chen Yang's lips curled up slightly; he had finally waited for this moment.

It is believed that the Red Party has done a lot of work in order to cooperate with him smoothly.

There was a gap of almost a month between Lin Xueli's departure and Shen Qingyao's arrival.

In this month, the other party should have investigated him thoroughly.
"How much stock? What's the price?" Chen Yang asked directly, his tone like that of a normal business negotiation.

“The first batch can supply fifty tons. If the cooperation goes well, the supply can be stable in the future.” Shen Qingyao stated a number, and then carefully observed Chen Yang’s reaction. “As for the price, in this day and age, mining is not easy, and transporting it to Shanghai is even more difficult… sixty silver dollars for one hundred catties.”

Tungsten ore is an important industrial raw material, especially for the military industry, where demand is indeed high, but the supply is often interrupted by war and blockade.

The land transportation department he was in charge of, and the network of connections behind it, were indeed involved in this kind of "business," ostensibly to maintain the "normal" operation of industry and commerce.
Of course, at this time, it wasn't the Japanese who needed these tungsten ore the most.

Rather, it was the Germans who were about to wage war against Europe.

It's quite ironic, actually.

Germany initially had a very good cooperative relationship with China.

Not only did the mayor send instructors to help the government train soldiers, but he also spared no effort in supporting various weapons in the mountain city.

Until March of last year, the Japanese and Germans signed an alliance agreement.

The Japanese are demanding that Germany halt its arms exports to China.

At the same time, Shancheng also stopped exporting tungsten ore, pig bristles, tung oil, and a series of rare earth products to Germany.

At first, Mustache didn't think much of it, but when they ran out of ore and started buying from Americans, they realized something was wrong.

The Americans offered them three times the price the Chinese offered.

Moreover, its quality is not as good as Huaxia's.

This behavior greatly displeased the man with the mustache, who even broke several pencils.

If we can use the mining business to get closer to the Germans...

Chen Yang picked up the tea that had just been delivered, blew on it to cool it down, and did not answer immediately.

He knew perfectly well that this price was lower than the black market price, and far lower than the "channel price" that the Japanese were willing to pay.

"Sixty yuan..." Chen Yang pondered, then put down his teacup. "Miss Shen, this price sounds very 'fair'."

"However, you seem to have misunderstood one thing. You don't need to worry about the transportation."

“As long as you transport the ore to any city with rail freight, I can transport it out smoothly.”

"So, the price shouldn't be sixty silver dollars, fifty should be it."

"Fifty would be reasonable..."

Shen Qingyao remained silent for a moment, then gently tapped her fingers on the table.

The higher-ups had made contingency plans before she arrived, and they knew that Chen Yang wouldn't easily agree to this price.

Although tungsten ore is indeed in high demand, transportation is a major problem.

Transporting goods from the base to Shanghai and exchanging them for silver was extremely difficult.

After discussion, the higher-ups decided that if the other party was interested in cooperating, the price could be up to 48 silver dollars for 100 catties.

Shen Qingyao glanced at Chen Yang subconsciously. Chen Yang's eyes were clear and firm, as if he was certain that she would agree.

"Sixty yuan down to fifty yuan? Director Chen's appetite is too big. It's not easy for us to do things."

Shen Qingyao pondered for a moment and said, "How about this, we each compromise, fifty-five to one hundred catties, and I will arrange for someone to ship the goods immediately."

Chen Yang shook his head and smiled at Shen Qingyao, saying, "Miss Shen, it seems you haven't learned your father Shen Xingshan's business acumen."

"You need to understand, you don't seem to have any leverage to negotiate with me right now."

"I'll say it again, fifty dollars."

"Settlement is now in the ocean. This is the first transaction, fifty tons. Payment upon delivery. If everything goes smoothly, we can cooperate long-term at this price."

His price-cutting was not simply for profit, but also a way to test and establish dominance.

Shen Qingyao pretended to hesitate for a moment, as if she was calculating the gains and losses in her mind, and then nodded: "We can make a deal."

That was so straightforward. Was the price still too high? Well, I guess I'll just consider it a contribution to the country...
“However…” Shen Qingyao said softly the next moment, “I want to exchange fifty tons of goods for equivalent supplies and send them to northern Anhui.”

Chen Yang pondered for a moment, "What supplies do you want?"

Shen Qingyao took out a list of supplies that she had prepared in advance and handed it to Chen Yang: "Purchase according to the list. I will come to inspect the supplies after they are ready."

Chen Yang took the note and glanced at it. There were a lot of items, but none of them were particularly noteworthy embargoed goods. "Okay, leave this to me."

"Director Chen is indeed very straightforward. I hope we can have a pleasant collaboration." With that, Shen Qingyao stood up and extended her hand to Chen Yang.

Chen Yang looked at Shen Qingyao's outstretched hand, hesitated for a moment, but still reached out and gently shook it.

The woman's hands were slightly cool yet strong, and holding them felt like holding a slightly cool block of ice.

Shen Qingyao, however, had a completely different feeling; Chen Yang's hand felt as warm as burning charcoal.
"I will send someone to inform you of the details of the cooperation separately." Chen Yang put on his hat and stood up. "Ms. Shen, please be careful on your way back, and let me know as soon as possible if there are any problems."

"Thank you for the reminder, Director Chen." Shen Qingyao nodded tactfully.
(End of this chapter)