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

Chapter 233 Say thank you

"President Ōmura's attitude is not the key," Abe Mitsuhiro said in a deep voice. "Chen-san, you need to understand that any organization needs to compromise in the face of the Imperial Holy War."

"No matter how powerful the South Manchuria Railway is, it is still part of the Empire."

Chen Yang smiled slightly, but inwardly he felt a little disdainful.

The arrogance of the South Manchuria Railway was not just empty talk; the South Manchuria Railway was the biggest economic pillar and source of supplies for the Kwantung Army.

The South Manchuria Railway Company controlled almost 80 percent of the north, and they invested heavily in the real economy, including retail, education, energy development, and manufacturing.

Its economic output is comparable to Japan's GDP.
Moreover, the biggest supporter of the South Manchuria Railway Company right now is the Foreign Minister, Yosuke Matsuoka.

Would they easily let someone else take control of one of the most important transportation routes?

Unless, their goal isn't that...

Abe Mitsuhiro put down his teacup: "Chen-san, you should prepare the transportation plan first. Of course, there's one more thing you need to do before that."

"Does Lord Sato mean that you should sell off everything you have first, and we'll hold out for a while?"

Chen Yang said slowly, "Is Lord Sato afraid that Nobuo Yasuda will become an obstacle for us?"

Mitsuhiro Abe shook his head: "It's not just that. Finance Minister Suzuki just submitted the first quarter's financial report for this year."

"The expenditure in the first quarter alone was 60 percent higher than in previous years. This abnormal consumption has already caught the attention of Mr. Kujo."

"Lord Sato hopes that we can last a long time and not be concerned about temporary gains or losses."

"Understood." Chen Yang nodded slightly. "I will handle it as soon as possible."

"That's all for now, I'll head back first." Abe Mitsuhiro stood up, bowed slightly to Chen Yang, and turned to leave the private room.

The door to the private room closed, then opened again a moment later.

Chen Yang didn't look up. A figure walked gracefully to him, sat down slowly, and gently placed the teapot on the small stove.

"What do you think?" Chen Yang asked softly.

Lin Su replied softly, "I am just a woman, I don't know what you officials are trying to do."

"However, I always felt that this matter was not as simple as Staff Officer Abe made it out to be."

"Smart." Chen Yang put down his teacup. "They're planning to find someone else to reap the rewards."

"Let me dispose of all the inventory, that's my way of leaving no evidence."

"However, they underestimated me and overestimated Nobuo Yasuda."

"This network isn't something just anyone can handle."

Lin Su didn't answer, but simply picked up the steaming teapot, poured Chen Yang a cup of tea, and then smiled and said, "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"We also have some leverage over us now."

Chen Yang waved his hand and said, "It won't come to that."

"A hand is only a hand you hold in your hand; once it's revealed, it's very difficult to cover it up again..."

"They think that monks from other places are better at chanting scriptures, so let them try and see what this outsider monk is really capable of."

"Alright, I should go back now,"

After Chen Yang finished speaking, Lin Su thoughtfully fetched his clothes and helped him put them on.

"By the way, have Song Zushan go and tell Jin Dayou and the others to put the supply matters on hold for the time being."

"The higher-ups have spoken, so we have to give them some face, even if it's just for show..."

Lin Su patted Chen Yang on the shoulder, making his suit look neater, and slowly nodded: "I've got it..."

Shanghai, Huangpu Beach, Cathay Hotel...

The Blue Room suite on the top floor of the Cathay Hotel offers a panoramic view of the brightly lit Bund!

Inside the room, the thick Persian carpet absorbed all footsteps, and the huge crystal chandelier illuminated the room as if it were daytime. The air was filled with the rich aroma of fine Cuban cigars and the scent of expensive perfumes.

Dr. Fährmann, the German Consul General in Shanghai, sat relaxed on a sofa covered with gold-threaded jacquard brocade, wearing an impeccably tailored dark gray three-piece suit.

He held a lit Havana cigar between his fingers, and his grey-blue eyes, peering through his gold-rimmed glasses, silently scrutinized Chen Yang sitting opposite him.

Completely different from the tension he felt in the moonlit sand, Chen Yang now seemed to have returned to the role he played most skillfully: a businessman with connections and influence in Shanghai.

He wore a low-key yet luxurious navy blue striped suit, with a confident smile befitting a successful businessman, as if he were simply discussing an ordinary business deal.

Two attractive waitresses, dressed in white high-collar cheongsams, quietly served the two coffees and a cold platter of German Black Forest ham, then disappeared like shadows.

“Mr. Chen, thank you for your invitation.” Fellmann’s English was accented with a perfect Berlin accent. He slowly and deliberately picked up a small, delicate silver fork, forked a slice of ham as thin as a cicada’s wing, his movements elegant and refined, as if performing some kind of diplomatic ceremony.
"It is truly a privilege to be able to enjoy such exquisite cuisine at Chinachem during this special time."

He emphasized the words "special period" slightly, his gray-blue gaze sweeping meaningfully over the towering masts of Japanese naval vessels in the distance outside the window.

Chen Yang did not respond immediately, but simply looked at the other person quietly.

In November of the 26th year of the Republic of China, Felman succeeded Ambassador Trautmann as the Consul General of Shanghai.

Trautmann was a diplomat who was relatively friendly towards China.

When the Japanese intended to invade China, he stepped forward to mediate with them, hoping that the Japanese would abandon their military aggression and that both sides could come to the negotiating table to resolve their disputes.

However, Trautmann underestimated the cunning of the Japanese.

They outwardly agreed to Trautmann's request to consider a peaceful resolution, but after capturing Shanghai, they turned their attention to Nanjing.

After Nanjing fell, Trautmann was recalled to his home country due to his unsuccessful mediation.

In March of last year, Japan and Germany signed an alliance agreement, under which Germany ceased arms aid to China.

Trautmann repeatedly advised Hitler not to listen to the Japanese, but Hitler insisted on stopping all aid to China.

But this decision plunged Germany into an energy crisis.

Almost all of China's exported pig bristles, tung oil, and tungsten ore resources were taken by the Americans.

Huaxia's share of exports to the United States reached an astonishing 85%.

The Americans then turned around and tripled the price of the supplies, selling them to the Germans, leaving the German Finance Minister speechless with anger.
"Dr. Fellman, you're too kind," Chen Yang said, extinguishing his cigarette. He slowly picked up his delicate bone china coffee cup, took a small sip, and wore an impeccable professional smile.

"Germany is an important friendly nation and a staunch defender of the international order. No matter how Shanghai changes, it should provide your country with the highest level of comfort."

“Maintaining order requires power,” Fellman put down his silver fork, lightly dabbed his lips with a napkin, his movements meticulous. “And the foundation of power is often those solid materials buried deep underground.”

He raised his eyes, his gaze fixed on Chen Yang. The slight reflection on his glasses concealed the sharp glint in his eyes. "I've heard that Mr. Chen happens to possess a batch of intriguing 'solid foundations'?"

Chen Yang's smile remained unchanged: "Mr. Fellman's information is indeed well-informed. There is a batch of high-quality tungsten ore from southern Jiangxi, currently totaling about 50 tons, with ideal particle size and tungsten content."

“Originally, they were already labeled with ‘specific tags’ (planned to be shipped to Japan)... but recently, some new ‘route planning’ changes have made the inventory need to be handled flexibly.”

Fellman nodded slightly, his expression impassive. He knew perfectly well who the "previous customer" of this shipment was; the Japanese thirst for strategic materials was an open secret throughout the Far East intelligence community.

Chen Yang's ability to "handle it flexibly" itself implies that he and the Japanese military, which controls Shanghai, have reached a higher level of understanding.

“Flexibility…is very much in line with the spirit of international trade.” Fellman slowly exhaled a smoke ring, his eyes growing increasingly profound.

“You are aware of the Empire’s needs in the industrial manufacturing sector. High-quality ‘hard foundation’ is essential for producing precision tools that are sufficient to maintain peace. We have always sought stable and reliable sources.”

“That would be perfect.” Chen Yang leaned forward slightly, getting into the core of the business negotiation. “This batch of goods is of excellent quality, far superior to ordinary goods circulating in the market.”

"Given the current complexity of transportation channels and your country's consistent pursuit of quality," he paused deliberately.
“I am willing to transfer ownership at a price of $875 per tonne. This price already includes all risk premiums associated with ‘domestic transfer’ as a sign of good faith for long-term cooperation.”

Fellman frowned: "Mr. Chen, your price is about 30% higher than the international market price."

Fellman is right. At that time, the Republic of China government provided the United States with tungsten ore for about $650, or about 2,000 silver dollars per ton.

Chen Yang purchased the goods from the Red Party for only fifty silver dollars per hundred catties, which was equivalent to one thousand silver dollars per ton.
The price for these fifty tons of tungsten ore was the same as the price in the last transaction with Shen Qingyao.

According to the Soviet area, the price was negotiable. It wasn't that they were unaware of market conditions, but rather that tungsten ore was a strategic resource, essentially under tight blockade by the Japanese.

Only Chen Yang has the ability and the means to use his transportation network to secretly transport tungsten ore from southern Jiangxi and parts of Hunan to Shanghai.

Even if others had the intention, they wouldn't have the means.

Moreover, if the transaction were to take place in Shanghai and be discovered, it would only benefit the Japanese.
“Mr. Fairman, times have changed.” Chen Yang elegantly set down his coffee cup. “Taking into account wartime premiums and transportation risks, I think this price is relatively reasonable.”

Of course, at that time, $875 was not expensive compared to the prices after the outbreak of World War II.

It should be noted that between 1930 and 1944, the Republic of China government quoted foreign prices of 4,500 silver dollars per ton, equivalent to 1,500 US dollars per ton.

It's twice as expensive as it is now, while the final price for tungsten ore shipped to the United States is less than $900. The difference is significant.
Fährmann's fingers tapped lightly on the sofa armrest, producing a barely audible clicking sound. This price was by no means cheap, especially given the immense economic pressure Germany itself was facing.

But he was even more aware of the actual value of this batch of tungsten ore, which was a vital material for maintaining the lifeline of the arms industry!
Moreover, the fact that Chen Yang was able to bypass Japanese control to obtain it and successfully sell it is itself a huge asset.

The acquisition was not only to meet industrial needs, but also to "certify" and bind Chen Yang's extremely scarce underground supply channel.

“$875…” Fellman began slowly, as if he were savoring every syllable of the number.

Instead of immediately trying to lower the price, he asked casually, "So, what about the final destination of this 'domestic transfer'... or rather, its 'ticket'?"

This is the key of the key.

The goods were in Shanghai, and he wanted to know what Chen Yang's abilities were to transport them out without arousing suspicion from the Japanese.
This was exactly the question Chen Yang had been waiting for. A confident smile appeared on his face: "Mr. Fairman, you and Mr. Midley from the consulate's maritime document issuing department are both... experts familiar with international shipping regulations."

"I believe that the legal documents issued by your consulate for the import of key raw materials needed to support the normal production of German-invested companies in China... destined for the Port of Hamburg will certainly ensure that this shipment can obtain departure clearance with the highest efficiency."

"After all, who would doubt a document signed by the consulate through official channels? This also minimizes...unnecessary trouble."

Felman was taken aback. Chen Yangming suggested that Felman use diplomatic privileges to forge documents, turning tungsten ore into a legally "imported" raw material from Germany, and use the consulate's customs privileges to slip through the customs.
Secretly, they also dragged the German consulate into the mess to share the risks.

The phrase "avoiding unnecessary trouble" refers to the Japanese military police who were watching the Shanghai docks.
Fellman's hand twitched slightly, cigar ash fell onto the expensive carpet, and his gaze behind his glasses instantly became as sharp and piercing as a hawk's, staring intently at Chen Yang.

This proposal is so bold it's almost insane!
Using the diplomatic privileges of a consulate to openly engage in smuggling and forge trade documents is far more than a simple commercial violation. If exposed, it would be a serious diplomatic incident, enough to warrant his resignation and return home, or even...

Chen Yang's smile remained unchanged.

He was gambling—gambling on Germany's extreme thirst for strategic resources, on the adventurous spirit and pragmatism inherent in Fährmann, this old-school diplomat, and even more so on Germany's deeper considerations regarding Japan's "northern advance" strategy at this moment.

The news of the Kwantung Army's movement to the Far East could not escape the notice of German intelligence agencies.

If the Japanese could achieve success on the Far East front, they could tie down a portion of the Soviet military force, which would be entirely beneficial to the Führer.
Therefore, this deal is beneficial to Germany from any perspective.

The only drawback was that Chen Yang's offer exceeded Fellman's expectations.

Time seemed to slip away slowly in the still air. The deep, drawn-out sound of a ship's horn drifted in from outside the window.

Fellman slowly stubbed out his cigar. He didn't refuse immediately, but stood up, walked to the huge French windows, turned his back to Chen Yang, and looked down at the bustling Shanghai below, which looked like an anthill.

After a long silence, he spoke in a voice that was slightly hoarse but had regained the composure of a diplomat:
“Mr. Chen, ‘Supporting legitimate trade and ensuring the normal operation of German-invested enterprises in China’ is one of the important responsibilities of the consulate.” His answer was watertight and full of official jargon.

Then, he turned around and looked back at Chen Yang. "As for the specific plan you mentioned... to 'ensure departure efficiency,' the consulate's business department... will seriously study its feasibility."

There was no explicit commitment, but "carefully studying the feasibility" is tantamount to giving the green light!
Those who work in this circle know one rule very well: if there's no explicit refusal, then it's considered agreement.
Then, Fellman added meaningfully, "As long as... the terms of the deal are ultimately satisfactory to both parties."

"The supplies will be directly loaded by German merchant ships at the designated berths."

A silent transaction was essentially finalized amidst the rising steam of cigars and the rich aroma of coffee.

Chen Yang stood up, his smile unchanged: "Of course. The purpose of the transaction is to achieve a win-win situation. As long as the consulate's 'research' yields a final result, we can arrange for the supplies to appear at your designated dock at any time."

“Mr. Fellman, you are a very competent diplomat. I am confident that our cooperation will be very pleasant.”

"By the way, if you need even more supplies, we might be able to cooperate long-term..."

Upon hearing this, Fellman smiled with satisfaction: "Of course, I hope to receive no less than three hundred tons of ore every month."

"Mr. Chen, is there any problem with this number?"

"Of course, you know, this is nothing to me."

“It’s a pleasure to work with you.” Chen Yang extended his hand, and Fellman also extended his hand. The two hands clasped tightly under the magnificent crystal chandelier.

A few days later, Shanghai, Avenue Joffre
On Avenue Joffre, near Cathay Cinema, is a charming café.

The afternoon sun slanted through the glass window and onto the round table covered with a snow-white linen tablecloth.

The air was filled with the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee.
The café was filled with the occasional gentle clinking of delicate bone china cups and saucers, and the soft whispers of French conversation drifted from the neighboring tables.
The background music is Chopin's Nocturne playing from a phonograph.

This is the elegant heart of the French Concession, a salon for wealthy young men and women.

Shen Qingyao sat by the window, wearing an exquisitely tailored smoky gray velvet cheongsam with a small and delicate pearl brooch at the collar, and a high-quality mink fur-trimmed short coat over it.

Her jet-black hair was loosely tied up, revealing her smooth forehead and neck.

Her slender hands, clad in lace gloves, were gracefully holding a small silver spoon, gently stirring the Viennese coffee with milk foam in front of her.

Bathed in sunlight, her profile was soft, her features exquisite, and her demeanor serene and gentle—she was every inch the daughter of a noble family.

However, in the depths of those eyes that occasionally glanced towards the doorway, a barely perceptible hint of calm and sharpness would occasionally flash.
As the clock struck two, a car brake sounded outside the coffee shop. A moment later, Chen Yang pushed open the door and entered, wearing a well-tailored dark gray striped British suit and a tie that was tied meticulously.

His gaze swept across the room and quickly settled on Shen Qingyao by the window: "Miss Shen, you've arrived first."

"Mr. Chen, you're too kind. Please have a seat." Shen Qingyao smiled a standard, slightly shy, ladylike smile and gestured to the seat opposite her.

The waiter came over quickly, and Chen Yang ordered a black coffee.

The surface appears calm, but the battle on the surface has already begun.

The moment the waiter turned to leave, Chen Yang's hand, resting on the table, revealed a fleeting gesture beneath the stack of snow-white napkins: two fingers crossed, mimicking the shape of a ship's mast, before immediately returning to their original position. This was the code for the "Sea Lion."

Shen Qingyao picked up her coffee cup, elegantly covering half of her lips with the cup's rim, her gaze falling on the black Austin car driving past the window. As if casually mentioning the weather, she said, "I heard there will be sea fog at the port tomorrow."

Shen Qingyao's question was whether to continue the collaboration next time.

“Two hundred and ninety US dollars per ton,” Chen Yang’s voice was not loud, but it was clearly audible.
Shen Qingyao didn't respond, her gaze seemingly drawn to a bouquet of vibrant roses sitting next to her.

She gently stirred the coffee with a small silver spoon, causing ripples to spread across the white porcelain cup: "Mr. Chen, the price I heard was not this."

After a long silence, Shen Qingyao finally spoke: "You quoted the Germans nearly nine hundred US dollars per ton, yet you're using a third of that price to buy our goods?"

Chen Yang frowned slightly: "Miss Shen, what are you trying to say?"

Shen Qingyao picked up her coffee and took a sip: "I think this price is unreasonable. Shouldn't you raise the price a little?"

“Hehe, good things naturally have a good price, but I think you’ll prefer this,” Chen Yang calmly took out a small jewelry box wrapped in dark blue velvet from his suit’s inner pocket, as if it were a gift for his sweetheart.
"Miss Shen, please take a look inside and see if you like anything."

Shen Qingyao stretched out her lace-gloved hand and opened the jewelry box. Inside, instead of the ring she had expected, there was a note.

The label read: "Sulfonamides, scalpels, radio cores, bullets, rifles, light machine guns."

Shen Qingyao's expression changed slightly, and the delicate little silver spoon in her left hand froze on the rim of the snow-white bone china cup.

Under the sunlight, the light reflected from the spoon handle was somewhat dazzling.

Her thick eyelashes drooped as she stared at the brown vortex she had stirred in the glass, as if time itself had frozen within that vortex.

Chen Yang said calmly, "I know you really need these things. I can help you get these supplies and deliver them to the designated location for your people."

"The price is that, starting this month, you will have to supply at least 1,000 tons of tungsten ore every quarter, at a price of $290 per ton."

"I will provide the corresponding quantity of supplies according to the quantity you supply."

Shen Qingyao was in a state of turmoil. Compared to making money, these supplies were what the organization needed.

Moreover, the Japanese army is currently blockading the area, preventing many supplies from being delivered.

Chen Yang smiled and said, "No rush, you can take your time to think about it. By the way, shouldn't you say thank you for helping you so much?"

Shen Qingyao's face stiffened.
A transaction involving 1,000 tons of tungsten ore, worth three million dollars, you took two million and gave us one million, and I should thank you?
Shameless.
(End of this chapter)