Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

Executive suite at a five-star hotel in the southern part of the city.

Hiroshi Nakamura—whose passport name at this moment is Shoichi Imai—stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, holding the dark gold copper coin in his hand.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the glass, casting a blood-red sheen on the surface of the copper coin.

He ran his fingertips along the engraved edges, the non-Chinese characters gleaming faintly in the slanting sunlight, as if a sleeping code was awakening.

"Forty-eight years..." he murmured to himself in Japanese.

On the sofa behind him, Liu Jianmin's cousin, Wang Zhiqiang, sat nervously, rubbing his hands back and forth on his knees.

"Mr. Imai, about my cousin..."

"He will get what he deserves." Nakamura Hiroshi said calmly without turning around. "His son's study abroad application is all done, and he will receive his visa next week. We will continue to pay his wife's medical account until... a suitable kidney donor is found." There was no emotion in his eyes as he said this.

"Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. Imai!" Wang Zhiqiang bowed repeatedly. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Hiroshi Nakamura turned around with a standard Japanese smile: "We're friends, so helping each other is only natural. However, there is indeed a small matter that might require your cousin's assistance."

"Please speak."

"Your cousin has worked in the public security system for many years and should have some connections." Nakamura Hiroshi walked to the sofa and sat down, gently placing the copper coin on the coffee table. "We need to look up some historical data—about some special custody business of the Nancheng People's Bank (the predecessor) around 1947."

Wang Zhiqiang looked troubled: "Mr. Imai, the bank's historical records are managed very strictly, especially the anonymous safe deposit box business. Without a court search warrant or special approval from higher authorities, no one can access them... Even if my cousin is a policeman, he can't get involved..."

"We don't need to look at the details." Nakamura Hiroshi interrupted him, pointing at the copper coin with his finger. "We only need to confirm one thing: whether the bank used a batch of safe deposit boxes that required special verification methods during that period—the verification tool was very likely a copper coin like this."

He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice: "We just need a number. A safe deposit box number. With it, many historical mysteries can be solved."

Wang Zhiqiang looked at the copper coin, then at Nakamura Hiroshi's unfathomable eyes, and his throat felt dry.

He remembered what his cousin had said when he called from a public phone last night—his voice was hoarse and weary: "Zhiqiang, after this is over, we're even. And then... never contact me again, and never use this pager number to look for me again."

"I..." Wang Zhiqiang gritted his teeth, "I'll go talk to my cousin. But I can't guarantee anything..."

"Just do your best." Nakamura Hiroshi smiled and handed over a thick envelope. "This is the initial fee. There will be the same amount after it's done."

The envelope felt heavy in his hand. Wang Zhiqiang's fingers trembled slightly.

"Oh, right," Nakamura Hiroshi said, as if suddenly remembering something, "the person who sabotaged our plans at the bank... his name is Cangli Feng, right?"

"Yes, he was a construction foreman, and now he's a hero; it's in the newspapers every day."

"Have someone check his background," Nakamura Hiroshi said casually, pulling a Motorola 9900 mobile phone from his suit pocket and dialing. "How could an ordinary migrant worker have such skills? And how could he happen to be at that bank at that time? Sometimes, the most inconspicuous coincidences often hide the most important truths."

Wang Zhiqiang was taken aback: "You suspect he is...?"

"I don't doubt anyone." Hiroshi Nakamura held his mobile phone to his ear, waiting for the call to connect. "I only believe in the facts. Go investigate, the more detailed the better. Family, place of origin, social connections... everything."

"Yes."

Wang Zhiqiang bowed and left the suite.

The door closed gently.

Hiroshi Nakamura stood alone by the window, quickly spoke a few words in Japanese to his mobile phone, and then hung up. The setting sun cast his long shadow onto the carpet.

---

Nancheng People's Hospital, VIP ward area.

Cang Liuqing stood at the window at the end of the corridor, looking down at the bustling traffic below.

She walked to the rotary phone at the nurses' station and dialed her home number.

It rang five times before I answered.

"Feed?" It was the voice of his father, Cang Yuanzhi, steady and with a slight Jiangnan accent.

"Dad, it's me." Cang Liuqing tried to make her voice sound relaxed. "Have you eaten?"

"We just finished eating, your mom's washing the dishes." Cang Yuanzhi paused. "How's it going on your end? Is work going smoothly?"

"It's alright." Cang Liuqing hesitated for a moment. "Dad, there's something I need to tell you—about Lifeng."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone: "What happened to Lifeng? Did something happen to him in Nancheng?"

"He was injured, but he's out of danger," Cang Liuqing said quickly. "The specifics are a bit complicated, but simply put, he acted bravely to save someone and was shot himself. He's in the hospital now, recovering well, and will be discharged soon."

Cang Yuanzhi's breathing became noticeably heavier: "A gunshot wound? How serious is it? Where is it?"

"His left shoulder wasn't seriously injured," Cang Liuqing said. "He's really become a hero; it's even in the newspapers. Once he's healed, I'll bring him home to see you."

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Cang Liuqing could hear her father's heavy breathing and her mother's soft voice in the distance asking, "What's wrong?"

"It's good that he's alright." Cang Yuanzhi finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "This child... has never been easy to deal with since he was little. Tell him to take good care of his injury and not to worry about home."

"Yes, I will."

Another silence fell. Cang Liuqing knew that her father was processing the news—his favorite nephew had been shot and become a hero; such complex emotions needed time to settle.

"Dad," she said softly, "there's one more thing I want to ask you."

"you say."

"Lifeng was injured this time because of a bank robbery. He saw something at the scene..." Cang Liuqing carefully chose his words, "...a copper coin, round, with a square hole in the middle, dark gold in color, with engravings on the edge, and it didn't seem to have Chinese characters. He said that when he saw that copper coin, his heart skipped a beat, and he felt like he had seen it somewhere before."

There was a deathly silence on the other end of the phone.

"Dad?" Cang Liuqing called out tentatively.

"You..." Cang Yuanzhi's voice changed, becoming extremely low, "Say it again? What kind of copper coin?"

Cang Liuqing described in detail the characteristics of the copper coin—round shape, square hole, dark gold color, engraved edges, and non-Chinese characters. With each characteristic she mentioned, the breathing on the other end of the phone grew heavier.

When she said, "Lifeng said it felt familiar, like he'd seen something similar at his grandfather's place," Cang Yuanzhi interrupted her:

"Liu Qing, where are you now?"

"In the hospital corridor."

Is anyone around?

Cang Liuqing looked around: "No."

"Listen to me." Cang Yuanzhi's voice was extremely low, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, "Don't mention that copper coin to anyone again. Anyone, understand?"

"Dad, what about this copper coin...?"

"I told you not to ask!" Cang Yuanzhi's tone was sterner than ever before, but it softened immediately. "Liu Qing, Dad isn't yelling at you. This matter... this matter concerns our family, it concerns... many things. It's hard to explain over the phone."

Cang Liuqing's heart pounded. Her father's reaction confirmed everything—he knew about the copper coin, and he knew its importance.

"Dad, is this copper coin related to Grandpa?" she asked softly. "Is it related to... our family's escape from the north to the south?"

On the other end of the phone, Cang Yuanzhi's breathing stopped.

After a full ten seconds, he finally spoke, his voice aged and weary: "Liu Qing, how much do you know?"

"All I know is that the copper coin Lifeng saw in the bank looks very similar to one he might have seen at his grandfather's house when he was a child," Cang Liuqing said. "Dad, my current job... exposes me to some things. This copper coin might be related to a very important historical case, or even national security."

She paused, then uttered the most crucial words: "Someone plotted a bank robbery for this copper coin. Someone killed someone to cover it up. Now the coin is gone, and it may have fallen into the hands of someone who shouldn't have."

The sound of a chair being dragged came from the other end of the phone, and Cang Yuanzhi seemed to stand up. Cang Liuqing could hear his heavy, slow footsteps pacing around the room.

"Liu Qing," he finally spoke, "your grandfather is still alive, eighty-three years old, and still mentally sound. There are some things that need to be said."

"dad……"

"But I can't say that over the phone," Cang Yuanzhi said. "You have to come back. Come back in person for a face-to-face meeting. And you can't let anyone at your workplace know—at least not now."

Cang Liuqing gripped the phone receiver tightly: "Dad, my current identity..."

"I know you're a government official," Cang Yuanzhi interrupted her. "Precisely because you're a government official, there are some things you must know. But you have to promise me that you won't report to your superiors before I finish speaking—these are your grandfather's exact words."

Cang Liuqing was caught in a dilemma. As a national security officer, she should immediately report her father's words to Chen Mo. But as a daughter, she sensed the heaviness in her father's tone—the weariness and resolve of someone who had carried a secret for decades and was finally about to lay down a heavy burden.

"I...I need time to schedule," she finally said.

"Hurry," Cang Yuanzhi said. "Time is running out. Now that those people have the copper coins, their next step is to look for the box. Once the box is opened... some things will no longer be able to be hidden."

"A box?" Cang Liuqing pressed, "What box?"

"I can't say it over the phone," Cang Yuanzhi repeated. "Come back, and I'll have your grandfather tell you in person. Tell him what your great-grandfather, Cang Yunshan, saw in Beiping in 1945, why our family fled to the south, and... why that copper coin was kept in our family for forty-eight years."

He hung up the phone.

Cang Liuqing stood still, the phone receiver still pressed against her ear, listening to the busy tone coming from the other end.

As the setting sun sank behind the tall buildings outside the window, it turned the entire city blood red.

She slowly put down the receiver, hung up the phone, turned around, and leaned against the cold wall.

1945. Beiping (Beijing). Great-grandfather's Cangyun Mountain. Copper coins. A box. Forty-eight years of guardianship.

All the fragments are piecing together a family picture she had never imagined.

Meanwhile, in the ward at the other end of the corridor, Cang Lifeng had just finished eating the second apple that Lin Wei had peeled.

……

In three corners of the city, three silent wars are being waged simultaneously.

In the basement of the National Security Bureau, Chen Mo stared at the network of relationships on the whiteboard, tapping his fingers on the table: "Mingyue, contact the Provincial Archives and the Institute of History through internal channels to see if there are any experts who study the looting of cultural relics during the War of Resistance Against Japan. In particular... has anyone ever vaguely mentioned 'special safe deposit boxes' or 'verification coins'?"

In his professor's dormitory, Shen Moyuan packed the revised chapters of his manuscript into a file bag. He had specially added several highly professional detailed descriptions to the section on "Physical Characteristics of Japanese Military Coins," descriptions that only someone who had actually seen the real objects could write.

In the old house in Xiqiao Village, Cang Houde took out a rusty iron box from a hidden compartment under the bed. Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the dark gold copper coin inside the box. The old man's calloused fingers traced the engravings on the coin's surface, and a complex, indescribable emotion welled up in his cloudy eyes.

Today, his second son, Cang Yuanzhi, came to see him. Forty-eight years of silence are about to be broken.