Hidden Radiance

February 1942. Shanghai, Special Higher Police.

Section Chief Nakajima Shinichi placed a letter of appointment on the table, tapped the paper with his fingertip, and pushed it to Lu Minghui.

"Take a look."

Lu Minghui didn't move.

The living room was filled with smoke, and sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting flickering light and shadow on the island.

There were two cups of tea on the table. Lu Minghui hadn't touched his cup; the tea had gone completely cold.

The letter of appointment was in Japanese and bore the red seal of the Ume Agency. He was the Commander-in-Chief of the Guard Unit, officially designated as Unit 76.

This position belonged to Wu Sibao just three days ago.

Wu Sibao died in the alley, shot in the back of the head and in the chest, and even lost one of his shoes while running. The murderer was never caught, but everyone in the 76th Division knew the truth.

It was the Kuomintang secret police who did it.

Lu Minghui remained silent. The truth that everyone knows is most likely not the truth.

"I'm not suitable," Lu Minghui said.

Nakajima paused, his hand holding the teacup still, and his gaze suddenly fixed on Lu Minghui's face.

Why?

"The guard battalion is in charge of security for the entire 76th Division. It has five battalions under its command, more than two hundred people. It is the violent organization of 76th Division." Lu Minghui spoke slowly and steadily, sitting upright with his hands flat on his knees. "You know, I studied intelligence analysis at the sergeant academy. I don't know any hand-to-hand combat, so I can't control these people."

Nakajima didn't speak, put down his teacup, stood up, and walked to the window. He drew back the curtains, and light flooded in, causing Lu Minghui to squint.

"Minghui".

Nakajima switched to Japanese.

"I saw the instructors' comments when you were in Tokyo. You got top marks in tactical simulations and logical analysis. Your abilities have already been proven."

Lu Minghui did not respond.

Turning around, Nakajima looked at Lu Minghui: "You don't need to go to the front line, you just need to keep an eye on Number 76 for me."

"76 is no longer clean." Nakajima walked back to the table, placed his hands on the edge of the table, and leaned slightly forward. "You must know about Wu Sibao's death. They actually dared to infringe on the interests of the Great Japanese Empire."

Nakajima paused briefly.

"I need someone I can trust to sit in this position."

Trustworthy.

These three words struck Lu Minghui like a blow, causing a chill to run down his spine. He remained outwardly unmoved.

Can I trust him?

What is it that Nakajima Shin feels? Is it the friendship he shared with his classmates in Tokyo over two years? Or is it the natural sense of closeness that Japanese people have for "their own people"?

None of that matters. What matters is that this statement shut down anything he was about to say.

Shinichi Nakajima wasn't soliciting opinions; he was issuing a notification. The appointment letter was already stamped, the tea was already served, and if Lu Minghui were to say "no" today, it wouldn't be a matter of ability.

It's a matter of stance, a matter of loyalty.

Footsteps sounded outside the door, and someone whispered something in the corridor before the footsteps faded away.

Lu Minghui lowered his eyes, looking at the letter of appointment on the table. The red seal was glaring, the Japanese characters were written vertically, and his name stood out.

"Nakajima-kun," Lu Minghui said in Japanese as he looked up after finishing his tea, "you're putting me on the hot seat."

Nakajima laughed, loosened his grip on the edge of the table, and took a half-step back.

"How can this be like putting someone on a hot seat? This is entrusting someone with a great responsibility, a matter of life and death." Nakajima pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up the teapot to refill Lu Minghui's cup. "You are my best classmate, my best friend. So you see..."

Lu Minghui stared at the cup of freshly brewed tea. Steam rose and spread between the two of them.

There was a knock on the door to the reception room.

"Come in." Nakajima said without even looking up.

The door opened, and a young man in a Zhongshan suit stood in the doorway, sweat beading on his forehead, clearly having run all the way there. He first glanced at Zhongdao, then at Lu Minghui, and hesitated for a second.

"Speak," Nakajima said, fiddling with the lid of his teacup.

"Deputy Battalion Commander Sun and his men sealed off Commander Wu's office, saying they were going to take inventory of supplies and wouldn't let anyone in."

Nakajima did not react.

Lu Minghui's finger twitched slightly. What was in Wu Sibao's office? Personnel files, patrol records, or something else? Was Sun Yaozu hastily sealing off the office to destroy evidence, or was he searching for something?

"Anything else?" Nakajima asked.

The young man swallowed hard. "Deputy Battalion Commander Sun said that he will temporarily take over all affairs of the guard battalion until the new commander-in-chief arrives. The word has already been given."

Nakajima turned his head to look out the window, as if trying to see through it towards No. 76.

His eyes were calm.

The 76th Division is getting bolder and bolder. How can a mere squad leader influence personnel appointments?

Lu Minghui picked up the cup of fresh tea and took a sip.

Longjing tea, made before Qingming Festival. In these days, there aren't many places in Shanghai where you can drink this kind of tea.

"The tea is good." He put down his cup.

Nakajima is waiting.

"Who has the key to Captain Wu's office?" Lu Minghui's tone was flat.

The young man paused for a moment, then instinctively looked at Nakajima. Nakajima gave no hint, simply holding his teacup without moving.

"It should...it should be with Deputy Captain Sun. He took the key after Captain Wu's accident."

Lu Minghui stood up.

The sunlight flickered, like fireworks flashing on and off.

Nakajima turned around and stood up as well, but Lu Minghui raised his hand to stop him.

"I accept the letter of appointment."

Lu Minghui picked up the piece of paper on the table, folded it twice, and stuffed it into his inner jacket pocket. The action was casual; since he couldn't refuse, he would accept it calmly.

"Now take me to Wu Sibao's office."

He told the young man that he hadn't looked at Nakajima.

The young man opened his mouth, but didn't dare to utter a sound.

The two left the Special Higher Police Section one after the other and headed towards No. 76.

Wu Sibao's office.

The two mahogany doors were tightly closed, and eight men dressed in black silk shirts stood outside.

The corridor was dimly lit, and the eight people formed a wall of flesh, completely blocking the door.

Sun Yaozu leaned against the doorframe, half a Hademen cigarette between his fingers, and was giving instructions to his men. He was burly, with a face full of scars, and an old scar at the corner of his eye, a remnant from his early days fighting for territory with the Green Gang.

Lu Minghui walked over, his leather shoes making a dull sound on the wooden floor.

The young man leading the way stopped five steps away, his legs trembling, too afraid to take another step. Most of the guards were from the Green Gang, and every one of them was a killer.

Hearing the noise, Sun Yaozu exhaled a smoke ring and glanced sideways at Lu Minghui.

"Isn't this Secretary Lu from the Special Higher Police? You've come to the wrong place. This is No. 76, not the Special Higher Police."

Sun Yaozu didn't move, but all eight of his men looked at Lu Minghui and reached for their waists in unison.

Lu Minghui stopped and stood three steps away from Sun Yaozu.

This distance was one he had chosen. Not too far, not too close, just within reach.

"Open the door."

The sound was soft and flat.

Sun Yaozu laughed, his eyes filled with contempt. He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it out with his leather shoe.