Hidden Radiance

On the edge of the French Concession, an abandoned textile factory warehouse.

Rain dripped down the dilapidated roof and pattered onto the moss-covered cement floor.

Lu Minghui pushed open the rusty iron gate and went inside.

He had only taken three steps when he felt a chill on the back of his head. A cold gun barrel was pressed against the back of his head.

In the darkness, a man in a black trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat stood behind him. The brim of the hat was pulled low, revealing only half of his cold, hard jawline.

It looks exactly like the photo.

Paper kite.

"Minghui, you've disappointed me greatly." Wang Puchen emerged from the shadows, an unlit cigar between his fingers, his face ashen, his eyes bloodshot. "Twenty chests of gold have vanished, and my suicide squad has been completely wiped out. You not only gave me the intelligence, but you also gave it to the Red Party?"

Lu Minghui did not turn around, his voice steady: "Station Chief, if I were colluding with the Red Party, I wouldn't be standing here now."

"Fake military police, new uniforms, marching in with the change of guard command on cue." Wang Puchen slammed his cigar to the ground. "Besides you, the head of the confidential section, who could time it so precisely? Who could get the password for that night?"

"Many people know the password, such as Gu Yunqiu and Xiao Ye, but I am not one of them."

The gun barrel pressed against the back of his head paused slightly.

"Gu Yunqiu is a senior agent of the South Manchuria Railway Bureau of Investigation, but she is not Japanese." Lu Minghui turned around, looked directly into Wang Puchen's eyes, and ignored the gun in Paper Kite's hand. "If she is a Red Party infiltrator in the Mei Agency, then everything makes sense."

Wang Puchen squinted.

He took out matches from his pocket, bent down to pick up the cigar from the ground, wiped off the dirt, and lit it. He took a deep drag, and smoke billowed from his nostrils.

As he took his second drag, his gaze shifted from Lu Minghui's face to a spot in the corner of the warehouse.

I didn't ask any more questions.

Lu Minghui recognized that expression. Wang Puchen had taught him at the training class in Chongqing.

When the person being interrogated gives a logically consistent answer and you don't have solid evidence, continuing to press them will only expose your true intentions.

"You'd better have no ties with the Red Party, otherwise things will get very difficult." Wang Puchen's tone softened slightly. "Even if I don't make things difficult for you, I still have connections above me."

"If the station chief suspects me, he can shoot now." Lu Minghui didn't move, his hands hanging at his sides. "But what happens after you kill me? Who gets the gold for the station chief? Who keeps an eye on Nakajima for him? How will the station chief explain things to Chongqing?"

Wang Puchen stared intently at him for a full half minute.

A piece of cigar ash fell silently onto the wet ground.

"Put the gun down," Wang Puchen said coldly.

The kite sheathed its gun and silently retreated into the darkness.

Wang Puchen, a cigarette dangling from his lips, walked up to Lu Minghui and reached out to straighten his clothes. His movements were unhurried and deliberate.

"Given the current situation, there's nothing we can do but sigh." Wang Puchen patted his shoulder, harder than before. "We have more than one enemy. Even if the two parties cooperate, it's only temporary. Two tigers cannot share one mountain."

"I know, I understand." Lu Minghui did not continue to argue.

"Alright." Wang Puchen took a step back, the glow of his cigar reflecting on his face, flickering uncertainly. "Go back now, I'll let you know if there's any news."

Lu Minghui nodded, glanced in the direction of the kite, and turned to leave.

Wang Puchen watched Lu Minghui's figure disappear into the rain, the cigar in his mouth burning his fingers, but he didn't throw it away.

"Keep a close eye on him." His voice was low. "Confirm whether the gold has fallen into the hands of the Reds. If he is indeed colluding with the Reds—take him out."

The kite didn't answer. The shadow under the hat brim shifted; the person was gone.

By the time we left the yarn factory, it was already broad daylight.

Lu Minghui returned to No. 76 and had just reached the entrance of the confidential office when he saw Gu Yunqiu standing in front of his office door.

She changed into a clean black dress, removed the gauze from her head, and replaced it with a white adhesive tape.

"Good morning, Commander Lu." Gu Yunqiu pushed up his glasses. "I would appreciate it if you could help me interrogate that Red Party driver we caught last night."

Lu Minghui took out his keys and opened the door without pausing for a moment: "Secretary Gu is always decisive in handling cases. Can't he get a rickshaw puller to talk?"

"The interrogation hasn't even started yet." Gu Yunqiu looked at Lu Minghui's profile and a smile appeared on his lips. "Red Party members have always been stubborn. Let him calm down first; it will be easier to break through that barrier."

"Calm down, calm down?" Lu Minghui stopped pushing the door open. He turned his head and met Gu Yunqiu's gaze.

"Do you know that a lot of intelligence loses its value after 24 hours?" Lu Minghui smiled. "Given the Red Party's style, once someone goes missing for 24 hours, they will be completely silenced and cut off from all contact."

"I know I was wrong." Gu Yunqiu bowed his head. "Thank you for your guidance, Commander Lu."

"Let's go." Lu Minghui turned and headed towards the basement.

Gu Yunqiu wasn't admitting her mistake; she was deliberately setting a trap for him. As a seasoned special agent, she couldn't possibly be unaware of such common sense.

Underground interrogation room.

Dampness and blood were the main smells in the interrogation room. Old Zhao was tied to the rack, but no torture was used.

Hearing footsteps, Old Zhao slowly raised his head. Exhaustion had made his eyes bloodshot, and his gaze passed over Gu Yunqiu and landed on Lu Minghui.

Lu Minghui's facial muscles remained completely still, his eyes as cold as ice. But his right hand was gripping the flesh of his thigh tightly inside his trench coat pocket.

"That's him." Gu Yunqiu pointed at Old Zhao. "Commander Lu, you ride in his car quite often to and from get off work, don't you?"

Lu Minghui walked to the rack, looked helplessly at Old Zhao, and said with a tone of regret, "Old Zhao? How could you be a Communist Party member?"

Gu Yunqiu has already arrested Lao Zhao, and his denial of knowing him is nothing more than a cover-up.

Old Zhao laughed and said, "Everyone has their own choices."

At the same time, he quickly tapped a series of short, very light taps on the crossbar of the rack with his left hand. The taps were brief and light, mixed with the swaying of the chains.

Project Sugi. Investigate. Destroy.

Lu Minghui's pupils contracted for a moment, then returned to normal. He turned halfway to the side, his back to Gu Yunqiu, raised his left hand to pinch Lao Zhao's chin, and tapped Lao Zhao's jawbone a few times with his right index finger, as if checking his teeth.

Under the guise of defection. To save you.

"There are many paths, why choose a dead end?" Lu Minghui released his grip.

The sound of leather shoes came from behind.

Gu Yunqiu took two steps forward and walked around to the side of the rack. Her gaze swept over Old Zhao's left hand resting on the horizontal bar, and she paused for a moment.

Then she reached out and grabbed Lao Zhao's left wrist, pulling his fingers off the crossbar.

"This comrade's hands aren't behaving properly." Gu Yunqiu turned Old Zhao's hand over, examining his palm and then his fingertips. The red marks left by the pulling of the chains were indistinguishable from normal struggles. She didn't let go, her gaze passing over Old Zhao's shoulder and fixing on Lu Minghui's face.

Lu Minghui didn't look at her. He bent down to pick up a pencil stub that had rolled off the ground. The movement was natural, as if it were something he did casually.

Old Zhao waited a few seconds until he was silent before speaking.

"Haha..." Old Zhao laughed loudly, "How could a traitor understand what faith is, what it means to live a great life and die a glorious death!"

Laughter echoed under the low roof. Gu Yunqiu released his wrist and took a step back.

She wasn't sure. The tapping of fingertips could be a struggle, tension, or something else entirely. But the driver's hands shouldn't be on the crossbar.

"Even ants try to survive, why go to such lengths?" Lu Minghui straightened up and threw the pencil stub onto the interrogation table.

"Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves! Let our flesh and blood forge a new Great Wall..."

Old Zhao burst into song.

The singing echoed in the interrogation room, and the chains swayed to the beat. His hand was pulled away from the bar by Gu Yunqiu, hanging at his side, clenched into a fist.

Using the off-beat rhythm of the singing, the last three words were conveyed.

Kill me.

"It seems that Commander Lu's questioning has yielded no results." Gu Yunqiu's voice came from behind. "The Red Party is not only hard-hearted, but also stubborn."

"You traitorous dog, pick up your whip!" Old Zhao continued his mockery after singing, "Your civility only reminds me of scum, only disgusts me."

"I've seen plenty of tough guys. Since you don't like this way of chatting, let's try something else."

Lu Minghui turned and walked towards the rack, taking down the whip.

His knuckles turned white when he gripped the whip handle.

Snapped--

His wrist trembled as the first lash struck.

Old Zhao's body jerked slightly, but he didn't make a sound.

Lu Minghui gripped the whip handle tightly; the second lash was heavier than the first.

The third lash was even heavier.

The whip struck flesh, the sound changing from dull to crisp. The sound of flesh tearing open. His wrist stopped trembling.

Snap, snap, snap—

One lash after another, faster and faster, more and more brutal.

Gu Yunqiu watched from behind. He couldn't stop, he couldn't be gentle, he couldn't have even the slightest damned hesitation.

"Arise, ye who refuse to be slaves..."

There were no screams in the interrogation room.

Only that one high-pitched song.