Hidden Radiance

Inside the carriage, the engine hummed softly.

"You got the intelligence about Wusongkou last night." Lu Minghui looked out the window at the receding street scene. "Since you know where the special envoy is, why didn't you take action?"

Gu Yunqiu gripped the steering wheel with both hands, her gaze fixed straight ahead.

"The death of one special envoy cannot bring about the Sugi Project."

She didn't say anything more.

Lu Minghui adjusted the gauze on his left shoulder with his right hand and turned to look ahead.

Stop at the intersection ahead.

Gu Yunqiu stepped on the brakes without asking any further questions.

"Go to the stationery store next door and buy a blank visiting card."

The high heels clicked on the bluestone slabs, one after another, gradually fading into the distance.

Lu Minghui waited until she didn't enter the stationery store, then opened the passenger door and walked towards the public phone booth on the street corner.

Insert a coin and dial.

The call connected, and there was only a slight static sound in the receiver.

He tapped the microphone lightly against the phone booth with his right hand: two long taps, one short tap, a pause, and three short taps.

hang up.

He got back into the car before Gu Yunqiu returned.

A moment later, Gu Yunqiu, holding the visiting card, opened the car door and got into the driver's seat.

"Your hand is not in a good position, I'll write it." She unscrewed the pen cap.

"The head of the Special Operations Group of Project Sugi visited."

The pen tip paused.

She glanced at Lu Minghui, then wrote the line down, her pen landing heavily as if she were nailing something into the paper.

He closed the visiting card and handed it over.

"Let's go." Lu Minghui put the visiting card into his pocket. "To No. 76."

A black Ford sedan drove into the compound at No. 76 Jessfield Road.

Gu Yunqiu turned off the engine, pulled out the key, and got out of the car.

She leaned against the car and lit a cigarette.

Lu Minghui pushed open the car door with one hand, his left arm slung across his chest, and headed straight for the office building.

On the third floor, Li Shiqun's office door was open.

"Director Lu, you're injured like this and you still come to inspect the department?" Li Shiqun sat on the sofa, holding a teacup in his hand, his tone somewhat teasing.

"I'm here to meet someone." Lu Minghui walked to the coffee table. "Mr. Shao from the backyard."

The smile on Li Shiqun's face faded.

The teacup was placed on the table, making a crisp sound.

"Director Shao is a distinguished guest from Nanjing. He is tired from his journey and will not see any outsiders."

Lu Minghui did not respond.

He took the visiting card out of his pocket with his right hand and threw it on the coffee table.

"If he sees this, he'll definitely meet with them." Lu Minghui looked down at Li Shiqun. "As for the others, seeing this might cost them their heads."

Li Shiqun stared at the visiting card, the three words "Project Shan" pressed against the paper.

He didn't reach out to take it.

I stood up, walked to the window, and opened the blinds.

Downstairs, Gu Yunqiu leaned against the Ford sedan, a cigarette between her fingers, looking up at the window.

Li Shiqun looped the blind cord around his knuckles, tightened it, and then loosened it.

"Zhejiang".

Lin Zhijiang pushed the door open and came in.

"Take Director Lu to the backyard." Li Shiqun sat back on the sofa, closed his eyes, and said, "Whether Director Shao sees him or not is up to him."

Lin Zhijiang bowed his head in agreement and turned to lead the way.

In the backyard, there is a detached two-story villa.

Four thugs from the action team stood around him, their waists bulging.

Lin Zhijiang pushed open the door, gestured for him to enter, then stepped out and closed the door behind him.

The living room was filled with the scent of sandalwood.

A middle-aged man in a long gown sat in a grand chair, twirling a string of small-leaf sandalwood beads in his hands, making a clicking sound as he turned them.

Lu Minghui stood in front of the chair opposite him for a moment, his gaze falling on the string of beads.

The string is too new, and the beads lack patina. The fingers move in the same unchanging order, stopping at the same spot on each bead, as if reciting a set of movements rather than playing.

"Lu Minghui, Director Lu." Shao Shijun did not stand up. "I've long admired your name. Most of Shanghai is talking about Director Lu's heroic act of taking a bullet for his friend at the train station."

"No need for formalities." Lu Minghui leaned on the armrest and sat down. The broken bone in his left shoulder rubbed against him, and his breath hitched for a moment, but the smile on his lips remained unchanged.

"I want to meet the executor of Project Sugi."

Shao Shijun stopped fiddling with the prayer beads.

He looked at Lu Minghui, raised an eyebrow, and smiled.

"Director Lu, you've certainly gotten straight to the point." Shao Shijun flicked a bead. "I'm the chief commander of Project Shan, codenamed Gardener. The integration of Shanghai gangs and chambers of commerce, and the allocation of the first batch of funds, are all in my hands. Director Lu, just tell me what you need."

Lu Minghui did not respond.

My gaze shifted from the string of beads, then returned.

"Mr. Shao," Lu Minghui picked up the teacup on the table, but didn't drink it, just held it, "which accounting system is the North China United Bank using for this year's gold inventory calculation?"

Shao Shijun paused.

He paused briefly, then quickly regained his smile: "That's not what we're discussing today."

"Wang Shijin manages the accounts over there," Lu Minghui said, putting the teacup back. "Not you."

No one spoke in the living room.

The smoke from the incense burner rose straight up, then broke and scattered in mid-air.

Lu Minghui glanced at the string of beads.

"Shao Shijun. Director of the Tax Bureau of the Ministry of Finance of Nanjing Government. He studied in Japan, majoring in finance, and is Wu Sibao's sworn brother. He is in charge of taxation in Nanjing and has deep roots in Shanghai."

His tone was steady.

"They are indeed qualified to participate in Project Sugi."

He paused for a moment.

"But how long have you been handling those beads?"

Shao Shijun rested his thumb on the bead, but didn't move it.

"Wang Shijin's string of beads is over ten years old," Lu Minghui said, his gaze shifting from the beads. "The patina has seeped into its very bones. Yours, the string is still practically new."

Shao Shijun's smile lasted for two seconds before it gave way.

His hand fell to his side, and the string of beads tapped against the armrest of the armchair with a sound.

He put the sandalwood bracelet on his wrist and sat up straight.

"Director Lu is not only an excellent marksman, but he also has a keen eye for people." Shao Shijun's tone turned cold. "Since you know I'm not him, you should understand that Mr. Wang is not someone anyone can just see."

"I'm the head of the special operations team for Project Shan." Lu Minghui tapped the table. "Integrating gangs and chambers of commerce is my job. Without him showing up, this job can't be done."

"The time is not right," Shao Shijun refused outright. "Once things are settled in Shanghai, the gentleman will naturally see you."

"Relying on Director Li and Captain She to straighten things out?" Lu Minghui sneered. "Relying on the Green Gang's shady methods?"

Shao Shijun's face darkened: "Director Lu, watch your tone."

"I'm not here today to be polite."

Lu Minghui stood up, using his right hand to push himself up on the armrest, his knuckles clenched white. The gauze on his left shoulder brushed against the collar of his trench coat, causing his jaw muscles to twitch, but he didn't stop walking.

"Tell Mr. Wang that this is Shanghai, not Nanjing."

He turned and walked towards the door.

"Also, Project Sugi is Project Sugi of the Special Higher Police, not Project Sugi of the 76th Division."

"Director Lu," Shao Shijun called out to him from behind, "You'd better stay away from Wan Molin's line."

Lu Minghui stopped in his tracks.

"Some meat is not for you to bite." Shao Shijun's voice deepened, his fingers gripping the new string of beads on his wrist, he clenched it but didn't move it.

He placed his right hand on the doorknob, ran his fingers lightly over the metal, and pulled the door open.

Back in the car, Gu Yunqiu started the engine.

"You saw him?"

"A messenger." Lu Minghui closed his eyes.

Gu Yunqiu shifted the gear up and didn't ask any more questions.

"Go to the French Concession, Avenue Joffre."

The Ford sedan drove out of Gate 76.

The car slowed down as it reached the street corner. A young newspaper boy ran to the window, stood on tiptoe, and handed a newspaper in.

"Sir, today's evening paper."

Lu Minghui took the newspaper with his right hand and tossed a silver dollar to it. The force he exerted on his right hand pulled on his left shoulder, but he didn't show it.

The boy clutched the silver coin and ran away.

Lu Minghui braced his knee against a corner of the newspaper and used his thumb to pry open the crease.

A simple bird is drawn on the edge of the blank page.

He pressed his thumb along the edge of the paper; the surface was flat and there were no interlayers.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gu Yunqiu glanced at the driver's seat—her gaze was fixed on the road ahead, without turning away.

He folded the newspaper in half with his right hand and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his trench coat.