Hidden Radiance

A quiet residence next to the former Du Mansion in the French Concession.

The aroma of tea fills the air.

Wan Molin, dressed in a dark-patterned silk jacket, leaned back in a mahogany armchair, holding a purple clay teapot in his hand. He didn't look at Lu Minghui sitting opposite him, but his gaze was fixed on the bonsai beside him.

"Mr. Wan, let's get to the point." Lu Minghui rested his right hand on his knee, his left arm still in a sling. "The Special Higher Police want to take over the gangs and chambers of commerce in Shanghai. The Green Gang's docks will have to be vacated."

Wan Molin took a sip of tea and placed the purple clay teapot on the mahogany table.

He didn't make a sound.

"That Director Shao Shijun from Nanjing has already moved into No. 76." Lu Minghui leaned forward. "He's eyeing the gold belt left behind by Mr. Du. Mr. Wan, a wise man knows when to yield."

Wan Merlin smiled.

He slowly turned his head and looked Lu Minghui up and down: "Director Lu, it's good for young people to have a few scars. But it's not appropriate to rush into sparring with old bones before the scars have even healed."

"What does Mr. Wan mean?"

"When I, Wan, was making a living in Shanghai, No. 76 hadn't even been established yet," Wan Molin said calmly. "Although Mr. Du is no longer in Shanghai, his followers and descendants of the Green Gang are still around. Whether it's Director Shao in Nanjing or Section Chief Nakajima of the Mei Agency, if they want to take over the Green Gang's territory, they'll have to see if they can swallow it up."

Lu Minghui stared at him without replying.

Wan Molin slowly put down his teacup.

He switched hands to hold the cup, circled his thumb halfway around the rim, and then stopped.

"Director Lu is still injured, please rest more." Wan Molin got up, walked to the potted asparagus fern by the door, pinched off a dead branch, and casually threw it on the floor tile. "Don't worry about the Green Gang's affairs, Director Lu. I will take care of it myself."

Lu Minghui stood up.

He walked to the coffee table, picked up the empty teacup with his right hand, turned it over to look at the signature on the bottom, and then casually put it back.

"Mr. Wan," his tone remained unchanged, "Lu Xuzhang's batch of penicillin transited through Suzhou last month, using the Green Gang's connections."

Wan Molin had his back to him, and his hand, which was holding a dry branch, paused for a moment.

"I'll settle this score for Mr. Wan." Lu Minghui turned around, his steps steady, "but I can only settle it for a while, not forever."

He walked to the door, paused for half a step, and didn't turn around.

out the door.

A black Ford sedan was parked outside the house.

Gu Yunqiu leaned against the steering wheel, watching Lu Minghui open the car door and get into the passenger seat.

"The talks broke down?" she asked.

"The old fox won't shed a tear until he sees the coffin." Lu Minghui leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

The car started.

After a silence of about two blocks, Gu Yunqiu spoke: "The information you gave him today is enough for him to digest for three days."

Lu Minghui did not open his eyes.

"So I left him out for five days."

Gu Yunqiu didn't say anything more, stepped on the gas, and drove towards Jing'an Temple Road.

Downstairs at the apartment building.

"Shall I go up and get it for you?" Gu Yunqiu turned off the engine.

"No need. You can wait in the car."

Lu Minghui got out of the car and walked straight into the building.

I pushed open the apartment door; the lights were off.

He walked to the window and drew the curtains tightly shut.

Turn around.

There was one more person in the darkness.

Paper Hawk sat on the sofa, toying with a Browning in his hand.

"Wang Puchen is very satisfied with the outcome at the train station," Paper Kite said, his voice cold and hard.

"Make a trip to Manchuria for me." Lu Minghui walked to the table, poured a glass of cold water, and said, "Investigate someone. Gu Yunqiu."

The kite raised its head.

"I suspect she's a Communist, but I have no proof." Lu Minghui took a sip of water. "Go investigate her background. If she is a Communist, I can use her to extract information from the South Manchuria Railway and Nakajima. If she's a traitorous collaborator—"

The bottom of the cup hit the table.

"Then I'll solidify the evidence that she's a communist sympathizer, and use Nakajima as a tool to get rid of her."

Paper Kite put the gun back in its holster and stood up.

"Wait for my news."

A soft sound came from the window, and the figure disappeared into the night.

Lu Minghui casually took two sets of clothes from the closet, put them in his bag, and turned to go downstairs.

Gu Yunqiu's car was still waiting downstairs, the engine still running.

Lu Minghui opened the car door and got in, tossing his bag onto the back seat.

"Go back to the hospital."

The next five days.

Lu Minghui stayed quietly in the ward.

The bones in my left shoulder are starting to heal and are itchy.

Nakajima called twice to urge them to hurry up.

"The flow of funds for Lu Xuzhang and Hu Juewen is still under investigation." Lu Minghui leaned against the hospital bed, speaking calmly into the microphone, "Section Chief, strike where it hurts. Without conclusive evidence, they won't obediently hand over the channels. Give me a few more days."

hang up the phone.

Outside the window, the night was deep.

The door lock to the ward made an extremely faint clicking sound.

Lu Minghui didn't turn around; his right hand reached for the gun handle under the pillow.

"It's me," the kite's voice rang out from the foot of the bed.

Lu Minghui loosened the grip on the gun and sat up straight.

"It's been investigated." Paper Hawk stood in the shadows. "Gu Yunqiu is a staunch traitor of the South Manchuria Railway Company, deeply trusted by its high-ranking officials."

"However," Paper Kite changed the subject, "three months ago, she was assassinated in Fengtian."

"Who did it?"

"My classmate from the Military Intelligence Bureau. His marksmanship is no less than mine."

The kite paused for a moment.

"That shot hit right in the heart."

Lu Minghui pressed his right hand on the blanket, then released it. His knuckles remained there, not retracting.

Right in the heart.

The kite struck his left shoulder from the clock tower; the bullet missed by no more than half an inch. With the same accuracy, a direct hit to the heart would mean death.

Dead people don't come to Shanghai to be used as scalpels by Section Chief Nakajima.

"My classmate thought he'd messed up and was still searching the world for her," Paper Kite sneered. "I never expected she'd come all the way to Shanghai."

"Tell your classmate to stop."

"Why?" Paper Kite asked, puzzled. "She's a menace."

"This Gu Yunqiu is not the original Gu Yunqiu at all."

The kite remained silent.

"The real Gu Yunqiu died in Fengtian. This one is a replacement." Lu Minghui's lips curled into a smile. "The South Manchuria Railway's higher-ups are unaware, and neither is Nakajima. Only the Kuomintang could accomplish such a rapid identity swap and infiltrate the South Manchuria Railway's core in such a short time; only the Communist Party has the patience and methods to do so."

The kite remained silent for a moment.

"You want to cooperate with the Red Party?"

Lu Minghui walked to the window, pushed it open, and looked out at the night.

"It's not so much cooperation as exploitation. Her identity is fake, and we hold this trump card in our hands. Her life or death is in our hands. It's much more useful than killing her, so it's good to have her do things for us."

silence.

"Paper Kite, now the two parties are cooperating to resist Japan." Lu Minghui turned around and looked at Paper Kite. "The Red Party is risking their lives behind enemy lines; it's not right for us to kill their people."

silence.

"I'm a soldier." Paper Kite's gaze fell on Lu Minghui's injured left arm. "Let's pretend we never met this time, and I've never been to Manchuria."

"I will inform my classmate and tell him to stop."

The paper kite perched on the windowsill and flipped out.

Before landing, he threw back a sentence: "Remember your identity, you are the Party-state's sharpest weapon."

Lu Minghui looked at the empty windowsill.

Thank you.

The night was exceptionally dark.

My left arm is getting increasingly painful, and I can no longer suppress it.

The sound of high heels came from outside the door—evenly spaced, neither hurried nor slow.

Gu Yunqiu pushed open the door and came in, carrying a thermos in her hand.

"Commander Lu, bone broth." She placed the thermos on the bedside table. "I picked it up on the way here; it'd be a shame to let it get cold."

Lu Minghui didn't say anything, but pulled back the covers and got out of bed.

"Where to?" Gu Yunqiu asked.

"Let's go see Wan Molin." Lu Minghui put on his trench coat. "He's been left out for five days; the time is almost right."

Gu Yunqiu didn't ask any more questions, turned around and picked up the car keys.

Lu Minghui walked to the door and paused for a moment.

There was no turning back.

"Secretary Gu," he said in a low voice, "the winters in the Northeast are much colder than in Shanghai, aren't they?"

The sound of high heels stopped.

It only stopped for a second.

"It's cold." Gu Yunqiu's voice was flat. "No matter how many layers you wear, it's still cold."

Lu Minghui pushed open the door to the ward and walked out.

Behind me, the thermos sat on the bedside table, the lid still closed. The soup was still hot, and wisps of steam rose from the cracks, quickly dissipating.