Hidden Radiance

Mei's office, section chief's office.

The telegram lay flat on the desk. The writing was clear and the ink was thick.

Gu Yunqiu stood in front of the table, her gaze sweeping across the paper. She didn't blink, and her breathing remained steady.

Shinichi Nakajima sat in the chair, looking at her face.

"Section Chief, what are your instructions?" Gu Yunqiu asked.

Nakajima didn't speak. He opened the drawer on his right and took out a Nambu Type 14 pistol. With a click, the barrel slammed onto the table, pressing down on a corner of the telegram.

"A secret report from Fengtian." Nakajima's voice was flat. "Three months ago, the South Manchuria Railway's intelligence department underwent a purge in Fengtian. Some say you died in that purge. Secretary Gu, who are you now?"

Gu Yunqiu glanced at the gun on the table.

"Gu Yunqiu, Second Section of the South Manchuria Railway Intelligence Department." She looked directly at Nakajima. "The purge in Fengtian was carried out by the head of the intelligence department, Hashimoto, through the Military Intelligence Bureau to eliminate dissidents. I was lucky to survive. Hashimoto was afraid I would report him to the South Manchuria Railway headquarters, which is why he sent this secret report."

Nakajima's fingers remained on the gun handle, not letting go.

Why did Hashimoto want to get rid of you?

"Because I found his ledgers for smuggling arms." Gu Yunqiu's tone was calm, as if he were talking about someone else's business. "The ledgers are still in the safe at the South Manchuria Railway headquarters. If the section chief doesn't believe me, he can call Xinjing to verify."

Nakajima stared at her. He tapped his fingers twice on the butt of his gun.

A knock came at the door.

Two long and one short.

"Go in." Nakajima did not put away his gun.

Lu Minghui pushed open the door and walked in. His left arm was draped over his chest, and the hem of his trench coat still carried the dampness of the outside air.

He walked to the desk, his gaze lingering for a second on the gun and telegram on it.

"Section Chief, we've secured the Xinmin Machinery Factory," Lu Minghui reported. "Hu Juewen will submit the accounts tomorrow."

Nakajima nodded, gesturing with his chin towards the telegram. "Take a look at this."

Lu Minghui pulled out the telegram with his right hand and glanced at it.

He smiled.

The laughter was short and mocking. He crumpled the telegram into a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket.

"Section Chief, the South Manchuria Railway Company's response is too slow. I investigated this matter three days ago." Lu Minghui pulled out a chair and sat down.

Nakajima's fingers, which were resting on the gun handle, stopped.

"Have you investigated her?"

"She drives me every day, and I even have to investigate her family history for three generations." Lu Minghui leaned back in his seat, his right hand resting on the armrest. "I'm afraid of dying. I can't entrust my back to someone whose background I don't know."

Nakajima looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Three months ago, in Fengtian," Lu Minghui revealed the time and location, "the Military Intelligence Bureau planned an assassination. The target was Secretary Gu. The shooter was a top-notch expert, and it hit him right in the heart."

Gu Yunqiu stood to the side, expressionless, her hands clenched tightly in her leather jacket pockets.

"You were shot, how did you survive?" Nakajima asked.

"Her heart was tilted to the right." Lu Minghui pointed to his right chest. "The bullet pierced her left chest but didn't hit any vital organs. The Military Intelligence Bureau thought she was dead, and her mortal enemies within the South Manchuria Railway Company also thought she was dead. After she crawled out of the pile of corpses, she was directly transferred to the Mei Agency."

Lu Minghui leaned forward, looking into Nakajima's eyes.

"Section Chief, the urgent telegram from the South Manchuria Railway Bureau came at just the right time, right after Li Shiqun forged a secret telegram from the Red Party and Shao Shijun sent assassins to kill me. Don't you think the timing is too perfect?"

Gu Yunqiu reached out and unbuttoned her coat, one button, two buttons, three buttons...

Nakajima's expression changed. He waved to stop Gu Yunqiu from undressing to examine her injuries.

"You mean, someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes?"

"Shao Shijun was in charge of taxation in Nanjing, and he skimmed a lot off the South Manchuria Railway's smuggling routes in North China. It would be too easy for him to bribe someone inside the South Manchuria Railway to send a dubious urgent telegram," Lu Minghui said confidently. "He lost three assassins, and knowing that assassination wouldn't work, he started using borrowed knives to kill. Li Shiqun used a secret telegram from the Red Party to borrow your knife, and Shao Shijun used an urgent telegram from the South Manchuria Railway to borrow your knife."

The office fell silent.

Nakajima picked up the pistol, put the safety on, and threw it back into the drawer.

"Secretary Gu, you can go out now," Nakajima said.

Gu Yunqiu turned and walked towards the door. She opened it and closed it. The crisp sound of high heels echoed in the corridor.

Nakajima stood up and walked to the window.

"Minghui, you're very careful in choosing your people." Nakajima looked out the window. "That's good. The Sugi Project can't tolerate any mistakes."

"I only trust the section chief," Lu Minghui said, standing up.

Nakajima turned around, walked to the table, picked up the copy of "Shen Bao" and handed it to Lu Minghui.

"Look at the GG at the bottom of the page."

Lu Minghui took the newspaper. His gaze fell on the missing person notice. The words "three installments" strung together formed an address: 127 Avenue Joffre, Antique Shop.

Along the edge, two kana characters were written in pencil: Gardener.

"Wang Shijin is in the French Concession." Nakajima's voice was deep. "He is Shao Shijun's mastermind, the real executor of the Sugi Project."

Lu Minghui folded the newspaper and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Do you want the section chief alive or dead?"

"Alive. I want the ledger in his hand." Nakajima looked at him. "Take your thirty-six men. Go to the French Concession and bring him back. Remember, don't alert the police."

"clear."

Lu Minghui turned and walked out.

I walked out of the office building.

Thirty-six men in black were already lined up beside the truck. Without any commands, they stood ramrod straight, their hands on their holsters.

Gu Yunqiu leaned against the Ford sedan, a cigarette between her fingers, but she didn't light it.

Lu Minghui walked over and opened the passenger door.

"Get on the bus. To Avenue Joffre."

Gu Yunqiu threw away his cigarette, got into the driver's seat, and started the engine. Two trucks roared behind the car and drove out of the Mei Agency gate.

inside the car.

Lu Minghui's gaze fell on Gu Yunqiu's left chest, below her collarbone—the spot where the bullet had passed through.

"You're very calm."

"Because I was really injured, my heart is indeed tilted to the right."

Gu Yunqiu floored the accelerator.

Lu Minghui leaned slightly towards her, then returned to his original position. He didn't say anything more.

French Concession, Avenue Joffre.

The sky was overcast, and the wind swirled fallen leaves through the streets.

Number 127, Jubaozhai Antique Shop.

The two black lacquered wooden doors were tightly closed. A wooden sign reading "Closed for Inventory" hung at the entrance.

The Ford sedan stopped at the street corner. Two trucks then came to a stop.

Thirty-six team members jumped off the vehicle and dispersed according to their assigned roles along the way. Twelve blocked both ends of the street, twelve went around the back alleys, and the remaining twelve followed Lu Minghui, heading straight for the main entrance.

Two people ran in the wrong direction and were pulled back by someone next to them without making a sound.

Lu Minghui walked to the door. He drew his Browning with his right hand.

He lifted his foot. Bang!

The black lacquered wooden door was kicked open, the hinge broke, and half of the door panel crashed onto the blue brick floor, kicking up a layer of dust.

Lu Minghui stepped across the threshold.

The lobby of the antique shop was dimly lit. Porcelain and jade carvings were displayed on the shelves.

Two people were sitting on a rosewood armchair in the center of the hall.

On the left is a middle-aged man wearing a gray long gown and round-framed glasses. He is holding a string of small-leaf sandalwood beads with a very thick patina. This is Wang Shijin.

On the right, Shao Shijun is holding a teacup and blowing on the floating tea leaves.

Behind Shao Shijun stood eight bodyguards, all dressed in black suits, carrying Thompson submachine guns. The moment the door opened, all the gun barrels were pointed at Lu Minghui.

The twelve team members behind Lu Minghui simultaneously drew their submachine guns, shouldered them with the buttstocks, and pushed the muzzles horizontally.

Twenty gun barrels were crossed in the center of the hall, but no one spoke first.

"Director Lu, that door was kicked really loudly." Shao Shijun took a sip of tea and put the teacup on the table. "In the French Concession, the rules of No. 76 don't really apply, do they?"

Lu Minghui ignored him. His gaze fell on Wang Shijin.

"Mr. Wang. Section Chief Nakajima would like to invite you for tea." Lu Minghui held a gun in his right hand, the muzzle pointing downwards.

Wang Shijin didn't look up, but flicked a sandalwood bead with his thumb. The beads clinked together, producing a deep, resonant sound.

"If Shinichi Nakajima wants tea, let him come himself." Wang Shijin's voice was deep but full of energy. "Sending a dog to bark like this is disrespectful."

Lu Minghui smiled.

"Manners?" Lu Minghui took a step forward. "In Shanghai, guns are manners."

Shao Shijun stood up.

"Lu Minghui, Mr. Wang is a distinguished guest in Nanjing. The accounts of Project Shan are none of the Mei Agency's business." Shao Shijun straightened the hem of his long gown. "Your Mei Agency is only assisting; the Nanjing government is the main body. I advise you to take your men and get out. Otherwise, this antique shop will become your morgue today."

"With just these eight guns?" Lu Minghui glanced at the bodyguards.

"Eight guns aren't enough, what about the ones outside?" Shao Shijun sneered.

Suddenly, more than a dozen gunmen stood up from behind the railing on the second floor of the antique shop. The dark muzzles of their guns looked down and locked onto Lu Minghui and his team.

A flurry of footsteps came from the direction of the backyard.

Shao Shijun walked to the display cabinet, picked up a blue and white porcelain vase, and examined it. He rubbed the vase between his fingertips, seemingly casually.

"Director Lu, do you think you can walk out of here alive?"

Lu Minghui did not back down.

He raised his right hand, slowly raising the muzzle of the gun until it was aimed at Shao Shijun's head.

"I don't know if I'll make it out alive. But you'll definitely die before me." Lu Minghui pressed his thumb down on the hammer. Click.

Shao Shijun's expression changed, and the porcelain bottle in his hand froze in mid-air.

"If you dare to fire, Mr. Wang will die too!" Shao Shijun shouted sternly.

"Section Chief Nakajima needs to be alive. If he can't be taken with him alive, a dead one will do." Lu Minghui paused for a moment, "The Sugi Project can function regardless of who's missing. Replace the tax bureau chief in Nanjing, replace the bank president in North China, it won't take a day."

Wang Shijin stopped fiddling with the beads.

He looked up at Lu Minghui. His pupils behind his glasses contracted slightly, and the lines at the corners of his mouth pressed down a little.

"Young man," Wang Shijin said, moving the last bead and placing it on his lap, "do you know how much this string of beads is worth?"

Lu Minghui did not respond.

"It's worthless," Wang Shijin answered himself. "What's valuable is the hand that handles it. Without the hand, the beads are just a string of wood."

Lu Minghui's gun didn't miss. "Mr. Wang, are you leaving or not?"

No one responded.

The gunman on the second floor had his finger on the trigger, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

Shao Shijun stared intently at Lu Minghui. He was betting that Lu Minghui wouldn't dare to fire.

Just then, a piercing police siren blared outside the antique shop.

Three armored vehicles from the French Concession police station roared in, blocking both ends of the street. Dozens of fully armed French and Annamese police officers jumped out of the vehicles and cocked their guns.

A French inspector in a trench coat stood behind an armored vehicle, holding a tin megaphone and shouting.

"Listen up, you inside! Drop your weapons! You are surrounded!"

Shao Shijun's expression changed drastically.

He turned to look at Lu Minghui. "You called the police?!"

"I'm not that bored." Lu Minghui frowned slightly.

Gu Yunqiu strode in from outside the door and whispered in Lu Minghui's ear.

"That one-eyed cripple from Sanxin Company was making a phone call on the street corner just now, and he ran away as soon as the police car arrived."

Lu Minghui bit his chin.

"Director Lu, what do we do now?" Shao Shijun gritted his teeth. "If the police burst in, we'll all be in jail!"

Lu Minghui put away his gun.

"Director Shao, you're lucky today." Lu Minghui turned and walked towards the door.

"You're not going to take care of Mr. Wang anymore?" Shao Shijun was stunned.

"Mr. Wang is used to living in the police station's cell, but I'm not." Lu Minghui stopped at the threshold and looked back at Wang Shijin.

"Mr. Wang, keep the ledger safe. We're in Shanghai, there's plenty of time for us to meet again."

Lu Minghui waved. The twelve team members quickly holstered their guns and followed him out of the antique shop.

Outside the door, the French inspector was directing the police to prepare to rush inside.

Lu Minghui took out the red Mei Agency ID from his pocket and slapped it directly on the French inspector's chest.

Gu Yunqiu followed behind him and spoke a string of French words to the French inspector, speaking very quickly with a harsh accent.

The French inspector glanced down at the chrysanthemum pattern on his badge, then looked up at the men in black who had already lined up at both ends of the street with their guns folded.

He waved to the police to make way.

Lu Minghui and his men swaggered onto the truck.

The Ford sedan starts.

Gu Yunqiu looked in the rearview mirror at the police officers rushing into the antique shop.

"Wan Molin's move sent Wang Shijin to the police station. Neither Zhongdao nor Shao Shijun will get their hands on the account books," Gu Yunqiu said.

"The Green Gang has more than just Wan Molin." Lu Minghui leaned back in his chair, his left shoulder throbbing slightly. "The Green Gang has many factions, and it's still unclear who did it."

"Where to?"

"Special Higher Police." Lu Minghui opened his eyes, staring at the cracked rain streaks on the windshield.

Outside the car window, the rain started again. Dense raindrops pounded against the windshield, shattering into a blurry network of water.

Lu Minghui touched the newspaper in his pocket.

gardener.