Hidden Radiance

The Ford sedan drove smoothly on the wet asphalt road.

Gu Yunqiu glanced at the rearview mirror, her voice flat: "The Buick is following very closely. It's Li Shiqun's car."

"Pull over at the next intersection." Lu Minghui leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed.

The Ford sedan gradually slowed down and stopped at the side of the road.

A dozen steps away, the black Buick also braked. The car door opened, and Li Shiqun, wearing the black trench coat, walked over through the puddles.

Lin Zhijiang followed behind with two secret agents, his hands on his waist.

Lu Minghui pushed open the car door and got out. His left arm was draped in a black cloth suspender across his chest, and he held a freshly lit Lao Dao brand cigarette between his fingers in his right hand.

The two stopped under the plane trees lining the street. A light rain fell on their shoulders.

Li Shiqun looked at Lu Minghui, his gaze shifting from the left arm draped in a sling to Lu Minghui's face. His lips were pursed, his jaw tightened, and his cheeks puffed out slightly.

"Brother Lu," Li Shiqun said, his throat tight, "Excellent tactic. Using someone else's strength against them, you even managed to outmaneuver Wang Puchen, turning the Military Intelligence Bureau's goods into a congratulatory gift for Nanzo Yunzi. I, Li, have not suffered an injustice."

Lu Minghui exhaled a smoke ring, and the smoke dispersed between the two of them.

"Director Li, you flatter me." Lu Minghui said expressionlessly, "However, in terms of methods, I dare not compare myself to Director Li."

He flicked his cigarette ash, his gaze never leaving Li Shiqun's face.

"You joined the Red Party in your early years, but after being arrested, you betrayed them and joined the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics. When the new government was established in Nanjing, you turned around and became a protégé of Zhou Fohai. Now, in order to turn the tide in Shanghai, you've even latched onto Nanzo Yunzi's coattails."

Lu Minghui pointed his cigarette at Li Shiqun.

"Director Li, changing masters too often can easily strain your back."

The veins on Li Shiqun's forehead throbbed. Lin Zhijiang suddenly pulled out half of his gun from behind, but Li Shiqun raised his hand and pressed it down firmly.

Li Shiqun gritted his teeth, his cheeks puffed out, and he swallowed back the anger he was about to unleash. He stared into Lu Minghui's eyes and took a half-step closer.

"Lu Minghui, you're quite the smooth talker." Li Shiqun lowered his voice, squeezing out each word through gritted teeth, "But I'd like to ask—from Zhongdao to Dingmo Village, from She Aizhen to the Black Dragon Society, whose hands can you hold?"

He tilted his head.

"Director Lu, aren't you meddling way too much as the head of the confidential affairs department?"

Lu Minghui looked at him. The wound on his left arm was throbbing slightly, confined within the sling. He didn't move, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, the ash long and unflicked.

"I've met many smart people." Li Shiqun's voice suddenly softened, as if he were talking to himself. "Smart people have a problem—they take benefits from everyone and help everyone, but in the end, if you search their pockets, you'll find they have nothing."

He stared at Lu Minghui's face, his gaze slowly narrowing.

"Brother Lu, what exactly are you carrying in your pocket?"

As he finished speaking, Lu Minghui's left arm wound throbbed violently. Pain shot up from the bone, pressing against the back of his shoulder blade.

He didn't move. The ash grew another half inch.

Li Shiqun's lips moved slightly, but the rest of his words stuck in his throat. His fingers twitched in his trench coat pocket before stopping.

Lu Minghui's fingers, holding the cigarette, didn't even tremble. He looked at Li Shiqun, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

"With such a vivid imagination, it's a waste of your talent not to write novels." Lu Minghui tapped the long cigarette ash onto the toe of his shoe. "If you can't keep up with your job at the Special Investigation Committee, I wouldn't mind reserving some space for you in the newspaper."

After saying that, Lu Minghui didn't look at Li Shiqun again, stepping on the fallen leaves and passing by Li Shiqun.

Li Shiqun did not pursue.

He stood there, watching Lu Minghui get into the Ford sedan, and the door slammed shut.

His hands were clenched into fists in his trench coat pockets, his knuckles cracking.

"Director..." Lin Zhijiang approached.

"Check his car." Li Shiqun stared at the departing Ford taillights, his voice extremely soft. "Find out where he goes every night, who he meets, and what phone calls he makes. Don't miss a single word."

Lin Zhijiang paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Let's go to the Wan Mansion." Lu Minghui leaned back in his chair and tossed a half-smoked cigarette out the window.

The French Concession, the Wan Mansion.

Wan Molin, who had just returned home, was looking at the accounts of Litai Bank in his study when he heard the butler's announcement and immediately came out to greet him.

"Director Lu, has something gone wrong at the bank?" Wan Molin noticed Lu Minghui's pale face and quickly had someone pour tea.

Lu Minghui did not sit down, but stood in front of the desk and tapped the table with his right hand.

"Help me make a savings account statement."

"A deposit certificate?" Wan Molin was taken aback. "What amount?"

"Fifty boxes of penicillin." Lu Minghui looked at him. "The pickup address is empty, and the warehousing date should be written as one week ago."

The walnuts in Wan Molin's hands clinked together, making a crisp sound. The rhythm was disrupted.

"Fifty boxes?" Wan Molin placed the walnuts on the table. "Director Lu, even if you turned the entire black market in East China upside down, you couldn't scrape together that many boxes."

"No need to fabricate anything." Lu Minghui picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said, "It's not difficult to falsify accounts. This deposit slip is for Li Shiqun to see."

Wan Merlin rubbed his thumb on the edge of the table.

"He just returned to Shanghai and urgently needs a batch of strategic materials to deliver to Zhou Fohai in Nanjing. Fifty boxes of penicillin are the pledge of loyalty he's been dreaming of." Lu Minghui put down his teacup.

"Understood." Wan Molin nodded. "Then, where should I put this deposit slip?"

"Hide it well. But don't hide it too well." Lu Minghui looked at him. "Make it difficult for the Special Investigation Committee's informants to dig it out. Li Shiqun won't take the bait if it's too easy to get."

Wan Molin rested his hands on the edge of the table.

"There's a problem," Wan Molin said in a low voice. "Takeda checks the inventory list every morning at eight o'clock. The inventory slips have to be numbered exactly to match the general ledger. His eyes are sharper than the accountant's."

"You're showing this to Li Shiqun, not to Takeda," Lu Minghui said, his tone unchanged.

Wan Molin didn't speak. After a few seconds, his brow relaxed.

"Don't worry, Director Lu, leave this to me." Wan Molin picked up the walnut again. "I guarantee he'll have to go through a lot of trouble to find it, and in the end, he'll find it to be a treasure."

Lu Minghui nodded, turned around and walked out of the study.

That evening. Hongkou, Meiji Government Office.

Lu Minghui had just returned to the confidential office when he received a call from Shinichi Nakajima.

The door to the consultant's office was ajar. Lu Minghui pushed the door open and went in.

Shinichi Nakajima wasn't standing by the window; instead, he was sitting on the sofa with a set of Yixing clay teaware in front of him, slowly rinsing the tea.

"Minghui, sit down." Shinichi Nakajima pointed to the seat opposite him.

Lu Minghui walked over and sat down. The sling on his left arm brushed against the sofa armrest, and he frowned slightly.

"Your injuries haven't healed yet, and today you went to inspect security at Lita Bank again." Shinichi Nakajima poured a cup of tea, pushed it in front of Lu Minghui, and looked up at him. "Did you hear the sounds from the second basement level?"

Lu Minghui didn't touch his teacup, meeting Nakajima's gaze: "I heard it. The machine's sound is very steady."

Shinichi Nakajima picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then slammed it down on the coffee table.

"Wang Shijin thought that by ruining the credit of Litai Bank, he could cause the Sugi Project to fail. Itagaki and his bunch of idiots also thought I had been utterly defeated." Nakajima Shinichi's voice was filled with cold arrogance. "They simply don't understand that the core of the Sugi Project was never the Central Reserve Bank of China."

Lu Minghui looked at him without saying a word. His right hand rested on his knee, and the pad of his thumb rubbed against the seam of his trousers.

"The Central Reserve Bank notes are the visible weapon," said Shinichi Nakajima, his hands clasped on his knees. "They're used to hedge gold, foreign exchange, and supplies. But the real killer move—"

He paused for a moment, staring into Lu Minghui's eyes.

Lu Minghui picked up the cup of tea in front of him with his right hand. He brought it to his lips, then paused for a moment.

"Counterfeit currency."

The teacup touched my lips, and I took a sip.

Shinichi Nakajima's gaze lingered on Lu Minghui's face for a moment longer. He leaned back in his chair, picked up his teacup, and took another sip.

"If it were poured into the Kuomintang-controlled areas, Chongqing's logistics line would be like a tattered rope. It would break on its own without a fight." Lu Minghui leaned back on the sofa. "No wonder the section chief isn't worried."

The teacup was placed back on the coffee table.

"Therefore, Lita Bank cannot be allowed to fall into disarray." Shinichi Nakajima's smile vanished, his tone turning icy. "You're a smart man; you should know what you should and shouldn't see. Go back and give proper instructions to your subordinates, especially that Wan Molin."

Shinichi Nakajima leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, his gaze fixed on Lu Minghui's face.

"Tell him that as long as he doesn't cause trouble and behaves as his acting bank manager, Lita Bank will be his cash cow. But if he dares to reach for what he shouldn't..."

"Don't worry, Section Chief," Lu Minghui continued. "Wan Molin is a江湖人 (jianghu ren, a man of the underworld), he only cares about money, not fate. He knows his own worth. With me here, there will be absolutely no mistakes in the accounts of Litai Bank."

Shinichi Nakajima stared at Lu Minghui for a few seconds before finally nodding.

"Have some tea." Nakajima gestured to the teacup.

Lu Minghui picked up the now-cold tea and drank it all in one gulp.

He placed the teacup face down on the coffee table and stood up.