Hidden Radiance

Mei Agency, underground interrogation room.

Lu Minghui pushed open the iron gate.

The corridor was empty, with footsteps echoing back and forth.

Shinichi Nakajima stood in front of the iron chair, holding a statement recorder in his hand. He turned around when he heard the door open.

Excitement shone in his eyes.

Mao Sen was tied to a chair, his chin pressed against his chest. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything for three days; his cheeks were sunken, his eyes were bulging and bloodshot.

Footsteps approached, and he struggled to lift his head.

His gaze first swept over Nakajima, then moved to Lu Minghui's face.

He paused for two seconds. As if trying to identify something.

"Minghui, come and listen." Nakajima tapped the armrest of the iron chair with his notebook. "Mr. Mao is finally willing to tell the truth."

Lu Minghui walked to Zhongdao's side and his gaze fell on Mao Sen's face.

Mao Sen's chapped lips twitched, revealing bloody teeth.

"Li Kaifeng".

His voice was hoarse, yet his enunciation was remarkably clear. His tone was the kind of flatness that only someone whose spine had been broken possessed—utterly resigned, resigned to his fate.

Lu Minghui didn't move.

Li Kaifeng. Director of the 76th Telegraph Division. Six months ago, he defected from the Military Intelligence Bureau, betraying the locations of eighteen radio stations, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of agents and nearly paralyzing the Military Intelligence Bureau's intelligence network in East China.

"He is Zhiyuan." Mao Sen stared at Lu Minghui.

The interrogation room was deathly silent.

Nakajima sneered and threw the clipboard on the table.

"Mr. Mao, do you take me for a three-year-old?" Nakajima turned around. "Li Kaifeng's defection caused heavy losses to the Military Intelligence Bureau. Would Dai Li really risk eighteen radios and hundreds of lives for a single undercover spot?"

"A ruse," Mao Sen gasped. "If he didn't put on a convincing act, how could he secure his position as head of the 76th Telegraph Division? How could he gain access to your top-secret telegrams?"

Nakajima remained unmoved.

"The cost is too high. It doesn't make sense."

Mao Sen's chest heaved violently as he swallowed the blood in his throat.

"The gold heist, he provided the password." Mao Sen's speech quickened. "The printing press's steel molds were stolen, and he used the telecommunications department's equipment to jam the alarm signals. You've been investigating the mole for so long, have you traced it back to him? Yamamoto Kenji is hiding in Shanghai, who else besides him could know that?"

Nakajima's finger hovered over the edge of the recorder's board.

The gold robbery. He had always suspected Gu Yunqiu, but due to a lack of evidence and the other party's special status, he had not taken coercive measures. He never expected that it was someone else.

He turned and glanced at Lu Minghui.

Lu Minghui stood still, his left hand in his trench coat pocket.

"Words are no proof." Nakajima placed his hands on the table, approaching Mao Sen. "Why should I believe you?"

Mao Sen looked up, facing the blinding 1,000-watt headlights.

"Tonight," Mao Sen gritted his teeth, "he's going to blow up the special ink at the Noborito Research Institute. This is a death order from Dai Li. Plan Sugi cannot succeed."

Nakajima suddenly sat up straight, his face ashen.

Specialty ink. Half a ton of ink personally escorted by Kenzo Yamamoto, the lifeblood of the entire Sugi Project.

"Exploding ink?" Nakajima grabbed Mao Sen by the collar. "How does he plan to do it?"

"I've been arrested, and all contact has been cut off." Mao Sen closed his eyes. "You can investigate yourselves."

Nakajima released his grip and took a step back.

He didn't believe in Mao Sen. But ink can't be gambled on.

Half a ton of specialty ink was ruined, the issuance of Central Reserve Bank bonds was halted, Project Sugi was thwarted, and the Army Headquarters would be after his head first. Believe it or not, it doesn't matter; investigating is free, but failing to investigate will lead to total defeat.

Nakajima strode towards the door.

"Minghui!" Nakajima ordered sharply, "Immediately seal off Chengda Company! Strengthen the security of Warehouse No. 3! Send Special Higher Police to 76th Division, detain Li Kaifeng, and interrogate him thoroughly!"

"Section Chief," Lu Minghui turned around, "Li Kaifeng is from Dingmo Village. If we arrest him without solid evidence, Dingmo Village will cause trouble."

"Then let's catch him red-handed at Chengda Company!" A murderous glint flashed in Nakajima's eyes. "Since he's planning to blow up the ink, he must be up to something. You go and guard the warehouse; if anything seems amiss, shoot him on the spot!"

"Yes." Lu Minghui stood at attention.

He walked out of the interrogation room.

There was no turning back in the corridor. Nor was there any need to turn back. When Mao Sen uttered "Li Kaifeng," his tone was too calm, and the timing too precise. If someone who hadn't eaten or drunk anything for three days were truly on the verge of collapse, what would spill from their mouth would be fragments, not a complete chain of evidence.

Mao Sen is acting.

He was performing for Nakajima. He was also performing for Lu Minghui.

Lu Minghui got into the Ford sedan and drove towards Chengda Company.

2 PM. Chengda Company, second floor, finance office.

Lu Minghui pushed the door open and locked it behind him.

Gu Yunqiu sat behind her desk, checking the accounts. She glanced up at Lu Minghui, then put down her pen.

"Has Mao Sen spoken?" Gu Yunqiu asked.

"He threw out Li Kaifeng." Lu Minghui walked to the window and drew the curtains. "He said Li Kaifeng is a kite, and he's going to blow up the warehouse tonight."

"Using someone else to do the dirty work," Gu Yunqiu said.

"Yes." Lu Minghui turned around. "Zhongdao asked me to guard the warehouse and catch Li Kaifeng in the act. I plan to have Song Qingyuan tamper with the boiler room so that the temperature in the warehouse floor will rise tonight, causing the ink to spontaneously combust and explode."

"Then let it explode," Gu Yunqiu said. "Putting the pot on Li Kaifeng's head will kill two birds with one stone."

"Don't blow it up." Lu Minghui stared at her.

Gu Yunqiu stood up.

"It's blown up, what a waste." Lu Minghui walked to the table, placing his hands on it. "But what if the ink got to the border area—"

"The border region printing plant can't even gather enough ordinary ink," Gu Yunqiu added, slamming his hand on the table. "You're trying to switch it out?"

Lu Minghui looked at her and nodded.

"How will it be transported? Half a ton of ink, right under Kenzo Yamamoto's nose."

"Use Lu Xuzhang's car." Lu Minghui tapped the table with his finger. "Lu Xuzhang's medicine transport vehicle has a special higher-level bureau's exemption permit. He has a batch of medicine leaving the city tonight. Mix the ink in."

"Ink is an industrial product; it has a strong odor." Gu Yunqiu frowned. "What if the smell of medicine could mask it—"

Lu Minghui interrupted her, "The bucket opening was sealed with medical wax and covered with iron shipping labels. The inspectors smelled wax and medicinal powder, not ink."

Gu Yunqiu bit the inside of her lip.

"Kenzo Yamamoto is staying at a guesthouse, and the window faces the backyard. The noise from the moving process is too loud, and he might come downstairs at any time."

"Song Qingyuan will detonate the boiler at eight o'clock, and Yamamoto's attention will be completely focused on the warehouse." Lu Minghui straightened up. "We'll finish the move before seven o'clock. There's a one-hour safety window in between."

"Move half a ton in an hour?"

"Six people are enough." Lu Minghui lowered his voice. "Except for Sun Yaozu, the entire special operations team is mine. You make the arrangements secretly, and I'll distract Sun Yaozu and Song Qingyuan."

Gu Yunqiu nodded.

"The wooden crates are filled with waste newspapers and magnesium powder." Lu Minghui buttoned up his trench coat. "The weight must be consistent. Tonight's fire must be big enough."

Five o'clock in the afternoon.

Lu Minghui called Sun Yaozu into his office.

"Director." Sun Yaozu stood at attention.

"Tonight's situation is unusual. Section Chief Nakajima suspects there's a mole in the 76th Telecommunications Division and might make a move tonight." Lu Minghui pushed two gold bars over. "You take the men to the restaurant across the street and keep an eye on Chengda's main entrance and the alleyway to the east. If anyone approaches, take their money first and then question them. I'll personally guard the warehouse with a few trusted men."

Sun Yaozu took the gold bar and weighed it in his hand.

His gaze lingered on Lu Minghui's face for half a second. It was strange that the section chief was personally keeping watch while leaving him on the outskirts. But the section chief had clearly assigned him a task; it didn't seem like he was just being casually dismissed.

Sun Yaozu put the gold bars into his pocket.

"Don't worry, Chief. Not even a fly can get past the main gate and the east alley. If anything happens, just fire a shot, and they'll be in within a minute."

"Go."

After Sun Yaozu left, Lu Minghui picked up the phone and dialed the printing workshop.

"Advisor Song," Lu Minghui said into the microphone, "go to the boiler room. Proceed according to plan. Install delay valves on the pipes; they will open automatically at 8:00 AM sharp. Once completed, withdraw from Chengda."

"Understood." Song Qingyuan hung up the phone.

Night fell. A torrential downpour began.

In the backyard of Chengda Company, the beams of searchlights scattered into a murky white mass in the rain.

Six members of the special operations team stood with guns at the door of Warehouse No. 3.

A covered truck bearing the "Southeast Trade" sign slowly drove into the yard and stopped at the side gate of the warehouse.

Lu Xuzhang, wearing a raincoat, jumped out of the driver's seat.

Lu Minghui emerged from the shadows, took out his key, and opened the side door of Warehouse No. 3.

"Quick action."

Six team members rushed into the warehouse.

Kenzo Yamamoto's red skull crates were piled in the center. The team members pried open the wooden planks, carried out the iron drums filled with special ink, and loaded them onto the truck.

Gu Yunqiu stood in the truck bed, receiving the iron barrels and stuffing them into the compartment filled with penicillin boxes.

Just as the third bucket was stacked, the sound of military boots crushing gravel came from the yard.

Everyone's movements froze at the same time.

Lu Minghui turned his head to look outside.

A military policeman, carrying a gun and shining a flashlight, walked along the courtyard wall toward the side gate of the warehouse.

They weren't his men. The extra patrols that the Mei Agency had temporarily deployed tonight were not on his duty roster. Nakajima ordered increased security, but the additional sentries weren't on his schedule.

Lu Minghui raised his hand and made a fist gesture towards the people in the warehouse.

Everyone pressed down behind the wooden crate, motionless and silent.

The military police's flashlight beam swept across the front of the truck, illuminating the raindrops on the windshield.

The beam of light moved downwards and became firmly planted on the ground.

Two fresh ruts were left by the right rear wheel of the truck, the mud squeezed out by the tire. They hadn't yet been washed away by the rain.

The military policeman crouched down, his flashlight pausing on the ruts for three seconds.

He straightened up and shone his flashlight toward the side door.

Lu Minghui's right hand had already touched the Colt at his waist.

Use your thumb to release the safety pin.

The military policeman walked to the side door and shone his flashlight through the crack. The lock was on. When Lu Minghui came out, he had loosely locked the door; from the outside, the bolt was stuck in the keyhole, and there was nothing unusual.

The military policeman's fingers gripped the lock and he twisted it.

The loosely engaged latch wobbled.

His fingers didn't loosen; he pulled down again—

The flashlight beam swayed rapidly three times towards the base of the outer wall.

The military policeman glanced sideways. His partner was urging him on.

He looked down at the lock again. Rainwater streamed down the lock, washing away the rust around the keyhole and leaving yellow streaks.

He cursed, put away his flashlight, turned around, and ran away along the base of the wall.

The sound of military boots faded into the distance.

Lu Minghui slowly pushed the safety pin back in with his thumb.

He loosened the loose lock and slipped inside.

"continue."

The team members filled the Red Skull wooden crate with pre-prepared waste newspapers, engine oil, and a large amount of magnesium powder, and then resealed the wooden boards.

The whole process took less than twenty minutes.

"All done." Gu Yunqiu jumped out of the car and tightened the tarpaulin.

Lu Xuzhang got into the driver's seat and started the engine. The truck drove out of Chengda Company's gate in the rainy night and disappeared at the end of the street.

Lu Minghui stood in front of the warehouse door and glanced at his watch.

7:40.

He turned and glanced at Gu Yunqiu.

"Go back to the finance office. Change your clothes."

Gu Yunqiu glanced down at the ink stain on her cuff, said nothing, and turned to walk towards the side door of the office building.

Lu Minghui locked the side door and retreated to the corridor on the second floor of the office building.

Looking through the glass at Warehouse No. 3 in the yard.

7:55.

The news about the kite arrived half an hour ago—Li Kaifeng's driver had been knocked unconscious, and someone had driven his car into the back alley of Chengda Company.

It's exactly eight o'clock.

A dull thud came from the corrugated iron roof of Warehouse No. 3.

Blinding white light burst forth from the door cracks and vents. Magnesium powder, reaching its ignition point at high temperatures, instantly ignited the waste newspaper mixed with engine oil.

boom--!

A massive explosion ripped through the night sky over the French Concession.

The iron gate of Warehouse No. 3 was blown off by the blast wave and slammed heavily onto the concrete ground of the yard. A towering column of fire shot into the air, illuminating the entire Chengda Company as if it were daytime.

The piercing alarm sounded throughout the city.

Across the street, Sun Yaozu and his men scrambled out of the restaurant, guns in hand, and rushed into the courtyard.

"Fire! Fire!" Sun Yaozu roared.

Lu Minghui pushed open the second-floor window and looked down at the chaotic scene below.

Kenzo Yamamoto rushed out of his room at the guesthouse, without even putting on a coat. He stood in the pouring rain, looking at Warehouse No. 3 engulfed in flames. His white shirt was soaked through and clung to his body.

His right hand hung at his side, his five fingers slowly clenching into a fist.

He stood in the middle of the courtyard for a long time without saying a word.

Lu Minghui closed the window, walked to his desk, picked up the dedicated phone line, and dialed the Mei Bureau.

"Section Chief," Lu Minghui said urgently, "Warehouse No. 3 exploded. All the ink is destroyed."

I could hear Nakajima's heavy breathing coming from the other end of the phone.

"Have you caught them yet?" Nakajima gritted his teeth.

"A car was found in the back alley," Lu Minghui said. "The license plate number belongs to the No. 76 Telecommunications Office. The fuse for a timer detonator was found inside the car."

Bang. The sound of a teacup shattering came from the other end of the phone.

"Li Kaifeng!" Nakajima's furious roar pierced the receiver. "Close the net immediately! Dead or alive!"

Lu Minghui hung up the phone.

He walked to the window.

Flames surged in the courtyard. Fire hoses were sprayed up, but the high temperature evaporated them into white mist, which was then dispersed by the wind.

The firelight reflected on the glass, burning half of his face orange-red.

The other half lies hidden in the darkness of the corridor.