Hidden Radiance

Chengda Company, second floor of the printing workshop.

The roar of the machine came through the floor, causing ripples to appear in the water glass.

Lu Minghui pushed open the door.

Song Qingyuan was holding a magnifying glass, examining a counterfeit-proof film.

Lu Minghui walked over and threw a manila document on the table.

"Peng Shou." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Deputy head of the Military Intelligence Bureau's Shanghai station. A pledge of allegiance arranged by Boss Dai for Mao Sen."

Song Qingyuan put down the magnifying glass and glanced at the cover.

"Director Lu," he picked up his teacup, "you've got the wrong person. How can I, a mere member of the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics (CBIS), save your Military Intelligence Bureau from this dead end?"

"Before you infiltrated Chengda, Wang Puchen should have confided in you," Lu Minghui said, looking at him. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have dared to arrange to meet me at Notre Dame Cathedral."

Song Qingyuan paused for a moment as he held up the teacup.

"Peng Shou was someone Wang Puchen personally mentored," Lu Minghui continued, "and also a meritorious official of the Party and the State."

"Since Wang Puchen trusted him so much, why sacrifice him?"

"It's a political necessity," Lu Minghui said calmly. "Mao Sen needs to establish himself at No. 76, and Peng Shou has to be arrested. But if Peng Shou really dies, Wang Puchen's backbone will be broken. By protecting Peng Shou, you're essentially doing Wang Puchen a huge favor."

Song Qingyuan put down his teacup and placed his hands on the table, crossed over each other.

"It's not that I don't want to help. I'm all alone and don't have the ability."

"You do." Lu Minghui leaned forward. "Zhou Fohai was assassinated in Nanjing and is terrified. He's in a hurry to return to Chongqing. Have Zhou Fohai vouch for him."

Song Qingyuan's eyelid twitched.

"All Nakajima wants is Mao Sen's attitude towards arresting people," Lu Minghui continued. "He doesn't care whether Peng Shou lives or dies. Ten Peng Shous aren't worth as much as one Mao Sen. As long as Zhou Fohai speaks up, Nakajima will readily send him to Nanjing, and this situation will be resolved."

Song Qingyuan didn't reply. He put the teacup back on the table and rubbed his thumb along the rim twice.

"Zhou Fohai is a nervous wreck now. If I act as a go-between, his people will realize I've overstepped my bounds." Song Qingyuan looked up. "If there's an investigation later and this connection backfires, it'll be me who gets burned, not you, Director Lu."

"So this is a business deal, not a favor." Lu Minghui leaned back in his chair. "You helped Wang Pucheng protect Peng Shou, so Wang Pucheng owes you. Zhou Fohai needed a middleman to defect to Chongqing, and you acted as his intermediary, so he owes you too. These two debts are enough for you to live three more years in Shanghai."

Song Qingyuan smiled. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.

"When did Director Lu become so enthusiastic?" Song Qingyuan fiddled with the magnifying glass in his hand, his gaze never leaving Lu Minghui's face. "He's cleaning up the mess for the Military Intelligence Bureau, using the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics's methods. Brilliant."

Lu Minghui didn't respond.

"The arrest will take place at the Grand Cinema at 10:00 AM tomorrow. I will have Peng Shou severely injured and rendered unconscious. You have one day to plan."

Lu Minghui stood up and walked towards the door.

"Director Lu," Song Qingyuan called out to him.

Lu Minghui stopped.

Song Qingyuan placed the magnifying glass on the table and circled his finger on the mirror.

"I'll handle the connection with Zhou Fohai." Song Qingyuan stared at his back, lowering his voice by half an inch, "But Director Lu, you'll owe me more than just this one favor in the future."

Lu Minghui didn't turn around. He opened the door and walked out.

The next morning at 10:00 AM.

In front of the Grand Cinema.

The sunlight was blinding. The streets were teeming with people.

Lu Minghui sat in a Ford sedan across the street. The window was rolled down halfway.

Mao Sen, dressed in a black trench coat, stood beside the ticket booth. Behind him, a dozen or so agents from Special Forces 76 blocked off all the roads.

10:05.

A middle-aged man wearing a gray cloth long gown walked from the street corner carrying a leather suitcase.

Peng Shou.

Mao Sen's gaze locked onto him. His right hand slipped into his trench coat pocket.

Just as Peng Shou was about to step onto the steps, Mao Sen drew his gun.

"Take them alive!"

Peng reacted extremely quickly, dropping his suitcase and drawing his gun to fight back.

boom!boom!

Two gunshots rang out, and the crowd screamed and scattered.

Peng Shou fought and retreated, trying to rush into the alley next to him.

Seven or eight men suddenly rushed out of the alleyway. Sun Yaozu, carrying a Thompson submachine gun, blocked their escape route.

"Don't let him get away!" Sun Yaozu roared, raising his gun and firing.

Da da da!

The bullets struck the bluestone slab at Peng Shou's feet, sending pebbles flying.

Peng Shou was shot in the shoulder and staggered. He turned around and reached into his collar with his free left hand—there was a hidden pocket sewn into the collar.

Sun Yaozu saw that action.

The gun barrel suddenly pressed down.

boom!

A bullet pierced Peng Shou's right thigh.

Peng Shou let out a muffled groan, his center of gravity slumped, his left hand slipped from his collar, and he crashed heavily onto the steps. The back of his head hit the stone edge, his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

Mao Sen arrived from behind and crouched down. He pulled open Peng Shou's collar and pulled a piece of wax-sealed glass tube from a hidden pocket. Cyanide.

Mao Sen gripped the glass tube, looked up, and glanced at Sun Yaozu at the alley entrance.

His gaze lingered for two seconds.

Sun Yaozu put away his gun and ran forward. "Director Mao, this kid turned around and was going to attack me, so I had no choice but to strike first."

Mao Sen put the glass tube into his pocket and stood up.

"Bring back Number 76."

The agents surrounded Peng and lifted him onto the truck behind.

Sun Yaozu ran back across the street, opened the door of the Ford sedan, and got into the driver's seat.

"Smooth." Lu Minghui rolled up the car window.

"Back to the company."

That evening. Hongkou, Meiji Government Office.

Shinichi Nakajima sat behind his desk, holding a newly translated coded telegram in his hand.

Sent from Nanjing. Photographed and sent by Zhou Fohai himself.

"Peng Shou is a key figure in the Military Intelligence Bureau and has access to multiple undercover agents. Please transfer him to Nanjing for trial."

Nakajima tossed the coded telegram onto the table and gave a cold laugh.

"Zhou Fohai has become more proactive since his assassination attempt," Nakajima said, picking up his teacup.

Lu Minghui stood in front of the table.

"Section Chief, Peng Shou is in Dungeon No. 76, seriously injured and unconscious. The doctor said he could die at any moment."

"Mao Sen has already submitted his pledge of allegiance." Nakajima took a sip of tea. "Peng Shou died in Shanghai; he's worthless. Since Zhou Fohai wants him, give him to him. Tomorrow morning, escort him to Nanjing."

"Yes."

The door was pushed open.

Kenzo Yamamoto walked in carrying a black briefcase. He was still wearing that gray suit, and his face was gloomy.

Lu Minghui stepped aside.

Yamamoto walked to the table and placed the combination lock box on it. He dialed the combination, and with a click, the lid popped open.

Inside lay two brand-new metal molds and a sealed file folder.

"The new template for the Central Reserve Bank notes," Kenzo Yamamoto began. "The file folder contains the formula for the special ink."

Nakajima stood up, his gaze falling on the box.

"The ink is ruined, I must return to Japan immediately to start over." Kenzo Yamamoto looked at Nakajima. "These things are for you. Advisor Nakajima, I hope you can take good care of them this time."

Nakajima closed the case lid. "Don't worry, Mr. Yamamoto."

Kenzo Yamamoto turned his head and his gaze fell on Lu Minghui.

"Director Lu," Yamamoto's voice was cold, "I've read Li Kaifeng's statement. Every single time and place he mentioned matches perfectly with the shipping records I have."

He paused for a moment.

"But there's one thing I don't understand. Li Kaifeng works for the telecommunications department, how did he know the route of the underground steam pipes in Warehouse No. 3?"

Lu Minghui stood still, his breathing rhythm unchanged.

Yamamoto stared at him, waiting three seconds. He received no answer.

My boat leaves tomorrow morning.

Yamamoto turned and walked out of the office.

Nakajima looked at the closed door and sat back in his chair. His fingers tapped on the table.

"Minghui," Nakajima suddenly spoke, "Yamamoto said a few words to me before he left."

Lu Minghui stood still.

"He said, 'A person like you is either a top-tier undercover agent sent from Chongqing or Yan'an, or a sharp blade loyal only to me.'" Nakajima stared at Lu Minghui. "There is no third one."

Only the sound of military boots changing shifts at the end of the corridor remained in the room.

"Minghui, which one are you?"

Lu Minghui looked into Nakajima's eyes.

"When the section chief handed Chengda over to me, Sakata wanted to kill me, Inoue Muneo wanted to win me over, and Yunzi suspected me." Lu Minghui's voice was flat. "I withstood it. Not because I was so loyal. It's because without the section chief, I couldn't survive a single day in Shanghai."

Nakajima stared at him, his fingers stopping tapping.

Lu Minghui did not avoid that gaze.

"Back when we were in Japan, the section chief said something similar." Lu Minghui's lips twitched slightly. "Yunzi was there too."

Nakajima's expression relaxed slightly.

"Yunzi has just been promoted to head of the Special Higher Police Section, and some of her actions may have hurt you." Nakajima stood up, patted Lu Minghui on the shoulder, and said, "But that's her duty. I believe in your relationship; it can withstand any test."

Lu Minghui shook his head with a wry smile.

Nakajima withdrew his hand and pointed to the combination lock box on the table.

"The template and recipe will be shipped to Chengda Company tomorrow. You will keep them safe yourself. Make sure there are no more problems this time."

Lu Minghui stood at attention. "Yes, sir."

He turned and walked out of the office.

The corridor was dimly lit.

Lu Minghui walked down the stairs. Inside the safe were two steel molds and a recipe. Nakajima hadn't answered Yamamoto's parting question about "steam pipes" today.

Outside the gate of the Mei Agency, Sun Yaozu leaned against his Ford sedan, smoking. Seeing Lu Minghui emerge, he stubbed out his cigarette and opened the back door.

"76 Jessfield Road." Lu Minghui climbed into the back seat.

Mao Sen has pledged his loyalty, and Peng Shou's life has been saved.

The car drove into the night. Lu Minghui closed his eyes, his fingers unconsciously tapping twice on his knee. The sealed carriages belonging to Unit 1644 were to be shipped to Hangzhou in three days.