Agent: Intercepting Yu Manli at the start!

The next morning, Zhou Xiao quietly left the mountain city: first by boat down the river, then by slow train, changing trains several times, covered in dust, until dusk before finally stepping into the territory of Shanghai.

Pluto, enter Shanghai!

He could have had the Military Intelligence Bureau arrange a special plane to fly directly to a nearby city, then transfer to another vehicle to enter the city—but that would have been too conspicuous. To remain discreet, he preferred to take a longer route, endure the fatigue, and hide his tracks.

The journey was bumpy, but thankfully he arrived safely. He discreetly made his way through the streets and alleys, like a drop of water flowing into a river, silently settling into a private room on the third floor of the old hotel.

For registration purposes, it's naturally a different story.

After settling in, the first thing he did was contact his online friend, Li Xiaonan.

Feng Manna's blind date is in three days.

There was plenty of time to reconnect with the team after more than a month of separation in the mountain city; now that they were back in Shanghai, they had to rejoin the team as soon as possible to pave the way for subsequent intelligence networks and operations.

He disguised himself slightly and strolled into the street.

Pedestrians hurried along, Japanese flags fluttering overhead; military police paced the street corners with guns at their sides, and plainclothes agents dragged people away in broad daylight... Scenes flashed before my eyes, darker, tighter, and more intense than I had anticipated.

After confirming that everything was alright, he stopped next to a newspaper office, took out a piece of paper, and handed it to a little girl who was playing shuttlecock by the roadside: "Little sister, do me a favor and find a newspaper to publish a story about me being a 'GG'. Here's your reward."

"Thank you, brother!" The child skipped away, clutching the coin.

Seeing that there was a profit to be made, the newspaper readily agreed and promised to publish the article the following day.

Newspapers have always been the most reliable and resilient communication rope for underground Communist Party members—quietly weaving information into the lines.

At this moment, Zhou Xiao had quietly hidden the words "I have returned to Shanghai" in an ordinary message, waiting for Li Xiaonan to decipher and respond.

Back at the hotel, he hastily ate a few mouthfuls of food, took a hot shower, dried himself off, and lay down on the bed, casually flipping through the Shanghai Daily from the past few days:

Wang Fuzhao's daughter, Wang Manchun, takes charge of the 76th Intelligence Division at the young age of twenty-seven.

Chen Mingfu may be appointed as the peace ambassador of the puppet regime.

The Special Higher Police (STPC) plans to establish a special operations headquarters to strengthen control over Shanghai.

Building a Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere: A Joint Effort by All People

He glanced at these titles and skipped over them. Only when he saw the name "Wang Manchun" did he feel no emotion—this world had long since merged with "Awakening of Insects," "The Disguiser," and "Sparrow," and even the online character was named Li Xiaonan; he had long expected that the plot was no longer the original.

As I was flipping through the pages, an inconspicuous message caught my eye:

"Shanghai's Economic Turmoil Leads to Urgent Hiring of Chief Financial Advisor for Economic Affairs"

Chief Financial Advisor?

Logically, Minglou should be in charge.

Could it be that he and Mingcheng are still in Paris and haven't returned?

Interesting.

This game is getting more and more interesting as it goes on.

He didn't know if the Mingtai Action Team had arrived in Shanghai, and he wasn't in a hurry. The time wasn't right yet; he would just wait and see.

After finishing the newspaper, he felt tired and closed his eyes to sleep.

After a long day, my muscles and bones felt heavy, and I slept exceptionally soundly.

The next day, he stayed in his hotel room as usual, reading the newspaper, listening to the wind, and waiting for news.

Showing up too early would attract attention; all he needs to do now is be patient—if Li Xiaonan sees GG, she will definitely take action today; tomorrow, the answer will be printed in print.

As soon as it was light, he opened his eyes and softly called out, "System, sign in."

"Ding-dong—Host has successfully checked in, rewarded with 1000 points."

better than nothing.

After all, it's a daily routine that never stops.

After washing up and having breakfast, he opened the day's *Shanghai Daily* and went straight to the GG category—

Sure enough, a line of small characters lay quietly in the corner, like a familiar code, waiting for him to claim it.

The advertisement Li Xiaonan posted in the Shanghai Daily was for a job at the Shanghai Grand Theatre. This "GG" on the still-wet paper was actually a secret code for the two to meet, and the meeting place had already been silently decided at the Shanghai Grand Theatre.

Zhou Xiao glanced at the message, a slight smile playing on his lips, a hint of familiar teasing in his tone: "Li Xiaonan, she really does have a penchant for 'meeting' in the dark of the movie theater."

As night fell, he changed into an inconspicuous gray cloth long gown, lowered the brim of his hat, and quietly strolled into the Shanghai Grand Theatre.

This magnificent theater was located in the heart of the French Concession. No matter how long the Japanese bayonets were, they couldn't penetrate the territory protected by the French naval guns. Thus, in the smoke-filled metropolis, the French Concession became a bizarre island—outwardly glamorous, inwardly tense, a distorted coexistence of noise and tranquility.

The French Concession had always remained aloof, the most respectable area in the entire city: shaded by plane trees, with neat rows of Western-style buildings, and old-fashioned elegance hidden behind ornate iron gates. When the Battle of Shanghai broke out, the International Settlement in the Hongkou area had long been trampled by the Japanese army, and everything north of the Suzhou Creek fell into enemy hands; but French warships patrolled the Huangpu River day and night, their cannons menacing, effectively keeping the Japanese invaders outside Avenue Joffre.

This is why the French Concession remains stable to this day, becoming the most sought-after safe haven in times of chaos—refugees flock there, wealthy businessmen hide there, politicians conceal themselves there, and even many high-ranking Japanese and puppet officials love to come here to listen to a play or have a cup of coffee to cover their tracks.

Cinemas have always been a natural breeding ground for all sorts of people; in addition, being located in the "no man's land" French Concession, they were a favorite meeting place for intelligence agents to uncover undercurrents.

Zhou Xiao walked straight through the marble columns, found a corner seat, and sat down. His gaze fell on the screen, but he didn't actually look at it—he was waiting for the figure in the blue cheongsam with slightly curled hair.

About ten minutes later, Li Xiaonan arrived, unhurriedly taking her seat directly in front of him, her back straight as a newly sprouted bamboo in early spring.

Neither of them spoke, nor did they even exchange glances.

Speaking at this moment would be tantamount to revealing one's whereabouts.

Ten minutes later, the lights dimmed, the film reel hissed as it spun, the screen lit up, and a cacophony of voices, coughs, and creaking chairs filled the theater. The theater sank into darkness, the perfect moment for a private conversation.

The film being screened was quite obscure, and the screening time was late. The huge theater had only a dozen or so people scattered around, like a few beans scattered on a black velvet cloth.

Zhou Xiao's voice was as soft as a wisp of smoke: "You're late."

Li Xiaonan didn't turn her head, only slightly turned her head, and curled the corners of her lips: "You've been a miner for almost a month now, how is it considered late if I'm a dozen minutes late?"

After a pause, she lowered her voice and added, "The police station was really thorough today. They questioned me three times at the door and almost searched my handbag."

Zhou Xiao nodded: "I have returned to Shanghai from Chongqing. As per Zheng Yaoxian's plan, I will return to the Special Higher Police under the identity of 'Japanese spy shadow'—to infiltrate the enemy's intelligence center and find out their true intentions."

"Okay." Li Xiaonan responded readily. "I reported your situation, and the organization analyzed it overnight and immediately upgraded your infiltration level to 'Top Secret Single Line'."

Her eyes were fixed on the flickering lights and shadows on the screen, her lips barely moving, yet her words were steadily delivered to Zhou Xiao's ears. To others, it seemed as if she were watching a play.

"Top Secret Single Line?" Zhou Xiao frowned slightly. "Does that mean... from now on, only you can receive my signals?"

"Yes." Her voice was as soft as a whisper, yet every word pierced the air. "Headquarters confirmed that you had joined the Military Intelligence Bureau, become Zheng Yaoxian's apprentice, and were ordered to return to Shanghai to infiltrate the Special Higher Police. To ensure your safety, all files, records, photos, and contact traces related to 'Zhou Xiao' were burned, leaving not a single ember."

"Right now, only I and two other leaders in the Central Committee know your true identity. Code name—Lone Shadow."

The highest level of covert operations is never about honor, but about hanging one's life on an invisible thread.

Wartime is a treacherous time. There are spies on the front lines of the resistance against Japan, moles in the Japanese puppet regime, and double agents hidden among the traitors. Even within the underground party organization, there are bound to be spineless cowards who have been turned and shadow spies planted in the shadows. Once Zhou Xiao's identity is exposed, he will be instantly annihilated.

His situation was even more precarious than Zheng Yaoxian's—after all, his opponents were Japanese and puppet agents with a keener sense of smell and more ruthless methods.

The organization's decision was not hasty. Right under their noses lay one of the deepest moles in the Kuomintang's secret service—codenamed "Shadow."

"Alright, then you'd better stay alive." Zhou Xiao said half-jokingly, but his tone was serious. "Otherwise, I'll really become a kite with a broken string, and I won't even be able to decide where I'll end up."

What's the worst thing about a single-line contact? If the person above you falls, the clues are cut off, your identity becomes a mystery, and your life or death is uncertain. He suddenly remembered an old movie he had watched before his transmigration, "Infernal Affairs," in which the undercover agent was never able to clear his name until he found a dusty file among his belongings, which finally cleared his name.

Li Xiaonan chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners: "Don't worry, the fortune teller said I have the fate of a cat, nine cats!"

"I think so too," Zhou Xiao replied naturally, a genuine warmth flashing in his eyes.

For him personally, she was his only beacon; for him privately, she was his most reliable solace in this chaotic world.

He paused briefly, then asked, "Didn't the organization assign me any specific tasks?"

"Having just returned to Shanghai, it's not wise to act rashly." Li Xiaonan's voice was extremely soft. "Lie low for now and observe the situation. In the future, continue to use the *Shanghai Daily*—the weather forecast in the lower right corner of the supplement, or the last word of the third line in the film review section, are all coded signals. Be extremely careful; you're facing far more than just Japanese and puppet regime spies."

The words were unspoken, but the meaning was clear.

Now that all the files have been destroyed, "Zhou Xiao" has "disappeared" from the organization. Now, only the code name "Lone Shadow" remains, and even his comrades may target him as a true traitor, trying to eliminate him.

He had to guard against the Japanese puppet regime, the Kuomintang secret police, the Kuomintang secret police, the underground Communist Party, and so on, while also keeping a close watch on the true heartbeat beneath his skin.

Extremely difficult to handle.

Every step is fraught with danger.

Zhou Xiao thought to himself: This sneaky start is like stepping into a minefield.

He then briefly recounted the "Dragon's Lurk" plan—how to resurrect a body, how to establish connections, and how to gradually infiltrate the core of the Special Higher Police.

As soon as he finished speaking, he looked at the slender shoulder line in front of him and suddenly said softly, "Xiao Nan, you've lost weight."

These five short words, without explicitly mentioning any concern, encapsulate all that concern.

Li Xiaonan turned her head to the side, a faint smile on her face: "Is it abnormal for someone like me, who plays minor roles, to stay up all night revising scripts and rushing to film scenes, to be a little thin?"

In fact, for the past month or so, the first thing she did every day when she opened her eyes was to grab the Shanghai Daily and flip to the social section—not to read the news, but to look for any clues as to whether Zhou Xiao had returned.