Holding the original shares, they fought all the way to the Korean War!

Zhou Tianyang did not respond.

Of course he knows these things.

Historically, the French Concession was indeed a special haven during the War of Resistance against Japan.

The French maintained their own security system, and although the Japanese army had infiltrated some of the area, they never fully controlled it.

But precisely because of this, it has become a gray area where various forces converge.

Military intelligence, central intelligence, underground Communist Party, Japanese spies, and gang forces.

Everyone has their own space to move around here.

He walked along the street for a while longer and then turned into an alley that was narrower than the main street.

Several children were playing shuttlecock by the roadside. When they saw strangers walking by, they only looked up at them briefly before lowering their heads again to continue playing.

At the end of the alley was an iron gate, half-open, leading to a small park.

Zhou Tianyang stood at the iron gate and glanced inside.

The park was deserted except for an old man sitting on a bench, holding a newspaper and looking down at it.

He withdrew his gaze and turned to walk back.

After leaving the French Concession, the two walked east along the main street for a while before turning into a wider street.

There were significantly more pedestrians and vehicles on the street than in the French Concession, and the roadside signs had been replaced with more Japanese signs.

Occasionally, one or two soldiers dressed in Japanese uniforms could be seen walking by on the street, their expressions indifferent, their eyes fixed straight ahead.

He seemed oblivious to everything around him.

Japanese Concession.

Zhou Tianyang's pace remained unhurried.

The streetscape of the Japanese concession was different from that of the Chinese and French concessions.

Most of the shop signs here are in Japanese.

Occasionally, a few Chinese signs are interspersed among them, and the font is much smaller than elsewhere, as if deliberately trying to be low-key.

Several Japanese people dressed in kimonos were strolling leisurely along the street, some carrying shopping baskets and others holding children, looking relaxed.

A black sedan was parked on the side of the road.

A Japanese flag was stuck in the front of the car, and the windows were closed, so it was impossible to see who was sitting inside.

"Commander, we need to be careful."

Ma Yong's voice suddenly came from behind, much lower than before.

"This place is full of Japanese soldiers, what if someone recognizes us..."

"Um."

Zhou Tianyang responded, without changing his pace.

As he walked past the entrance of an alley, he caught a glimpse of several people dressed in black gathered in front of a shop deep inside the alley.

They didn't whisper to each other; each of them had a cigarette between their fingers, but neither smoked nor spoke.

They just stood there quietly, as if waiting for someone.

Zhou Tianyang didn't stop to look, but simply walked past the alley entrance in a steady rhythm.

But he had already memorized the location of the alley entrance, the clothes of those people, and the color of the shop sign.

After walking for a while, a Japanese-style courtyard appeared by the roadside ahead.

The courtyard wall is not high, with gray tiled eaves extending from the top, and a wooden sign hanging at the entrance.

There were a few words written in Japanese above, and below that was a slightly smaller line of Chinese translation, which read the name of a Japanese chamber of commerce.

"Commander, would you like to take a different route?"

Zhou Tianyang withdrew his gaze and glanced at Ma Yong.

He didn't speak, but simply shook his head slightly and continued walking along the street.

The streets in the Japanese concession were wider than those in the French concession, but there were significantly fewer pedestrians.

"Commander, have you ever been to Shanghai before?"

Ma Yong suddenly asked a question.

"I've never been here before."

"Then how come you know this area so well?"

Zhou Tianyang walked for a while without answering.

It wasn't that he didn't want to answer, it was that he couldn't explain.

The map of Shanghai in his mind is a version from decades later.

There are overlaps with the Shanghai of 1938, but also some completely different aspects.

He could only adjust his direction based on the overlapping parts and his observations along the way.

"Just follow the road signs."

He finally said this, in a flat tone, as if he were talking about something insignificant.

Ma Yong didn't ask any more questions. He followed Zhou Tianyang for a while and arrived at a bridge.

Zhou Tianyang stopped at the bridgehead, holding onto the bridge railing, watching the river flow under the bridge.

Across the river was a dense cluster of houses, some with collapsed roofs and windows boarded up, with only a few still emitting smoke from their chimneys.

"Commander, shouldn't we head back?"

Ma Yong stood not far behind him, his voice not loud, but with a hint of concern in it.

Zhou Tianyang did not answer immediately.

He stood at the bridgehead for a while, looking at the dense cluster of houses, lost in thought.

Then he looked away, turned around, and resumed his usual steady tone.

"Let's go."

The two walked back the way they came.

As Zhou Tianyang passed the alleyway in the Japanese concession, he glanced at it again without making a sound.

The men in black were still there, their posture unchanged, standing quietly, the cigarettes they held burning down to the end, but no one replaced them.

That stillness was more striking than any obvious movement.

He withdrew his gaze, quickened his pace, and walked out of the street.

The same thing kept going on in Zhou Tianyang's mind.

The French Concession and the Japanese Concession, separated by only a few streets, had completely different appearances.

One was calm and peaceful, as if nothing had happened; the other was quiet and oppressive, as if something might explode at any moment.

But beneath that surface calm lies the same thing.

The pressure exerted by the occupied is simply manifested in different forms.

"Commander, Shanghai is such a place..."

Ma Yong walked beside him, seemingly having considered his words for a long time before speaking.

"What's wrong?"

"It's too big."

Ma Yong's gaze swept over the buildings of varying heights on both sides of the road, his tone carrying a complex meaning that was hard to describe as either感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a feeling of deep emotion or a sense of vigilance).

"In southeastern Shanxi, you can see every mountain and every village clearly."

"You can't even remember the roads here. There are alleys everywhere, people everywhere, and eyes everywhere."

Zhou Tianyang remained silent.

Ma Yong is right, Shanghai is completely different from southeastern Shanxi.

When fighting the Japanese in southeastern Shanxi, you could clearly see where the mountains were, where the gullies were, and in which direction the Japanese strongholds were located.

But here, the enemy is hidden behind every window, in every shadow, and in every seemingly ordinary passerby.

You never know which look is curiosity, which is wariness, or which one has already set their sights on you.

The two walked through the last alley and returned to the courtyard in the back alley of Rongji Grocery Store.

Zhou Tianyang pushed open the door and went inside.

Liu Ping was sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard, with a glass of water in front of him and an open book in his hand, reading intently and calmly.

They saw Zhou Tianyang and Ma Yong walk in.

He looked up, closed the book, and spoke in a light tone, but with a sense of ease.

"Commander Zhou, you're back."