Chapter 4: Preparing for a Rainy Day

Chapter 4: Preparing for a Rainy Day

They had arrived at Anfu Lane.

“Officer Cheng, you’ve given me too much,” the rickshaw puller quickly said.

“You know me?”

“Come now, who doesn’t know you?”

Hearing the puller say that he recognized him and hearing the humble flattery, Cheng Qianfan revealed a restrained yet slightly pleased expression and laughed loudly. “I’m in a good mood today. Consider the extra money a reward.”

“Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!” The puller thanked him profusely.

This was a residential house at Number Three Anfu Lane, set deep within the compound.

“Brother Zhikang!” Before entering the door, Cheng Qianfan raised the snacks he was carrying and shouted loudly, “I went out of my way to buy your favourite Wanzhenxing pig trotters.”

“Haha, Brother Qianfan, it was enough for you to come. Why spend so much money?” Su Zhikang said without any false modesty as he accepted the food and drink. “Ah, today this elder brother gets to enjoy a rare treat thanks to you.”

“I’m bringing bricks to eat jade.” Cheng Qianfan raised the bottle of sorghum liquor in his hand. “I know you’ve recently acquired some excellent wine.”

“You brat!” Su Zhikang burst out laughing.

Smiling, Cheng Qianfan followed Su Zhikang inside.

Su Zhikang was a police sergeant at the Mylan Police Station. He was sociable, had extensive connections, was warm and hospitable, and got along well with Cheng Qianfan.

People called him the Mengchang Lord of the French Concession. Whether police colleagues, merchants, travellers, street vendors, labourers, or members of the Green Gang, he could become friends with them all. It could be said that he maintained ties with people from every walk of life.

It was perfectly reasonable for Cheng Qianfan to come drink with Su Zhikang and would not arouse suspicion.

He had appeared at the tram stop. He did not know whether the enemy had taken notice of him. He could only eliminate any potential danger to the greatest extent possible.

Furthermore, Su Zhikang was a loyal and righteous man with considerable influence in the French Concession. Maintaining a good relationship with such a person was naturally beneficial.

After eating and drinking to their hearts’ content.

Cheng Qianfan took his leave.

After Cheng Qianfan departed, Su Zhikang stood at the doorway smoking a cigarette. After carefully observing the surroundings, he threw down the cigarette butt and crushed it hard beneath his foot.

He shut the door and bolted it.

Then he hurried upstairs.

“Brother Fuguo, it’s me.” Su Zhikang knocked lightly.

Lu Jingqian put away his gun and gently opened the door.

Seeing the half plate of pan-fried buns and half a roast chicken that Su Zhikang had brought up, he happily clapped his hands.

Seeing Lu Jingqian’s delight, Su Zhikang smiled knowingly as well. He had hosted quite a few officials from Nanjing. Some of them arrived in great Shanghai believing they had come to enjoy themselves, indulging in every pleasure imaginable.

This Brother Fuguo, however, was easy to accommodate.

“Smelling the aroma from downstairs, I practically swallowed my tongue,” Lu Jingqian said as he stuffed pan-fried buns into his mouth one after another. With bulging cheeks, he asked, “Who was it?”

“Cheng Qianfan, a police officer in the French Concession. An excellent young man. He came to drink with me.”

“Him...” Lu Jingqian’s eyes flickered.

“Is there a problem?” Su Zhikang immediately asked, becoming alert.

Lu Jingqian was the head of the French Concession Intelligence Group of the Shanghai District Special Service Office. He was currently operating under the alias Song Fuguo.

Anyone who caught his attention naturally made Su Zhikang wary.

Lu Jingqian quickly finished the pan-fried buns and casually wiped his mouth.

“Some of my subordinates recommended him to me a couple of days ago. I’ve been recovering from injuries here these past two days and haven’t had the chance to investigate him yet.”

Su Zhikang relaxed somewhat.

His greatest concern had been whether Cheng Qianfan had ties to Japanese agents. If that were the case, he would have had no choice but to question Cheng Qianfan’s motives for approaching him.

“Tell me about this person in detail.” Lu Jingqian lit a cigarette and said.

“Cheng Qianfan’s background is clean,” Su Zhikang said.

That first sentence immediately delighted Lu Jingqian.

Japanese aggression was growing increasingly arrogant, and the situation facing the resistance was becoming more severe.

The battles between the Special Service Office and the Japanese had likewise become increasingly fierce and brutal.

After the appointment of the new Shanghai District chief, Wu Xinheng, in the winter of last year, the Shanghai District had begun expanding on all fronts.

In addition to the original four intelligence groups, South City Group, Western Shanghai Group, French Concession Group, and British Concession Group, new covert groups had been established in Hongkou, Zhabei, Southern Shanghai, and elsewhere, including some hidden groups whose existence even Lu Jingqian did not know about.

The number of internal and field personnel in the Shanghai District had expanded from just over one hundred to three or four hundred.

Lu Jingqian had only been transferred from Nanjing to become head of the French Concession Intelligence Group last month.

Everyone was recruiting personnel. Having just arrived, Lu Jingqian was especially eager to expand his strength.

However, he was cautious and conducted exceptionally strict vetting when accepting new members.

Lu Jingqian adhered to one principle: underground work and intelligence work could not tolerate the slightest mistake. It was better to have too few than too many.

Therefore, he was naturally very interested in a young man like Cheng Qianfan, whose background was clean and who possessed a legitimate protective identity as a police officer.

“Still, for such a promising candidate, why didn’t anyone recruit him earlier?” The next moment, accustomed to maintaining a skeptical attitude toward everything, Lu Jingqian frowned.

“That’s simply because Brother Fuguo is fortunate,” Su Zhikang said with a smile.

The “drunken” Cheng Qianfan sat in the rickshaw.

He hummed a Zhejiang tea-picking folk tune.

“Stop.”

As they passed a Japanese goods shop, Cheng Qianfan took out several yuan in legal tender and had the puller buy two bottles of liquor.

When they reached his home.

Cheng Qianfan got out of the rickshaw and staggered toward the door.

“Officer Cheng, the fare, the fare,” the puller hurriedly called after him.

“The fare? Didn’t I already give you several yuan?” Cheng Qianfan frowned. “Keep the change.”

Then he unlocked the door, entered directly, and slammed it shut with a loud Bang!

The puller stood where he was, wanting to ask for the fare again but not daring to.

Cheng Qianfan was a police officer. If he angered the man, there were countless ways to make life impossible for him.

The puller took the somewhat blackened towel draped over his shoulder and wiped away his sweat.

He glared at Cheng Qianfan’s door, wanting to curse but not daring to.

In the end, he could only pull his rickshaw away. Only after getting some distance did he dare spit fiercely onto the ground.

“Bah!”

Then his eyes lit up.

Looking down, he noticed two twenty-cent coins on the seat. He quickly picked them up and carefully tucked them into his pocket.

Then he spat once more in the direction of Cheng Qianfan’s door.

“Serves you right!”

The fare for this trip was only twenty cents, and he had picked up another twenty cents for free.

After returning home and waiting several minutes, until he could hear no sounds whatsoever outside the door, Cheng Qianfan could no longer hold back:

He covered his face with both hands as tears streamed uncontrollably down his cheeks.

He could not cry aloud.

He gritted his teeth desperately.

His teeth ground together with a continuous Creak, creak.

Cheng Qianfan placed eight bowls on the table.

He filled each bowl with liquor.

One bowl for Old Liao and his wife, one each for his three sons, and one each for his two daughters.

The final bowl was for himself.

Cheng Qianfan knew that today was the death anniversary of Old Liao’s youngest son. That was why he had specifically bought sorghum liquor for Old Liao earlier.

Now he would drink with the entire family and bid them farewell.

One by one, he poured the contents of seven bowls onto the floor.

Cheng Qianfan picked up his own bowl, poured half onto the ground, and swallowed the remaining half in a single gulp.

“Old Liao, here’s a toast to your whole family.”

Cheng Qianfan only knew him as Old Liao. His original name and surname were unknown. He was from Shenyang. After the Mukden Incident he had joined the Anti-Japanese United Army with his entire family. Of the seven members of the family, everyone except him had gradually fallen in the black earth and white mountains of Northeast China.

Old Liao had been wounded and had also contracted a serious illness, so the organization arranged for him to come to Shanghai for treatment.

Because Old Liao’s connections were simple and nobody in Shanghai knew him, Comrade Zhulin temporarily assigned him as Cheng Qianfan’s contact during his treatment for security reasons.

In the darkened room, Cheng Qianfan stood by the window facing north.

In a low voice, he recited the March of the Volunteers to send Old Liao on his final journey.

“...Braving the enemy’s gunfire, advance...”

Cheng Qianfan felt that this was the battle song of Old Liao’s entire family.