Chapter 53: Miyazaki Kentaro
Chapter 53: Miyazaki Kentaro
When Cheng Qianfan bent down and approached, Kawada Eikichi’s entire body entered a state of high alert.
He had already prepared to strike first and kill this Chinese man.
“The Daiginjo from Fukushima, I can smell the taste of home.”
Just as he was about to make his move, he suddenly heard a familiar hometown accent.
He looked at Cheng Qianfan.
Cheng Qianfan was smiling, his face overflowing with the joy of encountering a fellow countryman in a foreign land.
His joyful smile and hopeful eyes looked toward the other man, watching his eyes closely.
Surprise.
Suspicion.
Joy.
Vigilance.
From those eyes, from the emotions that flashed by in an instant, Cheng Qianfan captured the complexity of the man’s feelings.
Kawada Eikichi almost rose to his feet instinctively.
He could tell that this handsome young man spoke authentic Fukushima dialect.
Furthermore, the bottle he was drinking was Daiginjo from Fukushima, a famous local liquor.
This liquor was sold only in Fukushima.
Not to mention Chinese people, even many Japanese from major cities had never tasted it.
Deep down, he had already subconsciously concluded that the other man was a fellow townsman from Fukushima.
However, at the crucial moment, the military discipline engraved into his bones forced Kawada Eikichi to calm down.
He was carrying out a mission.
He could not expose his identity as a subject of the Empire of Japan.
“I told you not to disturb us!”
Kawada Eikichi suddenly stood up, nearly colliding with Cheng Qianfan.
Caught off guard, Cheng Qianfan staggered.
The tray in his hands nearly overturned.
Looking down, he saw that the whisky glass had tipped over, spilling liquor onto the tray.
Half of the abalone soup with minced chicken had spilled out.
The steak nearly slid off the plate.
The commotion attracted the attention of nearby passengers.
The bodyguards several berths away looked over.
Cheng Qianfan shook his head and looked at the middle-aged man with an expression of surprise, incomprehension, and even a trace of hurt.
Receiving Cheng Qianfan’s signal, the head bodyguard immediately looked away and paid no further attention to the scene.
Kawada Eikichi grew somewhat anxious.
He was genuinely worried that this fellow townsman from Fukushima would start shouting, which would expose his identity as a Japanese man.
At that moment, Kawada Eikichi saw the other man let out a long sigh.
Bowing slightly, he said,
“The wandering poet Miyazaki Kentaro apologizes for the disturbance.”
Watching Miyazaki Kentaro’s lonely figure carrying the disordered tray away, Kawada Eikichi could only silently offer an apology to his fellow countryman.
“The wandering poet”?
Hearing this identity, Miyazaki Kentaro, Kawada Eikichi fell into thought.
“One of your people?” the gentleman with the round spectacles asked quietly.
“No.”
Kawada Eikichi gently shook his head.
The gentleman with the round spectacles immediately showed a nervous and frightened expression.
Kawada Eikichi looked at him disdainfully.
“He is one of us Japanese, not one of you Chinese. Of that much I am certain.”
The gentleman with the round spectacles let out a long breath of relief.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Wen. No one knows we’re traveling by train. The people trying to kill you have had all their attention fixed on the Hinomaru passenger liner.”
Returning to his berth.
Cheng Qianfan appeared somewhat dejected.
Even the delicious food no longer appealed to him.
It tasted like chewing wax.
He ate only half the steak.
He drank only half the bowl of abalone soup with minced chicken.
Cheng Qianfan pulled the bell.
A waiter quickly arrived and removed the tableware.
Cheng Qianfan himself lay down on the berth, pulled a blanket over himself, and turned to face the wall of the compartment.
Once concealed from view, the disappointment in his eyes turned cold.
Cheng Qianfan was now absolutely certain that the other party was Japanese.
At the very least, the middle-aged man drinking liquor was Japanese.
More precisely, he was from Fukushima.
While studying at the East Asia Common Culture Academy, he had known a Japanese classmate named Imai Futoshi.
Imai Futoshi was from Fukushima.
He was a Japanese student who had been deeply influenced by the school’s propaganda and genuinely believed in friendship between Japan and China.
Likewise believing in Sino-Japanese friendship, the Chinese student Cheng Qianfan quickly became good friends with him.
Imai Futoshi was a rather shy young Japanese man.
He had few friends and therefore treasured Cheng Qianfan, his Chinese friend.
The two talked about nearly everything.
Cheng Qianfan’s authentic Fukushima-accented Japanese had been learned from Imai Futoshi.
Having come from the Japanese islands to China, Imai Futoshi often missed home.
He would tell Cheng Qianfan stories about his hometown, his childhood anecdotes, and the scenery and legends of Fukushima.
He would invite Cheng Qianfan to taste fine liquor sent from his hometown, Daiginjo from Fukushima.
It was produced by a local brewery with more than a century of history.
Its unique brewing methods gave it a highly distinctive flavor.
After ordering his meal and walking into the corridor, Cheng Qianfan had caught a faint scent of liquor.
He deliberately walked in that direction and struck up a conversation with the gentleman wearing round spectacles.
By deliberately approaching and coming close to the drinking middle-aged man, Cheng Qianfan was able to smell the liquor clearly.
He immediately recognized it as the hometown liquor that Imai Futoshi had always been immensely proud of, Daiginjo from Fukushima.
He then tested the man in Japanese.
The instant reaction in the other’s eyes was captured by Cheng Qianfan.
There was surprise, suspicion, joy, and vigilance.
The only thing absent was the disgust that any ordinary Chinese person ought to show toward a Japanese man.
Afterward, the middle-aged man’s reaction completely confirmed Cheng Qianfan’s suspicion.
He impatiently told Cheng Qianfan not to disturb them any further.
The key point was:
Do not disturb!
Cheng Qianfan’s decision to use the identity of Miyazaki Kentaro had been a flash of inspiration.
Yet it was by no means a blind choice.
After becoming acquainted with Imai Futoshi, the latter had repeatedly said that Cheng Qianfan bore an astonishing resemblance to his good friend Miyazaki Kentaro back in Fukushima.
Upon hearing this, Cheng Qianfan became curious.
He asked many questions about Miyazaki Kentaro.
Imai Futoshi thought nothing of it.
On the contrary, he was delighted and said that he would introduce Cheng Qianfan to Miyazaki Kentaro if the opportunity ever arose.
Happily, he told Cheng Qianfan everything he knew about his good friend.
Miyazaki Kentaro had a personality very similar to Imai Futoshi’s.
He had very few friends.
According to Imai Futoshi, Miyazaki Kentaro had only one truly close friend, Imai Futoshi himself.
He rarely spent time with anyone else.
One could say that within China, unless Imai Futoshi personally saw him, or unless the real Miyazaki Kentaro came from Japan to China in person, Cheng Qianfan’s impersonation of Miyazaki Kentaro would be extremely difficult to expose.
Eh?!
A moment ago, Cheng Qianfan had only acted on impulse.
To avoid arousing suspicion, he had adopted the identity of Miyazaki Kentaro as a disguise.
Had he not smelled the scent of Daiginjo and realized the other man was from Fukushima, he would never even have remembered Miyazaki Kentaro, a Japanese man who existed only in conversations between himself and Imai Futoshi.
Now, after careful consideration, the more he thought about it, the more he felt that this sudden move of his seemed to be...
A brilliant stroke of genius.
It seemed to hold considerable potential.
The train moved slowly along at approximately 30 km/h (~19 mph).
Cheng Qianfan put down the old newspaper in his hand and rang the bell.
“Sir, is there anything we can do for you?”
“Do you have a more recent newspaper?”
“I’m sorry...”
Cheng Qianfan took out one French franc and handed it over.
“Then you do have one.”
“Certainly, sir. Please wait a moment.”
The staff member smiled.
As soon as the staff member left, Cheng Qianfan picked up the old newspaper again and casually flipped through it.
Suddenly, one hand silently slipped to his waist.
His other hand shook the newspaper.
At the same time, with a soft Click, he adjusted the Mauser pistol into a ready-to-fire state.
He casually lowered the newspaper, which happened to conceal his waist.
Then he sat alone, staring absentmindedly out the window.
“Mr. Miyazaki Kentaro.”
Hearing the voice, Cheng Qianfan instinctively turned his head.
What he saw was the dark muzzle of a gun.