Chapter Two: Identification

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Dai Li ordered Zhao Changjing from the General Affairs Section to escort Song Yingge to Tianyin Alley. After the two left, he arranged for Liu Dazhi and Sun Xi from the Intelligence Section to take turns secretly surveilling, then sent a telegram to Lin’an, instructing an investigation into Song Yingge’s ideological and political leanings during his university years.

Song Yingge had long anticipated these moves and was well prepared. Although he had secretly joined an organization while at university, he never openly displayed pro-Communist sentiments; on the contrary, in speeches, he had expressed support for Principal Jiang’s policy of “stabilizing the interior before repelling foreign enemies.”

As for those secretly monitoring him, Song Yingge had already discovered them. It would not be an exaggeration to say that, given his current vigilance, no spy in the world could follow him without being noticed.

Tianyin Alley was close to Caodu Alley, separated by a few streets, within a ten-minute walk. However, Song Yingge first made a trip to Xinjiekou.

Xinjiekou was reputed to be China’s premier commercial district—though that title was debatable, its prosperity was undeniable. At this moment, the central square was still empty. By the following year, after the Japanese bombed Jinling, a twelve-meter-tall, two-meter-wide bomb model would be installed there, intended to raise air-raid awareness.

Over the decades, the square’s centerpiece changed several times until 1997, when a statue of Sun Yat-sen was reinstalled.

In January 1936, a central shopping mall was completed in Xinjiekou—a comprehensive department store with three floors: the lower two for business and the top for offices. It housed over a hundred shops; rents on the first floor ranged from 40 to 50 yuan, the second floor slightly cheaper at 20 to 30 yuan.

The mall was always bustling with shoppers. Song Yingge strolled about with interest, purchased some essentials, and then returned to Tianyin Alley.

The residence Dai Li referred to was an independent courtyard with five rooms; living alone, it felt somewhat spacious.

With Zhao Changjing’s help, Song Yingge roughly tidied the courtyard. As dusk fell, he found a nearby restaurant where the two drank and joked, their relationship growing closer.

Song Yingge’s physique was extraordinarily robust, and his alcohol tolerance had transformed accordingly—it was no exaggeration to say he could drink endlessly without faltering.

Soon, Zhao Changjing was about seventy percent drunk. Seizing the opportunity, Song Yingge broached conversation, though cautious due to the secret surveillance, he refrained from asking anything confidential.

He only inquired whether the courtyard belonged to Dai Li personally.

Zhao Changjing, working in the General Affairs Section, couldn’t conceal the truth. “Well, it’s both yes and no. Just rest assured, no one dares to trouble you here.”

“Why is that?” Song Yingge asked.

Leaning close, Zhao whispered, “The original owner of this courtyard is now locked up in prison.”

Song Yingge didn’t press further. Whether the man was wrongfully accused, truly guilty, a Communist, a Japanese spy, or something else, it was none of his concern.

Before going undercover, the organization’s sole command was to remain silent and await awakening.

Seeing Zhao Changjing sufficiently intoxicated, Song asked for his address, then hailed a rickshaw to send him home, slipping five yuan in legal tender into his pocket.

After the 1933 currency reform, legal tender was only issued last year, but its purchasing power remained strong.

For the following ten days, Song Yingge wandered Jinling daily; familiarizing himself with the city’s layout was essential for any undercover operative.

“Boss, here is Lin’an’s investigation report on Song Yingge,” secretary Cheng Shuli handed Dai Li the report.

Cheng Shuli, a trainee from the Zhejiang Police Special Training Class, had been retained by Dai Li as his secretary due to her youth and beauty.

Dai Li carefully read the report. It not only confirmed Song Yingge’s clean background but described him as a young man devoted to the Three Principles of the People, a loyal supporter of the leader, and passionate about revolution.

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Dai Li was very satisfied and summoned Liu Dazhi to inquire about the surveillance.

Liu naturally reported no abnormalities.

Having known Song Yingge well, Dai Li harbored little suspicion, but his cautious nature compelled him to complete the vetting process.

That night, as Song Yingge slept, he was abruptly awakened by a knock at the door.

Moving quietly to the courtyard gate, he listened but heard nothing outside.

By moonlight, he spotted a piece of paper on the ground. Opening it, he read: “Urgent situation, immediate withdrawal.”

The moment he read it, Song Yingge understood this was the spy agency’s vetting procedure.

The organization had no knowledge of his current residence.

As a newcomer to Jinling, he could not have been compromised.

The best course was to do nothing.

Of course, if Song Yingge were truly a member of the Jinling underground, he might have fallen for the trap.

But having no connection to the local underground, he immediately saw through it.

The next day, Song slept late, only rising mid-morning to freshen up and eat, much to the chagrin of Sun Xi, who had kept watch outside all night without rest.

Leaving the house, Song returned to Caodu Alley, presenting the paper to Dai Li.

“Uncle, someone slipped this note into the courtyard last night. I suspect it relates to the previous owner.”

Dai Li accepted the note without comment.

After bidding farewell, Song continued to wander the city.

That night, he heard someone scaling the wall.

Awakened, he feigned ignorance.

The intruder urgently said outside, “There’s a traitor! The Jinling underground has been compromised. Withdraw immediately!”

“You’ve lost your mind!” Song jumped up, shouting.

The man said nothing, hurriedly fleeing.

Soon after, a commotion arose; the courtyard gate was broken down, and a group burst in, binding Song tightly and forcing him into a vehicle.

Though aware it was a staged act, Song shouted and struggled convincingly.

He was soon blindfolded and taken to an interrogation room in Caodu Alley.

“Will you confess yourself, or only after being tortured?” asked Zhou Weiqiang, head of the first group in the Intelligence Section, smoking a cigarette at the table.

“Confess to what?” Song looked puzzled.

“Your comrades have been arrested. If you wait until they confess, you’ll be worthless. Think carefully,” Zhou said.

“I’m innocent! I have no comrades! You must be mistaken!” Song protested loudly.

“Stubborn as a dead duck,” Zhou sneered, stepping forward with a whip.

“Crack!” The whip struck Song’s body.

“Will you confess?” Zhou demanded.

“I really don’t know what to confess to,” Song thought angrily—the man was serious; the whip really hurt.

“One last chance. If you don’t talk, you’ll be shot on the spot!” Zhou threatened, pointing a gun.

Song stared at the black barrel, unmoved, even amused, though he feigned terror.

His extraordinary bodily control kept the sweat pouring.

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“Officer, spare my life! My family’s wealthy—I can pay you,” Song stammered.

“Obstinate!” Zhou shouted, about to pull the trigger.

As Song cried “Innocent,” a crisp click sounded.

The trigger was pulled, but no bullet fired.

The gun was empty.

At that moment, the door swung open. Dai Li appeared, smiling broadly.

“Not bad,” he said.

“Uncle, what are you doing here?” Song feigned confusion.

“This was all necessary vetting before you officially join. Your assignment is ready,” Dai Li explained, loosening Song’s bonds.

“So I passed the vetting? Uncle, what kind of unit is this? So strict,” Song asked.

Dai Li said nothing, instead clapping his hands.

Soon, a bloodied man was dragged in.

“He’s a Communist rebel,” Dai Li said.

Song looked puzzled.

“You have one last task, even after passing vetting,” Dai Li continued.

“What is it?” Song barely concealed his dread, still clinging to hope.

“Kill him.” Dai Li produced a pistol, deliberately showing the magazine empty. “This gun has bullets.”

He handed the gun to Song, who took it trembling.

“What crime did he commit?” Song asked.

“Communist rebel—deserving of death by all,” Dai Li said calmly, without emotion.

Song had anticipated this day but never imagined it would come so soon, leaving him utterly unprepared.

Jiang Hui weakly raised his head. Tortured for half a month, he had not uttered a word. Now, death was a release.

With all his strength, he spat bloodied saliva at Dai Li.

Dai Li paid no mind, casually wiping it away with a handkerchief.

“Don’t be afraid. You’re doing the right thing—for Principal Jiang and for the country,” Dai Li comforted.

All eyes in the interrogation room watched Song.

He knew there was no escape today.

This man’s life was Dai Li’s token of allegiance.

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