Chapter 43: Xu Zhong Returns with Money

Xiaguan Railway Station.

Song Yingge glanced at his wristwatch; it was already past one o'clock in the afternoon.

He figured Xu Zhong would be arriving soon.

Before long, the train pulled into the station. Xu Zhong and Zhao Yaohui lugged their luggage and pushed their way off the platform.

Song Yingge strode forward and gave each of them a hug.

"You've both had a hard journey. Let's get in the car, we're heading to the Jinling Hotel to wash away the dust of travel." Song Yingge didn't ask how the mission had gone.

"I'm definitely going to bleed you dry today," Zhao Yaohui said heartily.

Xu Zhong nodded repeatedly, as the trip had indeed been utterly exhausting.

Once inside the car, Xu Zhong reached into his inner pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Song Yingge. "One hundred and twenty thousand was wired. This is the telegraphic transfer receipt."

The moment he handed the receipt over to Song Yingge, Xu Zhong visibly relaxed.

Carrying over a hundred thousand all the way had kept him in constant fear, suspecting everyone he saw of being a criminal; the ordeal had been agonizing.

"I used a fake identity when making the transfer, don't worry," Xu Zhong leaned close to Song Yingge's ear and whispered.

Song Yingge nodded, opened the envelope to inspect the receipt, and after confirming everything was in order, tucked it away. "How much of a loan was approved in total?"

"Twenty-five hundred thousand yen," Song Yingge replied.

During this era, the exchange rate among US dollars, fiat currency, and Japanese yen was 100:300:309. Twenty-five hundred thousand yen amounted to over two hundred and forty-two thousand in fiat currency—truly a colossal sum.

"Use the remaining loan to buy ships, and then mortgage them again," Song Yingge instructed.

"We've already bought nine vessels in relatively decent condition, and they're currently being painted at the Shanghai docks," Xu Zhong said.

"Splendid work." Song Yingge beamed with joy.

"Do you really not plan on paying this money back?" Zhao Yaohui asked with concern.

"I borrowed it with my own capability, why should I pay it back?" Song Yingge retorted righteously.

"If the Japanese investigate this later on, you're likely to be in danger," Zhao Yaohui warned.

"Brother Zhao, if you trust me, you should go borrow some too." Song Yingge left it at that.

Upon reaching the Jinling Hotel, Song Yingge splurged generously, ordering only the most expensive dishes on the menu.

After a hearty meal, Song Yingge sent the two men home to rest and returned to Caodu Lane.

"Director, Ruyue is departing for Jiangcheng tomorrow. Can we finally close the net on Ma Guozheng?" Song Yingge asked upon entering Dai Li's office.

"How is the evidence gathering coming along?" Dai Li asked.

"It's all ironclad proof, guaranteed to leave him speechless," Song Yingge replied.

"Very well, make the arrest the day after tomorrow. You will be in charge of the specific operation," Dai Li ordered.

"Yes, Director." Song Yingge acknowledged the order and turned to leave, but was stopped.

"The Headmaster returned to the capital yesterday and heard that you single-handedly captured over twenty Japanese spies; he is very impressed. Once Ma Guozheng is brought to justice, you will accompany me to pay your respects to the Headmaster," Dai Li said.

"Thank you for your guidance, Uncle!" Song Yingge saluted smartly.

"You already call me uncle, who else would I mentor if not you?" Dai Li chuckled.

This news was nothing short of exhilarating for Song Yingge.

Once he caught the eye of President Chiang, even if Dai Li were to fall from grace in the future, he would still secure a firm foothold within the Secret Service.

That evening, under the cover of night, Song Yingge made his way to Bailu Bookstore.

"Why are you here?" Lao Zhao asked.

Unless there was an urgent matter, the two of them should not be meeting so frequently.

Without wasting words, Song Yingge pulled out the telegraphic transfer receipt, placed it on the table, and said, "The money I promised you."

Lao Zhao picked up the receipt, and upon seeing the figures, his hand trembled slightly, nearly causing him to drop the slip. "One hundred and twenty thousand?"

"One hundred thousand. I'm keeping the remaining twenty thousand for something useful," Song Yingge corrected.

"This telegraphic transfer receipt isn't fake, is it?" Lao Zhao still found it hard to believe.

"Would I joke about a matter like this?" Song Yingge asked.

"It just feels like a dream, so unreal." Lao Zhao excitedly grabbed Song Yingge's hand. "With these funds, our urgent crisis is resolved. Comrade Lushan, on behalf of the organization, I express my heartfelt gratitude to you."

"This is only my duty," Song Yingge said solemnly.

After a moment, once Lao Zhao had calmed down, he asked, "Where did you get this kind of money?"

"I can guarantee the source of this money is completely clean," Song Yingge assured.

Lao Zhao nodded and did not probe any further.

"I hope the organization can arrange for someone to withdraw this money from the bank; it's not appropriate for me to show my face," Song Yingge said.

"Rest assured, the organization will make the necessary arrangements," Lao Zhao replied.

"I must remind the organization: this is a very large sum, and withdrawing it might attract unwanted attention. Please ensure strict precautions are taken," Song Yingge warned.

Lao Zhao said grimly, "There will be no slip-ups."

Song Yingge chose to trust his comrade's competence. "Don't forget to give me the twenty thousand out of that."

"Your share won't be shorted," Lao Zhao laughed, amused by Song Yingge's sudden display of avarice.

Having handed over one hundred thousand, he still cared about those twenty thousand.

After Song Yingge left, Lao Zhao wrapped the telegraphic transfer receipt carefully in a handkerchief, tucked it into his jacket, and hurried out of Bailu Bookstore.

A residential quarter in Jinling.

Lao Zhao picked up a pebble from the ground and tossed it inside.

Then he gently knocked on the door: three short, two long, one short. He repeated this pattern three times.

"Who is it?" Chen Fu asked softly from behind the door.

"Huashan," Lao Zhao answered.

Chen Fu opened the door, and Lao Zhao stepped inside.

"Where is Old Jiang? I have an urgent matter," Lao Zhao asked.

"He just fell asleep," Chen Fu said.

"Alright, I'll go wake him," Lao Zhao said, walking straight to Jiang Quji's room.

"Old Jiang, it's Huashan," Lao Zhao called out.

Rustling sounds came from inside the room, followed by the turning of a lock.

"Comrade Huashan, what happened?" Jiang Quji asked nervously.

"Good news, let's talk inside." Lao Zhao entered the room, closed the door securely, and pulled out the handkerchief, handing it to Jiang Quji.

"What is this?" Jiang Quji asked, puzzled.

"Open it and see." Lao Zhao wore a mysterious smile.

Jiang Quji unfolded the handkerchief and retrieved the telegraphic transfer receipt, but dared not turn on the lamp in the dark room, making visibility poor.

Lao Zhao pulled him over to the window, and by the pale moonlight, Jiang Quji made out the writing on the slip.

"One hundred and twenty thousand?" Jiang Quji gasped in shock. "Where did so much money come from?"

"It's Comrade Lushan; he overfulfilled his fundraising mission," Lao Zhao laughed.

"Splendid, Comrade Lushan is truly magnificent. With these funds, our soldiers won't have to freeze this winter, and they can finally have a hot meal," Jiang Quji said excitedly.

"A word of warning: it's one hundred thousand. After withdrawing it, you must give twenty thousand to Comrade Lushan; he has an urgent need for it," Lao Zhao instructed.

"One hundred thousand is enough, more than enough," Jiang Quji said.

"When withdrawing the money, you must exercise extreme caution and have a contingency plan. There must be zero mistakes regarding these funds," Lao Zhao emphasized.

"If anything goes wrong with this money, I'll forfeit my head," Jiang Quji vowed resolutely.

"Even if you sold yourself, you wouldn't be worth that much," Lao Zhao joked.

"Haha, if I were worth that much, I'd have sold myself long ago. Don't worry about the withdrawal; there definitely won't be any issues," Jiang Quji promised.

"I'll leave the telegraphic transfer receipt with you then. Keeping this thing on me would guarantee I couldn't sleep a wink tonight," Lao Zhao chuckled cheerfully.

"Well, look at you, Old Zhao. If you leave it with me, do you think I'll be able to sleep?" Jiang Quji retorted.

"That's no longer my concern. I'm heading back, get some rest early," Lao Zhao said, feeling completely unburdened.