Chapter 55: The Death of Zhao Ming

After Zhao Ming and his group left Yijiang Gate, they quickly moved near Shuixi Gate to rendezvous with another team of Japanese spies.

“Did the plan succeed?” someone asked.

Zhao Ming shook his head, his expression grave.

He had intended to ambush Song Yingge and his men at Yijiang Gate to divert the secret police’s attention entirely.

If Gu Ying’s plan worked, the operatives would launch a sudden attack during the transfer of Yamashita Rizi, likely rescuing her and escaping the city in the ensuing chaos.

But unexpectedly, the secret police convoy stopped at Yijiang Gate, ruining Zhao Ming’s carefully laid scheme.

Now, all hope rested on Gu Ying.

If the secret police were deceived, there was still a chance.

Without Gu Ying as an insider, the mission’s success seemed unlikely.

Shortly after Song Yingge was released from prison, a small car drove into Yangpi Alley Prison.

Sun Xi, Huang Yue, and others got off the vehicle.

“Team leader, as per your instructions, everyone is on standby in the truck.”

Upon learning Zhao Ming’s plan from Gu Ying, Song Yingge decided to use their enemy’s tactics against them.

Zhao Ming was unaware that Gu Ying’s true identity had long been exposed.

This information gap was invaluable.

Song Yingge nodded and looked at Huang Yue.

Since the last reprimand, Huang Yue had behaved obediently for some time.

But Song Yingge was a man who held grudges.

With the chance to settle personal scores now, he would not miss it.

Huang Yue was short and slight, not much taller than Yamashita Rizi herself.

Wearing a wig and Yamashita’s clothes, under the cover of night, he could easily fool the Japanese operatives.

Over ten minutes later, Huang Yue, disguised as Yamashita Rizi and guarded by two operatives, boarded the car, ready to be transferred to Jiangdongmen Military Prison.

Jiangdongmen Military Prison, known as "A Site," was heavily guarded, far more secure than Yangpi Alley Prison.

The two prisons were far apart.

Song Yingge could not determine where Zhao Ming’s spies would ambush.

Nor could he afford to launch a wide-scale search and risk alerting the enemy.

He had to lure the snake out.

Unfortunately, this meant hardship for Huang Yue and the others in the car.

The first wave of the Japanese spies’ attack would have to be endured by those inside.

If they couldn’t hold out, at least there were compensation benefits.

Shortly after the car left Yangpi Alley, a burst of fireworks exploded in the sky.

Near the end of the year, seeing fireworks at night was not unusual.

But Song Yingge was certain it was a signal from the Japanese spies.

From Yangpi Alley to Jiangdongmen Prison, passing through Xishui Gate was inevitable.

If Song Yingge were to arrange a hijacking, this would be the chosen spot.

Beyond Xishui Gate was the suburbs.

If they caught the target and fled into the wild, they would be impossible to catch.

As the car neared Xishui Gate, the driver slowed down.

The cold wind howled mournfully through the gate, sending chills down the spines of the three inside.

But thinking of the consequences of disobedience, the driver pressed the accelerator with determination.

As they approached the gate, their anxiety grew.

Entering the gate, no attack came, and their tense hearts eased momentarily.

After driving about ten meters further, suddenly ten bright spots appeared along the dark roadside, and gunfire erupted.

Fortunately, Zhao Ming and his men refrained from spraying bullets across the car, aware that Yamashita Rizi was inside.

They aimed only at the tires; otherwise, the three inside would have been killed outright.

Far behind, Song Yingge and his group heard the gunshots.

“The fish has bitten the bait.”

Before Song Yingge could speak, Sun Xi slammed on the accelerator.

Behind the car, a truckload of operatives followed closely.

“Stay back, or I’ll shoot the prisoner immediately!” the driver shouted at the approaching Japanese spies, a sudden idea in his mind.

The spies hesitated, wary of killing the hostage.

Zhao Ming, anxious that a stalemate here would cause mission failure, pulled a spy in front of him, hiding behind him, aiming a gun at the driver.

“Bang!”

A shot struck the driver’s chest; his fate was uncertain.

As Zhao Ming prepared for a second shot, he suddenly saw a vehicle approaching from the other side of Xishui Gate.

“Trouble,” Zhao Ming felt the situation turn grim.

At this point, there was no turning back.

Zhao Ming shouted, “Rescue Miss Rizi first!”

The spies surged toward the car.

Huang Yue and another operative drew their pistols, firing at the attackers.

But the darkness impaired their aim, and emptying their magazines failed to hit a target.

Just as Huang Yue despaired, distant gunshots rang out.

Six shots, six cries of pain, each bullet striking true.

“That’s the team leader,” Huang Yue immediately recognized.

His earlier frustrations with Song Yingge vanished at that moment.

Song Yingge sat in the front passenger seat, leaning out the window, handgun drawn and firing.

Obstructed vision limited him to six targets.

Zhao Ming was shocked to see six men fall almost instantly.

He knew today’s operation had failed—and badly.

“Retreat!”

Before giving the order, Zhao Ming had already sprinted several meters away.

Song Yingge’s vehicle passed through Xishui Gate, the view suddenly wide open.

“Bang!”

Song Yingge fired three shots.

Three Japanese spies running behind dropped to the ground.

“One left,” Song Yingge said.

He stepped out of the car, lit a cigarette, exhaled a smoke ring, then raised his gun.

“Bang!”

Zhao Ming, fifty or sixty meters away, was hit in the knee, rolling on the grass.

The operatives in the truck had just disembarked when the fight ended.

Everyone looked at each other, bewildered.

“Bring them back,” Song Yingge ordered.

“Bang!”

A gunshot came from where Zhao Ming lay; he had committed suicide.

Song Yingge shrugged.

“Then drag them back,” he said, walking over to Huang Yue’s vehicle and peering inside.

The driver had been shot in the right chest, but no vital organs were hit—still survivable.

Another operative was shot in the calf, not fatal.

Huang Yue in the rear seat was shaken but unharmed.

“Well, lucky you,” Song Yingge teased.

“Team leader, I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth from now on,” Huang Yue admitted, realizing that a local official was no match for a current superior.

Song Yingge motioned for Huang Yue to get out; the two walked aside.

Song Yingge asked, “Who was it?”

Huang Yue hesitated, “It was Chu Zuo.”

“You’re done. You betrayed Chu Zuo,” Song Yingge said, tossing Huang Yue a cigarette.

Huang Yue caught it, wryly smiling, “Team leader, from now on, I’m 100% on your side. You can’t tell Chu Zuo about this.”

Given Dai Li’s temperament, if he learned Huang Yue had betrayed him, even Yangpi Alley Prison would be a lenient outcome.

“Everything’s as before on Chu Zuo’s side,” Song Yingge said coolly.

Huang Yue immediately understood.

“Yes, today I never spoke to the team leader.”

Song Yingge patted Huang Yue’s shoulder appreciatively.

“You’ve got a bright future ahead.”

Sun Xi pointed to the bodies dragged in by the operatives.

“Team leader, the suicide was Zhao Ming.”

Looking at Zhao Ming’s corpse, Song Yingge felt a pang of sympathy.

Was Zhao Ming stupid?

Certainly not.

Song Yingge thought him clever.

Whether it was the diversion at Yijiang Gate, Gu Ying’s false intelligence, or the ambush at Xishui Gate, it was all skillful.

But his entire plan depended on an information imbalance.

The outcome was already sealed.

Had Gu Ying’s spy identity not been exposed, the rescue mission likely would have succeeded.

“Eight of the ten Japanese spies are dead, two remain,” Sun Xi reported.

Song Yingge knew well that the two survivors were intentionally spared.

“There’s still a Japanese spy inside the city setting off fireworks as signals. The two survivors must be interrogated overnight to force a confession, get a portrait of the remaining spy, and issue a citywide manhunt.”

“Yes, team leader.”

Returning to Caodu Lane, it was near midnight.

Song Yingge left the tasks to his subordinates and went home to catch up on sleep.

The next day, Song Yingge came to the interrogation room to find Sun Xi had not slept.

“Go get some rest,” he said.

“Team leader, I’m not tired. After a night of questioning, the two spies confessed; they’re just waiting for you to sketch the portrait,” Sun Xi replied, touched by Song Yingge’s concern.

Song Yingge was pleased with his attitude.

Ten minutes later, Song Yingge completed the portrait of the remaining spy.

He told Sun Xi, “Find Liu Dazhi and have him deliver this portrait to the police station to assist in the search. After this, you can rest.”

“Yes!”

Later, Song Yingge visited Gu Ying.

She had confessed without torture the previous day, so bore no injuries.

“Gu Ying, why did you lose hope like this?” Song Yingge sighed.

He had visited the communications department often; they were acquaintances.

Gu Ying’s eyes were swollen from crying; her voice hoarse.

“He was too cunning. By the time I realized he was Japanese, it was too late.”

“Tell me their methods; even if it’s your final contribution to this country,” Song Yingge urged.

“We met at a ball. He called himself Lou Heng, a businessman trading in Southeast Asia. I found him handsome and grew fond of him. We started a relationship.

Later, he claimed the domestic situation was critical for his business and asked me to pay attention to intelligence I encountered at work and report it to him.

At first, I refused, but he persisted, promising a large sum, so I agreed.

After a few reports, he suddenly told me he was Japanese.

He threatened me with the intelligence I had provided, forcing me to work for them or be exposed.

I knew the secret police’s harsh laws. To survive, I had to submit.”

Her voice faltered into tears.

Young, handsome, wealthy—and yet obsessed with you.

Wasn’t this classic honey trap?

Were the Japanese so clever?

Not necessarily.

It was simply a willing victim.

“Do you remember Lou Heng’s appearance?” Song Yingge asked.

“I remember. I’ll never forget him,” Gu Ying said bitterly.

Song Yingge ordered paper and pen.

Minutes later, Lou Heng’s likeness was sketched.

“Is this him?”

“Yes, exactly like this.”

The man in the portrait had sharp eyebrows, thin lips, and well-defined features—handsome indeed.

“Think more about Lou Heng. Anything else to add?” Song Yingge pressed.

Lou Heng surely hadn’t only turned Gu Ying.

If they could catch him, it would be like lighting a lamp in the dark.

Gu Ying frowned, trying to recall.

After a while, she hesitated, “A few times I smelled cheap perfume on him.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I’ll suggest to Chu Zuo to give you a dignified exit,” Song Yingge said.

Tears welled in Gu Ying’s eyes; she knew this was the best outcome.

“Thank you.”

Song Yingge waved her off and left the interrogation room.

Shen Wei approached.

“Team Leader Song, Chu Zuo just called. He wants you at his office.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

At Dai Li’s office, Song Yingge saluted.

“Commander, you wanted to see me?”

Dai Li’s dark face broke into a smile.

“Good news,” he said, handing over a document.

Song Yingge looked: it was a promotion order. His rank was elevated from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant ahead of schedule.

“Commander, isn’t this too fast?” Song Yingge was surprised.

Normally, it took at least a year and a half to advance from Second Lieutenant to First Lieutenant.

He had been Second Lieutenant for just over a month.

“A competent man deserves it,” Dai Li smiled. Having someone he recommended recognized by the chairman was an honor.

“Thank you, Commander, for your support,” Song Yingge said, growing more respectful.

“I think it’s time to drop the ‘acting’ from your title,” Dai Li added.

Though Song Yingge had long been the de facto leader of the Fourth Group, officially he was only acting.

Compared with other team leaders like Zhou Weiqiang and Zheng Guoen, he always felt a step behind.

Removing ‘acting’ would make his position legitimate.

“Thank you for your favor, Commander,” Song Yingge saluted again.

“You earned it yourself; I just pushed you along.”

After some small talk, Dai Li asked, “How about the Zhao Ming case?”

“Eight dead, two arrested, one still at large.”

“We must capture the fugitive. Finish the job completely.”

“Yes, Commander. I also suspect yesterday’s urgent cable from the Shanghai station about an assassination attempt on the leader was a diversion to rescue Yamashita Rizi, or that the Shanghai station might have been compromised by Japanese agents and discovered.”

“I’ll order Shanghai to verify, but do not slacken your vigilance. The leader’s safety is paramount; better to be safe than sorry.”

“If it was a diversion, how should we handle it?”

“Didn’t we kill eight and capture two yesterday?”

At this, uncle and nephew exchanged knowing looks.

Seeing Dai Li in a good mood, Song Yingge said, “Commander, Gu Ying has served the secret police for so long. Should we give her a dignified end?”

“Secret execution. This must not be made public.”

Dai Li felt a crisis looming.

Both the Party Affairs Investigation Office and the Secret Police, two of the most secretive and strict departments, had been infiltrated by the Japanese.

The government and military were likely riddled as well.

Meanwhile, infiltration of the Japanese side by the Secret Police had yielded little.

If war broke out between China and Japan now, the chairman would have no intelligence on the Japanese.

“We need to accelerate infiltration of the Japanese core agencies.”

After leaving Dai Li’s office, Song Yingge called Ye You over, handing him an iron box and a letter.

“You’re going to Shanghai. Deliver these two items to the Japanese consulate. Once you hand them over, run immediately.”

“Team leader, that iron box isn’t a bomb, is it?”

“More explosive than a bomb.”