Chapter 50: The Daily Routine of Lurking

Two days later, the sky was cloudless and the warm sun hung high overhead.

At seven in the morning, people began to file out of Courtyard No. 8. Shortly after nine, Li Wensheng, dressed in worn-out clothes and with a sallow complexion, slung a filthy bundle over his shoulder. He supported Bai Yan, who wore two simple braids, plain clothes, and the same sallow face, as they walked out of the courtyard toward Shanghe Street.

At the intersection of Wende Street and Shanghe Street, there was a checkpoint. Li Wensheng helped Bai Yan line up calmly. When it was their turn, Li Wensheng immediately produced the certificates of good citizenship that Yu Jiarong had prepared for them over the last two days.

The Japanese soldier took the certificate, leafed through it, then returned it to Li Wensheng. He pointed to Li Wensheng’s bundle and shouted in broken Chinese, “Open it!”

Li Wensheng quickly untied the bundle, revealing only two sets of ragged clothes.

After a brief glance, the soldier waved them through.

Shanghe Street was close to both the Jinpu No. 3 Dock and the railway station. Most residents here worked as cargo handlers at the docks or station. Li Wensheng supported Bai Yan as they made their way into Heli Alley, a neighborhood inhabited by dock workers.

Heli Alley was in poor condition. The alley was littered with filth and rubbish, and the stench was pervasive.

They stopped in front of a dilapidated but modernly designed building that resembled a dormitory. On the third floor, at unit 306, Li Wensheng pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door.

This building was constructed when the Nationalist Government was still in Nanjing. Though grimy outside, the interior was decent. It was small, only about fifty square meters, but it had a bedroom, living room, and bathroom, with good ventilation.

Li Wensheng helped Bai Yan to the sofa, then set about cleaning the room. Once tidied, he headed to the market next door to buy groceries.

That evening, as they were having dinner, someone knocked on the door, shouting, “Da Ban!”

Li Wensheng was now living under the identity of Feng Daban, a destitute commoner struggling to survive. He put down his chopsticks and opened the door.

On the threshold stood a middle-aged man with a sooty face, carrying a box.

“Daban, it’s all arranged. Tomorrow at seven in the morning, wait for me downstairs and we’ll go to the dock together for work.”

“Thank you,” Li Wensheng replied, hunched and timid.

“No need for thanks. We’re from the same hometown. This is nothing.” The man smiled, set the box down, and then spoke in a low voice, “The handover was a success, but Lü Youchun has betrayed us.”

Yu Jiarong had proven his capability—no wonder Dai Yunong entrusted him with so many people in Nanjing. He’d gone to Jianye’s Mochou Lake for the rendezvous three hours ahead of time.

Mochou Lake was just a park. After arriving, he watched from a distant high-rise with binoculars.

Soon, he noticed that some of the passersby in the park were behaving oddly.

He split his team—one led by Xiao Mao, the other by himself. There were only two exits around the park. He walked away from the park for dozens of meters and found a restaurant to observe the street.

When Fang Daoguang and his group appeared, he sent someone to intercept them and change the rendezvous point.

When Lü Youchun showed up, several plainclothes agents followed him. Coincidentally, he was also on the street Yu Jiarong was watching.

Yu Jiarong saw at a glance that Lü Youchun had defected.

Betrayal was nothing new to Li Wensheng. On the battlefield, there were plenty who died bravely; in underground work, traitors were just as common.

“Brother Shan, I just finished cooking. Why not join us for a bite?”

“No, I still need to notify the others about tomorrow’s work at the dock.”

“All right, safe travels. Next time, I’ll treat you to a meal.”

“Fine, next time.”

The middle-aged man turned and left. Li Wensheng immediately picked up the box and locked the door.

Inside were two pistols, ten magazines, a radio transmitter, a codebook, and several bottles of makeup.

Li Wensheng had requested the radio because Yu Jiarong had said he could choose when to contact headquarters. With their own transmitter, he could wait for the right moment and have Bai Yan send a message, minimizing contact and increasing safety.

After a glance, Li Wensheng closed the box, took the makeup out, and hid the box in the wardrobe.

Returning to the table, he picked up his chopsticks and said quietly, “Tomorrow, see if there’s anywhere in the house we can make a hole to hide things. You’re still hurt, so don’t do it yourself—just pick a spot. I’ll handle the rest when I get back.”

Bai Yan was delighted by his concern. She was so happy she could barely speak, only nodding repeatedly.

The next morning at six, Li Wensheng woke, tidied up his bedding, and used the makeup to turn his face and hands a waxen yellow before going out to buy groceries.

He made breakfast, and Bai Yan got up as it was ready.

After breakfast, Li Wensheng said, “Try not to go out. And whether or not you leave, always put on your makeup.”

“Understood, husband,” Bai Yan replied with a playful smile.

Li Wensheng rolled his eyes, grabbed his black felt cap from the table, and headed out.

Downstairs, he saw a dozen other men waiting. He found a corner to squat in, quietly observing his surroundings.

Soon, the middle-aged man came down and called out, “Let’s go to work!”

Li Wensheng joined the group and followed him out.

At the Jinpu No. 3 Dock, where thousands of workers had gathered, the middle-aged man led Li Wensheng and the others to a foreman, exchanged a few words, and soon they were all carrying cargo.

That evening, Li Wensheng returned home, his face and clothes covered in grime.

“Wash up and eat. I’ve already cooked,” Bai Yan said softly, like a wife, as she brought the kettle from the stove to fill the washbasin.

After washing, Li Wensheng sat at the table and asked quietly, “Have you picked a spot?”

“Yes. The floor isn’t thick, but the walls are. We can dig a hole behind the cabinet to hide the radio.”

Li Wensheng nodded. After dinner, he went out to buy tools.

He pried a hole in the wall behind the cabinet and placed the radio inside. Then he washed up and went to bed.

For the next few days, Li Wensheng lived like an ordinary cargo handler—working at the docks, never prying into others’ affairs, blending in perfectly.

While Li Wensheng settled into his new life, Kawano Kayo at the Tokko Section was on the verge of collapse.

Unwashed for days, reeking, with a scruffy beard and bloodshot eyes, Kawano Kayo stared at the map on his desk, now crisscrossed and circled in pencil over and over. He muttered, “Would he run inside? Go deeper, deeper...”

A few days earlier, gunshots in the mountains had sent Kawano Kayo and his men back from the residential district to search the hills.

At the time, he was angry and ashamed. He’d assumed Li Wensheng wouldn’t hide in the mountains, but that’s exactly what he’d done.

Following faint traces to the riverbank, he guessed Li Wensheng’s group had gone to the nearby residential area and rushed there to search.

But after a thorough search, there was no sign of them. Instead, he learned that someone had hidden overnight in a house in the district he’d already searched.

He felt nothing but humiliation—a shameful defeat at Li Wensheng’s hands.

Fuming, he marked several spots on the map for further searches, including Jiangpu.

Li Wensheng’s trail was found at Wende Street in Jiangpu, but once again, he was a step too late.

Kawano Kayo was close to a breakdown. Why was he always half a step behind?

He stared at the map, circled more locations, sent out search teams, but found nothing.

Before, he’d only been slow; now, he couldn’t even find a trace.

His frustration deepened, making him doubt his own abilities.

Crushed, his mind grew unstable. He obsessed over one thought, even while in the bathroom: If I were Li Wensheng, where would I run?

Staring at the map, eyes red from exhaustion, Kawano Kayo suddenly froze.

His eyes lit up. He muttered, “If I can’t predict his moves, I’ll search the whole city. Military Intelligence Bureau operatives usually pose as shopkeepers—investigate all the shopkeepers in the city, and I’ll find him.”

Just as he picked up the phone to give orders, the office door opened and Sononoshiki walked in.