Spying

17 Mutual Aid

The afternoon to evening hours were the busiest time at the newspaper office, as the most important news often occurred in the latter half of the day. To ensure the latest updates made it into the next morning’s printed edition, editors, reporters, and typesetters were all hard at work during this period. The Nanjing branch of Wenhui Bao had rented an office on Beititing Lane, and it was at this time—when most ordinary workplaces were winding down—that reporter Zhu Yanjun had just returned from the field.

The moment she stepped inside, she excitedly announced the news she had gathered that day: "President Chiang is handing out a copy of dialectics to every attendee at the military conference. Isn’t that hilarious? The war’s a complete mess, yet they’re still trying to learn the Communist Party’s methodology."

The editor-in-chief, who had worked with her for nearly a year, still hadn’t gotten used to her excessive enthusiasm and unfiltered remarks. He motioned for her to lower her voice, signaling that the office was small enough without her shouting.

Zhu Yanjun strode over to him and pulled a document from her bag—a complete transcript of the conference’s opening speech. The text was misaligned, likely meant for shredding and recycling, but somehow she had gotten her hands on it.

"What do you think? The informant I cultivated—impressive, right?" Zhu Yanjun couldn’t help but gloat, well aware of her own achievement.

"Still the one from the Ministry of Defense?"

"That’s confidential."

The editor shook his head helplessly, though his expression was clearly indulgent.

As a reporter, Zhu Yanjun’s professional skills were beyond reproach. She had a keen nose for news and excelled at sifting through chaotic information to pinpoint the most useful lead, then unraveling it thread by thread to uncover the truth. Her recent exposé on the Ministry of Defense’s "phantom battalion" had made her name the talk of Nanjing’s newspaper industry.

And it wasn’t just her collaborating editor who indulged her.

Upon hearing of her return, branch president Ouyang Shu even stepped out of his inner office to ask curiously, "Dialectics? Materialist dialectics?"

Zhu Yanjun grinned. "Hegelian dialectics."

Ouyang Shu shrugged and remarked, "President Chiang has a long and arduous road ahead."

Zhu Yanjun gave him a puzzled look, not quite grasping the subtext of his words.

But Ouyang Shu changed the subject. "Yanjun, you’ve been working hard lately. Clock out on time today."

Zhu Yanjun blinked. "President Ouyang, since when did you become so humane?"

Ouyang Shu chuckled but didn’t take the bait. "Go home and change. I’ll pick you up in an hour."

"Pick me up? For what?"

"Old Mr. Wu’s farewell banquet at the Academia Sinica. Plenty of big names from politics and culture will be there. If you’re not interested, I’ll take another reporter." He said it deliberately.

"Of course I’m going!" Zhu Yanjun immediately declared, eyes shining—only then realizing the implication. "Farewell? Where’s he going?"

Ouyang Shu replied, "Taiwan."

The news of Old Mr. Wu’s move to Taiwan had come abruptly. Some said it was due to his declining health—that in the politically charged environment of the capital, people kept bothering him under various pretexts, so he decided to relocate somewhere far away for peace. Others claimed Taiwan University was short-staffed and had invited him to help establish their science faculty, pioneering a new frontier.

But regardless of the reason, there was an unspoken undercurrent to it all.

People had already begun leaving Nanjing.Later that evening, Zhu Yanjun put on her only satin cheongsam reserved for formal occasions and a pair of seldom-worn high heels, accompanying Ouyang Shu to the residence of Old Mr. Wu at Gaoyun Ridge.

After navigating the garden's bluestone path with some difficulty, they found the banquet hall already filled with guests, a testament to the octogenarian's prestige across various circles. Even someone as young as Zhu Yanjun knew he was the Nationalist Party's foremost eccentric—having once publicly embarrassed Wang Jingwei with an exaggerated plea for anti-Japanese resistance and refusing all government posts on grounds of his own "ugly appearance."

At the mansion's entrance, she'd been surprised to witness guards conducting pat-downs, as Old Mr. Wu insisted that even military officers leave their weapons behind during household gatherings—seemingly unconcerned that such a high-profile assembly during wartime made an ideal target for covert operations.

Ouyang Shu whispered, "It appears he opposes Communist ideology yet trusts their personal integrity."

Zhu Yanjun's attention was captured by the residence's peculiar decor. One side featured traditional huanghuali furniture while European clocks stood beside wave-patterned sofas; Suzhou embroidery screens adorned shelves before stained glass windows, and antique European vases held lotus seedpods plucked from Black Tortoise Lake. Neither wholly Eastern nor Western, yet both—much like the host's own background and convictions.

As for Old Mr. Wu himself, even at this farewell banquet held in his honor, he wore only an old mandarin jacket, making a brief appearance before vanishing completely, indifferent to the roomful of distinguished guests from various fields. He understood they'd come chiefly for networking opportunities.

Zhu Yanjun followed Ouyang Shu through the obligatory rounds, presenting herself before ministers and university presidents. But after several exchanges where her cheongsam prompted assumptions she was merely Ouyang's companion—even after identifying herself as a journalist elicited only condescending remarks like "Ah! A bluestocking!"—her initial enthusiasm waned. Her notepad remained unused in her handbag as she realized she'd been reduced to "President Ouyang's accessory."

Seeking respite from forced smiles that barely concealed her irritation, she slipped into the garden where, finding herself alone, she kicked off the torturous heels. Just as she began relaxing, approaching footsteps sent her scrambling behind a rockery with her shoes.

The newcomers—a man and woman in army uniforms—prompted an involuntary eye-roll from Zhu Yanjun when the tall, decent-looking man remarked, "Miss Shen suits Western dresses better. These stiff uniforms make you look unladylike."Clearly, Miss Shen was also displeased by such remarks. Unlike Zhu Yanjun, who had been mingling with the crowd earlier, her displeasure was immediately apparent.

"You called me out just to say this?"

"Seeing my fiancée, of course I should greet her—"

"Who is your fiancée?!"

Shen Tong, who had just joined the Ministry of Defense with ambitions to make her mark, glared furiously at the man before her and retorted sharply, "I've only met you twice and already told you clearly—I won't marry you!"

The male officer had come to Nanjing from the Xuzhou Bandit Suppression Headquarters to attend a military conference in a few days. Happening upon the woman his family had introduced for a matchmaking session, he paid no heed to her vehement reaction and merely smiled. "But Uncle Shen doesn’t seem to think so. From what I gather, he intends to set the date before the year ends."

"Whether he sets a date or not is his business. If you think his word counts, then marry him!" Shen Tong turned to leave but was abruptly seized by the arm.

"Let go!" she raised her voice.

"Miss Shen, I advise you to soften your attitude. Sooner or later, you’ll enter the Zhou family. Why make things so unpleasant now—"

"Who said I’d enter your Zhou family? I said let go—"

Shen Tong twisted her arm, trying to break free, but the man was a head taller and a soldier to boot. The combat techniques she’d learned at the Intelligence School were useless here—the moment she raised her hand, she was restrained, unable to escape.

Hidden behind the rockery, Zhu Yanjun’s heart clenched. She was about to rush out and stop the officer surnamed Zhou when she realized she was still barefoot. Hastily bending down to put on her shoes, she grew even more flustered—stepping into them only to find she’d mixed up left and right.

Just then, "Tap—tap—tap—" came the unhurried click of high heels on the stone path.

Lan Youyin emerged from the depths of the garden, a handbag slung over one arm and a Marlboro cigarette held in the other. She exhaled a plume of smoke before speaking.

"Still not letting go?" Her gaze traveled from the officer’s face to his hand gripping Shen Tong’s arm, then to his epaulettes. "Captain? Must you wait until the senior officers inside witness you manhandling a woman before you feel honored?"

Hearing this and noting Lan Youyin’s aristocratic bearing, Captain Zhou finally released Shen Tong. "Just a lover’s quarrel, madam. My apologies for the scene."

"What lover? She clearly has nothing to do with you!"

At the sound of another voice, the three turned to see Zhu Yanjun, who had finally put her shoes on correctly. Though her cheongsam restricted her stride, her voice carried unmistakably.

"You’ve only met twice, and Miss Shen has already rejected you outright, yet you persist. Which unit are you from? Who’s your commanding officer? I’d like to see which Nationalist general teaches his subordinates to behave like this!" Zhu Yanjun adopted the tone she used at press conferences, firing off questions one after another like a machine gun.

Captain Zhou, who had thought no one was watching, was stunned. He had no idea where these two formidable women had come from. Now, with Shen Tong added to the mix, he found himself surrounded by three women in an instant.Shen Tong answered for him, "The Xuzhou Bandit Suppression Headquarters, 12th Corps, under Commander Huang Wei's command."

Captain Zhou's expression instantly darkened, but before he could react, Zhu Yanjun spoke again, "General Huang is a scholarly general of his generation, known for his integrity and uprightness. As a captain under his command, you bully a defenseless woman like this—what a disgrace to his name!"

By now, Captain Zhou's face had turned downright ugly. He glared at Zhu Yanjun and demanded sharply, "Who are you?"

"Oh! Forgot to introduce myself—Zhu Yanjun, reporter for Wenhui Bao ." With that, she waved her handbag and added, "As a journalist, I naturally carry recording equipment. I’ve already recorded your entire conversation with Miss Shen. Later, whether I draft an article for the newspaper or send a copy to the Army Headquarters, that would truly be ‘making things ugly,’ wouldn’t it?"

"You're threatening me—"

Furious, Captain Zhou lunged toward Zhu Yanjun, but before he could take a full step, Lan Youyin blocked his path.

"Captain, this isn’t your military base—it’s the capital, and a private residence at that. I believe if you stop now, this reporter won’t waste precious newspaper space on your little scandal. And—" She took a step closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper, "I don’t know if her handbag has a recorder, but what I have here does go off."

Captain Zhou stiffened in shock. Looking down, he saw Lan Youyin’s hand already inside her exquisite shell-shaped purse. Through the embroidered fabric, he could even feel the unmistakable shape of a gun barrel pressed against his waist.

"Old Master Wu doesn’t allow guests to carry firearms—how did you—"

"Which is exactly why you should be more concerned that I have my ways—and no fear of consequences."

Under the standoff, Captain Zhou took two deliberate steps back, eyeing this unfamiliar woman. A moment ago, he had assumed she was just another pampered official’s wife, but now, he saw nothing but madness in her gaze.

Finally, he retreated from the garden in near disgrace, not daring to look back at any of them.

Zhu Yanjun exhaled deeply, then turned to Shen Tong, who was still shaken, and Lan Youyin, who remained utterly unruffled.

With curiosity and excitement, Zhu Yanjun extended her hand to the two. "Meeting like this must be fate. Let’s properly introduce ourselves—I’m Zhu Yanjun, a reporter."

"I’m Shen Tong, newly assigned to the Second Department of the Ministry of National Defense."

Zhu Yanjun nodded, then suddenly remembered something and quickly added, "Oh, and don’t listen to that man’s nonsense—you look absolutely stunning in uniform."

Shen Tong’s eyes curved into a smile. "I know."

The two shared a laugh before turning to the decisive figure who had somehow scared off Captain Zhou with just a few words.

"Lan Youyin," the decisive figure stated succinctly.

The banquet seemed to be winding down as guests began filing out. Zhu Yanjun spotted Ouyang Shu standing under the portico, looking around anxiously, and realized with a start that she had been away far too long.

Hurriedly, she fished two business cards from her handbag—which couldn’t possibly fit recording equipment—and handed them to her new acquaintances. "It was wonderful meeting you both today, but I really must go find my boss now. Let’s catch up later!"

With that, she rushed off.Lan Youyin followed her gaze toward the guests at the entrance of the mansion. Spotting a particular figure in the bustling crowd, her eyes darkened slightly. She tossed the cigarette in her hand to the ground and crushed it under her heel.

Meanwhile, Shen Tong’s attention was drawn to the handbag on her wrist.

The next moment, Lan Youyin turned back, only to see the young girl’s innocent and grateful smile once more.

“So it’s Section Chief Lan.”

“You know me?”

“I’ve long admired your reputation. My instructor in the telegraphy department at the Intelligence School once worked with you. They told me about how you cracked the Japanese codes—I’ve been utterly in awe ever since!”