Spying

26 Three's Company

"Even if you refuse to admit it, I'll say it again—you've been far too reckless lately. Two unauthorized actions outside the plan in a row. I won’t allow a third time, and I certainly won’t listen to you again."

The young man, who looked no older than twenty-five, spoke with the obstinacy of a fifty-two-year-old. His sharply defined features took on a slightly fierce cast under his stern expression.

When the incident first occurred, he had been preoccupied with damage control and had hidden in the countryside to avoid attention. Only now, over a week later, did he voice the shock and lingering fear he’d processed. Yet the person he was addressing remained unfazed, exchanging a glance through the rearview mirror with another passenger in the car as if to say: See, he’s making a mountain out of a molehill again.

"Lan-jie, don’t look at me. This time, I’m not taking sides," declared the young man at the wheel, steering around a corner while making his stance clear—not without a hint of complaint. "And why was I the last to know? You two kept me in the dark. If I hadn’t seen Yang Kaizhi’s obituary in the papers, I’d still be clueless."

Lan Youyin seized the opportunity to shift the focus. She turned to him and retorted, "You’re blaming me? If I hadn’t covered for you, you’d have spilled everything over the phone that day. Then we wouldn’t be here now—we’d all be in a police holding cell together."

The driver was none other than the counterfeiting expert who operated behind the facade of a photography studio on Pingshi Street—A Mang, who had panicked and called Lan Youyin after being easily exposed by the novice Shen Tong, only to have the entire conversation eavesdropped. A Mang’s surname was Lu, but both Lan Youyin and Yin Wenrang had joked that he ought to be surnamed Hu (tiger), given how reckless and impulsive he was.

Yin Wenrang was the first speaker.

Sitting in the back seat, he caught Lan Youyin’s glare at A Mang and saw that she still didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. He added, "It’s precisely because of your unilateral decisions that the second operation failed."

Sure enough, Lan Youyin’s expression darkened at these words. Pressing her lips together, she turned to stare out the window in silence.

The car fell quiet. This was something all three of them knew well, but at the outset of their plans, they had agreed that if things went awry, they wouldn’t blame each other or let resentment fester.

So A Mang quickly stepped in to mediate. "Wenrang isn’t blaming you—he’s... worried. Why are you acting as rash as me? It’s not like you at all. He’s afraid you’re rushing things because the pressure’s gotten to you."

Yin Wenrang didn’t deny it.They were supposed to execute each operation only after meticulous planning. Typically, Yin Wenrang handled the preliminary reconnaissance and preparations, which meant his cover identities were constantly changing. Anyone who had coincidentally visited both the International Club for drinks and rented a car from the "Heji Car Rental" near Confucius Temple over the past few months might have recognized him. But he wasn’t just a bartender or an auto mechanic. Earlier, to contact Lan Youyin, who was under surveillance by the Confidentiality Bureau, he had disguised himself as a pallbearer. Not long after, he posed as a draft-dodging out-of-towner to load smuggled military equipment at the "Rongji Salt Company" warehouse in Puzhen...

All of this had been repeatedly discussed and planned with Lan Youyin and Lu A'mang, and their operation cycle wasn’t too long—by early next year, everything should have been completed. But for some reason, Lan Youyin had recently grown impatient. She claimed it was because they had missed an opportunity at Old Master Wu’s house, but Yin Wenrang felt there was more to it.

In truth, attempting to assassinate a guest at a farewell banquet with so many witnesses was inherently risky. But she had insisted that the chaos of a crowded event would make escape easier, and they had planned it in detail.

That was supposed to be Lan Youyin’s first time "doing it herself"—she had wanted it that way.

For the first two deaths, Lan Youyin hadn’t even been present.

The first was Pan Dahe from the Confidentiality Bureau’s interrogation division. No matter the era, a shared hometown dialect was an effective way to build rapport. Yin Wenrang used this trick to get close to the Hunanese man, Pan, learning that he had an ailing mother whom he had pulled strings to get admitted to the Army Dependents’ Sanatorium outside Zhongshan Gate. Pan visited her regularly. So, on the first rainy night of the plum rain season, Yin Wenrang served Pan a drink laced with sleeping pills at the bar, while Lan Youyin—under the Bureau’s surveillance—hadn’t left her home since returning from work.

Close to midnight, her home received a wrong-number call. After hanging up, she turned off the lights and went to bed as usual. But in her dream, she was driving on a mountain road before plunging off a cliff. It turned out that plotting a murder, even without doing the deed oneself, wasn’t as guilt-free as she had imagined.

But with the first experience behind her, the second time was easier.

Yin Wenrang quit his job at the International Club’s bar and immediately obtained another fake ID from A Mang to work at the car rental frequented by Zhao Xiaowu. As a mechanic, he didn’t even need the cover of darkness to tamper with the target vehicle’s brakes. Coincidentally, it was the last rain of the plum season—perfect camouflage for a highway accident.

The somewhat superstitious A Mang attributed a fated significance to the first two operations. But the next targets were no longer minor figures whose deaths could be passed off as "accidents."

The farewell banquet for Old Master Wu of the Central Research Institute became the opportunity Lan Youyin had set her sights on.Old Mr. Wu was the one who signed her special Party admission application, and she was thoroughly familiar with the layout of the Wu residence. Even though Yin Wenrang had some reservations, under Lan Youyin's insistence, he agreed that if they could lure Yang Kaizhi into the garden of the residence, a gun equipped with a silencer wouldn’t draw attention from the bustling reception hall. By the time the guests left in high spirits, the body might not even be discovered that night.

However, that evening, Yin Wenrang—dressed as a rickshaw puller—waited for Lan Youyin two blocks away from the Wu residence, only to hear her say, "Something unexpected happened in the garden. There was no chance to act."

At that point, they should have changed course and waited patiently for the next opportunity.

Yet, just a few days later, Lan Youyin took action alone. She only called Yin Wenrang from a public phone before the operation, instructing him to meet her near Mount Ye to assist in her escape.

Not much time had passed, and the scene from that evening was still vivid in his mind.

Yin Wenrang waited at the designated spot when suddenly Lan Youyin appeared in his line of sight. There were no streetlights, and he could only vaguely sense the panic in her steps. She got into the car, reeking of gunpowder, startling him. Before he could ask any questions, she urged him to drive away. She told him she had just killed Yang Kaizhi—his mind went blank. She said it was an opportunity too good to miss; Yang Kaizhi had been chasing a defecting officer who had joined the Communists, and everyone would assume the other side was responsible. Only then did he snap back to reality, turning to ask, "Are you hurt?"

"He didn’t even draw his gun," Lan Youyin said. "It was as if he knew why he deserved to die."

Yin Wenrang felt his blood rushing through his veins, surging toward his heart, making it pound uncontrollably. His hands trembled on the steering wheel. He wanted to ask, Are you insane? How could you act so suddenly without warning?

But he didn’t voice the question. Because when he turned his head, he saw that after speaking rapidly, Lan Youyin suddenly lost all strength, slumping back into the seat, her chest heaving violently. He thought, She wanted Yang Kaizhi dead too badly.

Yet just a few days later, Lan Youyin came to him again.

"Yang Kaizhi just died. At the very least, we should wait for the heat to die down," Yin Wenrang immediately objected after hearing her plan.

"No, this is the perfect time. There won’t be a better opportunity," Lan Youyin countered swiftly. "Right now, everyone believes that even if Han Guizhang didn’t shoot Yang Kaizhi, it was the Communists who helped him escape. So if Lu Peng also dies now, they’ll still think it was the Communists."

It sounded plausible, but Yin Wenrang still felt uneasy.

"That’s not right. Our original timeline was until early next year. It’s only August now. You seem in a hurry—what’s the rush?"

His question struck a nerve. Lan Youyin fell silent for a moment before looking up and saying, "Someone at the Ministry of National Defense has started investigating my records."The image of Ren Shaobai's face surfaced in her mind—he had been far too active at the Ministry of National Defense lately. After discovering he had accessed her personnel file, Lan Youyin couldn’t tell whether it was Li Helin’s doing or his own. Either way, it wasn’t a good sign. Even though she was confident there were no flaws in that file, just as Yin Wenrang had sensed, she began to feel a certain urgency.

Yin Wenrang studied her for a long moment before finally agreeing to her impulsive plan.

To ensure success without exposure, they decided to tamper with Lu Peng’s car again—but this time, instead of just sabotaging the brakes, they would plant a homemade bomb in the engine compartment. Hadn’t the Eighth Route Army always been skilled with crude explosives?

So, taking advantage of Lu Peng’s daily meetings at the Ministry of National Defense, Lan Youyin familiarized herself with his car and driver. On the day the meeting was moved to No. 1 Honggong Lane, she told Shen Tong in advance that she would be late. While others assumed she was tied up with work at the First Bureau, she was actually beneath that car outside the Confidentiality Bureau building, armed with a few small tools.

She located the latch for the hood at the front of the car and spent some time unscrewing it so she could install the bomb in the engine compartment without having to break in.

The so-called homemade bomb was essentially just a bundle of explosives, but Yin Wenrang and A Mang had ultimately decided to use an empty sugar canister to seal it from air exposure—more stable, less likely to accidentally dampen. The components were all things easily bought at a hardware store: a soldering iron, solder, electrical tape, and thin wires. The key to this kind of operation was keeping the setup as simple as possible.

Once the explosive canister was ready, they fashioned a trigger from two hacksaw blades. Lan Youyin’s task was to secure the bomb inside the engine compartment and wrap the trigger’s end around the front wheel suspension’s support bar. That way, when the car hit uneven terrain, the suspension would compress, causing the steel blades to make contact and detonate the bomb.

Later, Lan Youyin reflected that Lu Peng’s luck had simply been too good.

If the driver, a man surnamed Shi, hadn’t been so skilled, or if the capital’s main roads hadn’t been so impeccably smooth, Lu Peng might not have even made it to Ming Palace Airport.

On the evening of August 12th, the bomb detonated at the intersection of Zhongshan East Road and Huangpu Road—but Lu Peng wasn’t in the car.

“Youyin-jie, you have no idea how close it was! If Director Lu hadn’t been riding in Mr. Ren’s car, he’d be dead now!” The next day, Shen Tong’s eyes widened as she recounted how the Confidentiality Bureau had failed to intercept Han Guizhang, only for their car to explode on the return trip. “How ruthless can the Communists be? They’ve already taken our man, and now they want to kill one of our directors too? That’s just vicious…”

A few hours later, Lan Youyin informed Yin Wenrang of the failed assassination attempt on Lu Peng and said, “Lay low in the countryside for now and wait for my signal. Your departure from Nanjing might have to be moved up.”

And so, here they were now.

No longer dressed like a laborer taking odd jobs, Yin Wenrang now wore a full summer suit, his hair neatly combed. Armed with a forged Xiangya Medical College diploma prepared by A Mang, he was now a promising young talent heading to Central Hospital for an interview—destined for the medical division of the Xuzhou Pacification Headquarters.But before reaching that point, they still needed to complete the summary of the previous phase's work.

"For now, they probably still believe Yang Kaizhi's death and the Confidentiality Bureau's car explosion were both orchestrated by the Communists. Plus, Han Guizhang is already gone, so it's basically a case of dead men telling no tales," Lan Youyin said to Yin Wenrang and A Mang, raising a hand to forestall their objections. "And I promise, it won't happen again."

If their colleagues from the Ministry of Defense heard this, they'd be shocked to see Lan Youyin speaking in such a soft, almost coaxing tone.

Yin Wenrang remained stern-faced, but A Mang had already been mollified. "In that case, Lan-jie, can my photo studio stay where it is?" he asked.

"No."

"No!"

Lan Youyin and Yin Wenrang answered simultaneously, then caught each other's eyes in the rearview mirror. Yin Wenrang's expression was a mix of awkwardness and slight relief.

"Why not?" A Mang grumbled, unwilling to accept it.

"You've already been seen by the Ministry of Defense. That Miss Shen is sharp. Though I managed to talk my way out of it last time, there's no guarantee she won’t get curious someday and dig deeper into our connection. Or she might just want to show off and report your address to the Municipal Police Department—who knows?"

"Also, put your basement business on hold. Tell your contacts to stop sending you jobs for now," Yin Wenrang added. "It was risky enough that the Communists approached you this time. Don’t end up getting arrested by the Confidentiality Bureau as an underground Communist before the police even come for your counterfeit documents."

A Mang immediately shrank back at these words, nodding emphatically. "Right, right, better not get mixed up with the Communists."

Lan Youyin glanced at Yin Wenrang again, who felt her gaze but deliberately didn’t react.