Spying

32 Threat

Regarding the use of codenames by spy organizations in covert operations, Lan Youyin had harbored reservations ever since she first delved into codebreaking.

Whether naming themselves or labeling operations, certain spies often thought themselves clever, choosing words that were either subtly revealing or overly reflective of reality. For instance, "Trojan Horse" clearly hinted at a sleeper cell plan following a major retreat, while "Death Knell" unmistakably signaled a mission where the operative and the target would perish together.

On this point, Lan Youyin and Ren Shaobai had actually reached a distant, unspoken understanding.

Thus, after becoming an operative who required a codename, Ren Shaobai insisted on using numbers devoid of cultural connotations to represent himself.

Yet, when selecting those numbers, the latent cleverness in his heart couldn’t help but surface—proving he hadn’t entirely escaped the trap.

Had he truly chosen a string of utterly innocuous digits, Lan Youyin might never have discerned the schemes of the person behind the codename. However, once she learned that Ren Shaobai had graduated from the 17th class of the Whampoa Military Academy, she was eighty percent certain he was this "1207."

Lan Youyin narrowly boarded this blue-steel train in Zhenjiang, lying in wait in the dining car. Then, just as she expected, she saw Ren Shaobai excuse himself and enter the kitchen. At that moment, she was fully convinced—this Communist mole embedded in the Ministry of Defense was, once again, about to tamper with his mission, just as he had done several times before.

Lan Youyin thought that if it were her, she would also choose to act just before reaching the final stop.

Her Colt pistol pressed against Ren Shaobai’s temple, the safety off, a bullet already chambered.

Though she had no real intention of killing him, hearing him mistake her for a robber and then feign weakness only fueled her irritation—because she knew this was how he disguised himself within the Ministry of Defense. She directly exposed his identity, curious to see what tricks he might pull next.

The wind howled against the train windows, yet the fog remained stubbornly thick, as if guiding the train into an unknown world.

But contrary to Lan Youyin’s expectations, Ren Shaobai didn’t continue playing dumb—uttering lines like "I don’t know what you’re talking about" or "You’ve got the wrong person." With a gun to his head, he instead calmly countered, "How did Section Chief Lan know I’d be on this train?"

—The moment her voice reached him, he hadn’t hesitated at all.

Surprise flickered briefly between Lan Youyin’s brows, but her grip on the gun remained steady.

"Is that what you’re curious about right now?"

"Yes."

"I thought you’d be more curious about how I discovered you’re 1207."

Ren Shaobai sighed. "Ever since Shen Tong mentioned you’d deciphered codes for the Confidentiality Bureau, I’ve been on edge."

"Acting," Lan Youyin frowned, then added, "And thinking you’re clever."

"I am. But Section Chief Lan, even so, the person you’re pointing a gun at right now shouldn’t be me."

"That person has your '1207' looking out for them. They don’t need anyone else."

"So you also know who’s on this train."

Lan Youyin said, "Stop trying to divert—"

Before she could finish, the door to the forward carriage suddenly slid open from the other side. Lan Youyin instinctively sidestepped, her Colt swiftly shifting from Ren Shaobai’s temple to press against his back.

"Don’t move," she warned in a low voice.Ren Shaobai obediently played along, offering a placating smile to the newcomer. Yet the next second, that smile froze on his face in disbelief. Running into a favorite movie star—how could such a thing happen at this critical moment?

The radiant actress, her dark hair lustrous and her presence dazzling even in the middle of the night on a train, quickly shifted her gaze from Ren Shaobai to the coffee pot in his hand, mistaking him for a dining car attendant. Her voice was melodious with the soft lilt of the Wu dialect: "Hello, could I have a cup of coffee?"

Had this happened on any other day, Ren Shaobai would have gladly played along, pouring coffee for someone who had stepped right out of magazine posters, even asking considerately: "Would you like cream?"

But right now was not the time to be a fan.

He had barely raised his hand when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun press sharply against his back. Lan Youyin stepped out from behind him, tilting her chin toward the rear carriage and saying, "Miss Shangguan, please help yourself in the dining car."

The actress startled, realizing her mistake, and quickly apologized to Ren Shaobai: "I’m so sorry, please don’t mind me." With that, she hurried down the aisle, but before entering the dining car, she couldn’t resist glancing back, offering another apologetic smile to the pair.

Ren Shaobai nodded at her in return. Only when the dining car door closed again did he tilt his head slightly toward Lan Youyin and say, "Section Chief Lan, it seems this isn’t the best place for conversation."

Lan Youyin kept her gun trained on him, her tone laced with scorn: "Don’t tell me you were actually planning to poison a movie actress just now? That would’ve made headlines."

"Poison? Section Chief Lan, you’ve got it wrong this time."

"Oh? Then why don’t we return to the carriage you came from and let Director Li inspect whether there’s anything else in that pot besides coffee?"

Lan Youyin was utterly confident. Judging by the incidents that could all be pinned on Agent 1207, Ren Shaobai was bold and highly skilled at exploiting opportunities to catch his opponents off guard. Though she didn’t know how he had originally planned to escape this time, given the words he had exchanged with the attendant in the dining car, it would be a mistake to think the coffee he carried now was harmless.

"But given our current posture, if there is something in this coffee, who do you think people will blame? Me for tampering with it—or you, Section Chief Lan, for forcing my hand?" Ren Shaobai’s retort sounded like a last-ditch defiance after retreating a step.

Lan Youyin pressed forward: "Once they learn you’re Agent 1207, a Communist spy, the answer will be obvious."

Ren Shaobai fell silent.

Only the howling wind filled their ears now. Lan Youyin felt victory was within her grasp.

"Not necessarily," Ren Shaobai suddenly spoke up. "If they knew where this M1911A1 came from—and who it’s killed—they might see Section Chief Lan in a different light too."

In battle, nothing unsettles an opponent more than the unexpected.Lan Youyin had nearly forgotten—these were military supplies approved by Ren Shaobai. Her gun hand twitched slightly, and in that split second, Ren Shaobai launched a desperate counterattack. He flung the coffee pot backward, sending scalding liquid straight toward her face. As she staggered from the sudden assault, he seized her wrist, yanking her toward him before shoving her aside, following up with another strike. A loud clang rang out—

The coffee pot clattered to the floor, brown liquid pooling at Lan Youyin’s feet, while her pistol now rested in Ren Shaobai’s grip.

In an instant, their positions reversed—power flipped on its head. Ren Shaobai aimed the gun squarely at Lan Youyin’s forehead.

"Section Chief Lan, I hope you weren’t burned?"

—His tone was almost considerate.

Only then did Ren Shaobai take in Lan Youyin’s appearance: dressed in crisp work attire, her sharp, dark eyes locked onto him with unyielding intensity.

He paused, then spoke as if humoring her curiosity. "Ah, I suppose Section Chief Lan must be wondering how I knew where your gun came from. Honestly… had we not crossed paths today, I might never have connected the dots. You were always one step ahead—I’d assumed I was the only one who knew what that Rongji Salt Merchant’s boss left in the bank’s safety deposit box. Went through hell to investigate, only to find out you could just waltz in and open it properly." His voice carried a hint of grievance.

Lan Youyin’s expression darkened as realization struck.

"And… after that incident, the inspectors couldn’t find Liu Kangjie’s hidden gold anywhere. Everyone assumed that Wang boss took it overseas. But in truth, you’d already gotten to it first, hadn’t you?"

Lan Youyin forced herself to stay calm, strategizing how to turn the tables.

Just then, the dining car door slid open again. Shangguan Yunzhu, carrying a fresh cup of coffee, froze at the sight of the mess. Ren Shaobai swiftly lowered the gun behind his back, then crouched to pick up the coffee pot. "Miss Shangguan, do be careful. The driver’s speed control today is rather poor."

"What?" Shangguan Yunzhu blinked in confusion.

Ren Shaobai added smoothly, "The floor’s slippery. Best watch your step back to your seat."

Shangguan Yunzhu’s gaze darted between the odd pair standing in the carriage junction. As an actress who’d filmed countless dramatic scenes, she couldn’t help but wonder—what were they up to? But she decided against prying, murmuring see no evil to herself before slipping past them with lowered eyes.

Ren Shaobai watched her disappear behind the closing door. The moment he moved to raise the gun again, a cold edge pressed against his neck—

His barrel pointed at her abdomen, while her dagger rested against his throat.

Ren Shaobai was almost impressed. "Section Chief Lan, don’t tell me you’ve also packed explosives—planning to take out me and an entire train’s worth of people?"

Lan Youyin knew he was probing her—was she also behind the bombing of Lu Peng’s Confidentiality Bureau vehicle?

"Still cracking jokes at a time like this, Ren Shaobai. No wonder you’ve managed to stay undercover for years without getting caught."

"Got any other evidence, Section Chief Lan?"

"Huangpu’s 17th batch—Director Li was your instructor back then, wasn’t he? For him, suspicion alone would be enough."The two were practically pressed against each other. If not for the fact that each had a grip on the other's vital point, they might indeed have matched Miss Shangguan Yunzhu's earlier flights of fancy—their relationship appeared quite unusual.

Yet the parties involved remained completely oblivious.

Lan Youyin was stubbornly clinging to her last chance, determined to make him admit defeat.

After hearing her words, Ren Shaobai felt a subtle shift within himself: Indeed, if anyone could understand the meaning of "1207," it would be Lan Youyin.

His secret thoughts from when he was just over twenty years old.

He was a graduate of the 17th class of Whampoa Military Academy. Upon enrollment, they had loudly chanted the school motto "Affection, Love, Essence, Sincerity." The military song they sang daily was "Sleep on Brushwood and Taste Gall, Strive to Build China." The spirit instilled in them was "Sacrifice, Unity, Responsibility." The Chiang Kai-shek sword he received upon graduation was inscribed with "Achieve Success or Die Trying."

Yet Ren Shaobai felt that most of their Whampoa graduates had strayed far from these slogans. In truth, their entire Nationalist government had deviated from these noble and lofty ideals.

With half irony and half reluctance, he had hidden the code related to his identity within the alias of his new persona. He believed that the army mockingly called "local guerrillas" by Whampoa's elites might actually be the ones truly embodying the qualities he yearned for and pursued.

"Section Chief Lan, you won't kill me, nor will you report me to Director Li. If you wanted to, you would have done so earlier. So, what is it you're threatening me to do?"

For a few seconds, Ren Shaobai was certain Lan Youyin could hear his suddenly accelerated heartbeat—because he could hear hers.

"The shootings and bombings—just attribute them to the Communist Party as planned. From your standpoint, aren't they all enemies anyway? Your supporters might even consider it a righteous deed."

"Are you afraid the investigation will eventually lead to you?"

"Now isn't the time for you to ask questions."

"Fine, I won't ask. Anything else?"

"I need your assistance."

"Alright."

"Aren't you going to ask what kind of assistance?"

"Didn't you just tell me not to ask questions?"

"Stop being clever!"

"Yes, yes, Section Chief Lan. What do you need my assistance with?"

Lan Youyin said one sentence, and Ren Shaobai silently stared at her.

Someone emerged from the previous carriage. The moment the door opened, both simultaneously withdrew their hands, hiding their weapons—

"How careless can you be? Watch where you're going!" Ren Shaobai feigned scolding.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to," Lan Youyin muttered, rolling her eyes while reluctantly playing along.

"Never mind, just go. I'll get another pot—hopefully the attendants won't think I'm trying to take advantage..."

Soon after, Ren Shaobai returned to Carriage No. 21 with a pot of warm coffee.

"What took so long?" Li Helin asked.

"Those movie actors drank all the freshly brewed coffee. The dining car staff tried to pass off instant coffee, but I caught them and made them brew a fresh batch. That's what delayed me," Ren Shaobai explained. Then, as Dr. Jinchuan came to take it, he deliberately added, "Should I have a cup first? Cyanide poisoning takes effect quickly. Please ask Mr. Okamura to wait another two minutes."

Li Helin glanced at him and said, "Enough. I just said you've matured—don't start being difficult again."However, when Ren Shaobai sat back down across from him, Li Helin was still staring at the aide who had taken the coffee from Jin Chuanlong—without needing to intervene himself, Okamura Neiji naturally had someone to "test the poison" for him. The aide finished a cup of coffee in a few gulps, and only after a while did Okamura feel reassured enough to pour himself another cup.

Half an hour later, the screech of brakes accompanied by the grinding of metal created a brief, jarring symphony.

They had arrived in Nanjing.

On the platform, Ren Shaobai spotted Lan Youyin blending in with the passengers. The work clothes she had been wearing earlier had been discarded somewhere, replaced by a well-tailored dress that transformed her from a knife-wielding assassin into a professional woman who wouldn’t look out of place among film studio employees. He couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, thinking to himself—this was far more practiced than he had imagined.