Spying

38 Whiskey

After carrying Ouyang Shu's body onto the camp bed, Ren Shaobai and Heishui sat on the ground against the barn wall.

"I despise these two-faced snakes the most. They take no risks, yet often end up thriving the most. People like us, once we step into the shadows behind the light, spend the rest of our lives living in darkness." Heishui tilted his head back, catching a faint glimpse of moonlight through the cracks in the bricks. But the light was too dim to pierce the hopelessness in his eyes.

Ren Shaobai, meanwhile, stared straight ahead at a stack of hay in the corner of the barn—dark and twisted, like a snarling demon or monster.

It suddenly struck him that those in their line of work had to temper their hearts into cruelty along the way. He recalled how Ouyang Shu had spoken of his wife, child, and mother on their journey here. Now, he found himself thinking it was fortunate they were just an elderly woman, a child, and a frail woman. Faced with the sudden death of a loved one in a foreign land, most would simply weep in grief and accept it, causing no additional trouble.

There was a strange coincidence here: when Heishui fabricated his own backstory, he had also claimed his mother, wife, and child were dead to gain sympathy.

"You've built good relationships with them," Ren Shaobai remarked, remembering how Minister Cai had readily agreed when he asked to interview "Liang Wanqian" but had specifically cautioned him: "Wanqian has suffered a lot in the past, Reporter Huang. Be gentle with your questions—don’t reopen old wounds."

He couldn’t help but voice this observation aloud.

Hearing this, Heishui fell silent for a moment before murmuring, "I suppose my story was just too well-crafted..."

"Your work has also been impeccable. Director Li asked me to convey his approval."

"Is that so?" Heishui's expression remained blank.

Finally, Ren Shaobai broached the subject Heishui had mentioned hours earlier: "Why do you feel you can’t stay any longer?"

Heishui was silent for a long time, his hands clasped tightly over his knees. He turned to look at Ren Shaobai but answered obliquely: "I’ve completed every task Director Li assigned—the defensive tactics of the East China Field Army, the Communist spy list from the Ministry of National Defense, the Ninth Column’s preparatory siege drills..."

"The Communist spy list from the Ministry of National Defense?" Ren Shaobai interrupted, pressing, "When was this?"

"Early June this year," Heishui replied.

Ren Shaobai stared at him, suddenly realizing how Qiao Mingyu had been exposed back then.

It wasn’t a misstep on his part, nor betrayal by comrades or a spouse sharing his roof. No—while he was infiltrating the Nationalist rear, the Ministry of National Defense had also planted their own spies within the Communist frontlines. It had all been Li Helin’s meticulous planning. The battle plan now hidden beneath the jeep’s hood was the greatest prize of these past months, while the Communist spy list handed over to the Confidentiality Bureau had merely been an unexpected bonus.

Heishui went on to describe how he had gathered and transmitted intelligence right under the Communists’ noses—his radio team’s cover identities, their rendezvous methods outside the command post, the invisible ink he used for secret reports... All standard Second Department tactics, yet effective in delivering critical information straight into Li Helin’s hands.The only thing outside Li Helin's plan was Heishui's own changing will.

"This is the highest-level secret I can access. I'm worried that if the Shandong Corps fails in Jinan, they'll retreat into the mountains again. Am I supposed to keep waiting indefinitely? Even as an undercover agent, there should be a time limit, something to look forward to?" Heishui's meaning was becoming increasingly clear, and his resentment toward Li Helin, who had assigned him the mission, was harder to conceal.

Ren Shaobai said, "I don't have the authority to approve your withdrawal. Hold on a little longer. When I return to Nanjing, I'll request instructions from Director Li."

Heishui shook his head vigorously. "No, that'll be too late. By then, they'll realize the battle plan has been leaked and will definitely suspect me."

"You just said they trust you."

"That's exactly why I'm so anxious. I haven't slept well in days... Always having nightmares, waking up screaming for help, only to be roused by my roommates. They think I'm dreaming about being persecuted by the Nationalist landlords. They don't know that in my dreams, it's them discovering me, executing me..."

Ren Shaobai frowned, staring at Heishui. He realized what Li Helin had feared was indeed happening. The double life of a spy had placed immense psychological pressure on him, pushing him to the brink of a breakdown.

Suddenly, Heishui grabbed Ren Shaobai's arm. "If one day I reveal my true identity in my sleep, it's all over! So I can't continue this mission. I have to leave. Whatever the consequences, I'll face Director Li myself!"

"Heishui!" Ren Shaobai snapped, stopping him. "If you alert the Communist forces now, you'll die without a burial place—not just you, but me too. Then all the effort you put into copying the battle plan, all these months of undercover work, will be for nothing."

"So Director Li sent you here to poison me?" Heishui pulled out the liquor bottle he had just confiscated from Ren Shaobai's pocket.

Ren Shaobai's pupils trembled violently.

"You must have another bottle of real hydrogen cyanide solution, right? The one he found. But hydrogen cyanide is too concentrated—it can be tasted. A small amount mixed into strong liquor would mask it better. He didn't know you had a backup plan." Heishui raised his chin, gesturing toward Ouyang Shu. "After all, he's just a pen-pusher, not cut out to be a double agent. But I am. We're the same kind of people, with the same tricks up our sleeves."

Following his gaze, Ren Shaobai said, "He probably acted on impulse, seeing the Communists' current state and thinking they might actually cross the Yangtze. Everyone looks out for themselves."

"Is that what you think too?" Heishui asked, deliberately vague in his implication.

Ren Shaobai responded just as ambiguously, "Following orders is a soldier's duty.""So how do you plan to obey this order?" Heishui pushed the bottle toward him. "There are only two options now. Either you kill me and try to escape under cover of darkness—but you won't make it, the Communist sentries will blow up your jeep's fuel tank the moment you try. Or I kill you, because I've also discovered you're a spy sent by the Nationalists, witnessed you silencing Ouyang Shu, and then 'fortunately' killed you while stopping your escape. The latter might require some theatrics, but I think it's more achievable."

Ren Shaobai stared at him. With the same skill he'd just used to snap Ouyang Shu's neck, if it were Lu Peng here instead, there might still be a fighting chance. But for himself? Forget it.

"But if you do that, you'll be trapped here forever," he said calmly. "You can't return to Nanjing, yet you'll never shake off your identity as a spy. The nightmares will haunt you every night. Do you really think you'll ever get another chance to leave?"

Heishui fell silent.

"Just before dawn, when the sky is darkest and the sentries are weariest—that's when they scan the surrounding grasslands least frequently with their searchlights."

"You mean... go on foot?"

Ren Shaobai looked at him. "Barehanded."

Back when the Shandong Corps was attacking Weixian, to approach the Nationalist-defended western city, they'd dispatched siege troops to conduct large-scale earthworks—digging over seventy kilometers of communication trenches that stretched from the outskirts straight to the city walls. Now, with the autumn winds yet to sweep across the overgrown grass above these tunnels, this underground passage became Ren Shaobai and Heishui's best route out of Weixian.

Ren Shaobai abandoned the jeep he'd grown accustomed to driving, tucking the battle plans inside his clothes. For a moment, he envied Shen Tong's one-in-ten-thousand talent. But on second thought, that wouldn't do either—without seeing the plans in black and white, Li Helin might doubt their authenticity. Better to let him see it all: the Communist forces' troop deployments around Jinan, their command strategies, the siege sequence...

He had no time to alter the battle plan's contents. All he could do was leave something in the jeep—which would inevitably be searched at daybreak—to let Minister Cai and the others know their current battle plan had been stolen by a spy sent by the Ministry of National Defense.

One silver lining: the mole originally hidden among them had been permanently eliminated.

At 3 a.m., Heishui and Ren Shaobai met near the city walls. Having posed as a local helping clear the battlefield after the Weixian campaign, Heishui quickly located one of the tunnel entrances concealed by fencing. They crawled in single file, moving slowly. Once past the city gate line, they entered dense grasslands. When sentry searchlights swept overhead, they froze, pressing flat against the ground until the beams passed before advancing.

"Landmines ahead," Heishui warned.

This was expected. Fortunately, these weren't the small antipersonnel mines but larger ones meant to flip trucks. Heishui groped through the grass until Ren Shaobai saw him pinch a thin, taut fishing line between his fingers.

"Follow this line," he said.

As long as the line stayed taut, they wouldn't be finished.

It felt like one vast metaphor.They continued crawling forward on the ground, following the fishing line that led them beneath a stretch of barbed wire. Ahead, the line was tied to a wooden stake. They had made it out of the minefield.

In a shallow trench under the barbed wire, Ren Shaobai and Heishui both let out long sighs of relief before turning to look at each other. The eastern sky had brightened, but only one of their eyes held the fleeting glimmer of survival after a brush with death.

"They must have found Ouyang Shu's body by now," Heishui said. "They'll soon realize I'm missing too. They'd never have guessed it was me..."

Ren Shaobai looked at Heishui with surprise, detecting no trace of triumph in his voice.

"What's your next move?" Ren Shaobai asked.

Without orders from his superiors, Heishui's unauthorized withdrawal as an intelligence operative would be considered desertion. He spoke of returning to Nanjing to face the consequences, but the journey was perilously long. Even if he survived to stand before Li Helin, the "consequences" might be more than he could bear.

So instead of answering, Heishui looked at Ren Shaobai and countered, "I haven't asked you—why did you help me?"

After a pause, Ren Shaobai replied, "You said earlier that we're the same kind of people."

It wasn't exactly a direct answer, but Heishui heard what he wanted to hear. He even relaxed suddenly and smiled. "I'm a failed spy. I wavered—not in betrayal or defection, but in overwhelming weariness. I couldn't do it anymore—lying to those around me every day, exploiting their trust, knowing that one day they might die because of their faith in me... But I know some would call that betrayal." He extended his hand. "Do you still have that bottle of whiskey? Let me have a drink."

Ren Shaobai watched him silently before slowly reaching into his trouser pocket and pulling out a silver flask.

Heishui unscrewed the cap and downed the contents in one gulp.

Standing up from the trench, he looked down at Ren Shaobai and said, "Tell Director Li he doesn't need to worry. Though I'm weak, I never betrayed the Party or our nation." He tossed the flask aside and staggered eastward.

One step, two steps, three steps...

Before he had taken ten steps, Heishui suddenly doubled over, retching violently. Then he collapsed onto his back, his body trembling and convulsing before going still.

After a moment, Ren Shaobai also stood and walked over slowly. He drew a Colt M1911A1 from behind his waist and aimed it at Heishui's lifeless face.

The faint scent of almonds in the air was soon overpowered by the acrid smell of gunpowder. The once-distinct features were obliterated by the explosive round.

In that moment, Ren Shaobai seemed to glimpse his own fate.