Spying

Chapter 40: Return to Nanjing

Shen Tong, a management trainee at the Ministry of National Defense in her early twenties, was intelligent and capable—a rising star in the Second Department. These were all well-known facts. What remained unknown was her special relationship with the department director, Li Helin.

In ordinary families, uncles and nieces might not necessarily be close. But since Li Helin had never married or had children of his own, he treated his sister’s daughter as his own. Later, when he discovered her photographic memory, he took deliberate steps to nurture her talent. He even supported her decision to leave home when her somewhat conservative father wanted her to marry early, helping her enroll in the Intelligence School he had established. After graduation, she joined the Ministry of National Defense as a civil servant.

Shen Tong had always respected and trusted her uncle. Even when she had secretly acted behind his back to help Lan Youyin, she had carefully weighed her decisions, ensuring they wouldn’t fundamentally conflict with Li Helin’s broader goals. She knew his ambitions extended far beyond being just a department director—and she wanted to contribute to his cause.

So when Li Helin ordered her to "kidnap" Zhu Yanjun, she didn’t hesitate for a second. That capable journalist must have done something to jeopardize national security, and stopping her was necessary.

Zhu Yanjun was held in Room 502 of the Yangtze Hotel, a secret known only to Shen Tong and Li Helin. He had instructed her not to enter the room or speak to Zhu Yanjun except to deliver food and water daily.

Shen Tong understood this was psychological warfare—meant to break Zhu Yanjun’s spirit from the outset.

Indeed, the transformation was stark. On the first day, Zhu Yanjun had been shocked and furious, grabbing Shen Tong by the collar and demanding answers. By the second day, she had refused to eat and attempted to escape, only to fail. On the third day, she pleaded, screamed, and finally collapsed into sobs. By the fourth day, the confident, courageous journalist Shen Tong remembered—who once stood with such radiant poise—had withered away entirely.

On the fifth day, Li Helin finally arrived in Shanghai from Nanjing to personally interrogate Zhu Yanjun.

Shen Tong stood guard outside the room. She wasn’t without curiosity about what was being discussed inside, but this operation was clearly off the books—bypassing the Ministry of National Defense and foregoing the usual surveillance or recording devices. She could only recall the interrogation techniques she had learned at the Intelligence School and imagine the ordeal Zhu Yanjun was enduring—far more agonizing than the past few days.

Perhaps it hadn’t started painfully. Li Helin would have begun with a soft approach, calmly explaining that he needed to ask her some questions and hoped for her cooperation. He would start with seemingly trivial matters, gradually closing in on what he truly wanted to know. Zhu Yanjun would struggle to lie—not only because her mental state had deteriorated after days of confinement, but also because Li Helin would circle back to the same questions repeatedly, likely already knowing the answers. The trap was set, and Zhu Yanjun had no way out.

And then, he would provoke her.For instance, undermining her self-esteem, slandering her character, provoking her anger to unleash the emotions she usually kept buried deep inside. Even though Shen Tong didn’t hear her screams, it didn’t mean she had endured it unscathed. In the heat of fury, one either resists or collapses. But if she couldn’t even move Shen Tong, how could she possibly resist Li Helin? So what was more likely to happen was that, under the intense emotional turmoil, she would blurt out everything Li Helin wanted to know.

Shen Tong took a deep breath, stopping herself from imagining further.

A few hours later, Li Helin emerged from the room. Shen Tong didn’t catch a glimpse of Zhu Yanjun through the door crack.

Facing Shen Tong, Li Helin remained as amiable as an ordinary elder treating a younger relative, even inviting her to join him for lunch at the Western restaurant on the first floor.

The French chef at the Yangtze Hotel prepared duck confit, and Li Helin jokingly remarked, “Not as good as the salted duck from Shuiximen.”

Shen Tong smiled faintly, hesitating to speak.

Li Helin said, “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Shen Tong hesitated for a moment before setting down her knife and fork, placing both hands under the table, straightening her posture, and asking solemnly, “Uncle, what exactly has that Miss Zhu done to warrant such elaborate interrogation from you? Is she a Communist? If so, why not take her back to Nanjing and hand her over to the Confidentiality Bureau? Why secretly keep her locked up here? From what I’ve observed these past few days, she’s just an ordinary person—fragile psychologically, untrained professionally. What exactly are we trying to get from her? And—”

“You’re asking so many questions at once. Where should I start?” Li Helin interrupted her, his tone teasing, as if amused yet leaving no room for argument. “Narrow it down to one, and I’ll answer.”

Shen Tong paused, lowering her voice. “I just want to know what she’s done wrong.”

Li Helin looked at her. His gaze wasn’t sharp or intimidating, yet the person under it couldn’t help but feel uneasy, unable to escape, as if seen through completely.

“Didn’t she tell you anything?” he countered.

“When she begged me to let her go, she said…” Shen Tong murmured, her mind flashing back to Zhu Yanjun pointing at her a few days ago while delivering meals, calling her a traitor’s accomplice. “But I didn’t listen to her. I assumed she was either lying or misled…”

Her words were vague, but Li Helin could tell she must have learned something.

“The Ministry of National Defense secretly released Japanese war criminals, and high-ranking officials in the government treated them as honored guests, intending to have them command troops to suppress the Communist bandits. She claimed she was investigating this news, didn’t she?” He leisurely sliced another piece of duck and placed it in his mouth, chewing slowly before confirming that what Shen Tong had heard was true. “She’s quite capable, knowing so much. What do you think?”

Shen Tong was stunned, momentarily at a loss for how to react.

“Do you think we, as responsible parties in the Ministry of National Defense, shouldn’t stop her?”

After a long silence, Shen Tong whispered, “No. If it’s an order, it should be carried out.”

Li Helin said nothing more, focusing instead on finishing the main course in front of him. Finally, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked, “Would you like some dessert?”

Shen Tong shook her head."Then go make the arrangements. Later, you'll be responsible for escorting Miss Zhu back to Nanjing."

Shen Tong was even more confused by Li Helin's abrupt shift in conversation—what did this mean? Were they letting her go just like that?

"She's already agreed not to report that news story?" she asked.

Li Helin replied, "She will agree."

In the afternoon, Shen Tong followed Li Helin into Room 502, carrying a packed meal for Zhu Yanjun. Yet, just as she had done over the past few days, Zhu Yanjun watched her movements with cold eyes.

Over the course of those days, Zhu Yanjun had first hated herself for being so naive as to trust someone she had only met once. Then, she hated Shen Tong—hated her for deceiving her without a shred of guilt, for ignoring her desperate pleas without sympathy, and for standing by as she spiraled toward collapse.

Shen Tong avoided her resentful gaze and left the room once again. She thought this wasn’t such a big deal—as long as Zhu Yanjun took a step back, she could go home.

Just as she closed the door, the phone in the room suddenly rang. Shen Tong instinctively paused, then watched as Zhu Yanjun lunged for the phone like a drowning person grasping at a lifeline—this was her first chance in days to connect with the outside world.

Yet when Shen Tong glanced back at Li Helin, she saw him standing perfectly still, watching the person under his control eagerly answer the call without a trace of surprise or concern. In that moment, she understood—this call had to be part of his plan.

Li Helin’s gaze swept over her then, and Shen Tong quickly shut the door, not daring to eavesdrop on who might be calling. But the unusual calm and certainty in her uncle’s eyes sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

A little over an hour later, the door opened from the inside, and Li Helin stepped out. "Miss Zhu is ready," he said. "Take her to the train station."

As Zhu Yanjun, after enduring an interrogation whose details no one would ever know, finally set off on her journey back to Nanjing, Ren Shaobai was also in Jinan, boarding Wang Yaowu’s private plane. Together with the commander of the Second Pacification Zone, he flew to the capital.

Wang Yaowu was going to ask the president for reinforcements.

In Jinan, the battle plan provided by Ren Shaobai—detailing the Communist East China Field Army’s strategy against Jinan—had been thoroughly analyzed by Wang Yaowu and his staff. Additionally, based on Ren Shaobai’s firsthand account of the Shandong Corps’ troop deployments, weaponry, ammunition, and combat readiness as observed at the command center, the Second Pacification Zone headquarters concluded that this time, the Communist forces would not employ the same tactic they had used at Kaifeng—encircling a city to lure and destroy reinforcements.

Instead, their primary objective was to seize Jinan, with attacking reinforcements as a secondary goal.

This seemed like a highly plausible strategy, because for the Communists, capturing Jinan would destabilize the Nationalist forces’ entire defensive line north of the Yangtze River.

Thus, Wang Yaowu, deeply concerned that Jinan’s city defenses were spread too thin and that the garrison lacked sufficient manpower, personally traveled to Nanjing once more to request an additional division from the president.On the plane, Ren Shaobai noticed that besides Commander Wang and his aide, there was also an unfamiliar young man. He was said to be a specialist from the medical department, sent to receive a batch of Penicillin and morphine delivered by the Americans to the Central Army Hospital. Ren Shaobai felt as though he had seen him somewhere before—his face was so familiar that he couldn’t help but glance back at him several times during the flight.

Just as Ren Shaobai was about to find an excuse to strike up a conversation with him, another accompanying officer noticed a bundle of paper-wrapped packages under his seat and asked curiously, "Mr. Ren, what’s that?"

Ren Shaobai replied, "Oh, it’s donkey-hide gelatin."

Before leaving Jinan, he had asked the command staff about the city’s famous shops selling donkey-hide gelatin, saying that since he had come all the way to Shandong, he ought to buy some local specialties to bring back for his mother.

However, he knew nothing about donkey-hide gelatin. Fortunately, there was a lady from an official’s family also shopping in the store. Seeing him at a loss, she kindly stepped forward to explain the proper usage, dosage, and precautions. Before leaving, upon learning he was from the Nanjing government, she generously paid for his purchase.

"I was wondering how to repay her, but it wasn’t appropriate to ask for her name at the time," Ren Shaobai said, looking both grateful and troubled.

But the aide, after hearing his description, smiled knowingly and said, "That was probably Mrs. Wu. Her family is wealthy, and she’s generous with her own spending. A small sum like that wouldn’t even register with her."

On the morning of September 14th, the plane landed at the military airfield in Nanjing’s Dajiaochang.

Ren Shaobai and Li Helin returned to the Ministry of National Defense almost simultaneously, though Ren Shaobai naturally had no idea where Li Helin had been or what he had been doing. As for himself, following protocol, he had to face a debriefing after completing his mission, detailing his experiences during the operation.

It was called a debriefing, but it was more like an interrogation.

Thus, under Li Helin’s personal supervision, Ren Shaobai began recounting every detail of his mission, with a tape recorder spinning on the table in front of him.

He started from the day he left Nanjing, describing how he and Ouyang Shu first went to Huaiyin, then to Haizhou; how they entered the Communist area from Linyi, bypassed Mengyin, and finally arrived in Weixian. He recounted following the political director of the Communist forces stationed in Weixian to visit the prisoner-of-war camp, where he encountered his former Huangpu classmate, Pei Tianjun.

Li Helin showed no surprise, only remarking coldly when Ren Shaobai mentioned how Pei Tianjun pretended not to recognize him but asked him to visit his family: "He’s picked up quite a bit of defeatist attitude living in the Communist area."

Ren Shaobai paused briefly before continuing. He described how, after reaching the Ninth Column headquarters, he made contact with Heishui and completed the intelligence handover. However, that same night, he witnessed Ouyang Shu secretly reporting on him, attempting to play both sides as a double agent.

"I returned to the barn, subdued him when he came back, and forced him to drink Cyanide. He died on the spot. I then escaped the city overnight through a tunnel and, at dawn, walked along the Jiaoji Railway before blending in with the released prisoners of war and military dependents. I took a train to Jinan," Ren Shaobai concluded his account.

Li Helin stared into Ren Shaobai’s eyes and asked, "Did you use the bottle of Cyanide I gave you to kill Ouyang Shu?"

"Yes," Ren Shaobai replied without flinching. "Gunfire would have been too loud, and using a blunt weapon risked leaving too much blood, which could have been discovered."“What about Heishui? Did he mention wanting to end his undercover mission to you?”

“No.”

Li Helin studied Ren Shaobai for a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. You’ve had a long journey—take a few days off to rest at home. Return to work after the Mid-Autumn Festival. Also, shouldn’t you go to the hospital for a follow-up on that concussion of yours?”

“Yes,” Ren Shaobai replied. “Thank you for your concern, Teacher.”

That afternoon, Ren Shaobai walked into the waiting room of Central Hospital, holding a rolled-up newspaper. He made his way to the farthest bench and asked the man already seated there if he minded sharing the space.

“Be my guest,” the man said.

Ren Shaobai sat down and unfolded the newspaper to read.

Nurses periodically entered to call patients into the consultation rooms. Amid the comings and goings of patients, family members, and medical staff, Peng Yongcheng, seated beside Ren Shaobai, spoke in a low voice: “Based on the intelligence you provided, the Ninth Column has located the communications team Li Helin arranged and has been impersonating Heishui to send regular transmissions to Nanjing. How about your side? Does Li Helin suspect anything?”

“Nothing obvious yet. Just routine questioning.”

“Weiyang County is also receiving transmissions from Nanjing as usual. Your plan was clever—making Li Helin believe Heishui is still alive and will continue feeding him intel on the East China Field Army. This way, we’ve effectively infiltrated the Ministry of National Defense in reverse.”

“What about the battle plan for Jinan?” Ren Shaobai asked softly.

“Don’t worry. Those are easily altered—just theoretical exercises on paper. Wang Yaowu won’t gain the upper hand. Jinan will definitely be taken, and the entire area north of the Yangtze will be liberated.” Peng Yongcheng spoke with conviction. “And Comrade Lin Shiying?”

“It went smoothly. I relayed your instructions to her, and she assured me she’d pass them on to Commander Wu.”

As it turned out, Ren Shaobai’s trip to Shandong wasn’t just to collect intelligence for Li Helin. The night before his departure, Peng Yongcheng had assigned him another covert mission—to contact Lin Shiying, the wife of Nationalist Army 84th Division Commander Wu Huawen, upon arriving in Jinan, and convey the Central Committee’s response and suggestions regarding Wu’s intention to defect.

Lin Shiying was a regular at Jinan’s most famous donkey-hide gelatin shop, so that’s where the rendezvous with Ren Shaobai took place.

“Good.” After confirming all tasks were completed, Peng Yongcheng paused briefly before adding, “As for the person you brought from Shanghai, the organization has made a decision.”

“What decision?”

“No assassination.”

Ren Shaobai turned his head, his eyes reflecting confusion. Just then, a nurse stood at the waiting room entrance and called his name.