Spying

44 Near Dusk

People say autumn is the best season in Nanjing.

No springtime willow catkins to irritate the eyes, no summer stickiness clinging to the skin, nor the bone-chilling damp of winter—Nanjing’s autumn is truly crisp and clear, the wind carrying the sweet fragrance of osmanthus. Dream of the Red Chamber describes crab feasts and poetry gatherings, all taking place in this very season.

Even the evening glow in autumn is more beautiful. Orange-tinged clouds edged with pink framed perfectly within the small window opposite Lan Youyin’s living room, like a painting—Western hues with Eastern brushwork.

“Why Eastern brushwork?”

“This is called mogu —a technique in traditional Chinese painting where colors are applied without ink outlines.”

Lan Youyin turned her head, shifting her gaze from the beautiful clouds to the person sitting beside her on the floor. She pursed her lips and murmured softly, “You really are a polymath.”

“Unfortunately, I only skim the surface—all theory, no practice,” Ren Shaobai replied.

Lan Youyin fell silent for a moment before adding, “It’s enough. At least it just saved my life.”

The two of them had been skirting the subject masterfully, talking about everything from the weather to poetry and painting, until Lan Youyin finally broached what had just happened.

“You wouldn’t have died—at worst, you’d have fainted.” Ren Shaobai shook his head. “If that had happened, I’d have taken you straight to the hospital.”

“I’m fine now.” Lan Youyin watched as the “painting” in the window slowly dispersed, then gradually pushed herself up from the floor.

“When did this illness start?” Ren Shaobai suddenly asked.

Lan Youyin’s shoulders trembled slightly. Thinking she might be having another episode, Ren Shaobai quickly grasped her wrist. When she looked down, their eyes met—and to her surprise, she saw tension in his gaze.

“Many years now.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but under Ren Shaobai’s scrutiny, she instinctively added, “It’s just been more frequent lately.”

The doctors at the private hospital had long warned her about this somatic response and increased her prescription dosage. Yet her body—or rather, her brain—seemed like a bottomless pit. What once could be suppressed with one pill gradually required two, then four… The frequency of her visits eventually made the doctors aware of her dependency. They attempted forced intervention, but for Lan Youyin, bypassing prescriptions to obtain controlled substances was far easier than orchestrating a car accident.

She had hidden her condition well. The only close call had been months ago when, desperate to replenish her supply, she devised a plan to shake off the Confidentiality Bureau’s surveillance. Just as she brought the medication home, Lu Peng knocked on her door. She hastily concealed the drugs—fortunately, his attention was elsewhere at the time, so he noticed nothing.

Otherwise, anyone who saw the phenobarbital she hadn’t yet transferred into ordinary sleeping pill bottles would have wondered: You must harbor some immense terror, to be tormented into such a mental collapse. So, what have you done? What are you afraid of?

She brushed Ren Shaobai’s hand away.

“There’s something I should tell you,” Ren Shaobai said.

“What?”"About Chief Qiao," Ren Shaobai carefully chose his words, speaking slowly. "His identity was exposed because the Second Department planted a spy in Huaye. They obtained a list of underground Communist Party members within the Ministry of National Defense." As he spoke, he observed Lan Youyin's expression, recalling the rumors circulating in the Ministry when the incident first occurred. A pang of guilt rose in his heart. "I once heard some rumors and even suspected you were the one who reported him—"

"I understand," Lan Youyin interrupted abruptly before he could finish, her tone stiff. "Thank you for telling me."

Ren Shaobai hadn’t expected such a reaction and was momentarily stunned. Whether in words or body language, Lan Youyin suddenly exuded a strong sense of rejection. The calm atmosphere they had just shared vanished as quickly as the evening sunset.

Lan Youyin stood up on her own, steadying herself against the floor. "We should go find A Mang and the others. I’ll explain to them that it was just low blood sugar. Don’t mention that I was sick."

"Lan Youyin!" Ren Shaobai also stood, raising his voice to stop her. He took two quick steps to block her path. "What’s wrong with you? As you said, we’re all in this together now. Shouldn’t we be honest with each other? Can’t you tell me the truth?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Everything. When did you get sick? How? Is it related to Chief Qiao? Why did you kill those people before? And why change your mind now to assassinate Okamura Neiji?"

"Ren Shaobai." Lan Youyin’s voice still carried a faint tremor from her earlier panic attack, but her gaze had regained its usual sharpness. "You really have a habit of meddling in other people’s business."

Ren Shaobai was about to retort, "And you really have a habit of being ungrateful," when the sudden ringing of the telephone cut him off.

Both of them startled at the sound. The phone buzzed insistently. Lan Youyin sidestepped Ren Shaobai, took a deep breath, and picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

The words stuck in Ren Shaobai’s throat as he noticed several nearly empty liquor bottles standing in the corner of the telephone cabinet. He froze.

"Lan-jie—" A Mang’s voice came through the line. "Are you home?"

Lan Youyin frowned slightly. "Yes."

A Mang continued, "Has—has Ren Shaobai come to see you? Have you met with him?"

"...Yes."

"Oh. Can you both come over now? I mean, right now, to my place."

Under normal circumstances, Lan Youyin would have detected the stiffness in A Mang’s tone. But today, after suffering a severe panic attack and nearly passing out at home due to running out of sedatives, her mind was in disarray. Coupled with Ren Shaobai’s relentless questioning, she failed to notice the oddity in A Mang’s voice.

"Alright," she replied, her thoughts preoccupied with the afternoon’s failed mock operation due to her absence. She glanced instinctively at Ren Shaobai, realizing she couldn’t afford to alienate him—she still needed his help for the assassination. But just as she considered saying something to ease the tension, Ren Shaobai spoke first."Are you taking your sedatives with alcohol?" He pointed at the liquor bottles on the cabinet—whiskey, brandy, rum—his voice unconsciously rising. "Don’t tell me you diluted them with soda water too, no wonder you were like that earlier. I don’t need to be a doctor or psychologist to tell you—you’re courting death!"

Outside the window, the horizon had shifted from a gentle pink-orange to a startling crimson.

Lan Youyin stared at Ren Shaobai, her tone calm. "What exactly are you so angry about?"

Ren Shaobai froze, his temper instantly deflating—yes, what right did he have to "lecture" Lan Youyin?

"Let’s go." Lan Youyin walked past him and pushed open the front door. "We can’t delay what needs to be done."

And so, before the flickering streetlights fully illuminated the road, the two arrived once more at A Mang’s photo studio.

A "Closed" sign hung on the door, though it certainly wasn’t meant to stop them. Lan Youyin pushed it open without hesitation, Ren Shaobai following closely behind. No one stood behind the counter, and when Lan Youyin called out "A Mang," there was no response. Just as she was about to step further inside, the blackout curtain separating the photo area was suddenly pulled aside, revealing a figure stepping out.

Lan Youyin instinctively took a step back, bumping into Ren Shaobai behind her. She whipped her head around to see his face mirroring her own shock at the sight of someone who absolutely shouldn’t have been there—

Peng Yongcheng pushed the curtain aside. A Mang and Yin Wenrang sat back-to-back, their four hands bound together, mouths gagged. The moment they spotted Lan Youyin, their eyes widened, and they began muffled cries of protest.

Peng Yongcheng, who had single-handedly subdued both of them, looked past Lan Youyin and fixed his gaze on Ren Shaobai.

"I can explain," Ren Shaobai said.

Peng Yongcheng remained silent, his stare unrelenting.

Ren Shaobai swallowed hard, his heart pounding as fiercely as Lan Youyin’s had during her earlier panic attack. Just as his mind raced for a plausible excuse, Lan Youyin spoke to Peng Yongcheng—

"I know who you are. You’re the Silkworm Keeper."

Ren Shaobai’s eyes widened.

"One-two-zero-seven calling Silkworm Keeper," Lan Youyin recited the coded message she had deciphered months ago. She tilted her head slightly, gesturing toward Ren Shaobai. "You’re his handler."

Peng Yongcheng’s gaze shifted from Ren Shaobai to Lan Youyin before leisurely correcting her: "Partner. We believe in equality."

Lan Youyin arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest. "What’s the difference?"

"Partners collaborate, watch each other’s backs, hide nothing, and trust completely."

"Oh!" Lan Youyin’s brows shot up as she turned to Ren Shaobai. "Seems you’re not fond of honesty either."

Ren Shaobai felt his stomach drop. This was already awkward enough—why did Lan Youyin’s vindictiveness have to kick in now?

Peng Yongcheng, however, nodded in agreement. "Indeed. Not only dishonest, but also acting recklessly, violating discipline, with no sense of responsibility toward the organization."

"And how should that be handled? Expulsion from the Party?" Lan Youyin asked pointedly.

Ren Shaobai’s eyelid twitched violently.

Peng Yongcheng merely smiled warmly. "That’s an internal matter for our organization. No need for your concern, Section Chief Lan.""Do you know who I am?"

"Even if my partner intended to conceal it, I still have a duty to investigate potential threats."

"Your party considers me a threat?"

"Section Chief Lan's informants have already reached the building opposite my workplace."

"This is truly a misunderstanding. The photo studio being across from the Industrial Bank is purely coincidental, with no intention of surveillance."

"Then are these photos merely the personal hobby of this Mr. Lu?"

Peng Yongcheng raised a stack of photos in his hand. Lan Youyin focused her gaze and suddenly remembered—this was something she had instructed A Mang to do when she first saw him and Ren Shaobai leaving the bank together.

A Mang shook his head frantically, struggling. His mouth was gagged, and he could only mumble incoherently at Lan Youyin: "He's been tailing us since Black Tortoise Lake! That phone call earlier—he forced me to make it!"

Lan Youyin looked at Peng Yongcheng and asked, "So this is how you Communists deal with patriots planning to assassinate Japanese war criminals?"

Peng Yongcheng was momentarily taken aback by her accusation, then realized how quickly she had come up with such a charge—she was indeed far more troublesome than the other two. He smiled faintly and was about to speak when Ren Shaobai cut in first.

"It was my plan." He wore an expression of "heroic martyrdom." "I ordered her to investigate Okamura's safe house and coerced her into cooperating with me. The Central Committee's decision regarding Okamura is wrong. Public sentiment is now under the Nationalist government's control—the propaganda war you envisioned won't gain any traction."

For a moment, no one spoke.

"Ren Shaobai." Peng Yongcheng's expression finally darkened—not toward the others, but at his own partner. He knew Ren had his own ideas, and that the obedience he displayed in front of him might not be entirely genuine. But like many other underground comrades he had partnered with over the years, there was an unspoken consensus: follow the rules set by superiors.

Even if a frontline commander disagreed with the Central Committee's battle plan, they would exchange telegrams back and forth to discuss it—never acting on their own. So what made him think he could be an exception?

But what truly ignited Peng Yongcheng's fury wasn't just that.

For the first time, he confronted Ren Shaobai sternly: "Ren Shaobai, what are you doing? Do you think you're protecting them? Do you believe that just because the higher-ups ordered Okamura Neiji not to be killed, I would attack those planning to do so? What kind of Communists do you take us for?"

Ren Shaobai froze.

"And you—coercing her?" Peng Yongcheng pointed at Lan Youyin. "Qiao Mingyu couldn't even recruit her as an informant. What makes you think you could influence her actions?"

Silence hung heavily in the air for a long moment before Ren Shaobai slowly asked, "What do you mean? Qiao Mingyu tried to recruit you? You knew his identity all along?"Lan Youyin didn't answer him, instead turning to Peng Yongcheng: "What does this have to do with what we're doing now? You restrained my people and tricked me here just to stop us from assassinating that Japanese, didn't you? Unless you're planning to report to the Ministry of Defense right now to have them relocate the target or arrest me—like you said, what I intend to do, no one can change. But here's the question, you remarkable Silkworm Keeper, why would you do something so despicable that would only pain your allies and delight your enemies?"

As she spoke, Lan Youyin's eyes burned with intensity, each question carrying a taunting "what can you do about it" challenge. But she spoke this way precisely because she was certain Peng Yongcheng wouldn't make the choices she mentioned—because she understood the group he belonged to, because she had once lived closely with one of their members.

Whether it was Qiao Mingyu or Peng Yongcheng, they were intelligent, rational, and highly trained. They would wield sharp blades to defend their duties and beliefs, yet they were so afraid of accidentally harming others that they always turned the blade's edge toward themselves.

And this was precisely what she could exploit.

Lan Youyin placed the bullet she'd been carrying in her palm, holding it out before Peng Yongcheng, then tilted her head toward Ren Shaobai's direction. "You should join us. With one more person cooperating, his safety gains another layer of protection. Otherwise, even if you only care about him and not us—to borrow your earlier words—do you really think you alone can stop him from doing what he's determined to do?"