Spying

Extra Chapter: 1971 (Part 1)

On Laba Festival, the smell of something burning wafted from an apartment on Section 3 of Nanjing East Road in Taipei—

"Mom, your porridge!"

With a startled cry, the lady of the house hurriedly rushed from the balcony to the kitchen, only to find a large copper pot on the stove hissing and smoking, its bottom already blackened. She quickly turned off the heat, grabbed a cloth, and lifted the lid—more white smoke billowed out instantly. Leaning back and squinting, she assessed the damage inside, wondering if there was any hope of salvaging it.

A few seconds later, she carried the entire pot to the sink.

Water gushed from the tap, carving a shallow pit into the solid, charred mass of millet, red beans, barley, chestnuts, walnuts…

Fourteen-year-old Tai Li stood by the kitchen door, watching her flustered mother and shaking her head with the exasperation of an adult.

"I told you not to cook it yourself. You should’ve just ordered from a restaurant. You never cook normally—why insist on showing off now?" Tai Li, precocious as ever, didn’t mince words.

"It’s not the same!" her mother protested weakly. "This is for Dad’s comrades. Homemade shows sincerity."

"And a pot of burnt rice crust shows sincerity?"

That shut her up.

By evening, mother and daughter had dashed around to several restaurants, asking if any Laba porridge was still available. Finally, in a traditional market, they found their lifeline.

The shop owner spoke with a northern accent and made northern-style Laba porridge—unsweetened. Tai Li took a sip and remarked, "This might suit Uncle Guo’s taste better than yours." The moment the words left her mouth, her mother swatted her head. Unfazed, Tai Li turned to the shopkeeper with the practiced air of an adult. "We brought our own pot. Could you pack it for us and help load it into the car?"

"This young lady is quite capable," the shopkeeper praised.

Half an hour later, they finally arrived at Xinyi East Village on Changchun Road with enough porridge to feed a dozen people.

The military dependents' village, with its low-rise dormitories, was nothing like their modern apartment. The houses were packed close together, and during holidays, the streets buzzed with activity. No wonder Tai Li’s father rarely stayed home on leave—he was always visiting his old comrades.

Tai Li wasn’t exactly a typical "military village kid," even though her name was a dead giveaway for someone born in Taiwan after 1949. When her mother was pregnant with her—considered a "geriatric pregnancy" back then—she was sent back to her parents' home for care, and her father had no choice but to move in with them. Whether Tai Li remembered her parents arguing over where to live in her childhood was unclear. Her father hated feeling like a live-in son-in-law, but for raising a child, the military village couldn’t compare to the Shen family mansion, with its stewards, maids, and even a private chef.

Later, though, her father was stationed in Kaohsiung for training and was rarely home. Then, when Nanjing East Road was redeveloped, the old houses were demolished to make way for new high-rises. Her parents moved out of her grandparents' home, and her father’s delicate pride was restored. Gradually, their relationship improved.But Tai Li knew that after her mother got married, she stopped working. Their family's expenses still relied on her grandfather's support, and even their daily meals were taken at her grandfather's house. That was why her mother couldn't even manage to cook a pot of Laba porridge successfully.

The sky had already darkened when Tai Li and her mother arrived at Battalion Commander Guo's house at No. 11, Xinyi East Village. Tai Li's father had already been playing cards there all afternoon.

"Old Hu, your wife and daughter are here."

Tai Li's father, Hu Qian, stood up to greet them. He was still wearing his military uniform. Though he was now the deputy director of the Army General Staff Office, among his old comrades, he insisted that no one address him by his rank or as Lieutenant Colonel. As he put it, the bond forged from crawling out of piles of corpses shouldn't be diluted by hollow titles.

Seeing his wife and daughter each carrying two soup pots, he quickly took one from his daughter and said, "Why are you so late? Did the porridge take a long time to cook? You've worked hard..."

Tai Li was about to complain when her mother shot her a look, making her pout and stay silent.

Battalion Commander Guo's wife, seeing the Laba porridge they had brought, said, "Let's put it in the kitchen first. We've prepared plenty of dishes. After we finish eating, everyone can have a bowl of porridge for the occasion."

"Right, right, we'll follow your lead!" Battalion Commander Guo said cheerfully as he stepped away from the card table.

So, Mrs. Guo, along with Tai Li's mother and another woman, began setting out the dishes—first cold dishes, then stir-fried ones. A space was left in the middle of the table for the copper pot used for hotpot. The charcoal beneath it hadn't been lit yet. Mrs. Guo glanced at the wall clock and asked, "Changping, do you know when Xiao Gao will arrive? Should we wait for him or start without him?"

"He said he'd arrive at Taipei Station by six, so he should be here soon," replied Lu Changping, who had been addressed. He was also in uniform, though not the American-style dress uniform like Hu Qian's, but a rugged Army Special Forces outfit bearing the marks of years under the sea wind and sun.

Standing among the adults, Tai Li had already sized up everyone in the room. All the faces she had known since childhood were here. She turned to her mother and whispered, "Who is Xiao Gao?"

Her mother looked equally puzzled. "I don't know."

"Can't blame Mrs. Hu for not knowing—we haven't seen him in years either," Lu Changping said. "He was a young man back in the Xuzhou medical corps, though 'young' is relative—he must be in his forties now. His name used to be Gao Wen, but he changed it to... to... ah, my memory's failing me in my old age. We'll ask when he arrives. Anyway, last year when I went to Taichung to visit Commander Liu, I found out he was working as a rehabilitation therapist at that hospital. What a reunion... Then a few days ago, he suddenly called me saying he was coming up to Taipei today, so I invited him to join us for the holiday."

Tai Li's mother made an "Oh" sound but couldn't recall the man's face in her memory. They had been in Taiwan for twenty-two years now. Those old acquaintances whose whereabouts they should know were already accounted for; those they didn't know had either scattered to the winds or passed beyond this world.

"If he was a medic in Xuzhou, why didn't he stay with the Army General Staff?" Lu Changping's wife asked.

"Well, his situation is a bit complicated..." Lu Changping said, then instinctively glanced at Hu Qian.

"Let's sit down. We can eat while we wait—no difference," Hu Qian declared with a wave of his hand, making the decision and ending the previous topic.So, Battalion Commander Guo lit the charcoal, and everyone gathered around a large round table to begin the meal.

When adults eat, the conversation always starts with concern for the children. Sure enough, Tai Li’s age, height, academic performance, and which high school she would take the entrance exam for next year were all thoroughly inquired about. Mrs. Guo sighed, "Tai Li has grown into such a young lady now. I still remember your parents’ wedding at the New Asia Hotel—people joked it was a match between the Ministry of National Defense and the Army Headquarters, such a grand affair… It was the most lavish banquet we attended after coming to Taiwan..."

Tai Li had heard these words countless times since childhood—how her parents met during the retreat from the mainland, fell in love amid hardship, and married in difficult times, which high-ranking officials attended and gave speeches at their wedding, how they were called the "golden couple" back then. But Tai Li couldn’t care less. In her eyes, her parents weren’t any more compatible than her classmates’ parents who ran small eateries or laundromats. Sometimes, she didn’t even think they loved each other.

Fortunately, just as the teenage girl’s patience was wearing thin, the broth in the copper pot began to boil.

"Time to put in the meat!" Battalion Commander Guo announced.

The fresh pink lamb turned pale the moment it hit the broth, and soon everyone was eagerly picking it up with their chopsticks. Tai Li had heard her mother say that in Taipei, pearwood charcoal was scarce—otherwise, the meat would carry a faint pearwood aroma.

Tai Li had no idea what kind of refined life her mother had lived back on the mainland. She’d heard many people had suffered greatly.

They ate in silence for a while, washing it down with the sorghum liquor Lu Changping had brought from Kinmen.

"Let me propose a toast," Battalion Commander Guo stood up. "Back in my hometown, the Laba Festival was always spent with family—a big pot of porridge, shared among a dozen relatives. Here in Taipei, I have no other family left… Luckily, none of you have forgotten this old brother of yours, still willing to come play cards and share a meal with me..." His voice choked up, and he abruptly stopped.

Hu Qian raised his glass and continued, "Big Brother’s getting emotional. Aren’t we all the same? Over a decade ago, we still thought we’d go back sooner or later. Now, we’ve stopped hoping. Let’s make the best of the present, cherish the brothers and friends still with us—cheers!"

Celadon cups clinked together in a jumble. Tai Li also raised her juice-filled glass to toast with them, watching as these men in their forties and fifties tilted their heads back, frowned, and downed their liquor in one gulp before smacking their lips in appreciation.

This was something Tai Li couldn’t understand at all.

Then came the even more incomprehensible "reminiscing about the old days" routine.

They started with Wuhan in ’38, then moved on to the Battle of Shanghai during the war against Japan, protecting oil fields in Burma, the hard-fought battles in northern Jiangsu during the Suppression Campaigns… Their voices always rose when recounting the great victory in the Central Plains Yellow River flood zone, only to fall silent when someone mentioned "Nianzhuang."

Tai Li had heard from her mother that this was a battle her father hadn’t personally fought in—and the uncles at the table now were all the survivors left…

So she didn’t understand why they kept bringing it up.

Just then, a knock sounded at the door—

"Xiao Gao" had finally arrived.Madam Guo went to open the door. Tai Li turned her head curiously and saw a tall, thin, slightly stooped middle-aged man with skin as bronzed as Uncle Lu's walk in. Tai Li's first thought was: He really doesn't look like a "Little" Gao at all.

Yet the others still stood up and greeted him warmly: "Xiao Gao, you're late!"

"Sorry, Xiao Gao, we already started eating."

Even Tai Li's father walked around the table to stand before him. The two men locked eyes for two seconds before Hu Qian let out a long sigh. "It really is you—"

"Major Hu..." the man began, then glanced at the rank insignia on Hu Qian's dress uniform and corrected himself, "Lieutenant Colonel."

For a moment, neither spoke. But in the end, Hu Qian stepped forward and embraced this old friend who had been missing for so many years.

"Oh right, back then, Xiao Gao joined the Medical Corps because of Old Hu's recommendation, didn't he?" Battalion Commander Guo remarked before suddenly pausing. "Listen to us calling you Xiao Gao like it's nothing, but just now, Changping mentioned you changed your name?"

"Yes, after leaving the mainland in '50. Made things easier."

"What do you go by now? We should switch too, just in case someone overhears and causes trouble."

"Yin Wenrang."

A loud clatter rang out as someone stumbled over a chair in front of them. All eyes turned toward the sound.

The chair had been knocked over. Tai Li reacted quickly, steadying her mother before she could fully lose her composure. Still, her mother shot her a puzzled, reproachful look—why the sudden clumsiness?

"Miss Shen—"

Gao Wen—now Yin Wenrang—blurted out the name.

Madam Hu, or Tai Li's mother, was none other than Shen Tong from the Second Department of the Ministry of National Defense, once renowned for her extraordinary memory. It had been many years since anyone had addressed her that way.