Chapter 605: Pei Min

Shanghai has a lot of rain, and even more in winter. The sky is always covered with rain, and the ground is always wet. If it were usual, in such weather, it would be quite interesting to warm a pot of yellow wine, eat some seasonal delicacies, drink a little in a warm room, and watch the gray sky outside the floor-to-ceiling window.

But in Shanghai in 1938, there shouldn't be many people with such good interest. If there were, they should be sent to die.

In an apartment on Changchun Road in Hongkou, Xia Changguo, who was bruised and swollen, wore loose and comfortable pajamas, held a glass of red wine, and stood by the window looking at the torrential rain under the night curtain.

In fact, he couldn't see clearly outside. The fierce rain kept hitting the window and sliding down. In this rain curtain, he only vaguely looked at the lights outside, but he still insisted on watching, because the collision of the torrential rain outside and the warm room at this moment made him addicted.

He brought the wine glass to his mouth and sipped it lightly. In the collision between the tip of his tongue and the scarlet wine, he felt the sourness. His sleeves slipped because of the action of raising the glass, revealing the scars all over his arms.

Last November, the Battle of Songhu came to an end, the national army retreated along the whole line, and the Nanjing government became the Chongqing government. Except for the public concession of Britain and the United States, and the French concession, Shanghai fell.

The Japanese were fully prepared, and the speed of receiving Shanghai exceeded the imagination of many people. Two months passed, and by now in February, Japan could be considered to have fully received it, frequently issuing decrees to maintain stability, sending troops to guard various key roads and ports, strictly checking anti-Japanese elements, and strictly checking various tight materials that subsidized the enemy.

At the same time, the Shanghai Special High Police began to arrest members of the Military Statistics, Central Statistics, and the underground party organization of the Red Party in Shanghai who were lurking in Shanghai. The speed of thunder and lightning caused heavy losses to the Military Statistics and Central Statistics. In fact, when the war was going on, they had formed the Loyalty and National Salvation Army with the Green Gang of Du Yong and others, and the losses on the front line were not small. Du Yong ran away to Hong Kong at the first time. After that, the Green Gang was headed by Zhang Xiaolin, who defected to Japan and provided a large amount of materials for the Japanese front line.

Fortunately, the Red Party had rich experience in behind-enemy-lines struggle, and they were more closely hidden. Moreover, at the end of the Battle of Songhu, the Red Party was the first to remain silent, and even transferred some people who might be exposed, so the losses were not so huge.

But there were losses, such as him.

He was a liaison officer of the Shanghai underground party organization, with the role of connecting the top and bottom. His cover identity was an editor of a newspaper. He thought he was safe, but the Japanese had long locked onto him and arrested him secretly in the public concession.

Before this, he had always thought he had a firm belief, but when the whip whipped on his body, when the red-hot soldering iron branded the cooked meat on his body, when the iron rod was chiseled into his finger seams, when he was in pain and incontinent, he recruited.

The consequence was that in the past two days, the line he was on was wiped out, and none of them were spared. His past comrades were accepting severe torture.

As a hero, he was well protected. Outside this apartment, there were eight action personnel of the Special High Police protecting his safety. Because he still had value, there was some information he didn't say, and it was also because he understood the style of the Red Party and could work for the Special High Police in the future to arrest Red Party members.

At the moment of betrayal, he was very painful, because that marked that his past belief and the cause he struggled for were all gone. But after that, he drank expensive red wine, ate exquisite food, and slept a stable sleep for the only time in so many years, he felt that this seemed not bad. At least he ate well, slept well, and didn't have to worry about fear.

Although there would still be pain between the movements of the body, he still didn't frown, and drank the red wine in the glass in big gulps. He wanted to turn and leave, but through the rain curtain, he vaguely saw a dim figure standing there looking at him under the streetlight across the road. But looking closely, he found that the figure was limping away. He shook his head, feeling funny about the bad thought that suddenly rose in his mind.

A lone cripple, how could it be someone coming to kill him? He didn't know that there was such a character in the Red Party. It was probably a homeless person who was homeless and excluded, which was not strange in Shanghai.

He turned around, walked to the soft, comfortable, and warm big bed, and lay down satisfied with an "ah" sound. Drinking helps sleep, he never wanted to recall the devil-like experience in the dark and damp basement again...

The cripple wore a raincoat, his left shoulder was high, his right shoulder was low, his right foot was stretched straight, and as soon as he touched the ground, his left side exerted force and followed by taking a step with his left leg. This was why his left shoulder had to be higher. However, unlike what Xia Changguo thought, this cripple was not a homeless person, because a homeless person could not have a brand-new raincoat, and could not wear brand-new leather boots on his limping feet.

The cripple walked a few steps away, feeling the gaze on him disappear, then struggled to cross the road, and walked toward the apartment where Xia Changguo was downstairs.

Although it was raining heavily, as the central area of Shanghai occupied by Japan, it still looked very prosperous. There were Japanese military police wearing raincoats patrolling in teams, which was to maintain stability. Although Japan could be considered to have received it smoothly, the crisis hidden under the water surface had not been lifted at all, and the nerves of the little Japanese were sensitive.

Besides the patrolling military police, there were also cars passing by from time to time. These people, besides the Japanese military and political officials, were some Japanese overseas Chinese, as well as Chinese businessmen. Just after taking over the rule, these upper-class people in all walks of life were very busy, basically being called by the Japanese to have

As for other pedestrians, there were absolutely none. In such heavy rain, and in the center of the Japanese-occupied zone, no one would come over to court death.

The limping man walked slowly along the side of the road. Although he was quite eye-catching in the rain, the patrolling military police had just passed by, and those sitting inside cars had no mind to pay attention to the roadside, so he walked right up to the apartment building.

Without the slightest hesitation, he gently knocked on the main gate. Before long, a Japanese man dressed in black opened the door without the slightest vigilance. Because this was their center, their lair, how could they have imagined that someone would be bold enough to come over and court death?

Without waiting for the Japanese man to open his mouth to speak, the limping man walked up the steps with a gentle smile. Although the Japanese man blocked the light, he still clearly saw the face under the hood of the raincoat. It was the face of a common middle-aged man. The skin was rough and dark, looking like someone who had worked outdoors for a long time. He instantly felt that something was wrong; while reaching out to touch his lower back, he opened his mouth, wanting to shout a warning.

But he couldn't do anything. The limping man swiftly reached out and grabbed his throat. With a 'crack', the hand he wanted to extend fell powerlessly, and the sound he wanted to shout was stifled. His life was extinguished, his pupils contracted, and he was already dead.

The limping man turned back to close the door, and at the same time, in a hoarse voice and with an authentic Japanese Kanto accent, he said: "The interrogation has yielded results. Section Chief Nantian sent me over to have another talk with that Chinese person."

Section Chief Nantian was the head of the Shanghai Special Higher Police Section, Nantian Yangzi, a Japanese woman.

After closing the door well, the limping man gently laid the Japanese man he had been holding down against the wall and stepped toward the inside of the house. His leg was no longer limping.

Rainwater trickled down from his raincoat, and his leather boots made a creaking sound as they stepped on the solid wood floor; it was the old floor bearing a weight it shouldn't have.

The limping man walked through the corridor and entered the living room. He saw three Japanese men sitting on the sofa with pistols placed by the table. One was holding a book, one was holding a pen, and the paper on the table was filled with handwriting. It wasn't hard to see that they were writing letters, likely family letters. Another was sleepy-eyed, presumably having just been dozing off.

They all stared toward the limping man. Only when they saw the limping man's unfamiliar face did they freeze for a moment, and then they nervously went to grab their guns.

The limping man smiled slightly, closing the distance in a flash. A long black blade with dark gold patterns appeared out of thin air in his bare hand, as if it were swallowing light; under the illumination of the lamps, it didn't have a single reflection. The three agents were so shocked by this sudden change that their eyes widened and their brains stalled. Such a long blade, appearing out of thin air? Because it was so unexpected, their movements were somewhat sluggish.

In the blink of an eye, the long blade struck. The three men clutched their blood-spurting throats in disbelief, watching the limping man in front of them gracefully perform a blade flourish, and then he swung the blade horizontally. The bloodstains on the tip of the blade detached with the movement, leaving dots of red plum blossoms on the white wall.

The limping man ignored their wide-eyed deaths, stepped forward, and gave each one a kick, knocking them back onto the sofa to avoid making a loud noise due to unconscious movements before death. Then, he quickly took away the three guns on the table, searched the few people who weren't quite dead yet, and found several full magazines, as well as their identification documents and some money, all of which he took away. Confirming that the three had stopped breathing, he gently walked to the door, brought back the body of the agent who had died first, searched him the same way, and took everything on him. He placed him together with the others who were already covered in blood, sitting in a row.

The limping man put away the long blade and quietly searched the first floor. After confirming there were no omissions, he followed the somewhat narrow stairs to the second floor.

Just as he poked his head out, he saw an agent sitting on a stool by the window nearby, his elbows on the windowsill, supporting his chin, his eyes listless, but the corners of his mouth were raised. It seemed he was missing the cherry blossoms in Tokyo, and the girl who smiled very sweetly under the cherry blossom tree; in short, it was a very beautiful thing.

He was thinking very intently, so much so that he didn't notice the limping man had already reached his back.

The limping man quietly stretched out both hands, one supporting his chin, the other holding the back of his head. With a burst of 'cun' force and a crisp clockwise movement, accompanied by an unpleasant sound of bone fracturing, he forcibly turned that face filled with stories one hundred and eighty degrees to face him.

Within seconds of the head and body separating, there was still consciousness. The child missing the Tokyo cherry blossoms suddenly saw an unfamiliar face, his eyes turned horrified, and then his eyes became hollow, his face still retaining the longing for the girl under the cherry blossom tree.

He gently lifted him from the stool and placed him on the floor, searched him as usual, and took everything on him. Then he gently searched the second floor again, sent off a child who was in his sleep, and went up to the third floor.

There were two more people on the third floor, one reading a newspaper and one reading a book. The limping man killed these two as well, took their things, searched them as usual to confirm there were no other people, and then gently pushed open the double-leaf solid wood door of the master bedroom.

Xia Changguo had just lain down. Although he had drunk half a bottle of red wine and had been exhausted from fear and worry recently, he hadn't reached the point of falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, and he was just dozing off.

Hearing the unmasked footsteps, he woke up with a start, just in time to see the middle-aged man in the raincoat use a kerosene lighter to strike a spark with a 'bang', lighting a pure white, filterless cigarette. He recognized the cigarette box; it was the Pirate brand, commonly known as the Old Knife brand.

He had already recognized him; this person was exactly the limping man he had seen earlier. Now this limping man wasn't limping anymore and was standing in his bedroom, which explained everything.

Seeing the limping man blow a large smoke ring, walk to the sofa, sit down, cross his legs, and look at him, he sighed in resignation, lifted the quilt, walked to sit opposite the limping man, and also lit a cigarette to smoke. He had already seen the open door, where two Japanese agents were lying there like they had no bones, with a pool of blood flowing.

Amidst the swirling smoke, he said: "I have never heard of you before."

"That's not important." The limping man shook his head, blew out another puff of smoke, and looked at him calmly: "Tell me, what did you say to the Japanese?"

Xia Changguo took a small box from under the table, placed it on the table, and opened it: "Here are twenty gold bars. Can you spare my life?"

"Originally, I wanted to cut off your head. Now I'll leave you a whole corpse. Answer my question."

Another long sigh. Xia Changguo shook his head and said: "It's just this much. I betrayed my superiors and subordinates, a total of eight comrades. I also know of a transportation group stronghold, but I didn't tell the Japanese about this one."

As the first metropolis of the Far East, Shanghai's status was unquestionable, and many scarce materials could be obtained here. A transportation station, as the name implies, is a station on a transportation line. And a transportation line is an organization for delivering intelligence, transporting materials, and moving important personnel. Shanghai was a key station, and then it passed through various stations along the way, straight to the Soviet area. And this was just one transportation line; besides this, there were countless others extending in all directions.

The limping man stared tightly at his eyes: "State the specific location."

"Anhe Temple Road, Anhe Trading Company. I discovered that by accident. I really didn't tell the Japanese."

Staring at him for two more glances, the limping man nodded, picked up the fruit knife on the table, walked over, grabbed Xia Changguo's wrist, and without a word, cut his artery with one stroke: "Come, give me that hand. Both hands together, the blood drains faster."

Because of the immense strength of the arm-wrestling earlier, Xia Changguo had already given up hope, knowing he couldn't resist. He didn't want to suffer inhuman torture when he died, so he very cooperatively handed over the other hand, which was also slashed. The pain of these two cuts felt to him like it was better than a whip dipped in cold water...

Xia Changguo placed his hands on the sofa armrests, letting the blood flow out continuously. Feeling the passing of his life, he watched the limping man fiddling with a camera he had pulled out from somewhere, and he asked: "Do you still need to take pictures?"

"To prove that you are already dead."

"Please make them look good." Xia Changguo laughed out loud, laughing until tears came, and he said: "I didn't want to betray the organization, really..."

"I believe you. How many people can withstand severe torture?" The limping man shook his head and said: "You just shouldn't have betrayed so many comrades at once. You should have tried to hold out for a little longer. If that were the case, I wouldn't have come tonight."

"The whole group was in silence; I had no way to warn them. The day after I was caught was the contact day. I'm sorry, I really couldn't hold on..."

The limping man didn't speak, lit another cigarette, and sat on the sofa looking at Xia Changguo.

"My wife and children are in my hometown in Hangzhou. I hope the organization won't make things difficult for the widow and orphans. I joined the Party in '30 and have been working in Shanghai. Over these years, I have escaped death several times and have seen eight comrades die in front of me..."

Xia Changguo's voice grew weaker and weaker, his spirit became increasingly listless, his eyelids drooped, and his face was bloodless, as if he could die at any moment. But he still kept muttering, talking about the bits and pieces of these years. He suddenly stopped, looked up at the limping man, and a sharp light burst forth in his eyes: "You are Pei Min!"

Watching the limping man raise his eyebrows in surprise, he smiled silently, then leaned back powerlessly, and stopped breathing.

The limping man carefully stepped on tiptoe in the pool of blood, approached, reached out, and placed his hand on the artery of Xia Changguo's neck. After confirming he was dead, he put away the box of gold bars on the table and took photos from multiple angles with the camera.

He didn't forget the agents of the Special Higher Police Section outside either. He arranged all eight corpses in a row downstairs and took a few more photos. Only then did he lean against the window to watch the movement outside for a while, then opened the door and went out, becoming the limping person he was when he arrived.

Hongkou wasn't far from the International Settlement, but at this time, it was of course impossible to go over openly. International relations were treacherous, and when implemented locally, it meant that there was a bridge in between; on this side were the Japanese troops, and on the other side were the British and American allied forces. This side had to be checked once, and that side also had to be checked once. This situation would only ease after another period of time.

However, there were only a few places with garrisons. The rules of the world are generally the same; where there are rules, there are ways to break them, and where there are fences, there must be gaps. Especially in areas where territories intersect like this, there are naturally more underhanded dealings.

So the limping man successfully entered the International Settlement, then limped across the Suzhou Creek, arrived at Shandong Road, and slipped into an apartment. This was his safe house.

Inside the house, the limping man took off his raincoat and leather boots, and even changed the dirty clothes he was wearing inside, then went to the washroom to wash his face. When he came out again, the whole person had changed his appearance.

Wang Yan knew how to apply makeup. As a qualified old schemer, he had learned many useful and useless things. And chatting with ordinary women about makeup and fashion is a very good topic. If nothing else, just for this, he, Wang Mou, should understand it.

It's just that his makeup skills weren't very superb and couldn't reach the point of a complete transformation. But he didn't need them to be very superb. He was now an agent behind enemy lines, and the purpose of makeup was to prevent people from remembering his face. Although his skills weren't very superb, he could change some facial details, either by concealing or highlighting them, and then cooperate with the temperament he specially adopted, so it was very easy to make people think he was him, and not another person with a similar appearance.

He had always been a good actor, and winning a Best Actor award wouldn't be a problem.

Having arrived in this realm for a week, he had already adapted to his identity: Captain of the First Detective Team of the Central Police Station in the French Concession. He managed more than twenty people, and he was considered a figure of some standing, with quite a bit of face.

Obviously, a police station captain had no need to carry out the previous assassination operation. The 'Pei Min' that Xia Changguo mentioned before he died was exactly his other identity.

His parents had fled from the north to Shanghai, became workers, and step by step became worker representatives. During the April 12th Incident, both of them were killed. That year, he was eighteen. Afterward, people from the organization found him, originally intending to take care of him, but he expressed that he wanted to avenge his parents, and then joined the Central Special Branch that was established that year.

Because he had practiced martial arts since he was a child and had a good body, and had even mixed on the streets without learning anything good, and had even worshipped at the incense hall and joined the Green Gang. During training, he showed superb marksmanship and was a crack shot who never missed. So he was assigned to the Security Section, which was the famous Red Team, the Dog-Beating Team, specializing in weeding out traitors.

Pei Min was his codename. As one of the three wonders of the Tang Dynasty, Pei Min had superb swordsmanship and strong action capability, and also had the feat of shooting thirty-one tigers in one day, which perfectly matched his superb marksmanship. He happened to be the strongest action expert of the Central Special Branch and the best crack shot, so he used Pei Min as his codename to represent his bravery.

In '31, the Red Team section chief defected. Fortunately, he hadn't met with him before because he was too strong and always acted alone, which guaranteed his safety. Of course, it was mainly the legacy of his parents, and also because he was truly brave, so he communicated directly with the leadership. After all, for a person like him, naturally, the fewer people who knew, the safer it was. It was also because of this that when the Central Committee moved into the Soviet area and the Special Branch was reorganized and renamed, his organizational relationship fell to the Security Bureau.

And the reason he didn't leave together with them was that he had mixed into the French Concession Police Station in '28. In the following years, he mixed even better, not only being able to handle all kinds of people but also being able to make a lot of money. The role he could play in Shanghai was greater, so he stayed here.

In an emergency, he would directly send a telegram to Yan'an; in general situations, he would decide for himself, while maintaining contact with the Shanghai Municipal Committee to provide necessary help. He kept in contact with Yan'an every two days to ensure he was still alive and that there were no accidents.

Contact with the Shanghai Municipal Committee was also very simple. At ten o'clock at night, he would turn on the radio, and if there was anything, they would contact him by radio. He hadn't met with them to this day to ensure his own safety. However, he did know where the Municipal Committee was; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to help them. This assassination of Xia Changguo was an instruction from the Shanghai Municipal Committee.

Of course, it wasn't that they let him break into the enemy camp alone like this, but rather let him find an opportunity to sanction him. It was just that he was too reckless; after confirming where the person was, he went and killed him directly. This was Pei Min's ability.

He sat in front of the mirror again, redid his makeup, changed into a young appearance, and put on gold-rimmed glasses, looking refined and gentle. He flipped out a black suit from the wardrobe, changed into a pair of leather shoes, and dressed like an elite professional. Afterward, he took out a piece of paper, used a pen to write down the sanction process of today, and put it together with the camera film into the box containing the twenty gold bars.

He got up, looked at himself in the mirror, ruffled his hair, then put on an overcoat, picked up an umbrella, opened the door, went out, locked the door, and walked slowly downstairs. In the parking space in the backyard, he got into a black Ford car, and then started the car and left.

He drove to Fuxu Road, the border between the International Settlement and the French Concession, where there was a Fuxing Pawnshop. He parked the car far away, and just like that, carrying the box openly and holding an umbrella, he walked toward the back door of that pawnshop.

'Dong-dong-dong-dong-dong-dong', he knocked on the door with two short, two long, and two short knocks, placed the box at the door, and holding his umbrella, he hunched his chest and back slightly and turned to leave.

With a 'creak', the back door opened. A middle-aged man in his forties wearing glasses poked his head out from inside the door, looked at the somewhat blurry back that had already gone far away, then picked up the box on the ground, retracted his head, and closed the door...