Chapter 677: Fujiwara Shin

Although it was a welcome reception, it was not a dedicated one. After all, given Iwai Eiichi's status, only Japanese ministers or other high-ranking officials in China were worthy of such a grand reception. As for the rest, even if the Japanese Prime Minister himself came, he might not show much enthusiasm.

At this time, the Japanese Prime Minister changed too frequently, for all sorts of reasons—such as inability to reconcile army-navy conflicts, refusal to ally with Germany, and so on. Those below were sharpening their knives, all vying to rise and prove their worth.

This was just how things were—everyone thought they could do it better. After all, by that level, everyone was really not much different. Thus, during this period, being Prime Minister was no easy job. Precisely because of the rapid turnover, those below had grown less respectful toward them.

As a senior official at the Shanghai Consulate, Iwai Eiichi held considerable status. Those who needed to curry favor with him were not worth his welcoming; those who didn't need to curry favor with him weren't even qualified to receive his welcome.

Today's main guest was a young man barely in his twenties, a bit over 1.7 meters tall, with delicate, soft skin and a slightly plump build—clearly a nobleman's son.

All the other Japanese in the room knew this young man, so Iwai Eiichi personally brought him to Wang Yan and the others and introduced him: "This is Fujiwara Shin'ya. He has been in China for three years, traveling extensively throughout the country. Now he has come to Shanghai to serve as Consul at the Consulate. He is, in a sense, my nephew. Today I introduce him to you all—I hope you will take good care of him in the future. He is young, especially you, Wang Sang and Ming Sang, who are only a few years older—please socialize more with him."

Although Iwai Eiichi did not elaborate, just from the young Japanese's surname, it was obvious he was from the noble Fujiwara clan. The Fujiwara clan was extremely prestigious in Japan, having endured over a thousand years of rise and fall, once controlling the imperial family and dominating politics, wielding immense power in Japan. Yet there were several branches; which specific branch this young man belonged to remained unclear.

But since Iwai Eiichi had personally come out to introduce him, no matter which branch he belonged to, his backing was extremely strong. Concealing his background was merely to avoid trouble. Otherwise, if everyone knew a noble scion whom Iwai Eiichi had specially welcomed was here, and if either party or political enemies seized the chance to eliminate him, the one who would suffer would be Iwai Eiichi himself—he might not die, but he'd lose a layer of skin. This was mutual protection.

Fujiwara Shin'ya displayed a slight air of arrogance, but he still observed the Japanese etiquette of bowing and speaking politely. He immediately bowed at a forty-five-degree angle and said in his imperfect Chinese: "I am Fujiwara Shin'ya. Please take care of me!"

Wang Yan and the others returned the bow, thus formally acknowledging him.

He smiled broadly at Iwai Eiichi: "Is this the new friend you mentioned, Mr. Iwai?"

"He is a few years younger than you, so you are peers with more in common. Wang Sang loves food, drink, and entertainment—he can show him around Shanghai. He has been to Shanghai before, but didn't stay long, so he's still not very familiar. If you have time, you should interact more. Also, you are a learned man with your own thoughts—you can impart some wisdom to him."

Seeing Wang Yan's gaze, Fujiwara Shin'ya bowed again: "Wang Sang, please take care of me."

Wang Yan placed his hand on his shoulder, stopping him from bowing further, and said to Iwai Eiichi: "Don't worry, Mr. Iwai. When it comes to food, drink, and entertainment, I am the best. I'll take care of Mr. Fujiwara. Mr. Fujiwara, when you have time, call me—I'll take you out for some fun."

"Thank you very much, Wang Sang."

Seeing the two getting along well, both smiling, Iwai Eiichi laughed heartily: "Alright everyone, today is just a casual gathering—no need to be so formal. Please, relax."

Iwai Eiichi's demeanor truly seemed to suggest there was no serious business at hand. After all, even the busiest have moments to rest. Still, when this group gathered, they merely chatted idly. Everyone present—Chinese or Japanese—had a good relationship with Iwai Eiichi. Among the Chinese, only Wang Yan was clearly not aligned with the Japanese.

Yet it was hard for them not to discuss current affairs, frontline conditions, and the political situation between the two parties—these were their topics of conversation. Perhaps also the cherry blossoms of their homeland, and the hollow blessings to the Emperor, and the hope for a complete defeat of China.

As Iwai Eiichi's words ended, the geishas resumed their music and dance. Everyone scattered across tatami mats, each with a small table—individual servings, yet close enough that one could simply walk over to speak with anyone. Accompanied by music, dance, and Japanese women, the atmosphere was tolerable. But still, one was deep within the Japanese nest—tolerable, yet not truly acceptable.

Zhou Fuhai went over to Ei Sadaaki, and the two exchanged drinks. Wang Yan disliked joining such crowds—he spoke less when surrounded by many, more when alone. So he sat beside Ming Lou, a familiar face, eating and drinking together.

"Ming Director hides his cards well."

"Mr. Wang, don't blame Ming Lou—he never volunteered, and you never asked. After all, such matters aren't meant to be publicized." Ming Lou raised his cup, clinked it with Wang Yan's, and offered an apologetic gesture.

Wang Yan had genuinely not known Ming Lou was connected to the Iwai residence; Iwai Eiichi had never mentioned it. Now it was clear—Ming Lou had become part of the Iwai residence, otherwise he wouldn't have been invited to this gathering.

Thus, Ming Lou was quite formidable. He was a Colonel in the Military Intelligence Bureau, head of the Shanghai underground Communist intelligence unit, Director of the Economic Bureau in the Wang Jingwei puppet government, Deputy Director of the Special Committee—and now, also an internal intelligence operative for the Iwai residence.

These four titles looked far more splendid than Wang Yan's own, but their actual weight was far less. After all, although he played the fool everywhere, he truly controlled over three hundred Chinese police, over a thousand gang members, portions of the Green Gang not aligned with the Japanese, tens of thousands of workers, vast control over material resources, and enormous authority to use funds in the Qinglian Bank.

This was the foundation of his power—the confidence that allowed him to maneuver among multiple factions.

Yet Ming Lou's strength was sufficient for him to act. Previously, Wang Yan had wondered: how could Ming Lou, an outsider whose greatest patron was Wang Fuqu, possibly have the ambition and power to challenge Li Shiqun for control of the 76th Bureau? Now the answer was clear—it came from Iwai Eiichi. For Iwai Eiichi, maintaining balance among all factions and preventing Chinese power from growing was precisely what he wanted.

"If you had told me earlier, we'd have avoided much trouble."

"I couldn't help it. If I revealed it myself, I feared Mr. Iwai would blame me—I couldn't bear the consequences."

"Wang Sang, what are you two talking about? You're laughing so happily." Fujiwara Shin'ya approached with a cup of sake and sat beside them.

He had been conversing with other Japanese officials, seeking their favor through this opportunity. His background could help him avoid detours, but his own connections were his own. Turning family connections into personal ones was what noble scions like him should do. After all, family networks ultimately recognized people, not just surnames.

"We were talking about Japanese cuisine—this chef's skill is excellent," Wang Yan replied casually.

Ming Lou immediately picked up the thread: "Indeed, Mr. Fujiwara. Neither Mr. Wang nor I have ever been to Japan—what do you think of the flavor here?"

Fujiwara Shin'ya raised his cup, clinked it with theirs, drank the sake, then set it down and spoke haltingly in Chinese: "Actually, I haven't been home in three years. Any Japanese dish that tastes decent—I, in my longing, consider it authentic home cooking. But I trust Uncle Iwai—his choices are never wrong."

Wang Yan nodded with a smile and drank another cup with him: "Mr. Fujiwara calls Mr. Iwai 'uncle.' I don't know the details—could you tell me something about your relationship?"

"My grandfather once mentored Uncle Iwai's father. My father and Mr. Iwai were also close friends. So Uncle Iwai has been very kind to me. This time, when I came to serve as Consul at the Shanghai Consulate, it was Uncle Iwai who helped me."

"That's indeed a strong bond. Come, Mr. Fujiwara, let's drink another. Though I can't take you out for food and entertainment like Mr. Wang, if you need anything else, feel free to ask me."

"Thank you, Ming Sang."

After drinking another cup with Ming Lou, seeing Wang Yan's hesitation, Fujiwara Shin'ya smiled: "Mr. Wang, do you have something you'd like to say to me?"

Wang Yan paused slightly, feigning deliberation before speaking: "I hope Mr. Fujiwara won't think me meddlesome, but I'd like to offer a word of warning."

"Please go ahead."

"Shanghai is different from other places—its situation is more severe, its struggles more intense. Here, there are people from the Nationalists, the Communists, Britain, France, the Soviet Union—smuggling people, trafficking arms, selling intelligence. People die every day without a trace. Your surname, and Mr. Iwai's attitude toward you, clearly indicate you are from the true Fujiwara clan, not those who merely adopted the name later."

Your identity must be significant, your background powerful. But the stronger it is, the more dangerous you are. If others learn of your identity and spread the word, someone may well harbor ill intent—seeking to eliminate you to achieve certain goals. So I advise you: in your daily work, remain low-key. Better yet, change your name."

And you're here to train, aren't you? You wouldn't want to be looked down upon because of Mr. Iwai's association, would you?"

Wang Yan's face was solemn, earnest—written clearly: "I'm only looking out for you."

Ming Lou's eyes flickered, then quickly added, earnestly: "Yes, Mr. Fujiwara. You must pay attention to this. Personal safety is no trivial matter."

"Thank you both for your concern." Fujiwara Shin'ya laughed heartily, turning to Wang Yan: "Uncle Iwai mentioned you before—he said you are the most sincere person, never hiding anything. Now I see he was right. Wang Sang, you needn't worry. Uncle Iwai already warned me: within the Consulate, my name is Hirokawa Shuujin—there will be no problem. Still, thank you, Wang Sang. This cup is for you."

After drinking with Wang Yan, Fujiwara Shin'ya went to socialize with other collaborators—just to make an impression, to build connections for future convenience. Consulate affairs were complex; this kind of privileged second-generation would begin with great enthusiasm, fresh for ten or fifteen days.

As for going out for fun with Wang Yan—if this little devil was smart enough, he'd leave it at words, never actually follow through.

Because Wang Yan was already too conspicuous—anyone near him attracted attention. If a Japanese appeared beside him, investigation became essential. Eventually, whether the Nationalists or the Communists learned of Fujiwara Shin'ya's identity, they'd almost certainly choose to eliminate him. It's an easy move—see if killing a noble scion might bring some beneficial change to Shanghai's already chaotic situation. As for possible retaliation from Japanese intelligence? Not a big problem—when have they ever not been insane?

Watching Fujiwara Shin'ya exchanging drinks with others, Ming Lou raised his cup to Wang Yan, who was devouring food: "Mr. Wang, you're truly kind. But I don't think he took your warning to heart."

Wang Yan took a sip, set down his cup, leaned close with a smile, and whispered: "Do you think I'm really that kind? I'm afraid he dies and they blame me."

Ming Lou froze, then smiled knowingly at Wang Yan's gaze: "I was shortsighted—I didn't think of that. Ah, I missed such a good opportunity! Even if nothing happened, I could have drawn closer to this Fujiwara noble scion…"

"You spoke awfully fast just now…"

Wang Yan gave Ming Lou another cryptic warning, then ignored his reaction and returned to eating, while listening intently to Zhou Fuhai and the others.

Zhou Fuhai spoke Japanese and handled nearly all of Wang Jingwei's treasonous affairs. Most Japanese officials, except a few who had lived in China for ten or twenty years, barely spoke Chinese. So nearby, their conversation was in Japanese.

They were chatting about the Wang Jingwei puppet government, the current situation in China, even global affairs. Wang Yan heard clearly: one Army Major General even revealed that Japan's cabinet was considering Germany's proposal for global collaboration, and that Japan was studying replacing its Prime Minister. The leading figure was no stranger—Tojo Hideki. He hadn't yet taken power, but already held immense strength within the military, especially the Army. Undoubtedly, a thoroughgoing opportunist.

As they chatted, due to Zhou Fuhai's extensive experience of switching sides, the topic gradually turned to the two parties—from their earlier rivalry to the present.

Ei Sadaaki laughed heartily: "You don't know yet? Two days ago, I received secret intelligence: Chongqing has recently adopted a very aggressive stance toward the Communists. And I also learned another piece of news—the Second War Zone's troop deployments have shifted. What does this mean?"

He laughed again, loudly and freely.

Kage Hidetakaaki was the person in charge of the Plum Blossom Agency, and the people under him were hidden even more skillfully than those at the Iwai Tianyue Gongguan. The fact that he had previously been able to plan Wang Jingwei's escape from Chongqing proved that they had a certain amount of strength over there.

As for the Second War Zone mentioned in the conversation, its jurisdiction covered the Shanxi-Shaanxi-Suiyuan region, and its commander was the famous Yan Laooxi from the anti-Japanese war dramas. Among the operational sequences under the Second War Zone, there was the Eighteenth Group Army of the National Revolutionary Army — this name was changed later; before that, it had been called the Eighth Route Army of the National Revolutionary Army, with its Regional Commander being Zhu Jiande.

Zhou Fuhai widened his eyes in astonishment: "So they're going to fight? That would be wonderful. If so, the Empire of Japan will end the war in a very short time."

Iwai Eiichi's gaze swept subtly over everyone in the room, and finally glanced at Wang Yan, who was over on one side eating heartily and drinking while muttering and chatting idly with Ming Lou. He turned his head and asked: "So, has our chance come?"

Kage Hidetakaaki shook his head: "Judging from the intelligence sent back from over there, although it's an opportunity, it's hard for us to make use of it. Because we are always there, they won't really be stupid enough to start a war. But then again, it's not certain — who can say for sure about such things? Come, drink — bottoms up."

……

Wang Yan, who had been half-heartedly trading remarks with Ming Lou, paused and said softly: "Do you know what they're talking about?"

Ming Lou had long been so anxious he was crawling with ants inside. Watching Zhou Fuhai chatting so happily over there — sometimes grave, sometimes relaxed — he was sure something important had been said. Unfortunately, it was too noisy here, and he couldn't hear it; even if he could, he didn't understand Japanese.

Hearing Wang Yan say this, he looked at Wang Yan with suspicion, his eyes full of doubt.

"I'm a martial practitioner — sharp ears and keen eyes. I'm also fluent in many languages. No need to doubt it." Wang Yan smiled indifferently. "They were saying…"

"Wang Sang, Ming Sang, what are you two chatting about?" Just at that moment, Iwai Eiichi's loud voice came over, cutting off Wang Yan's words. "Come over here and drink together — it's only fun when everyone's together."

Wang Yan stood up, wine cup in hand, and walked over: "I'm going into business with him, so we were discussing some of the finer details."

Ming Lou, who had followed over, nodded repeatedly: "There's no helping it. Ming Lou is in charge of the economy — to put it bluntly, he handles the money. Anything that touches on money, Ming Lou has to be cautious and careful — he wouldn't dare make a mistake."

"Alright, what we want tonight is to have a good time. Work matters, you can discuss them privately. Remember, work is never finished, but happiness and joy are fleeting."

Iwai Eiichi raised his cup in invitation: "Come, let's all drink together — may our martial fortune endure!"

Everyone raised their cups and drank together. Even the little devils' soul-summoning music somehow sounded a third more stirring.

Ming Lou wanted to keep asking Wang Yan what exactly those Japanese and Zhou Fuhai had been saying earlier, but unfortunately, that whole night, he never found the chance.

Logically speaking, the two were neighbors and should have gone home together. But unfortunately, Wang Yan didn't go home that night. With a Japanese woman on each arm, he staggered off laughing and joking alongside Fujiwara Shinya, who was equally unyielding and likewise had a woman on each arm…