Chapter 684

On Sunday evening, Wang Yan once again took a car to the consulate area to attend the victory celebration banquet hosted by the Japanese Consulate.

This time, however, the banquet was not held at the previous venue but had moved to another location, with the consulate's administrative offices directly above. This was normal—outside the International Settlement and the French Concession, the Japanese controlled all of Shanghai and had many options.

Of course, the main reason was plot necessity…

Wang Yan knew clearly that tonight, at this banquet, Ming Tai and Cheng Jinyun would steal intelligence regarding the Third War Zone's troop deployments—it was the pivotal moment of the plot.

This was a psychological game of truth and deception: if Japanese intelligence on the Third War Zone was stolen and Ming Tai wasn't exposed, perhaps the Death Spy Plan would never have been launched. After all, if the Third War Zone obtained genuine intelligence, and struck with foreknowledge against an unsuspecting enemy, it would still be a victory. But Ming Tai was exposed; though they hadn't physically taken the original documents, only photographed them with a spy camera, the incident still carried risk, forcing the original plan to be scrapped and alternative contingency plans activated.

Conversely, if covert intelligence acquisition failed, the Third War Zone would also devise a fake defense plan to continue executing the Death Spy Plan.

Of course, there was another possibility: the intelligence Ming Tai stole was itself a decoy, requiring a different response. In practice, no plan was ever perfectly interlocked. Human variables were too great to move like puppet strings along a fixed path. Most people couldn't even think beyond the next step—just seeing one step ahead was already impressive. A genius might anticipate two or three steps—that was about the limit.

Even Wang Yan, with all his experience, could only pre-plan one or two steps ahead when studying others' plans. More often, he simply took one step: start the action, then observe how events unfolded, gradually guiding people or situations toward favorable or unfavorable outcomes. He could never meticulously map out every step and expect things to unfold exactly as he wished—that was impossible.

Wang Yan wasn't particularly concerned about this operation targeting the Third War Zone, because it had nothing to do with him—he couldn't intervene, nor was there any need to. After all, before he arrived, the original plan had already been working well and yielding significant results.

Today, he came alone—the Wang Puppet Government had just been established in Nanjing, and activities across all fronts had suddenly intensified.

Wang Manchun, grieving the death of her relative Wang Fuqu, channeled her sorrow into energy and ruthlessly hunted down members of both the KMT and CCP.

Ming Lou was even busier managing economic affairs nationwide—he wasn't just Shanghai's Director of Economic Affairs, but actively involved in all economic matters of the entire Wang Puppet Government. Yet because Shanghai's economic weight dominated, his work mostly revolved around Shanghai.

Of course, the more likely reason was that Ming Lou knew tonight Ming Tai and Cheng Jinyun would act—and Ming Tai still didn't know his true identity. If Ming Lou appeared, it would draw attention to Ming Tai, an otherwise invisible nobody, risking the mission's failure. So regardless of whether he had actual business or was truly busy, he wouldn't come.

Wang Yan came because everyone in Shanghai knew he was idle, living what others saw as a godlike life—powerful, indulgent, and happy. So when invited by the Japanese, he couldn't refuse without losing face…

Showing his invitation, Wang Yan smiled and greeted people along the way, heading straight to the corner where food was laid out. Though he'd already eaten dinner, he still picked and chose, eating leisurely.

"Mr. Wang still has such an excellent appetite—it seems every time we host a gathering, you're always in the corner enjoying the food." Superintendent Nantian, holding a wine glass, walked over with a smile.

"My position is awkward. Many I speak with privately; those I don't speak with probably aren't worth knowing. To avoid trouble for myself and others, I've heard enough flattery—it's meaningless. Far better to enjoy good food and fine wine."

"You're right—only you have the peace of mind to truly enjoy food and wine."

"Actually, I'm no better off than those here—everyone has their own struggles. I just appear more relaxed." Wang Yan shook his head with a smile, then asked, "Superintendent Nantian seems in high spirits too—have you recently achieved success against anti-Japanese elements?"

"There's no such thing as 'victory' in such matters. Even if the KMT and CCP surrendered, our Tokumu-ku would never know victory—especially now. With the new government established, anti-Japanese elements hiding in Shanghai have grown bolder: assassinating pro-Japanese collaborators, stealing classified intelligence, plunging Shanghai into constant chaos."

"Indeed. As Chief Inspector of the French Concession Police, even in my tiny jurisdiction, every morning I recover eight or ten corpses from dark, deserted alleys—stabbed, shot, beaten to death. Too many. Superintendent Nantian bears a heavy burden—truly exhausting."

Wang Yan spoke polished words, raising his glass in a toast.

"You're too kind—it's just my duty, hardly exhausting. I toast you." Superintendent Nantian bowed politely, yet her wide grin betrayed her good mood. She held a favorable impression of Wang Yan—his current status, his past record, his tactful demeanor, and most importantly, his occasional gifts of money and valuables. She loved clever men like him.

Otherwise, if Wang Yan quietly caused them trouble behind the scenes, it would be hard to handle. Even back in 1938, his status made him too dangerous to kill outright. He was already formidable then; though they were ruthless, they still operated with method. They sought rule, not plunder-and-run. At his current status and control of resources, causing disruption was easy.

Fortunately, Wang Yan had no country, no ethnicity—he cared only for quiet, steady wealth and peaceful days…

After drinking with Wang Yan, Superintendent Nantian didn't linger. She exchanged polite words and left—she'd only come to say hello, to linger near him, remind him of her favors, ensure he didn't forget her.

Wang Yan understood the Japanese woman's intent—but unfortunately, this might be their final meeting. This high-ranking Japanese Army female major, Chief of the Shanghai Tokumu-ku, had come out with only two subordinates, walked straight into Ming Lou's trap, and was shot dead by Ming Tai…

The guests drifted around for a while; those who should come and those who shouldn't had all arrived, and the banquet began. Japanese officials took turns speaking into the microphone, celebrating the North China front—naturally, they spoke of North China's military situation. That region belonged to Yan Xishan's Second War Zone; if the Japanese were celebrating victory there, the situation must be dire. Besides, the recent Jinxi Incident had stirred a KMT anti-Communist frenzy, leaving them too busy with internal strife to respond to the Japanese.

Moreover, Yan Xishan's current stance was ambiguous—he secretly colluded with the Japanese. Had it not been for the Eighth Route Army's constant vigilance, the outbreak of the Pacific War, and Japan's evident hollow strength, Yan Xishan would have been, without doubt, the second most notorious traitor after Wang Jingwei. Wang Jingwei was first because he was first; Yan Xishan was second, though that was almost an insult to his stature—but since there was already a number one, he had to settle for number two.

Unlike Wang Jingwei, Yan Xishan was a true warlord, commanding a 200,000-strong Shanxi-Sui Army. That number was already reduced from its original size; he also led vast civilian armed groups, easily mobilizing 240,000 to 260,000 troops. His territory even had modest industrial infrastructure and production capacity—a genuine bureaucratic-capitalist conglomerate, quite wealthy. His power far surpassed Wang Jingwei's—real military authority and real industry.

Honestly, if he truly defected to the Japanese, his life would be far better than Wang Jingwei's. Again, he held real military power.

Of course, this was idealistic—among 200,000 men, some would still have patriotic blood. Their combined mutiny potential was not negligible. Yan Xishan knew this—so he dared not act rashly…

After Japanese officials finished their speeches, the so-called victory banquet officially began. Soft, soothing music played; men and women danced the waltz. Japanese guests wandered with wine glasses, ingratiating themselves; Chinese guests wandered too, bowing and scraping, forging connections.

Of course, some Japanese bowed and scraped too—but since it was their home turf, and they had that stubborn pride, it looked tolerable. Only the Chinese here wore false smiles and fawning servility—utterly repulsive.

Wang Yan didn't mingle. As long as people knew he'd shown up, that was enough. When the banquet officially began, he returned to his corner, continuing to eat and drink. Once full and satisfied, after seeing everyone he needed to see, he'd leave and go home.

"Mr. Wang always has such an excellent appetite—truly enviable." Iwai Eiichi, wine glass in hand, followed by his aide and Zhou Fuhai, approached Wang Yan to chat.

"Mr. Iwai." Wang Yan nodded in greeting. "I'm just lucky—I have good teeth and a good appetite. Remember two years ago, you asked if I could tolerate Japanese food? Look now—I'm enjoying it immensely."

He gestured toward the nearly empty platters, showing the results of his time at the banquet.

"Excellent, Mr. Wang—I was right about you. Mr. Zhou… oh, pardon me, I forgot—you studied in Japan, so you're certainly accustomed to Japanese cuisine."

Zhou Fuhai laughed heartily: "Yes, in this regard, I'm better than Mr. Wang. When I first arrived in Japan and ate authentic Kanto cuisine with friends, I fell in love with it on the first bite."

Laughing, Wang Yan asked: "The new government has only been established a month—tasks are piled high. Why are you back in Shanghai now, Mr. Zhou?"

"Nothing much—just work. With the pile of tasks, telegrams are unclear, phone calls are unsafe. No choice but to shuttle back and forth."

"Oh dear, that must be exhausting. Eat more—consulate food never disappoints."

This place was never for serious talk—only idle chatter, superficial closeness, mere formalities. As Wang Yan endured their small talk, his eyes scanned the room. Across from him, Ming Tai, dressed sharply in a tuxedo, stood beside Cheng Jinyun in a black evening gown, laughing and chatting.

Though Ming Tai flirted and joked, his eyes constantly swept the room. Mid-sentence, his words abruptly stopped.

Cheng Jinyun noticed the change, puzzled: "What's wrong?"

She followed his gaze—and her pupils contracted sharply. Iwai Eiichi, Zhou Fuhai, and Wang Yan sat together on a sofa in the corner, chatting. Worse—Wang Yan's piercing eyes were fixed directly on them.

She blinked, looked again—everything seemed normal. Wang Yan still smiled and chatted as before, as if he'd never looked their way.

She blinked, and when she looked again, everything was normal; Wang Yan was still there, smiling and chatting merrily, as if he hadn't just been watching them.

"Yes!"

"He was just watching us?"

Ming Tai swallowed hard, answered reluctantly: "Yes."

"Why are you so nervous? So what if he watched us? He doesn't know us." Still, she added, "But honestly—no wonder he's a famed Green Gang boss. Just his glance sent chills down my spine."

At this point, Cheng Jinyun only knew Ming Tai came from a wealthy family—otherwise, he couldn't have developed such a carefree, dissolute demeanor. She didn't yet know he was the Ming family's Young Master. Even if she had known, she wouldn't have guessed that the Wang Tianyue Gongguan and Ming Tianyue Gongguan were neighbors, that Wang Yan knew Ming Lou, and had met Ming Tai twice.

At this point, Cheng Jinyun only knew that Ming Tai's family must be very wealthy, otherwise they couldn't have raised someone with such a reckless, carefree demeanor, but she still didn't know that Ming Tai's identity was the Young Master of the Ming family. In fact, even if she had known Ming Tai was the Young Master, she might not have realized that the Wang Tianyue Gongguan and the Ming Tianyue Gongguan were neighbors, that Wang Yan and Ming Lou knew each other, and that Wang Yan had already met Ming Tai twice.

"So he's recognized you?" Cheng Jinyun spun toward him, suppressing her emotions, forcing a smile. "That means you're exposed? We can't proceed?"

Ming Tai said nothing. After a long silence, he spotted the Japanese woman he'd met during his earlier intelligence-gathering mission. He clenched his teeth, downed his entire glass: "Forget it. Stick to the original plan. No matter what, we get the intelligence tonight. Miss this chance, we'll never get another. Don't worry—if things go wrong and he betrays me, only I die. You must get the intelligence and send it to the Military Intelligence Bureau through your channels."

Ming Tai said nothing. After a long silence, he stared at the Japanese woman he had met while gathering intelligence, clenched his teeth, and downed the entire glass of liquor: "Forget it, stick to the original plan. No matter what, I'm getting the intelligence today. If we miss this chance, we won't get another one this good. Don't worry—if things go wrong and he turns me in, only I'll die. When that happens, you must hold onto the intelligence and send it to the Military Statistics Bureau through your channel."

"No 'buts.' Opportunity won't knock twice. I haven't prepared to die—but if death has value, I'm not afraid!" Ming Tai spoke with iron resolve, cutting off her reply, and strode straight toward the Japanese woman…

"No buts about it—opportunity knocks but once. I may not be ready to die, but if death has meaning, I'm not afraid!" Ming Tai spoke with firm resolve, leaving no room for Cheng Jinyun to reply, and strode straight toward the Japanese woman…

Cheng Jinyun had no time to stop her, so she took a deep breath, cast another glance toward Wang Yan, then stepped forward gracefully, searching for a suitable target.

They had planned in advance: to drug a Japanese official of some rank, and while everyone's attention was drawn, slip quietly upstairs…

Iwai Eiichi spoke with Zhou Fuhai and Wang Yan for a while, then, like Nan Tianyangzi, exchanged polite words, urging Wang Yan to eat well, drink well, and enjoy himself, before leaving together.

Only Wang Yan remained seated, eating and drinking, fending off those who approached to flatter him—some claiming sufficient status, others lacking any sense of self-awareness. Otherwise, he simply sat there, watching Cheng Jinyun move through the crowd.

After all, Ming Tai and Cheng Jinyun were about to act; he couldn't leave even if he wanted to. To leave now would be too abrupt; to wait a little longer meant they'd already acted. There was nothing for it but to watch the spectacle.

Cheng Jinyun certainly noticed Wang Yan's observation, but she pretended not to. She wasn't foolish—before his identity was clear, Wang Yan wouldn't expose her. If she were from the Military Statistics Bureau, she'd offend Dai Yu; if she were Red Party, she'd offend the God of Wealth. On this matter, Wang Yan's reputation was solid.

The "but" she had wanted to tell Ming Tai was precisely this: she wanted him to abandon his death wish, but Ming Tai had insisted he wasn't afraid of death, wearing a look of fearless resolve—leaving her no chance to explain further…

Under Wang Yan's silent gaze, not long after, a Japanese middle-ranking officer spat foam, bent over, and convulsed on the ground, instantly drawing the crowd's attention. Seizing the opportunity, Cheng Jinyun crept silently to the stairs and ascended, reuniting with Ming Tai, who had already followed the Japanese woman upstairs. Thus began their act of cultivating an air of intimacy amid mortal peril.

Inside the hall, the Japanese calmly summoned personnel to rescue the fallen man; after diagnosis, they concluded he had eaten something spoiled, reassuring Nan Tianyangzi, then carried him away on a stretcher, sending him to the hospital.

Just as the music resumed and the atmosphere regained its bustle—barely six or seven minutes since the Japanese officer collapsed—there came a sudden, sharp crack of gunfire.

Instantly, the crowd panicked and scattered in all directions, only to be blocked at the exits by Japanese military police rushing in upon hearing the shot. At the same time, Nan Tianyangzi led her men straight upstairs.

Wang Yan showed no panic; even the sudden gunshot didn't make him blink. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, swaying his glass, savoring his drink.

In his mind, he pictured Cheng Jinyun holding her gun in a dramatic pose, Ming Tai surviving the ordeal, and the two of them still having the leisure to exchange idle words.

Didn't you see how fast Nan Tianyangzi's legs were moving—flick-flick-flick, as if she could fly upstairs—but still couldn't catch Ming Tai or Cheng Jinyun?

In fact, those two could even be on the rooftop, breathing the cool night air, gazing at the stars, chatting about feelings and hearts…