It was a small, cozy room, warm as spring. Aside from a poorly drawn painting on the wall, a small, worn-out cabinet, and a simple bed, there wasn’t much of note. The only lively feature was the stove in the center, blazing with intense heat. The thick logs inside burned bright red, radiating waves of warmth as if they had gone mad. Pipi stood next to the stove, completely naked, his clothes piled on the floor like a discarded snake’s skin. Xu Xian sat nearby, looking frustrated, the red glow from the stove making the pimples on his face shine even more brightly, giving him an oddly vibrant appearance.
Xu Xian searched Pipi for any sign of hidden intelligence but found nothing. Chen Shen hadn’t handed him any intelligence, so it must be on Pipi. Xu’s gaze fell on the platinum pocket watch hanging around Pipi’s neck, and his heart began to race. He could hear the blood rushing through his veins like a river. Xu Xian stood up quickly, walked over to Pipi, and unfastened the pocket watch.
“That was a gift from my dad to my mom,” Pipi’s voice rang out, clear and crisp like a cucumber, echoing in the warm room.
“It’s what I want,” Xu Xian said as he opened the watch. Then he used a small knife to open the back of the watch, but found not even a speck of dust. Disappointed, he set the watch down on the cabinet and sat down.
“Give it back,” Pipi demanded.
Xu Xian walked over and hung the watch back around Pipi’s neck. Then, his attention was caught by Pipi’s long braid, thick like a rope. His blood started racing again. Xu quickly untied the braid and finally discovered a small piece of paper, no bigger than a fingernail, woven into the hair near the nape of Pipi’s neck. Xu opened the paper and saw densely packed writing—the Zero Plan, shrunk to a minuscule size.
“Commander Hata Shunroku of the Japanese forces in China... 60 aircraft stationed in Nanjing and Shanghai... the Yuepu Mixed Brigade stationed in Zhenjiang…” The words leaped off the page, flooding Xu Xian’s eyes. Tears welled up and flowed freely as he opened the window, letting the cold wind rush in. Outside, the first snow of the season, a light spring snow, began to fall. Xu Xian knelt in front of the glowing window, clutching the intelligence paper to his chest, and let out a low, sorrowful wail.
Pipi, standing naked and watching Xu Xian, thought he must have found something very important. He remembered a night a few days earlier when Chen Shen had carefully washed his hair and braided it for him. Pipi watched as Xu Xian stood up, walked toward him, and wrapped him tightly in his arms.
Xu Xian said, “Pipi, I’m taking you with me.”
Pipi responded, “Can you call me Li Dongshui? My real name is Li Dongshui.”
“Why use your real name?” Xu Xian asked.
“Because I’m grown up now,” Pipi said.
That night, Bi Zhong Liang and Liu Lanzhi sat in their room, lost in thought. Bi had been drinking heavily, and it was clear he had already had too much. Red light blurred his vision as memories of the campaign to suppress the Red Bandits in Jiangxi floated before him. Gunfire and explosions filled his ears, bullets whistled past, and debris from bombs scattered in all directions. A piece of shrapnel had torn through his scalp, leaving his face bloodied and raw. Chen Shen had rushed over and carried him to safety. Bi had hung limply on Chen’s back like a noodle, blood dripping down. He had always thought he was going to die, but he hadn’t. Instead, the man who had saved him, Chen Shen, was now dead.
Bi Zhong Liang staggered to his feet. He lit a stick of incense and placed it carefully in the incense burner. Seeing this, Liu Lanzhi began to cry. Her eyes had been swollen from tears for a long time, and she felt as though her tear ducts were about to dissolve. On the desk still lay the medicinal herbs Chen Shen had once brought her. In the spring, Chen had told her sincerely, “Sister-in-law, when you grow old, I’ll take care of you.”
“Why?”
"Because you remind me of my sister who passed away many years ago."
Liu Lanzhi began to sob uncontrollably. “He died a bachelor,” she cried. “My little brother died a bachelor.”
From the way Liu Lanzhi said it, it was as if bachelors weren’t supposed to die.
Bi Zhong Liang took another swig from the bottle, clearly growing agitated. His brows furrowed as he waved his arm sharply and said, “There’s no need to cry. I knew he was asking for death.”
On the third floor of a rented house in Fuxu Village, Tao Dachun sat across from Xu Bicheng. In a short period, Tao had already eliminated Gong Fang from the Special Agent Headquarters at No. 76 Jisifeier Road and Su Sansheng from the First Action Team at No. 55. He pulled a stack of photos from his pocket, picked out the ones of Gong Fang and Su Sansheng, and threw them into the stove, where the flames quickly consumed them, turning them to ash. Tao carefully tucked the remaining photos back into his pocket—these were of the collaborators whom the newly reformed Whirlwind Team would soon target for execution. As Tao drank tea, he remained mostly silent, which was his nature. Xu Bicheng also stayed quiet, so the only sounds in the room were the bubbling of the water in the stove and their occasional sipping.
As Tao prepared to leave, a spring breeze blew in through the window. It felt like spring was just around the corner, and he caught the scent of plants and fresh soil, causing him to sneeze. After the sneeze, Tao said, “Boss Dai wants you to forget about returning to Chongqing. Stay here in Shanghai and oversee the communications work.”
Xu Bicheng didn’t respond. She was wearing a simple indigo qipao, pure and clean like a head of cabbage. She reached out to poke at the coals and added more water to the teapot.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Tao asked.
At that moment, Xu Bicheng lifted her small porcelain cup to drink tea. The quiet strength she radiated in that moment overwhelmed Tao Dachun, making him think she resembled a landscape painting. Xu Bicheng then lowered her hand onto the table, where it rested on a newspaper. She slowly slid the Zhonghua Daily toward Tao, revealing a bold headline: Communist Suspect Chen Shen Found Dead in the Huangpu River.
“He’s dead,” Xu Bicheng said with a shy smile. “What’s so great about that? He wanted to die, so let him die! If he didn’t fear life, why should he fear death?”
As she spoke, Xu Bicheng’s tone grew angry, as if she were furious with Chen Shen.
Tao Dachun smiled slightly. “I understand. Take care of yourself.”
He opened the door and left, his black trench coat billowing behind him. He didn’t bother to close the door, letting the wind rush in, stoking the fire in the stove until it burned even hotter. Xu Bicheng remained seated by the stove, unmoving. She thought to herself that sometimes it might be easier to be a piece of coal—let the fire consume you, and nothing would remain.
On the third day, Tao Dachun’s Whirlwind Team ambushed and killed Bi Zhong Liang at the Languixiyuan Theatre. Tao had brought many men with him, and during a hastily convened meeting, he tossed Bi Zhong Liang’s photograph onto the table. Each member of the Whirlwind Team took turns studying the photo for a full minute, memorizing Bi’s features. After issuing the order, Tao added one final note: “No matter how many of our brothers die, we must eliminate this man tonight.”
That night, Tao’s men formed a tight web. Some were stationed outside the theatre to intercept, while others bought tickets to get inside and carry out the assassination. Tao’s plan was airtight. However, Bi Zhong Liang, ever alert, sensed something was wrong even before the show began. With several guards in tow, he slipped away to the bathroom. But instead of returning, he climbed out through the window and escaped through the back door. No one was stationed at the rear because Tao hadn’t planned for it—the door was supposed to be sealed off. But Bi had a car waiting at the back. He quickly opened the door and started the engine. As he did, he felt a familiar tingling in his scalp and wondered if it was going to rain. He looked up and saw raindrops beginning to splatter on the windshield. Just then, gunshots rang out from inside the theatre.
Bi Zhong Liang laughed. He knew that the impatient agents from the Bureau of Military Statistics had already begun killing his men.
Bi Zhong Liang drove slowly. Years of living by the barrel of a gun and the edge of a knife had made him calm and composed, and there was even a faint smile on his face, like a field of blooming rapeseed. The long, rain-soaked alley was deserted, and it seemed endlessly long, as if it led to some deep, unknown world. A woman holding an umbrella, wearing a qipao and carrying a small purse, appeared in the distance. She walked slowly, gracefully, like a lady from a wealthy family. As Bi Zhong Liang’s car passed her, she suddenly pulled out a bottle and tossed it into the driver’s seat.
The car drove a few more steps before it exploded. With a loud bang, the vehicle wobbled slightly, but even the windows didn’t shatter. The woman in the qipao vanished like a ghost in the long alley, leaving no trace. After a moment, the car moved forward again...
Three members of the Whirlwind Team were lost in this operation. That’s what Tao Dachun told Xu Bicheng. The woman in the qipao was undoubtedly Xu Bicheng.
In Xu Bicheng’s room, Tao Dachun said, “Bi Zhong Liang got away.”
“He won’t escape,” Xu Bicheng replied. “Just wait for the news in the papers.”
“Why do you say that?” Tao asked.
“I made a small explosive myself,” she answered.
“Will it kill him?”
“No, but the shards in the bottle were soaked in arsenic and burdock. If he doesn’t die now, he’ll die later.”
On that chilly night, Tao Dachun sat in Xu Bicheng’s room for a long time. He didn’t know why, but he found it hard to leave. Though they hadn’t spoken much, the stove was still the same, the tea still steeping, and the person still sitting there, he felt an overwhelming attachment to it all. Tao let out a long sigh. He was a man with revolutionary ideals, and when he joined the Whirlwind Team years ago, he had sworn to sacrifice himself for the party and the nation. But now, he didn’t want to sacrifice himself at all. He thought to himself, If I sacrifice myself, how will I watch Xu Bicheng brew and drink tea?
When Tao finally left, it was already midnight. Outside, a dim hallway light cast a faint yellow glow. The wind had grown warm, like a woman’s hand reaching out from the distance, pulling him into the embrace of spring. Tao’s bones softened, and he strode into the wind, saying, “Spring has come.”
In the far distance, a cat’s mating call echoed through the night. But to Xu Bicheng, it was a harsh, mournful sound. After taking a slow sip of her tea, she said softly, “Chen Shen, rest in peace.”
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