Tang Shan Hai invited Bi Zhong Liang, his wife Liu Lanzhi, and Chen Shen to dinner on the 18th floor of the Sassoon House. To Chen Shen’s surprise, Liu Lanzhi brought Liu Meina along. That evening, Liu Meina sat across from Chen Shen, who observed her carefully. Aside from her freckles and somewhat flat chest, Liu Meina had very refined features. She was a meticulous person, not fond of jokes, and never caused trouble. By all accounts, she should have easily become a virtuous wife and mother, but for some reason, she remained unmarried.
Liu Lanzhi kept an eye on Chen Shen, noticing how his gaze lingered on Liu Meina as if he were trying to see through her. She smiled, secretly hoping that Liu Meina and Chen Shen would end up together, fulfilling her wish. Bi Zhong Liang had often told her to mind her own business, reminding her that Chen Shen was like a wild young camel rolling around in dance halls, capable of finding women on his own.
“I’m trying to find him a wife, not just a woman,” Liu Lanzhi would always retort confidently.
“Liu Meina is not the right fit for him.”
“How do you know? As long as one is a man and the other a woman, if they share a bed, they’ll fit.”
Now, this pair, who seemed like they could be a match, sat next to Liu Lanzhi. She was the happiest person at the table. Tang Shan Hai ordered TOV brandy and Johnnie Walker whiskey, speaking of alcohol as though he owned a liquor store. He knew nothing about baijiu or the famous Huadiao wine from Shaoxing and didn’t care for them. Puffing on a Henry-branded cigar, he said, “Life is short, you have to eat the best, wear the best, drink the best, and smoke the best.” He proceeded to bring out all these luxuries, but Chen Shen quietly told the waiter, “Just bring me a bottle of kvass.”
In his heart, Tang Shan Hai regarded Chen Shen, Bi Zhong Liang’s loyal dog, as nothing more than a country bumpkin. As Chen Shen drank the frothy kvass, Tang Shan Hai’s stomach churned.
“Why don’t you try a cigar?” As the host, Tang Shan Hai felt obliged to be courteous.
“I’ve got my Cherry cigarettes. No need.”
“That’s Japanese tobacco, in tins of fifty. Too grassy.”
Chen Shen squinted, smiling. After a long pause, he said, “You know a lot about cigarettes. But I think tobacco has no nationality; it’s just tobacco. Besides, since we’re working for the Japanese, smoking their cigarettes aligns with that.”
Rain suddenly started to fall outside. On this quiet evening, Bi Zhong Liang sat silently, like a prop, drinking his wine. He didn’t care for the liquor Tang Shan Hai had brought, preferring the Shaoxing yellow wine. After a few sips of the warm wine, his complexion noticeably improved. That evening, they spoke of the late anti-Japanese General Zhang Zizhong, whose funeral had been grand. Six months had passed since that early summer event, and people had stopped mentioning it. Both the Nationalists and Communists had sent memorials. Whether it was the “First Class Order of Honor” from the Nationalist government, Chiang Kai-shek’s inscription “Heroic and Glorious,” or Mao Zedong’s “Loyalty to the Nation,” Bi Zhong Liang saw it all as an illusion. For him, the real concern was making it through each day, growing his opium business, increasing the squad’s hold on Shanghai, and helping Liu Lanzhi recover from her illness. He knew that one day, Wang Jingwei’s regime would collapse. When that time came, he’d either switch to the Chongqing government—if they’d have him—or join the Communists, or perhaps he’d take Liu Lanzhi and move abroad. He understood that many in the Wang regime had similar thoughts.
Tang Shan Hai talked a lot that evening, but Xu Bicheng remained quiet. As the hostess, she occasionally chatted with Liu Meina and Liu Lanzhi. No one knew that Xu Bicheng once harbored feelings for the instructor from the Qingpu training camp who loved cutting hair. Sometimes, her gaze would wander over to Liu Meina, her face dotted with freckles, and she’d feel a strange stir of emotions for her. She noticed that Liu Meina’s heart had also been moved; her eyes were moist with emotion. This left Xu Bicheng with mixed feelings. She wanted Chen Shen to have a good woman, but at the same time, she wished he would remain single forever. It was like the rain outside—sometimes she wished for clear skies over Shanghai, but other times, she found herself longing to daydream by the window, just inches away from the rain.
When Su Sansheng appeared, half-soaked, in front of them, they were deep in their drinks, or perhaps it’s better to say they were already in high spirits. Even Bi Zhong Liang, who was normally quiet, had started talking about his experiences suppressing the Red Army in Jiangxi. The way he was talking, it was hard to believe this was the same Bi Zhong Liang. He even stood up and sang a segment from The Empty City Stratagem. Just as he finished, Su Sansheng, bent over, appeared before everyone. Bi Zhong Liang snapped back to reality, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and said, amid the surprised looks from everyone, “This is Su Sansheng, the personal aide of Zeng Shu, the head of the Military Command’s Shanghai station. We’ve successfully turned him, and from now on, we’re all on the same team.”
Su Sansheng, bowing, spoke softly to Tang Shan Hai: “Mr. Tang, I admired you even before you left for Chongqing...” He then glanced at Chen Shen with a sly smile and added, “Chen Shen is the second name on the Hurricane Squad’s kill list.”
Chen Shen let out a long sigh, his eyes on the damp strand of hair hanging over Su Sansheng’s forehead, still dripping with water. Su Sansheng looked like a ghost just fished out of the river, his whole body exuding a damp, eerie aura. A large puddle had formed beneath him, soaking the floor around him, as if he were about to melt. Chen Shen threw his kvass bottle aside, glaring at Bi Zhong Liang. “Did you hear that? I’m the number two target. Following you must be the worst luck of my life.”
Bi Zhong Liang laughed. “The Military Command’s Shanghai station is about to collapse, so relax. The Communist Party’s transport network will soon be destroyed too. Let the famous Sparrow go to hell.”
Chen Shen’s gaze turned to Su Sansheng, who pulled a soggy piece of paper from his pocket and carefully unfolded it, trying not to tear it.
Su Sansheng shivered, his voice trembling as well. “This has the addresses and personnel lists of the Military Command’s branches.”
Bi Zhong Liang smiled. “None of them will escape. If they do, Su, it means your intel was false.”
Su Sansheng said nothing more. He watched as Bi Zhong Liang, seemingly in high spirits, raised his glass again, while Chen Shen took a long gulp of his soda. Xu Bicheng stood up, holding a small purse, and headed to the restroom.
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