A Japanese Spy?

Shijiapu. Horseshoes clattered crisply against the bluestone pavement with a rhythmic clip-clop. Jiang Guanghan had just been getting ready to turn in for the night when the sound of approaching hoofbeats brought him abruptly to his feet. He was just about to head out to the courtyard gate to greet the visitor when the gate swung open, and Station Chief Zhang Minquan strode in, riding crop in hand. Jiang glanced at Zhao Ding; it was likely Zhao who had opened the gate. "Chief." "Mm." Zhang Minquan nodded. "Come inside with me. The rest of you keep watch outside." "Yes, sir." Once inside, Zhang Minquan tossed the riding crop onto the table, slumped into a chair, grabbed the teapot from the table, and guzzled greedily straight from the spout. "Chief, has something happened?" Jiang Guanghan asked. "A classified cable from Xufuxiang," Zhang Minquan said, standing up with a grave voice. Jiang Guanghan snapped to attention with a sharp click of his heels. "'Investigations indicate that suspected Japanese spies may be lurking in the Danyang area. Danyang Station is hereby ordered to conduct an immediate investigation. It is earnestly hoped that the Japanese spies will be captured, and I shall personally petition for merits on your behalf. Xufuxiang, Yiyan, August 18, twenty-sixth year of the Republic.'" Having read the telegram, Zhang Minquan folded it up and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He sat back down and pressed his hand down, signaling Jiang Guanghan to sit as well. "This classified telegram was sent personally by Section Chief Yiyan." He looked at Jiang Guanghan and asked, "Do you understand what that means?" "Boss Dai is keeping an eye on this case too?" Jiang Guanghan pondered, leaning forward and asking cautiously. "Precisely." Zhang Minquan nodded. "Which is why we must spare no effort in handling this matter properly." He smiled at Jiang Guanghan. "If you do a good job on this, I'll personally put in a word for you. Once you catch Boss Dai's eye, your future will be limitless, my boy." Jiang Guanghan automatically filtered out the station chief's empty promises of promotion. He straightened his back, waited for about half a minute, and when Zhang Minquan said nothing more, he couldn't help asking, "Chief, is that it? No other clues about these Japanese spies?" "None," Zhang Minquan replied, his face darkening as he nodded. "Chief." Jiang Guanghan frowned slightly. "The cable only says Japanese spies are suspected to be lurking in Danyang." He offered the station chief a cigarette, stood up to strike a match, and lit it for him, saying in a low voice, "The Japanese are voracious wolves. They've schemed against our China for decades, planting spies and infiltrators everywhere. It would be strange if there weren't Japanese spies in Danyang." "If you have something to say, spit it out. Don't beat around the bush," Zhang Minquan glared at him. "Chief," Jiang Guanghan looked at Zhang Minquan, "coming all the way to Lücheng in the dead of night like this... could it be you suspect the Japanese spies are right here in my small neck of the woods?" "Catching Japanese spies is our duty as revolutionary soldiers," he said with a wry grimace. "It's just that without a single lead, where are we supposed to start looking?" With neither head nor tail to go on, this was going to be a headache. *** Fang Jibai called Xiwa over to a secluded spot. He lit a cigarette and took two deep drags, trying to clear his head. He had been drinking with his eldest and second brothers-in-law tonight, and the two of them had poured plenty of liquor down their little brother-in-law's throat. "Xiwa," he said to the boy, "think carefully, and tell your Fourth Grandpa everything you saw and heard once more." Xiwa was a bright kid. He didn't answer right away; clutching peanut shells in his hand, he thought it over carefully before speaking. "Was that Little Tavern the one owned by Big Brother Sui's family in Hebei Fourth Street?" Fang Jibai asked. "Yeah." "Did you ever see those two men again after that?" Fang Jibai asked further. Xiwa shook his head. "Neither of them?" Xiwa nodded. "And the other person was Feng the Third from Qiansanlipu?" Fang Jibai flicked away the cigarette ash and pressed his temple with a finger, continuing to question him. "It was Feng the Third." "Have you seen Feng the Third around town these past two days?" Fang Jibai asked. "Yes," Xiwa nodded. "Saw him just this morning. He came out of the Right Widow's house over in Xiaoyouzhuang." "All right, I understand now." Fang Jibai fished a fruit candy out of his pocket and handed it to Xiwa. "Remember what your Fourth Grandpa says: don't mention this to anyone else." "I'll remember," Xiwa nodded vigorously. "Dad said Fourth Grandpa is our family's benefactor, and whatever Fourth Grandpa says goes." "Good boy!" Fang Jibai smiled, ruffling Xiwa's hair. "Go on and play." *** The Little Tavern that Xiwa spoke of was located in Slanted Alley on Hebei Fourth Street, and its actual name was simply "Little Tavern." It had already been around for more than thirty years. Its veteran owner, Sui Junyi, had taken part in revolutionary activities in Lücheng in his early years. Back then, Mr. Sui and his son Sui Chengzong had joined the Nationalist Party on the very same day, which had become a well-known local story in Danyang. In the twenty-fifth year of the Republic, Sui Junyi served as a supervisory commissioner for the Nationalist Party in Danyang County. The following year, when Nationalist-Communist cooperation broke down, the head of the Danyang Nationalist right wing demanded that Mr. Sui disclose the specifics of the Nationalist left wing in Lücheng. Sympathizing with the left wing, he refused to talk, and the provincial party headquarters deemed him a leftist and removed him from his post as supervisory commissioner. After that, Old Master Sui returned to Lücheng and continued running this tavern that had been open for over thirty years. Fang Jibai let out a sigh. Big Brother Sui had fallen in battle on the Songhu battlefield two days ago. Fang Jibai had originally intended to pay his respects at the Sui household as soon as he returned, but once back in town, he learned that the National Government would be setting up a memorial hall for General Sui Chengzong the day after tomorrow in Danyang for people from all walks of life to pay their respects. Mr. and Mrs. Sui had already gone to Danyang. He dropped the cigarette butt to the ground, ground it beneath the tip of his shoe, and found a tree to sit against. He turned over what Xiwa had told him in his mind. Five days ago, Xiwa had walked past the Little Tavern, and Feng Hanliang—Feng the Third from Qiansanlipu—had waved him down. He had spared some coins for Xiwa to run an errand and buy two bowls of barley porridge. When Xiwa brought the barley porridge back to the table, Feng the Third had bowed and scraped, inviting the two guests to drink the porridge and even saying, "Please meshi." That was the phrase Xiwa had remembered. According to Xiwa, after Feng Hanliang said that, one of the guests had even glared at him. Since then, neither of those two guests had shown up in town again—or at least, Xiwa hadn't seen them. Feng the Third, however, was still around town, and the scoundrel was living quite comfortably. The Right Widow wasn't surnamed Right; it was simply that there were two widows in Xiaoyouzhuang, one living at the right end of the street and the other at the left end, hence the names "Right Widow" and "Left Widow." The Left Widow owned a modest patch of farmland, and her husband had lost his life after drawing lots for the clan. Though a widow and an orphan, they were taken care of by the clan and lived free of worry; she stayed strictly indoors and focused entirely on raising and educating her son. The Right Widow, on the other hand, had no children. After her husband died, his family had descended upon her like ravenous beasts to devour the heirless estate, carving up every last inch of the dozen-plus mu of paddy fields. Driven to her wit's end, she had turned to entertaining men behind half-closed doors, and knowing only money, the Right Widow had earned quite a reputation for her charms in Lücheng Town. For Feng Hanliang to stay the night with her meant he must have spent a pretty penny. Feng the Third was a well-known degenerate in town. He drank, whored, and gambled, having squandered every scrap of inheritance he received when the family split their property. For him to suddenly become flush with cash smelled fishy. Meshi, meshi... Japanese? That had been Fang Jibai's immediate reaction. Could Feng the Third have hooked up with the Japanese and started working for them? Was his sudden wealth courtesy of Japanese payoffs? Degenerate ruffians like Feng the Third—addicted to drinking, gambling, and whoring, despised by man and dog alike—had always been prime targets for the Japanese to recruit as spies and informants. For no other reason than this: as long as money was spent and promises of a future were made, these good-for-nothing scoundrels would sell out their own parents for cash, let alone blink an eye at becoming traitors. "Dad, Mom, I'm heading out to walk off the liquor," Fang Jibai called out to his busy parents as he reached the courtyard gate.