Dongfang Xu felt a chill run through him. He knew he had committed a grave error. In the Secret Service, earning merit mattered, but it was never the highest priority. The highest priority was, and always would be, absolute loyalty.
More precisely, obedience!
What he had done was practically taboo.
If he were not Section Chief Yiyan's trusted confidant, shielded by Yiyan's prestige, and if securing the Japanese codebook had not been a genuine achievement, he would have suffered a devastating fall—the kind from which one never recovered.
In fact, he had already taken a hard fall; he had merely escaped the worst possible outcome.
"Tell me about the ambush at Xiaguan Pier," Dai Peilin said calmly, taking a sip of tea.
"The one captive taken alive has been handed over to Section Chief Shen. An interrogation should be underway by now," Dongfang Xu reported.
The assassin Fang Jibai had captured had been hauled away by Shen Duchuan, head of the First Interrogation Section, and his men as soon as they returned.
"Fang Jibai caught this man?" Dai Peilin asked.
"Yes," Dongfang Xu nodded. "Fang Jibai's martial skills are formidable."
After a brief pause, he added, "At the pier, Fang Jibai shouted an alert first, then intervened without hesitation. In just a short span, he saved my life twice."
"Give me your assessment," Dai Peilin said in a deep voice.
"The group had a clear objective—they were gunning for me," Dongfang Xu said. "Yet strictly speaking, I am merely a nobody. There is no inherent value in targeting me."
"Which means the enemy's objective was the codebook," Dai Peilin said.
"Yes, Boss," Dongfang Xu said. "That is precisely my suspicion." He paused for two seconds, gritted his teeth, a ruthless edge creeping into his eyes. "The moment I secured the codebook, I brought Zeng Qing back to Nanjing without a moment's delay. Yet the enemy had already set up an ambush at the pier, waiting for us."
"There must be a mole," Dongfang Xu said grimly. "Boss, I request a thorough investigation of the Lücheng Team—no, a full investigation of Danyang Station."
Dai Peilin's brow furrowed slightly as he sank into thought. He cast a glance at Dongfang Xu. "Draft a detailed report and submit it to Section Chief Yiyan."
"Understood."
Seeing Dai Peilin wave a dismissive hand, Dongfang Xu hurriedly withdrew.
Stepping out of Dai Peilin's office, Dongfang Xu exhaled a long breath. He knew he had truly blundered this time. Regret gnawed at his insides. As a secretary, to be blinded by immediate glory and forget a subordinate's most fundamental duty was an unforgivable mistake. He felt an urge to slap himself across the face.
***
Fang Jibai raised his teacup and took a drink.
He seemed to choke.
A violent fit of coughing wracked him, spilling tea from the cup and soaking the front of his military uniform.
Pulling out a handkerchief, Fang Jibai dabbed at the corners of his mouth. Then, he looked down at the soaked uniform with a scowl.
Glancing around, he rose and walked over to the mirror embedded in the wall.
When he had first entered the reception room and surveyed his surroundings, he had been surprised to find a full-length mirror set flush into the masonry.
Flanking the glass were two parallel maxims:
*A mirror for the body reveals the form;*
*A mirror for the soul reflects virtue.*
From this, it was evident that the mirror was meant for straightening one's attire—a considerate touch provided for waiting visitors.
Facing the glass, Fang Jibai carefully inspected his uniform, relaxing only after confirming that the tea had merely dampened a corner of the tunic. Still watching his reflection, he examined himself thoroughly, unhooking the collar clasp and fastening it anew. He then removed his service cap, checked it over, dusted it off, and, noticing a speck of dried mud on the fabric, meticulously scraped it away with his fingernail.
Having finished, he pulled a pocket watch from his jacket, checked the time, and furrowed his brow once more.
***
Watching the young soldier through the two-way mirror nervously and painstakingly grooming himself—particularly that cautious, deadly serious demeanor—a faint smile touched the corner of Dai Peilin's mouth.
Qi Shanyu stood beside Dai Peilin. Seeing Dai reach out a hand, Qi promptly passed over the surveillance log.
Dai Peilin looked down at the pages.
The log was extraordinarily detailed, to the point where some might have considered it tedious. From the very second Fang Jibai had entered the reception room until just moments ago, every shift in his posture—pacing the floor, subconscious physical habits, even the exact times he had frowned—was meticulously noted. It was an entirely objective record, free of subjective commentary.
Dai Peilin shot Qi Shanyu a glance. Understanding immediately, Qi followed him out of the observation room.
"Tell me your first impression of this young man," Dai Peilin said to Qi Shanyu.
"A bit nervous," Qi Shanyu replied.
"Nervous is expected," Dai Peilin chuckled.
To step inside No. 3 Xufuxiang and not feel nervous—that would truly be suspicious.
Dai waved a hand. "That doesn't count. Tell me something else. Give me something substantive."
"Despite his nervousness, he knows how to keep his head and rein in his temper," Qi Shanyu said. Offering an example, he continued, "Twenty-three minutes after entering the room, he grew anxious. He walked behind the door, reaching out as if to open it. Yet in the end, he pulled his hand back, returned to his seat, and drank several sips of tea to calm his restless mind. Furthermore, from beginning to end, he never once glanced at the call bell. He is a young man with a clear sense of propriety and boundaries."
"Has his luggage been inspected?" Dai Peilin asked.
"It has. Nothing suspicious was found," Qi Shanyu said.
Fang Jibai had hurled his wooden trunk to save Dongfang Xu's life, cracking it in the process, and it had been brought back in the trunk of the car. While Fang was held in the second-floor reception room of No. 3 Xufuxiang, his luggage had been subjected to a meticulous search by the Secret Service's specialists.
"It contained only ordinary personal effects like clothing and foodstuffs, consistent with his family background," Qi Shanyu said. "Aside from that, there was a magazine."
Dai Peilin's interest was piqued at once.
"It is *National Public Opinion*," Qi Shanyu said.
Hearing the title, Dai Peilin's expression softened, and he gave a slight nod.
In January of this year, *National Public Opinion* had launched in Shanghai under the auspices of the Nationalist Party Central Propaganda Department. Serving as an essential front for the Party-State's wartime propaganda, the periodical took "Awakening the Masses, Inspiring Morale" as its mission, covering domestic politics, analyses of international affairs, and expositions of the resistance strategy. Put plainly, it was the Party-State's most politically unimpeachable official organ.
"He is a dutiful young man after all," Dai Peilin remarked impassively.
He had always held the belief that a person's personal luggage and effects revealed their deepest secrets. A surprise inspection, in particular, was the most faithful mirror of intelligence:
The quality and cost of clothing reflected a person's living habits and social standing. The food carried—whether flatbread, steamed buns, or coarse cornmeal cakes—laid bare numerous facts. Above all, the books and periodicals one read offered the most direct reflection of their ideological leanings.
***
Having downed a fair amount of tea, Fang Jibai inevitably felt the urge to relieve himself.
Right at that moment, he heard footsteps halt outside the door.
The door swung open.
A middle-aged man with thick, dark brows and sharply defined features stepped inside, his piercing gaze locking directly onto the uneasy Fang Jibai.
Chapter 42