Chapter 261: I Can’t Sleep If He Doesn’t Die
Shanghai, Japanese residential area, outside the special care ward of the Imperial Army Hospital…
The smell of disinfectant was strong and pungent in the hospital corridor. Chen Yang wore a dark suit, holding a bouquet of white lilies symbolizing “get well soon,” with just the right amount of worry and concern on his face.
He was now visiting as the new executive officer of the “Transportation Coordination Headquarters” to see Deputy Minister Yoshida Hirohiro, who had suddenly fallen ill.
Yoshida’s attending physician was a white-haired Japanese military doctor named Watanabe Hirojiro.
Facing Chen Yang’s inquiry, he said respectfully: “Minister Chen, please rest assured. Colonel Yoshida mainly suffers from obvious stomach inflammation due to long-term overwork.”
“Moreover, his work requires him to stay highly focused. Sudden strong stimulation will cause sudden anger, leading to stress-induced myocarditis and gastric mucosal bleeding.”
“Although the situation was critical at the time with a large amount of vomiting blood, after our emergency rescue, he has now escaped life-threatening danger, and the bleeding point has been controlled.”
“Next, he needs absolute rest, no more stimulation, and is expected to need two to three months of recovery.”
“Escaped danger… rest… two or three months…” Chen Yang silently repeated these keywords in his mind, but showed a relieved expression on his face. “That’s great, truly fortunate! Please ensure the hospital uses the best medicine and provides the most attentive care. All fees will be fully covered by the Army Transportation Department.”
“Hai! Please rest assured, Minister. This is our duty.” The military doctor bowed in response.
Chen Yang did not enter the ward to disturb the “sleeping” Yoshida. He just glanced through the glass window. Yoshida lay on the hospital bed, pale-faced, with an oxygen tube in his nose and an IV drip in his arm. He looked extremely weak, but his chest was indeed rising and falling slightly.
“Director Watanabe, Yoshida-kun’s matter is entrusted to you. The Transportation Department has many things to handle. When Minister Yoshida wakes up, please tell him I came.”
With that, Chen Yang handed the flowers to Watanabe Hirojiro and bowed respectfully to him.
Watanabe Hirojiro quickly returned the courtesy: “Minister Yoshida having a colleague like you is truly his fortune.”
“I dare not accept such praise.” Chen Yang smiled: “I’ll take my leave first.”
Leaving the hospital and getting into his own car, the false concern on Chen Yang’s face instantly faded, leaving only icy coldness.
He rolled down the car window, letting the cool evening breeze brush his face, gazing deeply at the street scene speeding backward outside the window.
“Escaped danger… rest… two or three months…”
Heh, too long.
Two or three months was enough for too many variables. Yoshida had deep roots within the South Manchuria Railway, and his influence could not be underestimated.
He was now only temporarily unable to manage affairs due to health reasons. Once he caught his breath, remotely commanding from the hospital, or returning after recovery, with his seniority and connections in the South Manchuria Railway, he would inevitably become the biggest obstacle to Chen Yang fully controlling the transportation system.
If the Southern Transportation Department lost to the South Manchuria Railway again in this power struggle, he, as the “emergency appointee” in charge, might be sidelined or even counterattacked.
The black pot of the K-739 incident needed someone substantial to carry it, and the vomiting Yoshida was already seen by many as “punished.”
But that wasn’t enough…
Only dead people pose no threat. A hero’s honor can cover many things, but a dead hero’s honor can cover even more.
Therefore, no matter what, Yoshida Hirohiro must “die of illness” in the hospital.
Chen Yang could not do it personally, nor through the Ume Agency or No. 76 people; those channels were too easy to trace and involved too many connections.
Military Statistics Bureau or Communist Party didn’t seem suitable either.
After pondering for a moment, Chen Yang picked up the telephone on the table and called Lin Xueyi.
“Second Brother, come home tomorrow!”
The next day, night, Fukaisen Road, Lin Mansion, study room…
“What? You want to kill Yoshida?” Lin Xueyi almost jumped up.
Chen Yang said with a slight sarcasm: “Second Brother, you’re the big boss now, yet you’re still so hot-tempered.”
“Just one Yoshida, not some big shot? What’s this? He can’t be killed?”
Lin Xueyi muttered: “You say it lightly. He’s a South Manchuria Railway official. Who dares joke about this?”
Chen Yang said meaningfully: “But if he doesn’t die, I can’t sleep…”
Lin Xueyi was stunned for a moment and muttered: “What do you want me to do?”
“The Green Gang has plenty of experts,” Chen Yang said slowly. “Find a reliable person to handle him.”
“Once done, arrange for him to go to Hong Kong Island.”
“If it fails, don’t let him have a chance to talk!”
“Got it, I’ll handle it!” Lin Xueyi agreed immediately without hesitation.
“Wait,” Chen Yang raised his hand. “Before acting, send a few people to probe his background first. I want elites, not idiots.”
“Also, that guy surnamed Liao has done well several times. Last time he kidnapped Liu Geqing, it was done flawlessly.”
“After this mission, arrange for him to lead a team to Hong Kong Island.”
“Second Brother,” Chen Yang said earnestly, “When you’re in this line, you have to know how to leave yourself a way out.”
“Don’t put all your bets in one place. Even if you fall, you need capital to stand up again!”
“Rest assured, I know what to do!” Lin Xueyi put on his black hat and said, “I’ll arrange these matters. Wait for my good news!”
“Go!” Chen Yang instructed flatly.
Shanghai, Sixteen Rows Wharf.
This was the busiest wharf in Shanghai, where many hooligans made a living.
Of course, there were hidden dragons and crouching tigers among the riffraff.
Unlike the Thirteen Taibao in films and dramas, Shanghai had plenty of top killers, but finding thirteen was still difficult.
In the French Concession, the most famous in the killer trade were the Three Knives.
Jin Biao, Xiang Fang, Ding Xiaoqi.
Jin Biao was called the Knife King, but he was the first to be passed over.
Because his age and courage were not suitable for this mission.
Jin Biao came from the Northeast. Thirteen years ago, in the fifteenth year of the Republic, he once killed seventeen experts in one night with a cleaver, recognized as the Knife King in the French Concession.
However, his fame was all from thirteen years ago. Now, that bit of bloodlust had long been worn away.
As for Quick Knife Xiang Fang and Long Knife Xiaoqi.
Lin Xueyi still favored Xiang Fang more.
Night fell, and a slim figure slowly appeared in Lin Xueyi’s sight.
The man had an extremely ordinary appearance, with no distinctive features in his eyes, ears, mouth, or nose—completely the type that would vanish in a crowd.
If not for having seen Xiang Fang’s photograph and information beforehand, Lin Xueyi would have a hard time noticing him in the crowd.
Thud thud thud, rapid footsteps sounded. A little brother ran up to Lin Xueyi in two steps instead of three.
“Big Brother, Xiang Fang is here.”
“Mm, got it. Then proceed as originally planned!”
Lin Xueyi waved his hand, and three of the best fighters at Sixteen Rows Wharf immediately jumped down from the window, surrounding him in a triangular formation.
These three were Lin Xueyi’s personal bodyguards, with martial prowess far beyond ordinary. One was a robust man who practiced Hung Fist, with a steady stance and fierce punches.
One was a dagger expert, agile in form with tricky blade work.
The third specialized in wrestling, waiting for chances to close in and grapple.
“Boss Lin, what do you mean by this?” Xiang Fang stopped and looked up at Lin Xueyi, who was gnawing an apple at the window.
“Friend, help us out, okay?”
“If you don’t show your skills, how do we know if you have the strength?”
“You think our boss is a pushover?” The accountant beside Lin Xueyi spoke in pure Shanghainese dialect.
Lin Xueyi glared at him, and the accountant immediately patted his mouth lightly, indicating he had spoken out of turn!
Lin Xueyi threw down the apple core. “Why aren’t you acting? Waiting for a banquet?”
“Ha,” the Hung Fist robust man took a deep breath, shouted fiercely, stomped his right foot, assumed a horse stance, extended his long arm, pointed forward, and posed in Hung Fist’s gate-guarding stance, “One Finger Points at Central Plains.”
The other two were not willing to lag behind and assumed their stances.
Xiang Fang did not draw a weapon but pressed one hand forward and one back, assuming the stance of Swimming Body Eight Trigrams Palm. Eight Trigrams derives from saber techniques, so those skilled in it must have good knife skills!
Hohah, shouts rose one after another as the three figures attacked together.
Facing the combined assault of three, Xiang Fang stepped nimbly, his form agile, shuttling through gaps in abandoned containers. He dodged the Hung Fist robust man’s heavy punch and sidestepped the dagger’s straight thrust!
In the instant the wrestler lunged, Xiang Fang precisely grabbed his wrist with a capture, twisted and locked, using four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds, smoothly using the massive body as a shield to push toward the dagger wielder.
The dagger wielder couldn’t retract in time and nearly injured his own man, his movement stagnating.
Xiang Fang seized this split-second gap, chopping a hand knife to the Hung Fist robust man’s carotid artery. The latter’s vision went black, and he collapsed softly.
Immediately after, he toed the ground, kicked up a piece of broken wood, precisely hitting the dagger wielder’s wrist. The dagger fell with a clatter, followed by a knee strike that took him out of the fight.
The last wrestler was locked immobile by a joint lock with a sidestep, unable to move, and could only slap the ground in surrender.
The entire process took less than two minutes—efficient and precise.
“Eight Trigrams Palm? Who would have thought Brother Xiang is a disciple of Divine Palm Li. Not bad, not bad.”
Lin Xueyi’s eyes sharpened, and he casually signaled to the trusted aide with a gun at his waist.
The aide suddenly drew an old P80 pistol and fired a “bang” at Xiang Fang’s feet, sparks flying from the cement ground.
“Good reaction! Let’s see if you can dodge the real thing!” Lin Xueyi signaled his man to continue firing for intimidation.
The gunman leaped down and raised his hand to aim,
Continuous gunfire echoed at the empty wharf.
At the instant of the gunshot, Xiang Fang’s body rolled sideways like a ghost, hiding behind a massive abandoned winch.
Bullets “bang bang” hit the winch, sparks flying everywhere.
He did not panic but calmly judged the gunman’s position and reload rhythm.
In the moment the gunman emptied his clip and lowered his head to reload, Xiang Fang burst out like a cheetah—not charging straight but using piled goods as cover to flank closer.
As the gunman just finished reloading and raised his head, Xiang Fang had silently appeared at his side, grabbing his gun hand while pressing a short knife firmly to his throat with the other.
“Splendid, truly splendid!” Applause came from the window—Lin Xueyi’s.
“Brother Xiang, please come upstairs…”
“Boss Lin.” Xiang Fang went up to the second-floor office in a few steps, nodding slightly to Lin Xueyi in greeting.
Without extra pleasantries, he sat straight across, spine erect, poised to strike at any moment.
Lin Xueyi sized him up for a moment, clapped his hands, and all those around left the room, leaving the two alone.
Lin Xueyi filled the teacup in front of Xiang Fang with tea and slowly said: “Brother Xiang, long admired. I invited you today for an ‘urgent matter’ to handle.”
“Brother Xiang is Shanghai Bund’s acknowledged top killer. Entrusting this mission to you puts my mind at ease.”
Xiang Fang didn’t even lift an eyelid: “Ten large yellow croakers!”
“With Brother Xiang’s skills, I think this price is fair.” Lin Xueyi neither refused nor haggled. He took five prepared large yellow croakers from under the tea table and gently pushed them to Xiang Fang.
“Here are five large yellow croakers as deposit.”
“The other half after mission complete.”
Xiang Fang weighed the large yellow croakers, confirmed they were fine, then said: “Who does Boss Lin want to kill?”
“Imperial Army Hospital, special care ward. Target: Yoshida Hirohiro, Deputy Minister of Southern Transportation Department, Army Colonel.” Lin Xueyi’s tone was calm, as if stating official business.
“Who?” Xiang Fang’s body shook inexplicably.
Lin Xueyi repeated impatiently: “South Manchuria Railway transportation officer, current Deputy Minister of Southern Transportation Department, Army Colonel, Yoshida Hirohiro!”
“You want me to kill a Japanese colonel? Boss Lin, are you joking with me?”
“What? Scared?” Lin Xueyi’s gaze sharpened! “You money-grubbers who don’t care about life also get scared? Ridiculous?”
“Boss Lin, that’s an Army Colonel!” Xiang Fang said through gritted teeth: “Add money…”
Lin Xueyi grinned: “Ha, no problem. As long as money can solve it, it’s not a problem.”
“I’ll add ten more large yellow croakers. Fifteen after success!”
“No, I want the money first!” Xiang Fang didn’t compromise.
“Strictly speaking, this breaks the rules, but I’ll give you face. Money first, with conditions.”
“Requirements: Yoshida must die of old wounds recurring, natural death. Leave a ‘Military Statistics Bureau anti-traitor’ mark at the scene. Time: within three days.”
With that, Lin Xueyi pushed over a folded note with Yoshida’s ward number, daily nursing patrol times, and a rough hospital layout diagram. Inside was also a doctor’s ID…
“He was hospitalized vomiting blood from sudden anger, diagnosed with acute stress-induced myocarditis. This is your opportunity.”
Xiang Fang glanced at the note, rubbed his fingertips lightly, and it turned to fine paper scraps scattering on the ground.
Then he picked up the ID stamped “Internal Medicine Attending, Nohara Kazuo” and nodded slowly: “Understood.”
“Good, rest assured this Nohara Kazuo will never appear.” Lin Xueyi reassured, clapped his hands, and the accountant entered with a small wooden box. Opened, it contained fifteen neatly stacked large yellow croakers.
Xiang Fang took one out, weighed it, bent it forcefully, then stood, tucked the box under his arm, and said to Lin Xueyi, “Wait for my news.”
With that, without further words, Xiang Fang vanished silently out the door just as he had come.
