Chapter 162: Plan Begins
Shanghai, Year 27 of the Republic, September 17th, clear.
The autumn tiger of Year 27 of the Republic still gripped Shanghai’s throat tightly.
On both sides of Fukaisen Road in the French Concession, the broad leaves of the sycamores hung limp, utterly still.
At two o’clock in the afternoon, the heavy black gate of Tang Mansion, studded with copper nails, opened silently, and a figure in a long gown emerged. He cupped his hands toward the inside and strode away.
Not far from the gate, Zhang Zixian sat in the shadows with several subordinates, carefully scanning the surroundings.
“Chang Mao, take some men to check out who that guy who just came out is.” Zhang Zixian gave the command, but Chang Mao behind him showed no reaction.
Zhang Zixian turned back and saw Chang Mao’s eyes full of red bloodshot veins and a distracted expression. Instantly, he understood what was going on.
“What? Did you lose a lot of money?”
Chang Mao snapped back to attention with a relieved smile: “It’s fine, Team Leader. I can handle it.”
Zhang Zixian patted Chang Mao’s shoulder: “After this action is over, there’ll be a bonus from above. I’ll lend you some then. Be careful from now on, no more gambling.”
A hint of gratitude appeared in Chang Mao’s eyes. Before he could speak, suddenly, from the corner of his eye, he spotted several figures in short jackets heading toward them.
“Brother Zhang, I need to use the toilet.” With those words, Chang Mao bolted away.
And those figures chased after Chang Mao.
At the same time, on the street of Fukaisen Road, a man and a woman walked hand in hand like a couple in the heat of romance, carrying large and small packages as they strolled slowly.
The two chatted and laughed all the way, the woman leaning unreservedly against the man, almost hanging entirely on him.
“Team Leader, look,” one subordinate spotted the woman’s appearance first and immediately showed a surprised expression.
Zhang Zixian was usually quite generous and had taken them to Jin Yu Lou a few times, so that secret agent also knew Cui Cui. Seeing this woman brazenly strolling with a man now, a surge of indignation rose in his heart.
Zhang Zixian looked over at the sound, his face instantly darkening: “Damn it, bitch,”
“I’ve only been away from her for a few days and she can’t hold out.”
“You two watch things here. I want to see who this death-wishing bastard is that dares to touch my woman. He doesn’t want to live.”
With those words, before the two subordinates could stop him, he rushed out.
At that very moment, on the top floor of a civilian house on Fukaisen Road, Zhao Lijun watched Zhang Zixian leave, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
Tap tap, a faint sound of footsteps rang out, and Xie Zhipan appeared behind Zhao Lijun.
“Station Chief, Chang Mao’s been handled. How to deal with that Zhang Zixian?”
Zhao Lijun put down the binoculars in his hand and said gravely: “This man can’t die. We still need him to keep the Japanese occupied. Tell Gray Pigeons to go easy, lock him up, and release him in two or three days.”
“Mm, Captain Xie, it’s now two twenty-one. We start the action at three o’clock. Have someone take out those two guard dogs first.”
“For this mission, the two of us will handle it. Complete the task in ten minutes, take out Tang Shaoyi, evacuate Tang Mansion.”
“Yes,” Xie Zhipan saluted…
Three o’clock in the afternoon, Tang Mansion.
Two figures in long gowns appeared at the gate of Tang Mansion.
Walking ahead was Zhao Lijun, steadily holding a brocade box about eighty centimeters high in his hands.
Half a step behind was Xie Zhipan, his steps carrying a deliberate restraint, like a leopard with its claws retracted.
The two stopped at the gate. Zhao Lijun’s sharp gaze swept over the shadowy corner opposite.
There were two figures slumped over there, as if asleep.
Xie Zhipan made a everything’s smooth gesture. Zhao Lijun nodded slightly and stepped forward to knock on the door.
With a creak, the gate of Tang Mansion opened, and the gatekeeper poked half his body out, sizing up Zhao Lijun and Xie Zhipan.
“Excuse us, we’re referrals from Boss Chang. We just came from Beiping. We’ve heard Elder Tang has a keen interest in antiques. We happen to have a treasure and would like to ask Elder Tang to appraise it.”
The gatekeeper hesitated for a moment, then saw the box about eighty centimeters high in Zhao Lijun’s hand, and his expression relaxed slightly: “Please wait a moment, sirs. I’ll go find the butler.”
“Sure, sure, thanks brother,” Zhao Lijun discreetly slipped him a pack of Hard Gate Cigarettes.
If this were modern times, it’d be like slipping the gatekeeper uncle a pack of Zhonghua. Naturally, the gatekeeper grinned from ear to ear.
He hurriedly closed the gate, and in less than two minutes, it opened again.
An elderly man with impeccably combed hair, wearing a stiffly starched dark blue long gown, walked out.
He bowed slightly, his face showing the deference honed over many years: “How should I address the two gentlemen?”
Zhao Lijun quickly cupped his hands: “No need for that. I’m surnamed Zhao. This is my brother, surnamed Xie.”
“We’re from Beiping and just acquired a treasure. The shipper says it’s a royal rarity from the Imperial Household Department. We’d like Elder Tang to appraise it.” With that, Zhao Lijun opened the box halfway, revealing half of a vase.
Tang De glanced at them, then at the vase in their hands, and said slowly: “Mr. Zhao, Mr. Xie, please come in…”
“Thank you, thank you…”
Tang De opened the gate of Tang Mansion and led the two through the entrance hall paved with polished terrazzo tiles to a corridor.
Calligraphy and paintings hung on the walls on both sides of the corridor. Light filtered in through the tall windows, sliced into slanting beams by the blinds, and the air carried a faint scent of aged books and expensive wood.
Tang De silently pushed open the heavy teak door of the study room.
The light suddenly brightened. This was a spacious study room, with floor-to-ceiling dark teak bookshelves lining all four walls, filled with heavy tomes.
A large red sandalwood desk was placed by the window, with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone neatly arranged on it.
A frail elderly man with all white hair and beard, dressed in a dark silk gown, stood with his back to the door, hands behind him, gazing at a few sparse green bamboos in the courtyard outside the window.
Hearing the sound, he slowly turned around.
Tang De said respectfully: “Mr. Zhao, Mr. Xie, this is our Master.”
“Elder Tang, we’ve long admired your name. We apologize for the abrupt visit and any lack of propriety.” Zhao Lijun said respectfully.
But Tang Shaoyi didn’t respond. His gaze fell on the brocade box in Zhao Lijun’s hands, revealing genuine interest.
Zhao Lijun immediately caught on and quickly placed the brocade box on the desk: “We’ve heard Elder Tang is an expert in appraising Song porcelain, especially fond of the charm of official kiln wares.”
“By a fortunate coincidence, I obtained a rare item. Not daring to keep it private, I’ve come specially for Elder Tang’s expert appraisal and guidance.”
As the two spoke, Xie Zhipan silently shifted forward half a step, positioning himself extremely naturally between Tang Shaoyi and the study room door, his gaze lowered as if focused solely on the brocade box.
Tang De stood silently by the inside of the door, hands clasped in front of him, like a mute statue.
Zhao Lijun’s fingers moved gently and solemnly, as if handling a priceless treasure.
He untied the silk cord on the brocade box, opened the lid, and carefully lifted out the object wrapped inside in bright yellow soft satin.
Layer by layer, he unwrapped the soft satin, revealing a vase of simple and elegant form, with jade-like glaze and fine ice-crack patterns, showing its true appearance in the soft light of the study room.
That glaze was sky blue after rain, warm and subdued, with winding ice-crack lines on the body like the charm of history condensed.
Genuine light burst in Tang Shaoyi’s eyes, the pure enthusiasm of a scholar encountering a rare treasure, temporarily overriding the caution from political whirlpools.
He instinctively leaned forward, his aged fingers lifting slightly, as if wanting to touch the cool glaze surface.
“Northern Song official kiln?”
“Mm, this form, this glaze color, these crackles…”
At this point, he was completely captivated by the vase before him and involuntarily stepped closer, almost standing shoulder to shoulder with Zhao Lijun at the desk.
He bent down, tilting his head slightly to one side, wanting to examine more clearly the faint firing marks of the spurs on the base.
At that moment…
Xie Zhipan, who had been silent like a shadow, suddenly unleashed his killing intent.
His right hand flashed lightning-fast into the wide sleeve of his long gown.
A glint of cold light carrying the breath of death instantly tore through the serene air of the study room…
