Chapter 244: Yasuda’s Forbearance
The sun sets, and nightfall drapes Mai Gen Road in West Shanghai in a shroud of silence.
The roar of trucks bustling during the day, the strenuous shouts of warehouse laborers, and the intermittent grinding of crane gears from the material warehouse…
All have faded away, leaving only the warm early summer breeze whistling over the empty concrete ground and clusters of tin roofs.
Yasuda’s dormitory is not the best kind.
On the contrary, under the deliberate attention of certain people, his room is at the very back of the senior dormitory building.
The room faces south to north and is nestled inside a cluster of buildings, never seeing sunlight all day.
The entire layout is cramped and narrow, with lime peeling off the walls, revealing dark bricks underneath.
The furniture in the room is pitifully sparse: a hardboard bed, a wooden table, two shaky chairs, a worn wardrobe, and a desk ground uneven in places—this is all the possessions.
Due to lack of sunlight, the air in the room is filled with a stale mix of mold and cheap tobacco.
“Yasuda-kun is really diligent. I’ve been here for over an hour, and you’ve just gotten off work.” Nantian Yangzi said with a light laugh,
She is wearing a deep blue casual outfit today, simple in style but made of decent fabric, with a silk scarf around her neck and a light layer of makeup accentuating her exquisite face.
Worthy of being the Flower of the Empire.
Yasuda quickly slipped into the room, shut the door behind him, and bolted it, his movements clean and swift.
“This place is really hard to find.” Nantian Yangzi poured a cup of water and handed it to Yasuda Nobuo: “You’ve really been put through the wringer, Yasuda-kun.”
Yasuda Nobuo tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing a bitter and cold smile: “Put through the wringer? Compared to the Ume Agency’s prison, this is already paradise.”
“At least the air here is free, even if it carries rust and mold. Nantian Section Chief, the place is shabby; there’s nothing to offer.”
Nantian Yangzi sat ramrod straight and said slowly: “As long as you’re alive, there’s hope—especially for people like us, whose inner flame has not yet been extinguished.”
“Hope?” Yasuda murmured in repetition, then his gaze sharpened. “If not for those two words, I wouldn’t have willingly become a materials dispatcher.”
“My only hope now is to make those who pushed me into hell taste even a fraction of this!”
He yanked open the drawer of the table, pulled out several sheets of paper densely covered in writing, and shoved them forcefully toward Nantian Yangzi.
The paper is rough, but the handwriting on it is neat and clear.
“Please take a look, Nantian Section Chief. This is the information I’ve pieced together bit by bit from my time at the material warehouse.”
Nantian Yangzi picked up the sheets of paper and read them carefully.
At first, her expression was scrutinizing, but as she read deeper, her gaze grew grave, even flashing with a hint of surprise.
The paper lists numerous names, dates, materials numbers, transport runs, and seemingly scattered “clues” cleverly linked together.
“Logistics Department Third Section Chief Yamamoto Ichiro,” Yasuda’s voice rose low and deep, like a statement or a curse, “From March to May of Showa 14, the lists of ‘non-standard emergency medical supplies’ specially approved and released through his hands totaled seventeen batches, over half of which bypassed three or more routine quality checks.”
“During the same period, high-grade sulfanilamide powder, injections, and high-quality surgical sutures circulating in the Zhabei black market surged in quantity, with unknown sources.”
“Jin Dayou, Qiao Zhenhuai, and Shanghai’s biggest black market dealer, the Zhang family, all sold large quantities of medical supplies during the same period.”
“The biggest procurer among them was Kuomintang Fourth War Zone Zhang Fakui’s troops.”
“Next was Kuomintang Ninth War Zone Xue Boling.”
“Now, Commander Okamura’s Eleventh Army is in a standoff with Xue Boling’s troops in Changsha, yet they openly transport supplies to the enemy—critical medical supplies at that. It’s lawlessness.”
Nantian Yangzi stared at the text on the materials, her knuckles whitening involuntarily.
“And that’s not all,” Yasuda’s finger pointed to another name,
“In compiling the material warehouse’s inbound and outbound records for the past half year, I discovered a very important figure.”
“Logistics Department second-in-command, Onodera Ken Deputy Minister,”
“He has authority to directly dispatch ‘Special A-grade’ classified railcars.”
“Based on the partial records I’ve reconstructed from the material warehouse, during the operational preparation period, at least five trains marked ‘Special A-grade’ showed unexplained discrepancies between their final destinations, cargoes, and the official lists submitted by the Logistics Department.”
“And all these railcars had made ‘non-scheduled’ prolonged stops at Mai Gen Road Train Station.”
“Meanwhile, Sunshine Trading in the Shanghai French Concession has periodic, suspiciously large remittance records with the Osaka Chamber of Commerce’s trading firm in Yokohama.”
“I’ve verified the timelines: Sunshine Trading’s bulk sales of materials coincide exactly with the periods before and after several large-scale ‘specially approved materials’ transports.”
Nantian Yangzi’s face turned extremely grave: “Yasuda-kun, can you prove that all this you’ve compiled has complete evidentiary support?”
Yasuda fell silent at her words, and after a long pause, slowly shook his head: “No, they’re not fools. If you check the ledgers, you won’t find any loopholes.”
“These materials are partly my guesses, partly my inferences from documents, and partly fragments I’ve gleaned sideways through past connections.”
“But it’s enough—enough to lay them out like this and string them together with a storyline of ‘systematic collusion among high-level Logistics Department and Transportation Department officials to embezzle and resell military supplies.'”
“Don’t you think that those uninformed people, those already dissatisfied with the Empire’s bureaucratic system, would think?”
Nantian Yangzi set down the papers, took a deep breath, and the murky air in the room seemed to stir because of it.
She looked at Yasuda as if truly seeing him for the first time.
The old Yasuda Nobuo had been a rigorous, even somewhat rigid, South Manchuria Railway Transportation Department manager, but the man before her, after betrayal, framing, and near-death despair, had transformed into a dangerous conspirator.
A vengeful figure skilled at exploiting human weaknesses and bureaucratic loopholes.
“True mixed with false, real obscured by illusion.” Nantian Yangzi said slowly, “Yasuda-kun makes a good point. Taken alone, each clue could be explained as work negligence or procedural exception.”
“But presented so densely, pointing to such a clear conclusion… Yasuda-kun, you’re accusing them of weaving a net big enough to incite panic.”
“Especially these ‘coincidences’ that can’t be proven or disproven—they’re most effective at sparking people’s imagination and suspicion.”
“That’s exactly the effect I want!” Yasuda’s voice suddenly rose sharply. “They ruined me with the charge of ‘inferior materials’; I’ll hit back with rumors of ‘systemic corruption’!”
“I, Yasuda Nobuo, may be a nobody, a chess piece they discarded at will, but this piece will knock out a few of their teeth!”
“Nantian Section Chief, I can confirm that the web of corruption between the Logistics Department and Transportation Department is far larger than we imagine.”
“That Chen Yang you’re concerned about is likely just one node in this web.”
“If we confront them head-on, it’s a dead end.”
“So I ‘retreated,’ I surrendered, I was thrown here like a dead dog to this forgotten warehouse.”
“They think I’m finished, no longer a threat. Their attention will shift from me to more ‘important’ matters—and that’s my best cover.”
Nantian Yangzi seemed to understand: “So the recent rumors in Shanghai are your and Director Aoki’s handiwork.”
“I really don’t understand. You and Director Aoki are both loyal subordinates of the South Manchuria Railway—how could you do such a thing?”
“If these allegations are really proven, with so many departments colluding, even implicating the South Manchuria Railway—what will you do then?”
“Would President Omura have to personally submit his resignation to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs?”
Yasuda leaned forward before Nantian Yangzi, eyes blazing: “But we can’t just watch countless supplies flow so easily into the pockets of those corrupt officials, can we?”
“Nantian Section Chief, I need your help. I’ll continue gathering information from the shadows.”
“The connections and channels you control are a massive, unstoppable force.”
“I need you to spread these ‘stories’ through the most suitable pipes.”
Nantian Yangzi didn’t answer immediately. She sat in silence, her fingers tapping the desktop rhythmically with a steady tap-tap.
After a long pause, she finally spoke: “Spreading rumors, especially in a city like Shanghai where forces intertwine like dogs’ teeth, carries enormous risk.”
“No. 76’s secret agents are everywhere, and Ume Agency informants are watching in the shadows. Once they trace it to the source…”
“Then let them investigate!” Yasuda Nobuo interrupted her, a reckless resolve on his face. “I have nothing left now but this life I clawed back! What more do I have to fear?”
“Besides, rumors are frightening precisely because they’re pervasive and hard to trace.”
“We can use the concessions, foreign reporters hostile to the Japanese, underground tabloids—even Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics or Red channels! Stir the waters as muddy as possible!”
“We want this rumor to spread from Shanghai like a plague. Let Kwantung Army Headquarters hear it, let General Headquarters in Tokyo hear it, let South Manchuria Railway executives grow restless!”
“Then, under pressure, they must investigate—and the investigation itself is a reckoning!”
“Let Yamamoto, Onodera, Oshima Kenjiro, and that Chen Yang… taste the flavor of being suspected, scrutinized, isolated, and ostracized by colleagues!”
“Even if it’s an unbreakable giant web, I’ll try to burn them down with this tiny spark of mine.”
Nantian Yangzi saw the flame of vengeance burning in Yasuda’s eyes and knew she couldn’t refuse—and didn’t want to.
Yasuda’s hatred perfectly aligned with her own marginalization, resentment, and dissatisfaction with the current power structure.
This was not just helping Yasuda; it was finding her own breakthrough, a chance to prove her worth to those who sidelined her—or even retaliate.
“Channels, I have.”
“《North-China Daily News》 has a reporter who’s always ‘very interested’ in the Empire’s affairs in Manchuria.”
“There are a few Vietnamese running underground printing in the French Concession—as long as you pay, they’ll print anything.”
“Also, I know the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics outpost in Shanghai; they won’t miss a chance to attack the Empire.”
Excitement burst in Yasuda’s eyes: “Perfect! We’ll hit from multiple angles! Release different ‘story’ versions through different channels.”
“Keep the authorities running ragged, unable to contain it! Aoki-kun has laid some groundwork.”
“Now there are rumors in both Shanghai and Xinjing. Next, it’s our turn—we can start by leaking part of the Yamamoto Special Approval List to draw initial attention.”
“Then deepen suspicion with the ‘coincidence’ of Onodera’s anomalous railcars. Finally, use the shell company of the Osaka Chamber of Commerce and Sunshine Trading’s fund transfers as ‘ironclad’ evidence to push public opinion to a climax!”
Nantian Yangzi listened quietly, occasionally adding details on channel security and information disguise techniques.
She looked at this nearly manic man, a chill running through her heart.
Hatred truly is the most powerful catalyst.
“Yasuda-kun,” as Nantian Yangzi stood to leave, “Remember, we’re grasshoppers tied to the same string now.”
“Until you have absolute certainty, don’t leave here lightly or contact anyone unreliable. All information via the old method.”
“I understand.” Yasuda Nobuo nodded firmly. “I’ll lurk here in the center of the web like a spider.”
“Nantian Section Chief, the outside world is in your hands.”
Nantian Yangzi glanced at the shabby room, quietly pulled open the door, and melted into the night outside like a shadow.
The door was shut and bolted again.
Yasuda Nobuo stood alone in the center of the room, the corner of his mouth slowly curling into a cold smile.
Shanghai, French Concession, Foch Road, Jishitang Pharmacy
Early summer sunlight filters through thin clouds, lazily spilling onto Foch Road in the French Concession, this not-so-bustling street.
The air mixes faint roasted aroma drifting from nearby coffee shops and the bitter medicinal scent from Jishitang Chinese Pharmacy.
Foch Road is not far from Fukaisen Road where Lin Mansion is located.
Chen Yang, in an unremarkable plaid suit and felt hat, carrying several packs of freshly bought tea leaves, strolls into Jishitang like an ordinary concession comprador.
This attire is commonplace on Foch Road in the French Concession, naturally drawing no attention.
Chen Yang enters the pharmacy and glances around.
The shop is dimly lit. Behind the tall wooden counter stands a young woman in a clean blue qipao, head down, carefully weighing herbs with a scale.
Hearing the wind chime, she looks up at Chen Yang, a faint, almost imperceptible glint in her eyes, then her face shows a professional warm smile: “Sir, herbs or consultation?”
Chen Yang approaches the counter, sets the tea aside, scans the array of herbs in the cabinet, voice calm: “Shopkeeper, prescribe me a ‘clear mind and reduce fire’ formula. Lately too many worries; restless nights, can’t sleep soundly.”
Song Yilin’s hands keep moving, wrapping a pack of angelica and handing it over: “Sir has excess heart fire and stagnant liver qi. Use coptis and lotus plumule to clear heart fire, bupleurum and white peony to soothe liver and relieve depression.”
“But… coptis is extremely bitter. Can sir endure it?”
“I can.” Chen Yang smiled bitterly: “No matter how bitter, it’s better than waking at night to the barking of stray dogs outside.”
“Right, add some ‘polygala’ too. Hope it lets me sleep deeply, undisturbed even by huge noises outside.”
“Polygala calms the mind; it’s spot on.” Song Yilin nodded slightly, turning to grab herbs skillfully from the cabinet behind.
Her movements are fluid and natural, but when taking the “polygala,” her fingers tap three times rhythmically on the edge of the labeled small drawer. This is the safety confirmation signal.
Chen Yang casually observes the shop interior and exterior, ears attuned to every street sound.
He leans slightly forward on the counter, fingers tapping the desktop lightly.
Song Yilin’s herb-grabbing hands don’t pause, her face remains calm, but her gaze sharpens, intently reading the intelligence Chen Yang is transmitting to her.
“Wang’s secretary Qian Shizhao arrives in Shanghai late three days from now on Yashan Maru, docking at Pier Number Three, staying at Chongguangtang in Hongkou.”
Song Yilin’s wrapping pauses almost imperceptibly, then resumes.
After transmitting the message, Chen Yang doesn’t stop, continuing:
“No. 76 intends to use this to set a trap, purge internals, fish out our people.”
“They’ve cast the net, monitoring all possible leak channels.”
Confusion flickers in Song Yilin’s eyes; she glances at Chen Yang, her look asking: “If so, why transmit?”
Chen Yang meets her gaze, corner of his mouth lifting slightly, fingers tapping clearly: “Use their plan against them!”
Song Yilin pours the weighed bupleurum into the scale pan, nods slightly, signaling him to continue.
Chen Yang’s fingers tap on: eight words, “Feint to the east, attack to the west; intercept midway.”
Song Yilin nods thoughtfully, hands busy wrapping the bupleurum and starting on white peony.
After a pause, she responds in an extremely low voice: “Sir, forgive my bluntness—your midnight startles come from overthinking during the day. More sleep leads to vivid dreams.”
“Looks like your work keeps you very busy. Times are unsettled; nothing’s easy, and messing up implicates others.”
“Even if you do it right, if someone with agenda targets you, it’s dangerous.”
Chen Yang pauses briefly, instantly grasping Song Yilin’s meaning: “The action carries high risk. How to ensure the ‘operators’ are controllable? How to prevent the attack from spiraling and harming innocents?”
“And how to guarantee completing the action under No. 76’s tight surveillance without being traced back?”
“You see through it all.” Chen Yang looked at her approvingly. “But some things, we have no choice.”
“Whether it implicates others, I can’t say for sure. I just do my part. But I can guarantee that even if others target it, they won’t dare act rashly.”
He picks up the lotus plumule pack, sniffs it: “Coptis is bitter, but how can it compare to the bitterness of life?”
Song Yilin said slowly: “Sir is indeed a big shot. Since you can’t stomach the bitterness, how about this: when the shopkeeper returns, I’ll have him take your pulse.”
“See if he can prescribe something better to make things easier for you.”
“After all, everyone’s good is truly good.”
This means the plan needs higher-up approval and coordination from your side for reliable ‘messengers’ and ‘firewalls’.
Chen Yang nodded slightly: “That’d be great. My one virtue is listening to advice…”
“But I’ve got a lot on my plate lately. See when your shopkeeper’s free; I only have these two days.”
“Make sure he squeezes in time to check me.”
This means: “Time is tight; must set up before Qian Shizhao arrives.”
“Can you quickly pass the plan and my suggestions to ‘home base’?”
Song Yilin hands the wrapped medicine to Chen Yang, still with that gentle smile: “Sir, your medicine’s ready. Decoct as prescribed, once morning and evening; it will calm the mind, undisturbed by external evils.”
At the same time, as she hands it over, her fingertip swiftly traces a Morse code “feasible” in dots on Chen Yang’s palm.
“Thanks.” Chen Yang takes the medicine pack, nods slightly, picks up the tea beside, and walks out of Jishitang unhurriedly. The wind chime rings crisply again.
Song Yilin watches his back vanish into the doorway sunlight, her smile slowly fading, gaze turning grave and sharp.
She lowers her head, continues sorting counter herbs, her mind rapidly calculating how to safely and swiftly pass this vital intelligence and the bold “use their plan against them” scheme onward.
Shanghai, Southern Transportation Department Land Transport Section Chief’s office
Following Chen Yang’s instructions, Secretary Li Ningyu decocts the medicine Song Yilin prepared for Chen Yang—three bowls of water down to one—and brings it into the office.
The medicine is real, and so is the illness.
This calming, sleep-aid medicine is common on the market and indeed effective.
Lately, Chen Yang has been swamped with trifles, and his symptoms match perfectly.
Even if Special Higher Police Affairs agents are truly tailing him and see him enter the pharmacy for medicine, a direct check reveals nothing amiss.
Not surprising really—with all the northbound materials business, Chen Yang runs on coffee daily; how could he not be insomniac?
Downing the herbal medicine with rock sugar in one go, Chen Yang returns the bowl to Li Ningyu: “Secretary Li, brew me a cup of coffee.”
Li Ningyu pauses slightly: “Section Chief, you’re taking medicine now and still want coffee?”
Chen Yang waved dismissively in irritation: “Just go; no need for so much talk.”
Li Ningyu’s spirit sharpened; she bowed slightly.
Knock knock knock—suddenly, rapid knocking sounds.
Before Chen Yang can respond, the door is pushed open.
Ume Agency Deputy Head Haruki Keiin bursts in urgently.
“Mr. Chen, trouble—look at today’s newspaper.”
