“A grubby Winter Solstice, a clear New Year”—since last week, the sun had shone warm every day, and today the sky was especially clear, without a cloud. Though the northwest wind kept blowing, it still counted as rare fine weather for the twelfth lunar month. Wei Dafu had been walking around all afternoon, and even in his padded gown, he felt somewhat warm.

Every winter he thought about buying an overcoat, so he could wear that Western suit out on his rounds—that would really look the part. The properties he showed to clients were all fine ones, cement-floored Western-style houses, but in a bulky padded gown, he felt his confidence in persuading clients was cut in half. Every winter, the properties he closed were far fewer than in spring or autumn. With an overcoat, he could take it off once inside a room—Western suit underneath, sharp and proper—and talk to clients with real vigor.

Around four in the afternoon, the sun was westering, the wind had died down, and not a twig stirred on the treetops. There were fewer worshippers outside the Jing’an Temple gate—everyone was waiting for the first day of the New Year to burn the first incense—but the small vendors’ stalls around the area had multiplied. In years past, once the year drew to its end, no one came out to rent houses, and at this time of year Wei Dafu would often just wander the streets idly. This year was different, though—people kept coming to the office to arrange to see properties.

Reaching Jing’an Temple, Wei Dafu stopped and pressed his palms together in a bow toward the gate. What was he praying for? May all the comrades be safe, he thought. If there was an agent tailing him, would this perhaps put them off their guard? Then again, if it were one of their own comrades who happened to pass by, they’d probably criticize him for feudal superstition later. He chuckled to himself and headed toward Tiangu Village not far off.

At the intersection of Yuyuan Road and Difeng Road, the clients were already waiting.

“Mr. and Mrs. Wang?” Wei Dafu walked up a few steps and cupped his hands in greeting to the two.

Mrs. Wang complained, “We’ve been waiting forever—saw you sauntering along from a mile off.”

Wei Dafu put on a wry smile: “Now, Mrs. Wang, don’t be cross. I’ve been running around all afternoon—this business of showing properties isn’t easy either.”

“You wanted to eat this rice bowl yourself—no one forced you.”

Mr. Wang waved the copy of Shun Pao in his hand: “Much obliged, Mr. Wei—hurry along and show us the place.”

Mrs. Wang added, “Wait any longer and it’ll be dark.”

Wei Dafu led the two clients into the alley.

“The advertisement said new-style glass storefront, street-facing property, and you’ve led us into an alley,” Mrs. Wang chattered on without pause. “And it said just a stone’s throw from Jing’an Temple—does whoever’s drawing that bow have that much arm strength?”

The three turned into the side alley on the left and went upstairs to the second floor. Wei Dafu opened the door, stepped over to the window, pushed open the tall sash, and turned to the clients: “This is a side-alley house—not as spacious as one with east and west wings, but this front room here is over ten feet wide on its own, faces south, gets good sun. Both sides border the neighbors’ gable walls—warm in winter, cool in summer. Living here, it’s really quite comfortable.”

“Facing the alley, so close by—anything happens in the room, and the people across the way see it all,” the wife found fault; the husband said nothing.

“The better the location, the more precious every inch of ground. Out in the countryside, houses are spaced far apart.” Wei Dafu, somewhat impatient, said, “Shanghai households all hang curtains—pull them shut and do as you please.”

He glanced out the window—the alley was actually quite spacious; the place he himself lived was the truly cramped one. He was about to say a few more words when footsteps sounded behind him—the two clients had already gone up to the third floor on their own.

He swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue and turned around—and got a fright. A stranger was standing in the room.

The door had closed.

“May I ask who you’re looking for?” Wei Dafu said, a bit uneasy.

“I’ve also come to look at the property.”

“Who are you? Did we have an appointment?”

The newcomer stepped forward; Wei Dafu retreated two steps toward the window. “My surname is Chen. Chen Qianli.” The man stepped into the bright light by the window.

“I wonder which agency gave Mr. Chen this address?”

“I’m here looking for you, Mr. Wei, specifically.”

“Where are you from, Mr. Chen?”

“That place—” Chen Qianli spread his hands, as if trying to put Wei Dafu at ease, “is quite far away.”

He sat down at the round table by the window, reaching out to touch the dust on the tabletop. “Nice furniture.”

“If you really want to rent a place, I can find you another one. This room already has a taker.”

“All right, go on and tell me about it.”

Wei Dafu pulled out a round stool and sat down across from him, lit a cigarette, and reached over to push open the half-closed window, tapping the ash out.

“I wonder—has Mr. Chen come to Shanghai on business? Any relatives here? Renting a place requires a guarantor.”

“That’s easy enough.” Chen Qianli had been observing him all afternoon. Chen Qianli had gone to Zhaojia Creek the day before, and at a coal yard by the river had met Li Han. When they’d fled the secret gathering above the market, Li Han had been right behind Wei Dafu. But by the time Li Han reached the end of that stairwell, the special agents had already blocked the stairs. Both Yi Junnian and Li Han had mentioned Wei Dafu. Everyone had been shocked at the time, but he seemed to have already sensed the enemy was right outside the door.

Wei Dafu tapped more ash out the window: “That’s good then. If Mr. Chen has money to spare, a new-style lane house like Tiangu Village really isn’t bad. Mosaic tile floors in the entryway, waxed floors and steel-frame windows in the rooms, water tanks and flush toilets all the latest English fittings, and Jing’an Temple right at hand—convenient for a businessman to burn incense too.”

Chen Qianli looked genuinely interested: “Any apartment buildings?”

“There are indeed. If Mr. Chen hasn’t brought family along, an apartment would be quieter, easier coming and going too. Too many prying eyes in the alleys.”

Just then, the young couple came down from upstairs, pushed the door open, and glanced inside.

Wei Dafu got up and asked, “How did it look to the two of you?”

“Not to our liking. See you—later!” The woman drew out the last word, took the man’s arm, and swayed off down the stairs.

Wei Dafu chased after them to the doorway, then stopped and came back to sit down at the round table.

“If Mr. Chen is looking for an apartment building, our Dongru agency has several on hand.” He waved a hand toward the window. “From here, turn onto Haige Road, past Shanzhong Road to Zhaozhujiao Road, there are several there—four-story cement buildings. Though the rent’s a bit steep.”

“Your agency seems to be able to find any kind of property.”

“The houses are all out there—what’s hard to find are the clients. Sometimes a client comes and chats for half a day,” Wei Dafu said, flicking his cigarette butt out the window, “only to discover in the end they never really wanted a place at all.”

Chen Qianli stood and closed the window. “Mr. Yi sent me to find you.”

Seeing Chen Qianli close the window, Wei Dafu got up too and gently closed the door. “Which Mr. Yi?”

“Yi Junnian. He said you’ve got a place set aside for me.”

“Which house?” Wei Dafu hesitated a moment.

“Masinan Road.”

Wei Dafu thought a moment and said, “Masinan Road has T-junctions at both ends—not sure which end you mean?”

Wei Dafu rarely used this contact code phrase; according to protocol, only an upline comrade coming to find him would use it—but these past two years his only uplines had been Lao Fang and Yi Junnian, and he’d nearly forgotten the phrase himself.

The room was gradually growing dark; someone was bringing in laundry from outside; the sound of a rattan beater striking a quilt drifted in from outside the window.

Wei Dafu blurted out, “Shall we turn on the light?”

Chen Qianli smiled. “Of course. Nothing here needs to be said in the dark.”

Wei Dafu got up and pulled the cord above the round table; under the frosted glass shade, the bulb lit up, casting a dim yellow glow; the room felt a bit chilly.

“I saw Lao Yi—he never mentioned anyone was coming to make contact.” He looked up at Chen Qianli. “Still, you must be the comrade sent by the higher-ups—he did mention he’d made contact with them.”

“What do you think of Lao Yi?” Chen Qianli suddenly asked him.

“What—how do I think of him,” Wei Dafu said, a bit at a loss. “Lao Yi joined the revolution very early, an old Bolshevik, rich experience in the struggle—”

“Do you notice anything different about him, before and after his arrest?”

“After I went underground, Lao Yi was always my upline—he was the leader, he always came to find me; barring special circumstances, I couldn’t go looking for him. He’s particularly good at this, stays calm in a crisis—”

“Calmer than you?” Chen Qianli asked, smiling.

“I can’t compare to him.” Wei Dafu took out his cigarette case. “I haven’t noticed anything different, just that he seems a bit anxious. Before, he always used to send a letter to Jin Delin, a runner at the rental agency. Little Jin stopped working here last year—old Fu at the mail room would pin all the runners’ letters up on the wall by his desk, a row of cloth pouches nailed there. Lao Yi would draw three connected circles in the corners of the envelope, and it would stick out clearly once pinned up there. The letter would only say some irrelevant things, but there’d be a time and an address in it, and at that time I’d go there and wait for him.”

Wei Dafu went on: “But this time, he came straight to the rental agency himself—gave me quite a fright, same as you did just now. I hurried him outside onto the street. He said he’d made contact with the higher-ups, and we needed to hurry and clear up the internal leak, so we had to hold a meeting. A meeting, I asked him—wouldn’t calling people together at a time like this draw the agents’ attention? He criticized me for it, said my revolutionary resolve was weak.

“Afterward he also blamed me for something I’d said the day of the meeting. I hadn’t really said anything—things had suddenly gone chaotic outside, and I just said we should hold the meeting quickly and break up quickly. But Lao Yi said I’d wavered—how had I wavered! Of course, I don’t blame him—he’d just come out of the detention house, his mood must be bad, that’s why I say he’s a bit anxious. I told him tactfully that really, the most important thing right now isn’t to resume work, but to stay hidden—wait a while, until the enemy’s no longer watching us, and slowly start working again. If it had been before, he’d have said that very thing to me himself.”

“That day at the Fourth Road market, when the constabulary surrounded the market, how did you get out?”

“I must have been the first one to burst out of the room. A big fellow followed right behind me—I don’t know him, not on my line. I went into the stairwell, and by the time I reached the third floor I knew things were bad—there were footsteps everywhere on the stairs between the second and third floors. I quickly pushed open a door at the edge of the third floor and hid in the corridor toilet. I figured that place wouldn’t hide me for long either, so I hurried back out and ran the other way—turned out there was a freight elevator at the back of the building too, for deliveries. When I got down and out of the elevator, I happened to see Mrs. Li, who often brought people to rent from the agency—I took the chance to help her carry her vegetable basket and blended into the crowd with her, and got out that way.”

“You went home, nothing unusual happened?”

“I didn’t dare go straight home. I went to the rental agency first, showed up for work as usual. Actually, I didn’t dare sit still there for long either—grabbed a work order, said I was going out on a viewing, and left, wandered the streets the whole day. It was so cold that day, the wind made your teeth ache. That night, I went home trembling with fear, stood at the mouth of the alley for ages, didn’t dare go in until midnight. For the next few days, it was just work and home, work and home, and by the third day I went to the market myself, alone, didn’t dare go in. The vegetable vendors said quite a few people had been arrested that day, all Communists.”

“Did you go looking for Lao Fang afterward?”

“I did try. According to protocol, if something major happens, you can send him a signal requesting a meeting. But he never answered. I waited a whole week with no response—I figured he must have been arrested too. I didn’t know what I could do. Maybe I should have evacuated, but the only superiors I could go to for instructions were Lao Fang and Lao Yi, and both of them had vanished.

“I cleared out my place, guarding against the agents bursting in. There was an old newspaper from the Soviet Area from the year before last that had somehow ended up in my possession—didn’t have the heart to throw it away. Red China, with news of the victory in the Third ‘Encirclement Campaign.’ Nothing else to speak of.

“A while back, Lao Fang had me prepare extra guarantor slips, and specifically told me not to mention it to Lao Yi. I figured that must be work on a different line—the organization might need to rent a batch of properties on short notice. If it was a short-term rental, you could use this kind of fake document.

“I handle these documents often—some shopkeepers aren’t too careful about it; if you say you lost one, they’ll just stamp another. Some people run this kind of business specifically—rent a storefront, hang up a rental agency sign, specialize in vouching for people like this. I do agency work myself too, and can vouch for people, though you need to find the manager to get the seal—but there’s always a chance to stamp a few extra blank slips.

“When Lao Fang asked, I just went and did it. But keeping these slips at home would cause trouble—if the agents ever searched and found them, I wouldn’t be able to explain, might even cause a loss for the organization. I thought it over and over, and in the end I burned them all. I’m working here—if nothing goes wrong, it wouldn’t be hard to get a few more. To be honest, it was a shame to burn them—slips like that could be sold for money. A guarantor document for a well-established shop could sell for over ten silver dollars.”

“Lao Fang told you not to tell anyone, yet you’ve told me everything the first time we’ve met.” Chen Qianli slid the matchbox on the corner of the table over to Wei Dafu, letting him light the cigarette he’d been holding unlit in his hand for so long. “Have you really never told Lao Yi, afterward?”

“Lao Yi said you’re the comrade sent by the higher-ups—you’re Lao Yi’s superior, which makes you my superior’s superior. There’s certainly no problem telling you. But of course, I wouldn’t tell Lao Yi—I know the rules. Don’t mind that I talk a lot—my mouth’s actually quite tight.”

“Have you seen Lao Yi these past few days?”

“Saw him today. Lao Yi just told me to come to a meeting at a clinic tomorrow night. Everyone who escaped from the meeting site, everyone who was arrested and released—we’re all to go. Lao Yi said, it looks like everyone needs to get together for a meeting—we have to organize ourselves, or the ranks will fall into chaos.”

“What happened?”

“Lao Yi said some comrades are suspecting each other. He cursed, said things had gotten quite out of hand—he didn’t go into detail, and I didn’t think it proper to press. He’s my superior.”

Chen Qianli thought a moment: “Find me a house. It needs to be big, easy to enter and exit unnoticed, best somewhere on the border between the concession and the Chinese-controlled district.”

“There is one, actually. The landlord’s a man from Ningbo who married a new wife and went off to do business in Guangdong—probably won’t be coming back. Even if he did come back, they’d surely have no wish to live there again. I’d originally planned to take it over myself someday, so I’ve never brought anyone to view it.”

“Find time to go take a look.”

“Don’t tell Lao Yi about this one,” Chen Qianli suddenly laughed, “even though it was him who told me to find you to rent a house.”