Lin Shi lay in bed. Earlier, in the parlor, he’d drunk a big mouthful of wine, then told everyone he was feeling unwell, and had gone back upstairs to the sickroom to rest. After he’d gotten out of detention, Qin Chuan’an had redressed his wound; the bullet hadn’t damaged the bone, and after some rest he could slowly walk again. He hadn’t entirely lied—though the leg wound wasn’t as severe as others assumed, he really was feeling a chill just now.
He vaguely sensed something was off about Cui Wentai—some instincts were hard to put into words. An awkward expression, one or two overly exaggerated gestures, the phrasing he used when he spoke. He felt rather regretful—he really shouldn’t have let slip about the bank matter. Five gold bars. That funding hadn’t come easily; it might well have cost comrades on other fronts their lives to obtain. How careless of him to have been so reckless—how could he ever answer to those people if something went wrong? If there were a problem, the important mission entrusted to him by the Central Committee would be difficult to carry out successfully.
The hardest part wasn’t gritting his teeth before the enemy—he’d already resolved himself to that, willing to give everything for the mission. But now the situation was that he had to stay silent even before his own comrades and fellow fighters—no matter whether they showed him warmth or suspicion, he could not tell any of them the secret, could not casually discuss it with anyone.
When the secret police had rushed into the meeting, Yi Junnian had put the dice into his own pocket to protect him—he’d seen all of it happen, yet could say nothing, do nothing. He knew Comrade Yi Junnian’s intentions, but he could only stay silent, could only let his own comrade take the blow in his place for now.
In the detention house, Yi Junnian had looked at him with that kind of gaze. He felt the man had nearly guessed he was the special envoy, but he couldn’t show a trace of it. He’d groaned and moaned, feigned severe injury, feigned a weak will, feigned complete unpreparedness for the situation at hand.
He’d even fabricated some background for Yi Junnian—first presenting himself as an old revolutionary who’d taken part in the Guangzhou Uprising (this part, at least, was true), but deliberately garbling certain details so as to lead Yi Junnian to a mistaken judgment—that he was just boasting. This way, Yi Junnian had gradually relaxed his scrutiny of him.
Some secret missions were destined to be carried out in solitude; and the loyalty that was needed had to be concealed, of all things, behind suspicion.
These past few days, he’d noticed that Yi Junnian and Ling Wen, the two comrades, had grown close—revolutionary comrades often developed such feelings through their work together, nothing surprising in that. He knew Ling Wen believed her husband, Long Dong, had already died a martyr’s death. But as far as he knew, Long Dong was very likely still alive. Ling Wen had heard that after the failure of the Guangzhou Uprising, the Nationalist troops had swept through the city making arrests—anyone without a Cantonese accent risked being shot on the spot, and they’d even stormed the Soviet consulate. At the time, Long Dong had been inside the consulate discussing evacuation with Soviet comrades, and after being captured by the Nationalists, had been executed alongside the Soviet comrades.
But Lin Shi knew that, at least for a year after the Guangzhou Uprising, Long Dong had still been working for the Party. Amid the enemy’s brutal suppression, he had organized a tight underground working group. Long Dong was exceptionally talented, even able to obtain secret intelligence from within the Guangzhou Nationalist Public Security Bureau itself. In just a few months’ time, he’d learned to speak fluent Cantonese, a natural-born underground worker. Lin Shi himself, on the other hand, had ultimately been transferred out of Guangzhou for failing to learn the local dialect.
He still could not tell Ling Wen this news, nor could he tell everyone that he was “Old Kai.” He forced himself to stay awake; earlier Chen Qianyuan had quietly told him that Chen Qianli would come to see him.
Suddenly a crowd gathered on the street outside; firecrackers crackled, and now and then a rocket shot into the sky and exploded, deafeningly loud. Households along the street with second-floor windows threw them open, lighting firecrackers strung on bamboo poles. In the lane, people who’d finished their New Year’s Eve dinner opened their doors as if on some signal, adults and children alike.
A figure squeezed through the back of the crowd and slipped into the lane from beneath the passage-building.
Chen Qianli found the clinic’s back door and knocked twice, lightly. Behind the door, Chen Qianyuan was waiting for him.
“I’m looking for a Song-dynasty painting.”
“That won’t be easy to find.”
“Someone entrusted me with it—I have to find it even if it’s hard.”
“Which one are you looking for, may I ask?”
“A Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains.“
“Open the window and look outside.”
“So it is—these people are the rivers and mountains.”
The visitor aboard the ship at Qingdao had told Chen Qianli that speaking this password upon making contact would earn him “Old Kai’s” complete trust. This password had been personally designed by Comrade Shao Shan; so far, no more than five people knew it.
“You’ve seen Comrade Shao Shan?” Lin Shi gripped Chen Qianli’s strong, warm hands, excited.
“Comrade Shao Shan is in Ruijin. He may not know your current situation. A comrade from the Central Transportation Bureau learned that something had gone wrong with the Shanghai action group, rushed to Qingdao, found me aboard the ship, and had me come to Shanghai to assist your work.
“In Qingdao, that comrade told me the situation in Shanghai was extremely critical. From all indications, the underground Party organization has been seriously infiltrated. He said the meeting to convey the assignment hadn’t even been held yet, and already the enemy had gotten word of it in advance.”
“Judging by the joint action of the Concession police and the detective squad in making the arrests, the situation really is very grave.”
“But the ‘Map of a Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains’ plan has already been set in motion—this is a mission that cannot be called off. The Shanghai provisional action group is a crucial link in this plan, so the organization made the emergency decision to transfer me to Shanghai, requiring me to root out the traitor swiftly and ensure the plan proceeds smoothly.”
“There are five gold bars in the bank safety-deposit box—operational funds the organization gave to the Shanghai group. Now that the box has been exposed, they must be moved as soon as possible,” Lin Shi reminded him at once.
“You need to move immediately too,” Chen Qianli said. “The enemy may now know your identity. Once we’ve rooted out the traitor, they might make arrests. You’re the only one here who understands the ‘Map of a Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains’ plan—you carry a heavy responsibility, and must relocate right away. There’s one more thing I have to tell you—Comrade Old Fang died a martyr’s death.”
“I’d heard,” Lin Shi said, recalling Yi Junnian’s words earlier.
“He was making contact with me at the time, at his son’s barbershop. To cover for me, he grabbed the secret agent’s pistol and charged out. His son was arrested too. When I made contact with Comrade Yi Junnian, he told me he’d learned of Old Fang’s death through an inside source.”
“You want me to relocate first—but what about the other comrades?” Lin Shi nodded, then asked Chen Qianli.
“As long as you’re not in the enemy’s hands, the other comrades should still be safe for now. The secret police won’t move against them easily—they want to understand the plan behind us more than anything.”
“Then there should be an evacuation plan prepared in advance too, in case the enemy, unable to think of anything else, decides on a mass arrest.”
Chen Qianli glanced at Lin Shi; he could tell that Lin Shi felt he’d spoken too rashly himself. He examined his own heart closely—had he really been too rash? Had he overlooked everyone’s safety? Between completing the mission and the comrades’ lives, had he perhaps focused too much on the former, and neglected the latter?
He knew that under the current circumstances, he was being forced to walk a tightrope, straining every ability he had to maintain a dangerous balance. The comrades had to complete their mission under the enemy’s watchful eyes, each of them having to appear utterly unaware of the agents behind them, while staying acutely alert, waiting for the right moment—the instant the enemy’s guard slipped—to act swiftly. At the same time, they had to stay constantly wary of the enemy growing desperate enough to lash out.
He himself was skilled at this sort of thing—during training, in the psychological tests for operations, he’d always scored excellently. But the comrades downstairs—they might not be able to stay as calm as he could. Was he, perhaps, assuming that because he was capable of this, everyone else must be too?
“Qianyuan is—”
Chen Qianli said quietly, “My younger brother.”
Lin Shi looked at Chen Qianli, unable quite to make out what kind of man was sitting at his bedside. Calm, methodically clear-headed—not even a flicker of emotion, even with his own brother’s life in danger. He didn’t know what kind of comrade the higher-ups had sent. Handling a crisis like this required great wisdom. But might a man of such sharp intelligence tend, without realizing it, to treat others merely as steps in his plan of action? At a time like this, one needed not only a clear head, but also a fervent heart.
But there was no time left to hesitate now. He said to Chen Qianli:
“First, let me explain the entire ‘Map of a Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains’ plan to you. The Central Committee established the general line of agrarian revolution and armed resistance against the Nationalist reactionaries as far back as the August Seventh Conference, and our mission this time, put simply, is to safely evacuate the relevant leaders of the Central Committee from Shanghai, moving them to Ruijin, to a broader world.
“Since last year, things have grown ever more difficult for the Party Central Committee in Shanghai—we’ve been growing, but the enemy hasn’t been idle either. The Nationalists’ Party Affairs Investigation Section, set up specifically to deal with us, has been expanded further. Its head, though nominally only a low-ranking official, wields far more power than department heads or bureau chiefs of much higher rank. Internally they call themselves the ‘Special Services Headquarters’—beyond their own regular agents, they’ve sent people into other government bodies too, seizing power from within, turning those organizations into tools for their own use. According to intelligence obtained by the Central Committee, Special Services Headquarters likely already commands a huge number of agents, and is openly running a brazen program of secret-police rule.
“They have gradually built up an effective counter-Communist intelligence network, exploiting undercover agents and opportunists and traitors within the underground Party to relentlessly infiltrate our organization, causing severe damage to the Shanghai Party organization.
“This is a great evacuation. Aside from the leaders, all other personnel, offices, documents, radios, and funds must be properly arranged for as well. Some will move to local areas to continue the underground struggle; others will follow the evacuation. To carry this out, the underground Party organization has assembled multiple action groups in various places—our provisional group here is responsible for part of that work.
“Originally, as the land revolution developed in the Gannan and Minxi Soviet areas, the Central Committee used enormous manpower and resources to establish four secret transportation lines running from Shanghai to the south. These lines are the Soviet’s lifeblood—vast amounts of personnel and matériel moved in and out of the Soviet areas through them, so the enemy has gone to every length, all along, to infiltrate and destroy them. The old lines have been in use a long time, and exposure was inevitable. To ensure a successful evacuation, and also to keep that lifeblood flowing unimpeded in the even harsher, more brutal struggle ahead, the Central Committee has decided to rebuild an absolutely secret transportation line.
“We are responsible for the stretch from Shanghai to Shantou. From Shanghai to Ruijin, over three thousand li—Comrade Shao Shan said, well then, let’s call this operation the ‘Map of a Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains’ plan. He said, this isn’t just a thousand-li transportation line, it’s a thousand li of rivers and mountains—when we evacuate Shanghai, we’re scattering the sparks of revolution across the whole of China. Comrade Shao Shan said that a single station along this transportation line is worth a whole county in the Soviet area—we absolutely must get this line running well.”
“By rights, since the Shanghai group has already been exposed, it’s no longer suited to carry out this mission. Under the enemy’s close surveillance, it’s very hard to guarantee the safety of a newly built transportation line. It’s only because the Central Committee and the Shanghai underground Party organization are in such difficulty right now, that it’s very hard to reassemble a crack team on short notice.”
“Did the higher-ups mention Comrade Haohan, when they briefed you on the mission?”
“Comrade Haohan?” Lin Shi looked puzzled.
Chen Qianli told him about Old Fang going to Puensiji Road to make contact with Comrade Haohan.
“No wonder Old Fang didn’t come to the meeting.”
Chen Qianyuan escorted his brother into Lin Shi’s sickroom, and when he returned to the parlor, Tian Fei was arguing with Wei Dafu. Wei Dafu’s position was that the organization had long since said underground work needed a public cover identity, that every comrade needed to excel at their public occupation, both for better cover and to help mobilize the masses—so even if Lin Shi had just gotten out of detention, even with a bullet wound, he had every right to make a call about bank business. Tian Fei didn’t want to argue the point with him, only stubbornly repeating that he was certain there was something wrong with Lin Shi.
Chen Qianyuan sat back down at the table and told everyone Lin Shi had lain down to rest. Qin Chuan’an rose and headed to the kitchen. “Let him rest a while—I’ll go check on him in a bit.”
Across the table, Cui Wentai, still holding his wine cup, spoke up: “I’ll go check on him right now too. Can’t feel too easy leaving him alone in there.”
Yi Junnian, who was speaking quietly with Ling Wen, turned and stopped him. “What are you going to do right now—let him rest properly.”
Cui Wentai didn’t know why, but he always felt a certain fear of Yi Junnian, especially when the man stared at him—his eyes gave nothing away at all.
Qin Chuan’an went into the kitchen for a bit and came out carrying a tray with a half-globe-shaped steel pot lid pressed down on it. Chen Qianyuan perked up. “What good thing is it this time?”
Qin Chuan’an just smiled and said nothing, set the tray on the table, rubbed his hands together, and lifted the lid—it turned out to be a bowl of eight-treasure rice with sweet bean paste and glutinous rice, piled with candied dates and melon seeds on top. Dong Huiwen exclaimed, “Oh, it’s eight-treasure rice!” Before she’d even finished, Wei Dafu’s chopsticks had already dug in, pulling out a big chunk of bean paste.
Cui Wentai had no interest in sweets; something suddenly occurred to him. “That special envoy from the higher-ups—why hasn’t he come today either? Did he hear the secret police know about this place, and get scared?”
Yi Junnian said coldly beside him, “Why bring him up all of a sudden—are you a little worried about him coming?”
“I just worry about everything, that’s how I am,” Cui Wentai said with a rather strained laugh, hurrying to take a drink of wine.
Liang Shichao, who also disliked sweets, turned to Yi Junnian. “When you spent New Year’s in Guangdong, did you ever have fried meat-and-radish cake?”
Ling Wen overheard and asked Yi Junnian, “You were in Guangdong? I never heard you mention that.”
Yi Junnian smiled. “After I was transferred, one isn’t supposed to talk about past work.”
“Then why did you tell them?”
“That was just to pass the time in detention!”
“Old Yi worked in Guangdong for many years,” Liang Shichao told Ling Wen. “He was there during the Hong Kong-Guangzhou general strike. When we were in detention we talked about some comrades who’d died as martyrs—several of them had been Old Yi’s comrades-in-arms back then.”
Ling Wen picked up a raisin with her chopsticks and chewed it slowly, looking troubled.
Just then, footsteps sounded on the stairs; Lin Shi came back down to the parlor, supported by Chen Qianli, and everyone rose to their feet at once, the mood suddenly turning solemn. Dong Huiwen came forward to help support Lin Shi. Tian Fei, a little flushed from the wine, offered up the chair behind him; Lin Shi patted his shoulder and said with a smile, no need, don’t get up. He sat down beside Tian Fei, saying to everyone, “Don’t all stand there, I really do need to sit down.” Seeing this, Yi Junnian laughed too and told everyone to sit. Cui Wentai hurried to the kitchen to find a clean cup, and Qin Chuan’an filled a cup with wine and handed it to Chen Qianli.
“Comrade Chen Qianli, say a few words to everyone,” Lin Shi said, looking at Chen Qianli.
“Come, Qianyuan, let’s the two of us brothers wish everyone a happy new year together!” Chen Qianli had his brother rise and stand beside him.
“I already suspected as much,” Wei Dafu said with a laugh, tipping his head back to drain his cup. Everyone raised their cups, rising to toast one another and exchange New Year’s greetings.
Once everyone had set down their cups, Lin Shi made the introduction: “Comrade Chen Qianli—the higher-ups have sent him to lead our group.”
Chen Qianli looked over each of the comrades, then said slowly: “The higher-ups originally transferred me here to assist Comrade Old Fang’s work. Old Yi received word that Old Fang has died a martyr’s death.”
He looked at Yi Junnian and went on: “Comrade Lin Shi is the Central special envoy, code name ‘Old Kai.’ He represents the Central Committee in conveying our mission to the Shanghai group. According to the plan, he was to leave Shanghai immediately after delivering the assignment, but he’s wounded and can’t travel far for now. Until he can leave safely, he’ll work alongside us. Tomorrow morning, Comrades Lin Shi, Ling Wen, and Cui Wentai will go to the bank.”
Ling Wen and Cui Wentai exchanged a puzzled glance and looked toward Yi Junnian, who turned his face to Lin Shi.
“There’s a fund set aside by the organization for this operation in the bank’s safety-deposit box—five gold bars,” Lin Shi added. “Before we can proceed further, we need to retrieve them first.”
“The biggest problem right now is that the enemy is very likely watching us,” Chen Qianli said, pausing here. “Comrade Lin Shi and I have concluded that the enemy releasing our captured comrades wasn’t because they thought they’d made a mistake—even if they truly had arrested the wrong people, they wouldn’t let them go so easily. We believe they released everyone because they know the underground Party is about to undertake an important operation. Unable to learn the details through interrogation, they pretended to release us, hoping we’d grow careless and expose ourselves during the operation. Comrade Lin Shi and I both suspect that at this very moment, outside this very house, there are secret agents watching.”
Qin Chuan’an nodded.
“What we most need to protect are two things—the gold bars in the safety-deposit box, and Comrade Lin Shi himself. But we must retrieve the gold, and it must be Comrade Lin Shi who retrieves it in person. So, to ensure nothing goes wrong, Comrade Lin Shi and I have just discussed and worked out a plan to separate the man from the gold. Tomorrow morning at ten-thirty, Comrade Cui Wentai will drive Lin Shi and Ling Wen to the bank. The bank’s main entrance is on the street corner—” Chen Qianli turned to Cui Wentai, “—you’ll park the car on the street across from the corner and wait. Once Lin Shi and Ling Wen come out, they’ll put the suitcase with the gold bars into the car, but they themselves will not get in—Comrade Cui Wentai will drive the gold to the contact point at Laozha Bridge, and from there it’ll move on by boat. Lin Shi and Ling Wen should not leave right away—they’ll sit for a while at the café at the mouth of Fucheng Lane across from the bank, and leave five minutes later.”
Chen Qianli turned to Yi Junnian: “Comrade Yi Junnian, you’re to arrive at that café before ten-thirty, with transportation arranged, to make sure they get away safely.”
Yi Junnian nodded. “Good!”
“What about the rest of us?” Liang Shichao asked eagerly.
“The other comrades go back to their own homes and stand by.”
Once he’d said all this, Chen Qianli felt, for the first time, a stirring unease in his heart—was this decision really the right one? Tomorrow, when the secret police discovered both Lin Shi and the gold bars in the safety-deposit box had vanished, they would surely launch a frenzied manhunt. How much confidence did he really have in this arrangement?