Chapter 2: "The Masses"

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Zhang Anping’s family had moved.

After his maternal uncle rose to prominence, he did not forget the cousin and her husband who had once taken him in Shanghai. Shortly after Zhang Anping went abroad, his uncle brought them to Nanjing and secured his father a job managing finances.

However, the cramped apartment they once lived in Shanghai was bought by Zhang Anping’s father, likely kept as a memento.

The uncle instructed Zheng Yao, the driver, to take Zhang Anping to the old residence, but did not accompany him upstairs.

“I have some business to attend to, so I won’t go up. Stay in Shanghai for a few days, and after I finish my affairs, we’ll go to Nanjing together.”

Zhang Anping readily agreed, “Alright.”

Zheng Yao wanted to accompany Zhang Anping upstairs, but he waved him off.

Watching his uncle leave, Zhang Anping wiped the smile off his face and climbed the stairs, reflecting carefully on every word exchanged, making sure he hadn’t missed a single detail before relaxing.

There was no choice—his uncle’s reputation was enormous. Though not yet famous, his future presence was enough to terrify countless people. As a sly fox himself, Zhang Anping could not afford even the slightest negligence.

He greeted the neighbors as he went upstairs and opened the small, long-sealed room.

There was no musty smell; from the traces, it had been cleaned recently.

Surely, his uncle had arranged for the cleaning.

A smile appeared on Zhang Anping’s face. He was truly fortunate to have such a status. Without it, how could he so easily gain the favor of this “King of Spies”?

The future legendary Sixth Brother of the Military Intelligence Bureau was still obediently moonlighting as a driver at this time!

If he did not have this family connection, not only would he have no chance to polish his credentials in America, but surviving in chaotic Republican China would have been a problem.

He laid out the mattress his mother had specially left behind and lay down on the bed, peacefully waiting for nightfall.

Finally, night came. After changing into a simple set of clothes, Zhang Anping took his bag and left the house.

In a restaurant restroom, he completed his disguise—applying a fake beard and altering his appearance—then stepped back outside and hailed a rickshaw, his voice carrying a hint of weariness.

“To the Tongji Affiliated Middle School dormitory.”

He was going to report to someone there.

That person was Cen Anyan, the Communist agent Zhang Anping had rescued from “Zheng Liang.”

Four years earlier, Zhang Anping had reported “the Communist” Zheng Liang before leaving. Zheng Liang was actually after him—posing as a patriotic youth, he had organized countless students in patriotic activities, all aimed at exposing the agent codenamed “Rain Flower Stone.”

But Zheng Liang had terrible luck. He met Zhang Anping, a time traveler equipped with a system. Following system prompts, Zhang Anping secretly tailed him and confirmed Zheng Liang’s identity as a spy for the Military Intelligence Headquarters.

Cen Anyan saw Zheng Liang’s activities with students aligned with their style but recognized his naivety—reckless and lacking strategy. He intended to recruit him to the Communist Party, but Zhang Anping intervened at the crucial moment, halting the “Rain Flower Stone” operation and firmly confirming Zheng Liang was a spy for Military Intelligence Headquarters.

Though Cen Anyan escaped disaster, he did not trust Zhang Anping, who had helped him, and severed contact with the organization.

Since Zhang Anping was soon to go abroad, he did not rush to contact Cen Anyan or reveal the truth.

However, after earning money in America by selling patents and running businesses, he began providing Cen Anyan with a substantial monthly fund under the guise of a civilian supporter, a process that lasted over three years.

This generous operational funding made Cen Anyan hesitate to withdraw from Tongji Affiliated Middle School.

Receiving at least eight thousand US dollars monthly in mysterious remittances, which significantly eased the organization’s finances, Cen Anyan entered a silent mode—apart from transferring funds to the organization monthly, he avoided any other horizontal contact.

Now that Zhang Anping had returned to China, he naturally had to contact Cen Anyan and reconnect with the organization.

At the Tongji Affiliated Middle School dormitory area, Cen Anyan was leisurely reading a book.

It was the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but he had not turned a single page for a long time—clearly distracted.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the dormitory door.

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Cen Anyan startled instinctively. This was not the usual knock from an emergency contact.

Settling his unease, he calmly asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s me. I have business with Teacher Cen.”

Cen Anyan opened the door and was surprised to see a man in his thirties.

He scrutinized the man to gauge who he might be. Just as he was about to ask, the man stepped inside uninvited, closed the door, and sat down.

Zhang Anping assessed Cen Anyan.

A scholarly man in his forties, his face full of displeasure, suspicion, and a touch of caution at this man’s “rude” intrusion—perfectly embodying how a normal person would react to a stranger barging in.

Zhang Anping spoke first: “Teacher Cen, four years apart, yet your poise remains the same!”

“Who are you?”

Zhang Anping smiled faintly, took off his hat, and began removing his disguise, quickly revealing his true face.

Shock passed through Cen Anyan’s eyes, quickly replaced by confusion.

“Who are you? Why do this?”

He recognized Zhang Anping, though his appearance had changed greatly over four years, but still unmistakably him.

Four years ago, Zhang Anping had stopped him from contacting Zheng Liang—after the organization confirmed Zheng Liang was a spy for Military Intelligence Headquarters, Cen Anyan was both alarmed and curious about Zhang Anping.

But Zhang Anping went abroad and never returned. Because of the mysterious remittances, Cen Anyan had to remain silent and keep this matter to himself.

Yet now, Zhang Anping appeared beside him, disguised.

For safety, he pretended not to recognize him.

Zhang Anping understood Cen Anyan’s intentional denial.

Gaining the trust of underground operatives was no easy feat.

Fortunately, he was well prepared.

He pulled out a stack of remittance receipts from his bag and laid them on the table.

Though all in English, Cen Anyan immediately recognized them as the receipts for every remittance he had received over the past four years.

Cen Anyan was stunned but his instincts as an underground Party member made him suspicious.

He asked, puzzled, “What do you mean by this?”

“Teacher Cen, you must have confirmed Zheng Liang’s spy identity, right?”

Cen Anyan remained confused.

“What are you talking about? Zheng Liang? Zheng Liang is... I remember now, you mean Zheng Liang is...”

Not even this worked?

The vigilance of the underground Party was even higher than Zhang Anping imagined!

Helpless, Zhang Anping took out a book.

“Teacher Cen, I remember the last time we met, you were reading this book, right?”

“The numbers of the first 12 remittances I sent—subtract 7 from the first digit, subtract 1 from the second, add 8 to the third, add 1 to the fourth, then pair the resulting numbers two by two, adding 1 to each number in the pair—you’ll find the answer in this book.”

Subtract 7, subtract 1? Add 8, add 1?

71, 81?

By this point, Cen Anyan believed him.

Because these numbers held significant meaning for Communists.

But he still verified it.

Zhang Anping had sent over thirty remittances, and he remembered the numbers by heart.

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After quickly calculating the answer, Cen Anyan flipped through the book to find the message:

“I, Zhang Anping, want to join the Communist Party!”

Faced with this answer, Cen Anyan’s last shred of doubt vanished.

But he was immediately more puzzled—a student barely twenty years old now, where did nearly three hundred thousand dollars come from in four years?

“Teacher Cen, are you surprised by the source of this money? Rest assured, I earned it in America—”

Zhang Anping saw Cen Anyan’s doubt and pulled out a Citibank deposit slip, placing it on the table:

“This is fifty thousand dollars. It’s the largest amount I can liquidate right now.”

Cen Anyan couldn’t hide his excitement.

“Anping, this is...”

“I wanted to say this is my Party fee—but I’m certainly not qualified,” Zhang Anping said with a self-deprecating smile. “Money doesn’t represent my attitude, but it’s my sincere intention.”

After speaking, Zhang Anping took out several papers.

“This explains the sources of these funds—the initial capital came from selling patents, followed by investments and opening a supermarket chain. The Chinese Exclusion Act in America means they won’t find me directly, but based on these clues, you should be able to track me down.”

“This is my current resume—including my time in America. Please take a look.”

“This is my family background report. I’ve listed all my relatives in the National Government. I welcome your Party’s investigation. In short, I admire the Chinese Communist Party and want to be a part of it, just like you!”

Zhang Anping’s tone grew serious at the end.

He told no lies. Anyone from the future who came here would be filled with longing to join this great organization—the creators of New China were the purest people.

Who wouldn’t want to fight alongside such people?

Cen Anyan felt Zhang Anping’s deep sincerity.

He skimmed Zhang Anping’s family background but was struck dumb when he saw one entry:

His uncle, Dai Chunfeng, was currently director of the Second Division of the JSWYH Investigation and Statistics Bureau.

This Military Intelligence Bureau was not yet the famous one of later years but was a collective name for the Party Affairs Investigation Section and the Revival Society’s Spy Department.

But as a Communist underground member, how could Cen Anyan not know that name?

He stared in disbelief.

“Your uncle...”

Underground Party members had excellent psychological resilience, but even they could lose composure when thunder struck close enough.

Just like Cen Anyan now.

Before Cen Anyan could finish, Zhang Anping solemnly said, “Yes.”

Thunder rolled through Cen Anyan’s mind.

The nephew of that man had voluntarily come to join the Party!

Suppressing his shock, Cen Anyan explained, “Given your situation, I must report to the organization for approval. Also, joining requires vetting and assessment; you can’t just say you want to join and be accepted.”

“I know that. Because I know your Party very well. Teacher Cen, I will visit again in three days.”

After speaking, Zhang Anping took his leave. Cen Anyan did not try to stop him. After Zhang Anping finished reapplying his disguise, Cen Anyan saw him off. Watching him leave, his calm expression suddenly became animated.

The “civilian” had finally appeared, but his true identity was even more astonishing. Looking at the fifty-thousand-dollar deposit slip in his hand, Cen Anyan’s heart slowly settled.

Whether or not there was deceit, this money was real!