Chapter 29: Old Cen’s Business is Settled

In the evening, Zhang Anping arrived at Ji'e Lane carrying a heap of gifts and knocked on the door of No. 53. Having visited twice recently with his parents, he was already well-acquainted with the route.

His uncle had not yet returned from work, so Zhang Anping naturally sought out Old Madam Lan and his aunt, Madam Mao. The old lady enjoyed talking in her twilight years, and Zhang Anping was sensible enough to share fresh news from the outside world during every visit. As soon as she saw him, she would beckon him to sit by her side to listen. Zhang Anping was adept at flattery, often making the old lady burst into laughter with just a few words.

His aunt was also fond of him; partly because the Zhang family had taken her husband in when he was down on his luck in Shanghai, and partly because Zhang Anping truly knew how to please people. The two women chatted with him for a long time and insisted he stay for dinner. Zhang Anping did not stand on ceremony and ate with gusto. His unpretentious nature delighted them, and they kept piling food onto his plate until he finally clutched his stomach, claiming he would burst if he ate another bite. Only then did they reluctantly let him be.

When his uncle finally arrived, Zhang Anping immediately turned to Madam Mao and Old Madam Lan and said, "Great-aunt, Auntie, I’d better run! My uncle hasn't been looking at me favorably these past few days, and I’m afraid if he catches me, he’ll give me a thrashing."

He took off as soon as he said it, dodging his uncle. His uncle, unaware that he had been played by his nephew, asked where Zhang Anping was upon entering. He was promptly scolded by the old lady—Director Dai was a famously filial son, so he dared not offer any explanation. It was only after asking his wife later that he realized his nephew had slandered him. The future "King of Spies" turned dark-faced with rage.

"That brat! I really must find an opportunity to give him a beating!"

Though he gritted his teeth, it was clear from his expression that the future King of Spies was not truly angry; rather, he enjoyed this kind of simple, familial interaction. It had to be said that Zhang Anping’s strategy was truly brilliant.

...

Visiting his uncle was merely a pretext; his real goal was to save a man outside the city. That was why he had dodged his uncle and fled—with his uncle’s implicit endorsement, who would have the nerve to investigate how late Zhang Anping had actually stayed that night?

In the woods west of the city, Zhang Anping felt his way through the darkness to the pit from earlier that day and dug out Yin Liming. Using a flashlight covered with black cloth, he inspected the body and indeed saw patches of lividity. However, the lividity had not spread since the afternoon. Zhang Anping, who had been on pins and needles, finally breathed a huge sigh of relief.

When he first discovered the lividity, he feared something had gone wrong with the system's "suspended animation" drug, turning what was supposed to be a fake death into a real one. He had been consumed by immense guilt since the afternoon. Had he not still held a shred of trust in the system, he would never have dared to disturb Yin Liming.

The lividity had not spread, and it remained when pressed, looking exactly like fresh post-mortem staining—without a doubt, this was a miraculous side effect of the system’s drug.

"System, my dear, I was wrong. You are truly amazing!"

After apologizing to the system in his heart, Zhang Anping tossed some dead branches into the pit, filled it back in, and then hoisted Yin Liming onto his back to leave the woods. Taking side paths, he arrived at a house he had purchased in the suburbs.

After settling the man on the bed, Zhang Anping took out a medical kit to clean and bandage Yin Liming’s wounds. The gruesome, horrific injuries filled him with profound respect for this iron-willed man. That he had managed to endure the interrogation was entirely due to the system, but the man before him was merely an ordinary person who had never received professional anti-interrogation training. Yet, driven by his faith, he had withstood pain that most people could not endure even half of.

Because the drug’s effect lasted for 24 hours, Yin Liming remained in a state of suspended animation. After finishing the bandaging, Zhang Anping could only leave behind food and a note. He wrote the note with his left hand:

[You have been rescued. Do not panic. I will change your bandages tonight.]

To be safe, he left a dagger hidden under Yin Liming. Having done all this, Zhang Anping left the small courtyard, locked the door from the outside, and headed back to the Guanwang Temple. Before entering the temple, he deliberately doused himself with cheap perfume.

...

The next morning, Ming Cheng, who had returned by train overnight, brought back the results of his investigation.

"Teacher, according to my investigation, the reason Cen Anyan left Tongji Middle School was that he was forced out by malicious rumors."

Zhang Anping, who had intentionally asked Ming Cheng to report in his office, asked curiously, "What kind of malicious rumors could force him to resign?"

"Soliciting prostitutes."

Zhang Anping wore a knowing smirk and asked, "How could that lead to malicious rumors?"

Xu Baichuan interjected, "Shihao, you don't understand the Communists—they don't solicit prostitutes." He then asked Ming Cheng, "Even if he did, it shouldn't cause such a scandal, right?"

Ming Cheng looked awkward. "They say he was so overcome with desire that he called a prostitute to his dormitory. Furthermore... people claim that the bed stopped shaking less than a minute after they started, and the prostitute was cursing as she left..."

Zhang Anping thought to himself: *Bullshit, I definitely shook it for two and a half minutes! These rumors are getting ridiculous!*

Xu Baichuan laughed uncontrollably. "What a talent. No wonder he couldn't show his face at Tongji Middle School, and couldn't even stay in Shanghai! Shihao, your teacher is definitely not a Communist. Let him go."

Zhang Anping smiled. "This teacher of mine really embodies the term 'cultured scoundrel' to the fullest—but this kind of character actually suits my requirements perfectly."

Ming Cheng pricked up his ears, waiting for what came next. But Zhang Anping said, "Ming Cheng, you’ve worked hard on this trip. Hand me your travel expense report later; once I sign it, take it to the General Affairs Office. I’ll grant you two days off. You may go."

Ming Cheng was disappointed but remained expressionless. He thanked them, bid farewell to Xu Baichuan and Zhang Anping, and left the office.

Once Ming Cheng was gone, Zhang Anping said, "Brother Xu, I have an immature idea. I’d like to hear your thoughts."

"As expected of someone who has studied abroad, you’re full of ideas—go ahead, let me share in the credit." Xu Baichuan joked.

"I want to find some spokespeople for our Secret Service in the press," Zhang Anping said. "The whole world is full of voices criticizing us. I find it baffling—don't these bastards see all the things we do? If they won't speak for us, we’ll find our own people to speak for us."

This was a common tactic in later times, known as "internet trolls." While they existed during this period, public opinion warfare was not yet highly valued. Zhang Anping’s suggestion was primarily because the full-scale War of Resistance was about to break out, and the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics would focus its efforts behind enemy lines. This would not have much impact on the Communist Party at this stage. But after the war, with his uncle gone and the Bureau destined to fade into history, using newspapers that had long spoken for them to launch a counter-attack would be—well, just thinking about it made him happy.

"That’s a great idea!" Xu Baichuan exclaimed. After all, who wouldn't want a good reputation?

"I plan to start with a pilot program, and I’ll have Old Cen lead the way."

"Your teacher is perfect! He’s the right material for this line of work," Xu Baichuan said with certainty.

Zhang Anping expressed his agreement, but complained inwardly: *If Old Cen knew about this evaluation, would he cry or laugh?*

"Brother Xu, then I’ll go speak with my teacher to make it clear. That’s fine, right?"

"No problem!" Xu Baichuan nodded, taking full responsibility. This was, after all, a credit-earning opportunity; in the intelligence business, who wouldn't want to rack up more merit?

With Xu Baichuan’s approval, Zhang Anping removed his disguise to "interrogate" his contact. Once inside the interrogation room, Cen Anyan still appeared terrified. Lu Qiaoshan, who was in charge of the escort, tried to intimidate him: "Do you know? Yesterday, a stubborn Communist was beaten to death by our men in this very room! Cen Anyan, you had better cooperate honestly, or you will follow in his footsteps."

A flicker of sorrow passed through Cen Anyan’s eyes, but he shouted in a panicked voice, "I am not a Communist! Anping, help me! Help me!"

Seeing Cen Anyan flailing in terror, Lu Qiaoshan raised his whip to strike, but Zheng Yaoxian grabbed it. "Leave this to me. You get out."

Lu Qiaoshan nodded and exited the room. Zheng Yaoxian gestured for Cen Anyan to sit. Seeing him sit down cautiously, he said nonchalantly, "Cen Anyan, is it? Your secret is out."

Cen Anyan pleaded with a pale face, his nervous demeanor looking entirely genuine. Zhang Anping, having shed his disguise, walked into the room and smiled at Zheng Yaoxian. "Brother Zheng, leave the rest to me."

Zheng Yaoxian sat behind the primary interrogation chair, disappearing into the shadows. "Go ahead."

As soon as Zhang Anping sat down, Cen Anyan shouted nervously, "Anping, save me, I’m not a Communist, save me."

"Teacher Cen, don't get excited. Let me give you the bottom line—" Zhang Anping signaled for him to calm down. Only when Cen Anyan’s emotions stabilized did he continue: "Teacher Cen, according to our rules, you are highly suspicious for appearing at the site where we were arresting Communists."

Cen Anyan began to shout excitedly again, and Zhang Anping had to gesture for him to be quiet before continuing: "However, I have vouched for you, and my superiors have reluctantly agreed to let you go. But you must agree to one thing."

Cen Anyan declared passionately, "As long as you let me go, never mind one thing, ten or a hundred are no problem!"

"It’s like this: you need to sign a contract with us. Basically, whenever we have news, we need to release it through you. Do you understand?"

"Ah? This... I’ll need to be paid for that," Cen Anyan said weakly, but his tone was firm.

"That’s no problem!" Zhang Anping waved his hand in agreement. The Nationalist government was poor, but the Secret Service was never short of funds; they could afford it!

"Then that’s settled—where is the contract? I’ll sign it."

Cen Anyan’s performance made Xu Baichuan, who was eavesdropping, mutter to himself: *My judgment of people is spot on!*

The contract was drafted by Zhang Anping. To put it bluntly: Cen Anyan was responsible for promoting the Secret Service in the newspapers, and the Secret Service would pay him according to his results—the remuneration would be no less than 1.5 times the standard manuscript fee.

It was truly expensive to hire "trolls" in this day and age! Fortunately, the money was going to his own people, and he wasn't the one paying for it. Hmm, it was well worth it.