Chapter 3: The System

The next day, Cen Anyan waited anxiously until school was over. Unable to contain himself, he hurried out of school and went to his usual bookstore, where he purchased two books.

Buying one book was normal; buying two was a signal requesting a meeting.

The signal soon reached Cen Anyan’s handler online.

Because Cen Anyan received a large mysterious remittance every month, the organization, to ensure his safety, had stationed an observer near his residence to watch for any surveillance.

Before meeting Cen Anyan, the handler first contacted the observer. After confirming that Cen Anyan was not under the watch of enemy agents, the handler came to meet Cen Anyan that evening, posing as a student's parent and bringing the child along.

Once inside Cen Anyan’s room and ensuring no one else was present, the handler gestured for the child to step aside, then pulled Cen Anyan aside and asked quietly, “Old Cen, what’s going on?”

“The ‘Comrade’ came to see me last night.”

The handler was excited. “He showed himself? Who is he? An overseas patriotic Chinese?”

The ‘Comrade’ had been a tremendous help to their organization, sending a staggering monthly remittance that had saved countless lives.

“Old Wu, his identity is very special. I can’t tell you,” Cen Anyan said helplessly. “This matter is of utmost importance, and you might not be able to make decisions on it. I have to find the chief. He also gave me several documents about himself. I thought it over and decided not to keep them. I memorized the contents and then burned them!”

The ‘Comrade’ had an exceptionally high level of confidentiality, so Cen Anyan’s request to bend the rules was understandable.

After pondering for a moment, handler Old Wu said, “I will report to the chief. Prepare to leave the city at any time.”

“Okay.”

After the meeting, Old Wu hurried back with the child and immediately sent a courier to contact his direct superior, Sister Qian.

His superior, Sister Qian, was in Shanghai. He had deliberately told Cen Anyan about the possible departure from the city.

The ‘Comrade’s’ identity was crucial. Over three years, he had provided nearly $300,000 to the organization—a generous sum that greatly aided their cause. After receiving Old Wu’s message, Sister Qian deliberated carefully before making a startling decision:

She would come see Cen Anyan herself.

The next morning, Sister Qian arrived at Tongji Affiliated Middle School, again posing as a student's parent, and directly sought out Cen Anyan.

Faced with the sudden appearance of the chief, Cen Anyan was utterly shocked. “Sister Qian?!”

“Sister Cen, about my nephew going to school…” Sister Qian acted as if she were in a difficult position. Seeing this, Cen Anyan deliberately cleared his throat a few times and signaled for her to follow him. As they walked, he chatted casually about the school. Once in a safe spot, he blurted nervously, “Sister Qian, why have you come?”

“Tell me about the ‘Comrade.’”

Looking around cautiously, Cen Anyan whispered, “Do you remember Zhang Anping? The student who stopped me from meeting Zheng Liang four years ago.”

Sister Qian was also shocked. “You mean the ‘Comrade’ is him?”

A mysterious individual who had provided nearly $300,000 over more than three years turned out to be a student?

“Yes! Not only that, he also…”

Cen Anyan began to describe Zhang Anping’s situation.

Although he had already memorized Zhang Anping’s “entrepreneurial history” provided by the student, recounting it again was still astonishing.

It was unimaginable how a mere sixteen-year-old student could cross the ocean, sell patents, start businesses in America, and make so much money!

Most astonishingly, Zhang Anping had relinquished his shares in a priceless mega-mall, selling them for $800,000—a gesture that revealed the purity of his heart.

Sister Qian was deeply moved. Such a young man, without hesitation, gave up his lucrative foreign assets, sold them, and returned to join their party!

“Sister Qian, the only thing troubling me is Zhang Anping’s family background,” Cen Anyan confessed. “His maternal uncle is the director of the Second Division of the Investigation and Statistics Bureau!”

What Cen Anyan found difficult, Sister Qian took in stride—even though the uncle’s position in the spy department was significant.

“Are you saying he attended an American spy school while studying there?”

“Yes, his personal documents show he graduated top of his class in multiple subjects.”

“I really want to meet this young man!” Sister Qian said eagerly.

Zhang Anping’s profile was dazzling. Even without the three years of dollar remittances or the recent $50,000, his attitude toward their party alone made him worthy of recruitment.

“He’s coming to see me tomorrow night—would you like to meet him?”

“No,” Sister Qian thought it over but shook her head to refuse. However, she warned, “Old Cen, from now on, you are Zhang Anping’s sole contact. I will report his case to the chief. Other than that, no one else must know! Understand? You will cut off contact with Old Wu and his people. I will assign a courier to handle communication between you and me!”

“I understand.”

“Also, you are responsible for assessing him and introducing him to the party. You decide when the time is right.”

“Got it.”

…

In the following days, Zhang Anping enjoyed exploring old Shanghai.

People of this era would marvel at Shanghai’s prosperity and be amazed by the grandeur of this pearl city. But as a soul from the future who had witnessed the Rabbit Revival, he could not stand Shanghai of this time.

Especially what he saw in the foreign concessions.

Foreign troops openly roaming, Westerners considered superior, Japanese soldiers lurking...

“Such a Shanghai…”

Zhang Anping shook his head with a sigh, wishing he could once more behold the confident Shanghai of the past.

But he had to go to the concessions to see his two partners.

York and Bianchi had already set up the foreign trade company, with the name Zhang Anping had chosen:

Global Trading Company.

The name was grandiose, with a total capital of $200,000. Zhang Anping had also brought in their first order—amounting to $39,000, with an expected gross profit of $19,000.

Not a bad start.

York and Bianchi were excited and wanted to celebrate the opening of Global Trading in style, but Zhang Anping inspected the place and left—he would have no overt connection with the company.

While wandering aimlessly in the concession, a familiar voice called from behind:

“Anping!”

Zhang Anping turned around.

It was indeed Zheng, the future mastermind who would command the Military Unified Headquarters and outwit his own uncle.

“Brother Zheng!”

Zhang Anping greeted him with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

A much younger Zheng Yaoxian, lacking his future maturity and authority, smiled warmly at his nephew. “I just finished business with the chief. I saw you wandering, so I came to find you.”

“Ha, I happen to have something to discuss with you.”

“What is it?” Zheng Yaoxian’s interest was piqued. He knew the chief was very fond of Zhang Anping. From what he understood, the chief often shared a bed with his nephew during undercover operations in Shanghai, indicating a deep bond.

“I’ve seen your skills, Brother Zheng. They’re impressive! If uncle organizes another special training class, could you come teach for a while? I have some ideas about hand-to-hand combat, but I need your help to realize them. I’m good at everything except fighting—I have lots of ideas but get completely lost when it comes to actual combat.”

Zhang Anping was shamelessly boasting.

In truth, his combat skills were formidable. During his time in America, he had conducted “pest extermination” missions, taking down multiple gang members barehanded.

Yet, his combat scores at school ranked last.

In the future, he would keep his fighting ability under wraps—his trump card.

Inviting Zheng Yaoxian to teach at the future special training class was actually a way to help him.

As the future Sixth Brother of the Military Unified Headquarters, Zheng would have many loyal followers, but having more disciples was even better.

Maybe one day they could wrestle with the one who favored or shunned people at will.

If only Sixth Brother could take charge of the future intelligence bureau...

Zheng Yaoxian was thrilled. Teaching at the special training class was a huge opportunity. Yet, the more excited he was, the more cautious he became, hesitating, “I’m inexperienced. I might not be qualified.”

“No problem. As long as you agree. I’ll talk to uncle.”

Having settled the matter, the two strolled leisurely through the streets of Shanghai.

Both eager to befriend each other, their conversation grew lively. Soon, they switched to informal terms—one calling the other “Brother Xian,” the other replying “Brother Ping.” It was like dry wood meeting a blazing fire—words could hardly describe the intensity.

At parting, Zheng Yaoxian reminded, “We’ll probably leave the day after tomorrow. Get ready. I’ll pick you up then.”

“The day after tomorrow? Okay!”

They smiled and parted ways.

Though Zheng kept a smile, his heart was heavy—the boy who once called him Brother Zheng had changed.

After their long chat, Zhang Anping’s words were somewhat unclear, and Zheng had gleaned no truly useful information.

Not a single slip!

Zheng immediately adjusted his strategy regarding Zhang Anping, ranking him just below the chief—this twenty-year-old rookie was more troublesome than any other spy.

Zhang Anping, however, did not overthink. After returning home alone, he lay on his bed and entered the system space.

It was a vast training ground, constructed according to Zhang Anping’s thoughts. The only thing beyond his control was a huge billboard, currently devoid of advertisements but displaying the current mission:

Join the Investigation and Statistics Bureau’s Military Police Division.

This mission had appeared long ago, but Zhang Anping had ignored it—he had his own plans and refused to be led by the mysterious system.

For now, the system’s greatest use was as a training ground.

With unlimited ammunition.

Stepping into the shooting range, Zhang Anping resumed his left-hand shooting practice.

Thanks to this training ground, he had honed impressive shooting skills over the years. Whether long or short guns, he could shoot at will, with absurdly high accuracy.

Since last year, he had focused on left-hand shooting—choosing this dangerous path meant he needed to prepare thoroughly. If he ever had to go undercover, left-handed shooting would be a valuable, easily concealed asset.

Training commenced.

The shooting range scene suddenly changed, transforming into a complex alleyway.

Noisy footsteps echoed as a group of plainclothes agents and Japanese soldiers burst from the alley.

Zhang Anping quickly drew his gun with his left hand and engaged in combat.

He moved swiftly through the alley, occasionally launching counterattacks from corners, sometimes vaulting over three-meter-high walls.

But his pursuers were professional and kept close behind.

Fifteen minutes later, panting, Zhang Anping was surrounded by people wielding long and short guns. After a burst of gunfire, he was riddled with bullets.

The alley and figures disappeared, and Zhang Anping, unharmed, stood up again.

“This difficult-level mission isn’t easy. When will I get those 100 points?” he sighed. Simple and normal levels were easy, but this hard mission was a nightmare. He had been stuck for a year!

He exited the training ground and went to sleep.