Aftermath: Have You Ever Seen an Undercover Agent Investigate an Undercover Agent?

The gunfire in Xihengjing had been silent for three full days, but Shanghai's Japanese and puppet authorities had known no peace. A dark cloud hung over the entire Hongkou concession.

On the day of the shootout, the Central China Area Army headquarters received a report and swiftly dispatched a battalion to scour the area within ten li of Zhudi Town. Japanese infantry formed a long line and waded from one end of the rice paddies to the other with bayonets fixed, cutting down even the reeds in the ditches and the weeds on the ridges, but found nothing.

At last, they found Zhangjia Dachang.

The road had been soaked in blood, which had dried to a dark brown and glimmered a dull red in the moonlight. The bodies had been arranged in two neat piles-one of Japanese soldiers, the other of puppet troops. They had not been hastily abandoned; someone had carried them over and laid them out one by one.

Kato's body was on top.

Immediately afterward, the baozhang from every nearby village were thrown into prison and subjected to a succession of tortures, including chili water and the tiger bench, as their captors demanded the whereabouts of the guerrillas and the ambushers. Some had their ribs broken, others had the soles of their feet burned raw with hot irons. They suffered every torment, but repeated only the same words: "I don't know." They really did not know. They had spent a great deal of money to buy their positions, only to be crippled before they had earned anything or enjoyed more than a few days of comfort-and by masters they had only recently taken!

Where could they go for justice...

On the third day, the Special Higher Police brought in a professional investigation team from central Shanghai, equipped with cameras, measuring tapes, magnifying glasses, and a full set of other instruments. They spent the entire day at Zhangjia Dachang. The investigators carefully measured every ballistic trace and photographed it for the record, picking up the shell casings scattered across the road one by one and placing them carefully in evidence bags, unwilling to overlook the slightest clue. That night, the detailed investigation report landed on the desk of Kuroiwa Masao, section chief of the Japanese Special Higher Police.

Kuroiwa Masao held the report and read it over and over. He said nothing for a long time, his face so dark it seemed ready to drip water.

The report stated clearly that there were traces of fire from at least ten heavy machine guns at the scene. Their fields of fire formed a regular crossfire, and the firing positions had been precisely calculated. This had been no hasty engagement, but a meticulously planned massacre.

The shell casings left at the scene were all standard Japanese Type 92 heavy machine gun ammunition, identical to that used by Japanese forces. Judging by the distribution of bullet strikes and the area covered by the fire, the ambushers were not only well equipped but professionally trained, with a force at least equivalent to a full-strength company.

Kuroiwa Masao set down the report and rubbed his throbbing temples, rapidly weighing the possibilities.

Were they remnants of the defeated Kuomintang forces?

No. Routed troops were scattered and disorganized; they could never have such uniform equipment or disciplined tactics.

Were they guerrillas led by the Communist Party?

Even less likely. The guerrillas were terribly equipped; a unit with a single light machine gun counted as a main force. Even if every anti-Japanese armed group in Central China pooled its resources, it could not muster ten heavy machine guns and that kind of firepower.

Were they regular Kuomintang troops?

But the main Nationalist forces had withdrawn from Shanghai long ago, after the Battle of Shanghai. It was impossible for an organized unit like that to be lying low without a sound under the Japanese army's nose.

Then who had carried out the attack?

He seized the telephone on his desk and cranked the handle hard, his voice thick with suppressed anger. "Get me General Kagesa."

Meanwhile, far away in Japan, at Yokosuka Naval Port in Tokyo Bay.

The transport ship Shinshu Maru, arriving from Shanghai, slowly came alongside the dock. The voyage had been calm and uneventful. The sailors had kept their usual watches, and the captain had maintained the ship's log according to regulations. Everything seemed normal when they reached port.

But when unloading began, the Japanese officers and men present were all dumbfounded.

The boxes were far too light.

Every wooden crate in the hold was intact, its seals neatly affixed and the crates stacked in perfect order, without the slightest sign of disturbance. But when they were opened one by one, the crates were empty.

More than a hundred wooden crates had been filled with gold bars, antiques, paintings, and calligraphy looted from China. Now it had all vanished, cleared out completely. Not even a copper coin or a scrap of paper remained.

The port was sealed off, and every officer and man aboard the transport was detained and interrogated in turn.

But the naval transport unit insisted that all the cargo had been checked and accounted for when it was loaded in Shanghai, with the loading manifest to prove it. It could not possibly have been stolen before departure.

When word reached Shanghai, the dock garrison countered that the ship had been under heavy guard around the clock throughout its stay at the Shanghai docks. Outsiders could not possibly have boarded, so the problem had to have occurred at sea.

The two sides shifted blame and argued for three full days. No one dared sign off and accept responsibility, much less report the matter to the military ministry.

But the truth could not be concealed forever. A theft of such magnitude eventually reached the ears of Japan's military high command.

The emperor confronted the navy minister at an imperial conference. Terrified and drenched in sweat, the minister knelt and begged punishment for a full half hour. After the meeting, he immediately called the army minister and flew into a rage, and the army minister in turn vented all his anger on the Shanghai garrison.

At the other end of the telephone line, Kagesa Sadaaki gripped the receiver and listened to the furious dressing-down, his face deathly pale. By the time he put down the phone, his fingers were trembling uncontrollably.

He took three reports from a drawer and laid them side by side on his desk. The first was the investigation report on the Hongkou arsenal explosion, the second concerned the theft aboard the Shinshu Maru, and the third was the investigation into the Xihengjing ambush. Three major incidents in the space of a single month, carried out swiftly by perpetrators whose movements were mysterious-all the signs indicated that the same force was responsible.

Kagesa Sadaaki took a deep breath and spent a long time steeling himself before picking up the phone again and dialing a special number.

"General Doihara, this is Kagesa Sadaaki. Something serious has happened in Shanghai. We need tactical guidance."

A solemn atmosphere filled Chongguang Hall.

Doihara Kenji, who had just flown from Japan to Shanghai on a military aircraft, sat in the second-floor office with the three reports spread out before him.

He read every word carefully, reviewed everything once more from the beginning, then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in thought.

As one of the Japanese army's foremost intelligence masters, Doihara Kenji saw the peculiarities of the Xihengjing ambush at a glance. The regular Nationalist forces had long since withdrawn from Shanghai, and no organized Chinese armed units remained in the surrounding area. Communist guerrillas were active, but their equipment was primitive; there was no possibility they could muster the firepower of ten heavy machine guns. That could only mean a mysterious armed force of unknown identity had quietly infiltrated Shanghai and the surrounding region. The force was well equipped, well trained, and supplied with precise intelligence. It knew the Japanese army's movements and deployments inside out and targeted its vital points.

The Americans? The British? Or the Soviets? Whoever was behind it, their goal could not have been clearer-to completely destroy Japanese colonial rule in Shanghai.

Doihara Kenji picked up the phone and summoned his adjutant. "Notify Kagesa Sadaaki and Kuroiwa Masao. There will be an emergency meeting at Chongguang Hall tomorrow at nine in the morning."

The following morning at nine, in the Chongguang Hall conference room.

The room was small, with a dark green cloth covering a long table. A large military map of Shanghai hung on the wall, with three locations heavily circled in red: the Hongkou arsenal, the Huangpu River docks, and Xihengjing in Zhudi Town. The marks stood out sharply.

Doihara Kenji sat upright at the head of the table, with Kagesa Sadaaki and Kuroiwa Masao on either side. Kagesa's uniform was immaculate and his face expressionless, but the dark circles beneath his eyes revealed days of exhaustion and anxiety. Kuroiwa was in even worse shape, his eyes bloodshot and his uniform badly wrinkled. Clearly, he had struggled to eat or sleep for days, run ragged by the case.

Doihara Kenji pushed the three reports to the center of the table and tapped the papers lightly. The dull sound tightened the hearts of the two men present.

"Three major incidents in a single month, all carried out by the same force. The arsenal was bombed, important imperial supplies were stolen, and nearly two hundred of the empire's elite were wiped out. The dignity of the Empire of Japan in Shanghai has never been trampled on to such an extent."

He stood and walked to the map, pointing to the Hongkou arsenal. "The arsenal explosion left English markings on the wall. It was a professional job."

His finger moved to the Huangpu River docks. "The Shinshu Maru was loaded with supplies and emptied without the guards noticing. The crates were intact, and the seals undamaged. Someone familiar with the dock defenses and the sentries' shift changes carried it out at leisure, leaving no trace."

His fingertip finally came to rest on Xihengjing in Zhudi Town. "The ambush of the imperial army was carried out with standard imperial Type 92 heavy machine guns. They used our own weapons to slaughter our soldiers. Such refined tactics and ruthless methods are far beyond an ordinary armed group."

He turned and swept a sharp gaze over the two men, his voice cold. "This tells us we are not facing a rabble, but a formidable force with heavy weapons, precise intelligence, and superb tactics. They can infiltrate an arsenal and plant explosives, empty a transport ship at a heavily guarded dock, and wipe out elite imperial troops in the field in a short time. This is no longer simple sabotage. If we do not stop them, they will shake the foundations of our rule in China!"

Doihara Kenji returned to his seat and took a sip of tea. His tone was mild, but every word carried weight. "The military ministry is furious. The navy and army blamed and accused each other for days before finally entrusting the entire case to me."

He put down his cup, his gaze suddenly turning sharp. "I'm giving you half a month. Find out the Scavenger's true identity, learn everything about him, and root out the force behind him. If you fail, the two of you will present yourselves to the military ministry and beg punishment."

Both men knew full well what it meant to present themselves and beg punishment.

Kagesa Sadaaki bowed his head sharply. "Yes, sir!"

Kuroiwa Masao hurriedly lowered his head as well, his voice somewhat hoarse. "Yes, sir!"

Doihara Kenji waved a hand, and the two men rose, saluted, and turned to leave.

"Wait." Doihara Kenji suddenly spoke, his tone calm. "I hear you have a Chinese patrolman named Shen Yan under your command. Was he the one who suggested finding a scapegoat in the arsenal case? Bring him into this matter as well. We need different perspectives on the problem."

On August 16, Shen Yan was going through documents in his office when the notice came.

Fang Yuan pushed the door open, his expression grave. "Captain, Director Lu called. He wants you to go to the Special Higher Police immediately. Section Chief Kuroiwa wants to see you in person."

Shen Yan set down the papers in his hand and rose slowly. He straightened the collar of his police uniform and put on his cap, his expression calm and unruffled.

The car stopped in front of the Special Higher Police building. Shen Yan got out and followed the Japanese soldier guiding him through a corridor and up the stairs. At the end of the hallway stood a dark wooden door. His guide knocked twice, and a steady voice came from inside.

"Come in."

Shen Yan pushed the door open and entered, standing tall.

Kuroiwa Masao sat behind his desk in a dark kimono jacket, pen in hand as he reviewed documents. He looked up and studied Shen Yan for several seconds, his gaze deep and unreadable.

Shen Yan stood at attention and saluted. "Section Chief, sir."

Kuroiwa Masao put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. "Sit."

Shen Yan sat down as instructed, his back straight and his gaze level, neither servile nor arrogant.

"Have you recovered from your injury last time?"

"Yes, sir. I've mostly recovered. It won't interfere with my duties."

"In the arsenal case, your idea to arrest Jews as scapegoats was very well done!"

"You flatter me, Section Chief," Shen Yan replied frankly, without the slightest hesitation. "The military ministry had given us a strict seven-day deadline to solve the case. The situation was urgent, and I had no other choice but to resort to that measure."

Kuroiwa Masao nodded noncommittally, picked up the three reports on his desk, and turned to the Xihengjing case on top. He pushed it toward Shen Yan. "What do you make of this?"

Shen Yan glanced down at the words "top secret" on the report's cover but did not reach for it. "This is top secret..."

Kuroiwa Masao gave him a long look and took the report back. "It's all right. I want to hear what you think."

Shen Yan opened the file and read it carefully, surprise appearing on his face from time to time.

Kuroiwa Masao did not hurry him, waiting quietly until he had finished.

After a moment's silence, Shen Yan spoke. "From the information available, the imperial troops and puppet soldiers were all killed in the ambush at Xihengjing. The enemy laid the ambush in advance and withdrew quickly after succeeding, leaving no trace. From this, we can see that the ambushers knew the imperial army's marching route, departure time, and allocation of personnel and weapons inside out, and had made thorough preparations beforehand. They were certainly no band of stragglers."

He paused, then continued, "The interrogation of the surrounding villages' baozhang yielded no useful information... There are two possibilities. First, all those baozhang were corrupted and became accomplices of the perpetrators. Second, the perpetrators evaded everyone's watchful eyes and set up an ambush of this scale right under their noses. I hope it was the first possibility, but reason tells me the second is the truth."

Kuroiwa Masao narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded in approval. "That was my assessment as well. So do you think the perpetrator was acting alone, or was it an organization? Or rather... do you think this was Lone Wolf's work?"

Shen Yan's expression remained calm as he answered readily. "After this ambush, the bodies of the empire's soldiers were all left where they fell, which does not match Lone Wolf's previous methods. But it is also possible they did it deliberately to make a show of force against the empire. Moreover, the weapons used in the ambush were standard imperial army weapons, which also differs from Lone Wolf's previous methods... In my opinion, whether it was Lone Wolf is not important. What matters is that the person who directed this operation knows the empire's deployments and patterns of movement in Shanghai inside out and can obtain precise confidential intelligence. He is no ordinary person. We must prepare ourselves to face a new enemy."

Kuroiwa Masao stared at him for several seconds, then the corners of his mouth lifted in a meaningful smile. "You're very clever. You haven't disappointed me."

Shen Yan lowered his head slightly, his manner humble. "I merely spoke according to the facts."

Kuroiwa Masao rose and walked to the window. With his back to Shen Yan, he looked out at the gloomy sky, his voice low. "The military ministry has ordered that the perpetrator's true identity must be uncovered within half a month."

He turned, his gaze falling on Shen Yan, and gave an order. "You will lead the Special Operations Squad in joining this investigation. Use your contacts and, from a Chinese perspective, deduce the enemy's next move. You must capture them."

Shen Yan immediately rose, stood at attention, and saluted. "I will do everything in my power and live up to the general's trust."

Kuroiwa Masao waved a hand, dismissing him.

Shen Yan saluted again, turned, and walked steadily out of the office, gently closing the door behind him.

Only when the door closed did he take a deep breath without betraying it, suppressing the turmoil in his heart.

He suddenly remembered a line from a television drama he had watched before transmigrating: "Have you ever seen an undercover agent investigate an undercover agent?!"

But things had come to this, and no matter how absurd the matter was, it still needed a result.

Shen Yan descended the stairs and walked out of the Special Higher Police building, narrowing his eyes slightly against the glaring sunlight.

Fang Yuan had been waiting in the car. When he saw Shen Yan come out, he immediately started the engine. "Captain, are we going back to the bureau?"

"Home," Shen Yan said calmly.

Fang Yuan asked no further questions. He pressed the accelerator, and the car left Hongkou, merging into the traffic and crowds on the street.

Shen Yan leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to rest, replaying his conversation with Kuroiwa Masao in his mind, every look and every pause. He had handled the entire exchange properly and flawlessly, and Kuroiwa Masao had shown no sign of suspicion. But Shen Yan knew that even if the old fox grew suspicious, he would never show it on his face.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the streets racing past the window, his gaze growing deep.

Half a month. What kind of answer should I deliver?