Old Chen's Inspiration, Kato's Last Letter

By the time Shen Yan got home, it was already pitch-dark.

A streetlamp hung from a utility pole at the entrance to the alley, its dim yellow light falling on the uneven flagstone road. A few flying insects circled the bulb, their shadows growing larger and smaller on the ground.

He pushed open the courtyard gate. A little yellow dog no bigger than two palms darted out of its kennel and rushed to his feet. It froze for a moment, then bared its teeth and clamped down on his trouser leg, shaking its head from side to side and growling low in its throat.

"Big Yellow! Stop that!" Nian'an called from inside.

The little yellow dog ignored her and bit down even harder.

Shen Yan looked down at it without moving.

The dog no longer recognized him-he had been away from home too long.

The last time he had come back was half a month ago. He had eaten a hurried meal, taken a phone call, and left again.

The puppy had only recently been weaned. Half a month was plenty of time for it to forget him completely.

Nian'an ran out of the house and stopped short when she saw Shen Yan. Then her eyes lit up, as if someone had lit a lamp in those dark pupils.

"Godfather!"

She rushed over and buried her head in Shen Yan's stomach, twisting it hard as though she meant to bore a big hole right through him.

The little yellow dog let go and retreated to the side. Tilting its head, it looked at Nian'an, then at Shen Yan. Its tail slowly wagged once, then again.

Shen Yan bent down and picked Nian'an up. The little girl had grown heavier and taller. Her hair was tied in two little braids that stuck out on either side.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder. "Godfather, what took you so long?" she mumbled.

"Godfather's been busy."

"You're always busy." Nian'an's voice grew even more muffled. "Even Big Yellow doesn't recognize you anymore."

Shen Yan said nothing. He carried Nian'an into the main room, where Old Chen was sitting at the table drinking tea. The dishes on the table had been covered with overturned bowls to keep them warm. When he saw Shen Yan come in, Old Chen glanced up at him. The corners of his mouth moved, but he said nothing. He turned and went to the kitchen to bring out the rice.

Nian'an slid down from Shen Yan's arms, crouched on the floor, and picked up Big Yellow. "This is Godfather. You mustn't bite him," she whispered to it. Big Yellow licked her hand, wagging its tail a little faster.

At dinner, Nian'an chattered about the things that had happened at school. Her teacher had praised her handwriting, and the chubby boy at the next desk had kept failing to recite his lesson and had been made to stand as punishment. She shovelled rice into her mouth as she spoke, her cheeks bulging. Shen Yan listened with a smile, responding now and then. Old Chen said nothing, simply picking up food with his chopsticks and placing it in Shen Yan's bowl.

After dinner, Nian'an took Big Yellow out to play in the courtyard. Old Chen carried the dishes into the kitchen and came back out with two cups of tea. He set one in front of Shen Yan and sat down with the other.

"Something happened?" Old Chen asked.

"Mm."

"A big case?"

"Xihengjing," Shen Yan said.

Old Chen was silent for a while. He had heard about Xihengjing. More than two hundred Japanese and puppet troops had been surrounded and wiped out, and the story had spread all over Shanghai.

"What did the Japanese say?"

"They told me to investigate." Shen Yan picked up his cup and took a sip. "Find out who did it."

Old Chen glanced at him but didn't ask, "Was it you?" He picked up his cup, blew the floating leaves aside, took a sip, and set it down.

"You can't find out, and you mustn't find out..." he said.

Shen Yan raised his head.

Old Chen's gaze fell on Nian'an in the courtyard. The little girl was crouched on the ground, talking to Big Yellow in a voice too soft to make out.

"More than two hundred men, gone just like that," Old Chen said quietly. "The Japanese will definitely want an answer. If they can't find the killer, they'll need a scapegoat. But this is too big for an ordinary scapegoat to take the blame."

He paused, picked up his cup, and took another sip.

"Unless the Japanese themselves no longer want to investigate. Otherwise, this won't be easy to deal with."

Shen Yan held his teacup without moving.

Old Chen stood, patted his knees, and headed for the kitchen. At the doorway, he stopped without turning around.

"Be careful."

The kitchen door closed.

Shen Yan sat at the table, one thing Old Chen had just said turning over and over in his mind.

Unless the Japanese themselves no longer want to investigate.

How could the Japanese possibly not want to investigate? Unless...

He put down his cup, got up, and walked into the courtyard.

"Nian'an, Godfather has to go out for a bit."

Nian'an stood up with Big Yellow in her arms and looked at him. She didn't ask where he was going or when he would be back. She simply nodded and said, "Then come back early. Big Yellow will recognize you tomorrow."

Shen Yan crouched down and stroked Big Yellow's head. Big Yellow neither bit him nor wagged its tail. It simply watched him quietly, its eyes dark and bright.

"You'll recognize me tomorrow," Shen Yan said.

The French Concession.

Qian Bin sat in the small room behind the grocery store. Two cups of tea steamed on the table, and Shen Yan sat across from him.

"You've done us another huge favor! The comrades and the villagers have all been safely evacuated. The central leadership asked me to convey its thanks!"

Shen Yan took a sip of tea.

"No need for formalities. I came because I need your help this time."

"Tell me. Our superiors have instructed us to give our full cooperation whenever you need anything!"

"I have a list here," Shen Yan said. "The people on it are middle- and lower-ranking officers from the Japanese army's Shanghai Expeditionary Army Quartermaster Department, the arsenal, and the transport ship garrison, responsible for allocating military supplies and providing logistical support."

Qian Bin raised his head and looked at him.

"What do you need us to do?"

"Kill them! I need you to take care of everyone on the list within a week. If you can't do it, help me contact the Military Statistics Bureau. Assassination is their specialty. Tell them it's repayment for a favor they owe the Scavenger," Shen Yan said.

Qian Bin didn't ask why. He lowered his head and studied the list carefully.

"I'll pass the message along, and we'll do everything we can on our end too!"

"Safety first! If anyone on the list is particularly difficult to deal with, tell me. I'll handle them myself."

When Shen Yan walked out of the grocery store, the alley was deserted. The moon was hidden behind clouds, leaving it completely dark. He walked a few steps in the dark, then stopped and looked back. The lights in the store were already out. The entire alley was pitch-black, and he couldn't see a thing.

Having made all the arrangements, Shen Yan began his investigation in an orderly fashion. His first stop was Kato's office at his post.

Kato's office was on the second floor of a small gray building. The seal on its door had only recently been put in place.

Shen Yan stood outside the door for a while. Japanese personnel in the other offices along the corridor poked their heads out to watch him, whispering among themselves.

Shen Yan tore off the seal and pushed the door open.

The office was small, with a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet. There was an ashtray on the desk, with several cigarette butts still inside.

Shen Yan opened the drawer. Inside were several military manuals, an unopened pack of cigarettes, a stack of letter paper, and a diary.

He took out the diary and leafed through it page by page.

Kato's handwriting was square and restrained, every stroke pressed hard into the paper. The diary was filled with longing for his hometown and fervor for the war.

"Pack up all the documents in the office that don't involve military secrets and take them back."

The accompanying officer nodded and ordered an orderly to come in and pack them up.

Shen Yan nodded his thanks and turned to leave.

Back in his own office, Shen Yan ordered Fang Yuan to stand guard outside the door.

He sat down at his desk, took a sheet of letter paper he had brought back from his pocket, and spread it out. He closed his eyes and went over Kato's handwriting in his mind. When he opened them again, he picked up his pen.

For Section Chief Kuroiwa's personal attention:

I, your subordinate Kato, know that this letter may never reach you, but I must write it nonetheless.

Corruption within the troops stationed in Shanghai has reached an extreme. The arsenal guards resell ammunition for personal gain, while the navy transport unit hides private goods among its cargo, and smuggling is rampant. Some officers have even embezzled soldiers' compensation payments. This is a betrayal of the empire and of the emperor!

I previously bypassed the chain of command to report this to higher authorities, but was suppressed from within. It is clear that this corruption reaches far and wide!

I could not bear to see the empire's great undertaking destroyed by a group of parasites, so I investigated in secret. But the night before last, someone anonymously sent me a letter advising me to "turn a blind eye." With no other choice, I, your student, can only seek your help, Section Chief, and hope you will look into this matter.

The names of those found to have taken part in the corruption so far are as follows:

XXXX/XXXX/XXXX/XXXX...

Your subordinate, Kato, bows his head

August 10, Showa 13

Shen Yan put down his pen and read the letter from beginning to end. The handwriting was square and restrained, every stroke bearing Kato's distinctive touch. He folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, wrote Kuroiwa Masao's address in the sender's space, then wrote Kato's address in the recipient's space.

He stood up and instructed Fang Yuan to find a remote mailbox and put the letter in it.

Because the mailbox was in a remote location, the postal worker collected letters from it only once every three days. As a result, the letter did not appear in the sorting room of the Hongkou post office until the fourth day. A sorter picked up the envelope and frowned when he saw that it had no stamp. He picked up a wooden stamp, marked it [Return to sender], and placed it in a basket to one side before moving on to the next letter.