Your Men? I Haven't Seen Them

Shen Yan had kept his head down for two whole weeks, and word had been sent to both the Nationalists and the Communists to avoid making trouble in his jurisdiction as much as possible.

So no matter how chaotic things got outside, all remained peaceful in Shen Yan's jurisdiction.

Even so, Kuroiwa still had him come in every week to report on his work, encouraging and praising him every time.

Shen Yan knew perfectly well that this wasn't a work report. It was walking the dog.

Having him come around once a week reminded him that there was a leash around his neck and who held the other end.

On Thursday afternoon, he showed up in the Special Higher Police corridor right on time. His kraft-paper folder contained a week's patrol records, attendance sheets, and reports on checks for suspicious people in his jurisdiction.

Old Chen had put them together. He'd been a patrolman for twenty years and knew what should be written, what shouldn't be written, and what could be written as though nothing had been said.

He walked to the door without slowing, glancing toward the end of the corridor out of the corner of his eye. On the minimap, there were two points of light in Kuroiwa's office-one yellow, Kuroiwa Masao, and the other also yellow, identity unknown. He looked away and knocked on the doorframe.

Kuroiwa looked up and waved him in. Shen Yan entered and set the folder on the corner of the desk. A man sat on the sofa, dressed in a black Zhongshan suit buttoned tight at the collar. He sat straight-backed, hands on his knees, his posture deferential. A bulging kraft-paper envelope lay on the desk.

Heavenly Eye activated silently.

[Name]: Li Bingkun

[Sex]: male

[Identity]: No. 76 field team leader

[Good and Evil Points]: -168

[Current thoughts]: *After watching that Military Statistics Bureau supply point at Yangshupu Wharf for a week, I've finally gotten to the bottom of it. The credit for this one is as good as mine.*

"No. 76, Li Bingkun," Kuroiwa said.

Li Bingkun stood and bowed slightly, his face wreathed in smiles. He was around forty, with a long, thin face, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes. When he smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bunched together like a folding fan closing. He held out his hand, gripped Shen Yan's tightly, and shook it twice, applying just the right amount of force-neither too firm nor too light, neither too familiar nor too distant.

"Captain Shen, I've heard so much about you. I've long heard the Special Operations Squad had a young hero, and I've finally met you today." His voice wasn't loud, but he was warmly effusive, as if meeting a long-lost brother. "We must get to know each other better from now on, much better."

Shen Yan nodded. "Team Leader Li."

Li Bingkun released his hand, returned to the sofa, and sat down, placing his hands back on his knees. The smile remained on his face as though pasted there, neither too broad nor too faint, just right.

Kuroiwa picked up the documents Shen Yan had brought, studied them for a while, and nodded in satisfaction.

"Shen Yan, you've done an excellent job! Public security in Shanghai is dire right now, with anti-Japanese elements causing destruction everywhere. Only your jurisdiction is managed like an iron fortress! Li, No. 76 has been slacking off lately. You must learn from Shen, understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Li Bingkun immediately stood and bowed his head in acknowledgment of his fault. The corners of his previously smiling mouth twitched slightly; he was evidently less than happy.

Kuroiwa waved a hand.

He glanced at Shen Yan, then at Li Bingkun. "You may go."

Shen Yan saluted and turned to leave. As he walked through the doorway, he heard footsteps behind him. Li Bingkun caught up in a few strides and pulled out a cigarette case.

"Captain Shen, have a smoke! We're both making a living under the Imperial Army now, and I'll certainly have plenty to learn from you, little brother. Let's find a day when I can play host, have a few good drinks, and become friends!"

Li Bingkun's face was all warmth, but Shen Yan's Hostility Perception skill was ringing nonstop in his head.

A smiling tiger in every sense of the word!

"You're too kind, Team Leader Li! When we both have time, I'll treat you. We won't go home until we're drunk!"

"Ha ha, ha ha, sounds good! I'm determined to have you as a friend, Brother Shen!"

Fang Yuan parked the car at the entrance to the lane.

Shen Yan got out and started walking in.

After only a few steps, the alarm sounded in his head again-an indescribable chill crept up from the base of his neck to his scalp and burst there.

[Hostility Perception triggered. Direction: left rear. Distance: approximately 15 meters.]

He stopped without turning around, took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and lit it. He took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled in satisfaction.

Heavenly Eye activated silently. Pale blue text appeared at the edge of his vision.

[Name]: Zhou Guoliang

[Sex]: male

[Identity]: No. 76 field agent

[Good and Evil Points]: -45

[Current thoughts]: *What's the background of this man Team Leader Li told me to watch?*

Behind him to the left, a figure hunched in the shadows at the corner at the end of the lane, wearing a short gray cloth jacket and a straw hat pulled too low to see his face.

[Hostility Perception triggered. Direction: front right. Distance: approximately 12 meters.]

[Name]: Wu Dabiao

[Sex]: male

[Identity]: No. 76 field agent

[Good and Evil Points]: -38

[Current thoughts]: *Fine, I'll watch him, but why the hell did they have to make me crouch next to a trash can? This stench is fucking strong.*

Shen Yan turned and beckoned. Fang Yuan opened the car door and got out.

Shen Yan pulled out a cigarette, handed it to him, and flicked a lighter.

Fang Yuan cupped both hands around the flame and leaned in to light his cigarette.

"Go back and bring a few of the boys over. Grab those two dogs in the lane."

Fang Yuan nodded, cigarette between his lips, then got back in the car and drove away.

Shen Yan pushed open the courtyard gate. Big Yellow darted out of his kennel and circled his feet, tail wagging. Shen Yan crouched, patted Big Yellow's head, and took some tanghulu wrapped in oiled paper from his pocket, placing it on the stone table in the courtyard.

"Nian'an, tanghulu."

Nian'an ran out of the house, and her eyes lit up when she saw the tanghulu. But she didn't rush to take it. First she ran over and hugged Shen Yan's leg, then picked it up and took a bite, her cheeks bulging. Red hawthorn juice dribbled from the corner of her mouth, and she wiped it away with her sleeve.

"Godfather, why are you home so early today?"

"Nothing to do today." Shen Yan patted her head. "Go practice your calligraphy. I'll check it after dinner!"

Nian'an pouted and went inside with her tanghulu. Shen Yan stood in the courtyard without turning around or looking about. He knew those two were still in the lane; they hadn't left. He didn't need to look-on the minimap, two yellow points of light were pinned in place like two nails driven into the back of his head.

He walked into the main room. Old Chen was drinking tea.

"Have you eaten? There's food saved in the pot. Heat it up yourself."

Shen Yan nodded.

"Godfather, I have something to do later. You and the little girl should go to bed early. Just leave the door open for me."

Old Chen put down his teacup. He didn't ask what it was, where Shen Yan was going, or when he would return. He simply nodded.

Shen Yan brought the reheated food to the table and ate slowly.

After a while, the little girl came out holding up a page of scribbles, proudly asking her godfather to critique her work.

Shen Yan frowned helplessly. In his previous life, he'd laughed without restraint at videos of parents losing their minds while helping their children with homework. He hadn't expected the boomerang to come back and hit him so soon...

"Old man... how about we go pick up another one off the street? We've ruined this account."

Old Chen scolded him angrily! The little girl stamped her feet in protest! Big Yellow once again used Shen Yan's pant leg to practice his bite!

After they'd played around for a while, Fang Yuan knocked and came in, nodding to Shen Yan.

Shen Yan ruffled the girl's hair, picked up Big Yellow and tossed him aside, gave Old Chen a reassuring look, and rose to leave the house.

In the police station basement, two lamps burned, one pointed at the men, the other at the wall. The light was so bright it hurt to open one's eyes, and the water stains on the wall looked like a distorted map under its glare.

The two men were tied to chairs with black cloth bags over their heads. When Fang Yuan and his men had brought them back from the lane, they hadn't alerted anyone-they'd covered their mouths, hooded them, bundled them into the car, and driven away. The whole thing had taken less than three minutes.

When Shen Yan entered, he carried nothing. No tea, no cigarettes, no interrogation notebook. He walked up to the first man and removed the hood.

The light made the man squint. He was in his thirties, with a thin face, high cheekbones, chapped lips, and a mole on his chin. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Shen Yan. His pupils contracted-not in fear, but in recognition.

Shen Yan didn't ask any questions. He turned, walked to the wall, and took down a leather whip hanging from a nail. It was an old piece, braided from cowhide, its tip worn pale and its handle blackened and glossy from sweat. He hefted it in his hand, testing its weight.

Zhou Guoliang's Adam's apple bobbed.

Shen Yan came back, stood in front of him, folded the whip in half, and gripped it tightly. Then he swung it, lashing Zhou Guoliang across the chest.

"Smack!"

The sound wasn't loud. It was muffled, like a wet towel hitting a wall. Zhou Guoliang's body jerked backward, his chair creaking. His mouth opened, but no sound came out-or rather, he forced it back. His face went white, then red, then purplish blue. Beads of sweat emerged one by one on his forehead, as though someone were pricking them out of his pores with a needle.

Shen Yan didn't stop. The second lash struck his thigh. The third struck his arm. The fourth struck his shoulder. He didn't count; he stopped only when he'd had enough. The sound of the leather whip striking flesh echoed through the basement, dull and heavy, blow after blow, like someone slapping wet mud with a shovel.

Zhou Guoliang had bitten through his lip. Blood ran down his chin, dripping onto his collar and his knees. He never once cried out.

Shen Yan threw the whip onto the table and turned around. He walked up to the second man and removed the hood.

As soon as Wu Dabiao's eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Zhou Guoliang. Zhou Guoliang's head hung low. The clothes over his chest, thighs, and arms had been torn open by the whip, exposing the flesh beneath. Purplish-red welts crisscrossed it like crooked lines drawn by a child with crayons. In some places, the skin had broken and beads of blood seeped out, sticking the clothes to his flesh.

Wu Dabiao's face went pale. Not deathly pale, but gray-white, like the ashes of burnt paper.

Shen Yan said nothing. He took another whip down from the wall-not a leather one, but a cane, thin and flexible, with strips of cloth wrapped around its handle. He bent it in his hands to test its spring, then walked up to Wu Dabiao.

Wu Dabiao closed his eyes.

The cane struck his back with a sharper, crisper sound than the leather whip, like a bamboo strip cracking against a spinning top. Wu Dabiao couldn't endure as much as Zhou Guoliang. He cried out at the first stroke-not a scream, but a muffled grunt forced from deep in his throat, as if someone were choking him. At the second, he clenched his teeth, his cheeks bulging and veins standing out, sweat rolling down his forehead into his eyes. At the third, his body bowed forward, the chair creaked, and the chains of his handcuffs clattered together.

Shen Yan struck him five times. He put the cane back on the wall, turned around, pulled up a chair, and sat opposite them. He looked at them.

"I've given you your welcome gift. Now, gentlemen, tell me: underground Communists? Military Statistics Bureau? Or assassins from the jianghu? You've followed me for so long. I'm afraid you won't get past this without telling me something!"

Zhou Guoliang hung his head, his shoulders shaking. He wasn't crying; his muscles were spasming, twitching, pausing, then twitching again. Wu Dabiao's back was wet, impossible to tell whether from sweat or blood.

The basement fell silent. Only the hum of the filaments in the lightbulbs and the two men's heavy breathing remained.

Shen Yan waited a while. Then he stood, walked to the wall, and took down the leather whip. He went to Zhou Guoliang and gave him another round.

When he was finished, he put the whip back, returned to his chair, and continued watching them.

No questions. No interrogation. No urging them to speak. Just the beating.

Blood trickled from the corner of Zhou Guoliang's mouth and fell to the floor, one drop, then another. Wu Dabiao had bitten through his lip; blood ran down his chin and mixed with sweat until the two were indistinguishable.

Shen Yan stood and took down the cane. He walked over to Wu Dabiao.

Five strokes.

He put the cane back and returned to his seat.

The basement was utterly quiet. There was only breathing, growing heavier and faster. At last, Zhou Guoliang's tears fell silently, running down his cheeks to his chin and dripping onto the welts on his chest. The salt water soaked into the wounds, and the pain made his whole body shudder. He bit his lip without making a sound.

Wu Dabiao's head drooped like a chicken with a broken neck. His body was shaking, not from pain but from cold. Blood and sweat had soaked his clothes, plastering them to his body. The basement was cold and damp, and a draft came through the crack in the door, making him shake as though he had the ague.

Shen Yan seemed to have had enough fun. He shook his head and sighed.

He opened the door, walked out of the interrogation room, and said to Fang Yuan,

"They're both tough men. I reckon they're underground Communists. Fang Yuan, call Yamada and the other three in. They all trained in interrogation techniques at the Special Higher Police back then, so this is a good chance to get some practice. I'll go rest in my office. Tell me when you get results."

Fang Yuan looked at Shen Yan in surprise, just in time to see him silently mouth, "No. 76."

He immediately sneered, accepted the order, and left.

An hour later, the sound of car engines rose in the police station courtyard. More than one.

Shen Yan looked down from his office window.

Three black sedans had arrived. Their doors opened, and seven or eight men got out, all wearing black Zhongshan suits, their waists bulging.

They didn't speak, smoke, or look around. They stood there like wooden stakes driven into the ground.

Li Bingkun emerged from the second car, his face livid, and led his men toward the building.

Hearing the commotion, Fang Yuan brought his subordinates to block the entrance to the lobby.

"Who goes there? Stay where you are! Show your identification!"

Li Bingkun didn't stop. He walked up to Fang Yuan and stared coldly at him.

A lackey at his side shouted,

"Out of the way! Are you blind, you dog? This is our Team Leader Li from No. 76!"

Fang Yuan didn't move. "So it's Team Leader Li. My apologies for the lack of a proper welcome! But Team Leader Li, this is a police station. Isn't it against the rules for you to barge in with armed men like this?"

Two men behind Li Bingkun took a step forward.

The Special Operations Squad members also stepped forward in unison, confronting them.

Fang Yuan rested his hand on his holster. He didn't draw his gun, but his thumb undid the clasp with a click that sounded especially clear in the quiet lobby.

Li Bingkun raised a hand, and the two men stopped. He stared at Fang Yuan for two seconds, and the corner of his mouth moved. "Fine. Go tell Shen Yan I'm here."

Fang Yuan turned and walked inside. He didn't go to the interrogation room, but went straight up to the second floor and pushed open the door to Shen Yan's office.

"Captain, Li Bingkun's here. He brought seven or eight men, and they're in the courtyard. They're acting very aggressively."

Shen Yan stood by the window with his back to the door, looking at the black Zhongshan suits in the courtyard. He didn't turn around.

"Make him wait."

Fang Yuan hesitated. "Captain, he brought quite a few men. What if-"

"This is the police station." Shen Yan turned around. "Not his turf. Make him wait."

Fang Yuan nodded, turned, and went out. He walked back to the lobby entrance. Li Bingkun was still standing there; he hadn't come in.

"Team Leader Li, Captain Shen is busy. Please wait a moment."

Li Bingkun glanced at him without speaking. He lowered his head, took out a pack of cigarettes, put one between his lips, and lit it. The red tip flickered in the dim lobby. He took a drag and slowly exhaled, the smoke spreading beneath the lights like a thin veil.

He didn't press them. But he didn't leave, either.

Fang Yuan stood at the entrance and lowered his hand from his holster, but stayed where he was. The two men stood several meters apart, neither speaking.

Time ticked by, minute by minute, second by second. The men in black Zhongshan suits stood motionless in the courtyard. The lobby lights fell across half of Li Bingkun's face, now bright, now dim.

Shen Yan sat in his office for twenty minutes. He finished a cup of tea and poured another. Outside the window, the sky had gone completely dark and the streetlights had come on. Their dim yellow light fell on the black Zhongshan suits in the courtyard, stretching the men's shadows long across the ground like a row of wooden stakes.

He stood, straightened his uniform, picked up his cap from the desk, and put it on. Then he walked down the stairs at an unhurried pace.

In the lobby, Li Bingkun heard the footsteps and raised his head. He had finished his cigarette, thrown the butt on the floor, and ground it out, leaving a small black mark.

Shen Yan came out and looked at Li Bingkun in feigned surprise.

"Team Leader Li, didn't we just see each other earlier today? Missing me already, brother? Are you here to buy me a drink?"

The corner of Li Bingkun's mouth twitched. "Captain Shen, two of my men had a little misunderstanding with your men and were brought here. I hope you'll let them go for my sake, little brother."

"Your men?" Shen Yan's voice wasn't loud, but it was full of confusion.

"I haven't seen them. And my men haven't been out on field duty. Fang Yuan, do you know what this is about?"

Fang Yuan struggled to suppress a laugh and reported with a perfectly straight face.

"Reporting, Captain. While on patrol today, we discovered two suspicious individuals following you the whole way. I judged that they were underground Communists or Military Statistics Bureau operatives planning to assassinate you, so I took the men to arrest them. They've been sent to the interrogation room, where Yamada and the others are questioning them. I intended to report to you once we had the results."

Shen Yan acted as though he had suddenly understood.

"You see, Team Leader Li, I really don't have your men here. We only caught two hostile agents who intended to assassinate me. Could you be mistaken?"

Li Bingkun's Adam's apple bobbed. He lowered his head, took out a cigarette, and put it between his lips without lighting it. He bit down on the filter, then released it.

"Captain Shen, as I said, my men didn't know any better. You've beaten them and punished them. Let me take them back, and another day I'll host a banquet to apologize."

Shen Yan said nothing. He looked at Li Bingkun, and Li Bingkun looked at him. The lobby was so quiet that they could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The two men behind Li Bingkun stepped forward. Yamada and Matsumoto emerged from the corridor and stood behind Shen Yan, hands on their holsters. Neither spoke.

The atmosphere froze. It was like a taut rope with someone pulling at each end: whoever let go would lose.

Just then, the sound of a car engine came from outside the gate. It was not a black sedan, but a black Toyota. There was no flag on its hood, but its license plate belonged to the Special Higher Police.

The car stopped. Kuroiwa Masao climbed out, his coat collar turned up and his face unreadable. Two military policemen in uniform followed him.

He entered the hall, his gaze moving from Shen Yan to Li Bingkun, then from Li Bingkun to the men in black Zhongshan suits in the courtyard. Without a word, he walked to the center of the hall and stopped.

No one dared speak.

Kuroiwa looked at Li Bingkun.

"Team Leader Li, your men followed an active-duty police officer without reporting it, and you brought so many armed men to force your way into the police station. What exactly is No. 76 trying to do?"

Li Bingkun lowered his head. "Section Chief, my men didn't know better. I'll make sure to give Captain Shen a satisfactory explanation."

"An explanation?!" Kuroiwa's voice was not loud, but every word was like a nail driven into wood, impossible to pull out. "How are you going to explain it?! By bathing the police station in blood?!"

Li Bingkun said nothing. He bowed his head even lower.

Kuroiwa turned to look at Shen Yan.

"Did you arrest them?"

"Yes. We arrested two suspected underground Party members today!"

"Did you beat them?"

"They've already been handed over to the Yamada Team for interrogation!"

Kuroiwa looked at him and said nothing for two seconds. Then the corner of his mouth moved-not in a smile, but in an expression that was hard to describe.

"Well done."

Shen Yan said nothing.

Kuroiwa turned to Li Bingkun. "You can take your men back. Once you're back, put them in solitary confinement for seventy-two hours! And you, I'm docking six months of your pay as an apology to Captain Shen! Any objections?"

Li Bingkun's voice was strained. "No, sir. Thank you, Section Chief."

Kuroiwa waved a hand. Li Bingkun turned and led his men into the basement. Before long, two stretchers were carried out.

Li Bingkun stopped at the door without looking back. "Captain Shen, I'll treat you to a banquet another day." He walked out. His footsteps gradually receded down the corridor, tap, tap, tap, his leather shoes striking the terrazzo floor, one step at a time.

The men in black Zhongshan suits in the courtyard got into their cars, and three black sedans drove away. Kuroiwa stood in the hall, looking at the empty courtyard.

"No. 76 is a dog. You can't feed a dog too much, but you can't let it go hungry either. Feed it its fill, and it won't bite anyone. Starve it too much, and it bites its master."

He turned to look at Shen Yan. "I remember an old Chinese saying: 'A man who can endure heaven's trials is truly tough; a man who provokes no envy is mediocre.'"

Shen Yan lowered his head. "You are wise, Section Chief. I'll remember that!"

Kuroiwa glanced at him, turned, and walked out of the hall to his car. The door closed, and the Toyota drove out of the compound, disappearing into the night.

Fang Yuan emerged from behind a pillar and stood beside Shen Yan.

"Captain, what did Section Chief Kuroiwa mean by that?"

Shen Yan did not answer. He turned and headed for his office.

"Tomorrow, pass a message to the Military Statistics Bureau. Tell them No. 76 has discovered their post at Yangpu Wharf."

Fang Yuan stared for a moment, then smiled.

"Understood. One good turn deserves another!"

Shen Yan sat back down and leaned against his chair.

Li Bingkun would certainly hold a grudge, and Shen Yan needed him to hold one.

How could a man with no rivals within his own ranks put his superiors at ease?