Chapter 1508 - Night Shift
The commotion, it turned out, had been the arrest of several "notorious brigands." The operation had been led not by the police but by the Australians' "Courier Bureau." According to reports, these brigands were formidable, each a superior martial artist, and after infiltrating Lingao, they had all been lying low in East Gate Market.
"...They never imagined the Australians already knew their whereabouts. To avoid startling the snakes, the authorities let them make contact and rendezvous at their leisure. Once the whole group had assembled, they closed the net—every last one was caught!" Wang Xinglong spoke with spit flying, practically bouncing with excitement. "There was one woman among them, truly remarkable. They say she was a female cat-burglar from the north—could leap onto rooftops and vault over walls in a single bound. She broke through layer after layer of cordons. Then an officer raised his gun, and you'll never guess what happened..."
He paused for dramatic effect.
"Don't tell me she died on the spot—a fragrant soul passing to the next world?"
"Ha! Nothing so grim! The gun fired a fishing net that ensnared her at once. She was taken without a fight."
Lin Ming scoffed inwardly: Nonsense! Still, on second thought, the Cropped-Hairs were famous for their ingenious contraptions. A gun that could shoot nets was not so outlandish.
The other attendants joined in the fun: "What did the woman look like? Being a cat-burglar, she must have worn tight-fitting clothes, showing off her figure..."
"I couldn't see clearly—too far away. The streets were all cordoned off; no one was allowed near. Besides the police and Courier Bureau, the militia and garrison were mobilized too. I heard a Japanese in the garrison cut down one of the desperados and got scolded by the pursuing officers."
"Scolded for killing a brigand?"
"You don't understand. A mobilization this large means a major case. They need live prisoners for interrogation—what use are dead ones?"
"The one who got hacked by the Japanese was unlucky. These brigands and burglars—falling into the Courier Bureau's hands, that's what I'd call a fate worse than death..." Wang Xinglong continued with animated enthusiasm.
"Could they be court agents?" one attendant asked. "Maybe the Brocade Guard? I hear they specialize in espionage. Perhaps the court is planning to move against the Australians?"
Lin Ming's heart tightened. From what he had observed along the way, the Cropped-Hairs in Qiongzhou had become virtually a hostile state—establishing their own government, drilling their own armies, registering every household. False Cropped-Hairs were everywhere, and even Ming subjects regarded them as the authorities. The court had almost no presence here. If the throne were discussing "suppression of the Cropped-Hairs," it would be only natural.
He did not know how the Brocade Guard in the Capital operated, but normally such front-line reconnaissance would not involve agents brought from distant regions. Otherwise, unfamiliarity with local conditions, geography, and accents would render them useless as spies. If such orders existed, agents would surely be selected from within Guangdong.
Thinking back, he had heard nothing of this before departing—though it was possible activities had begun after he left, or that his rank was too lowly to warrant being informed. Either way, those poor wretches were clearly not mere "notorious brigands."
"The court can barely look after itself—where would it find the resources to meddle with the Australians?" Wang Xinglong shook his head. "I traveled south from Shandong to Jiangnan. Along the way, it was a living hell. Only when I reached Jiangnan did it feel like returning to the mortal realm. And after arriving in Lingao—well, it's practically paradise."
The attendants burst into laughter. Someone teased, "You're laying it on too thick. There aren't any cadres here to appreciate your loyalty."
"To hell with loyalty! You lot are all Guangdong natives—you don't know the suffering I've endured." Wang Xinglong shook his head. "It wasn't just hell on earth... it was the eighteenth level, the very bottom..."
As they chatted, Wang Jinchun came in and called out, "It's almost ten o'clock! Lights out soon—everyone back to your rooms."
"I'd love to sleep, but my bed's cold, lonely, and empty..." One of the attendants struck a forlorn, longing pose and teased her.
"If you're lonely, get acquainted with your five-fingered lady friend. Just use decent paper—don't dirty the sheets and give me extra laundry!" Wang Jinchun, though a young woman, had a sharp tongue. Lin Ming raised an eyebrow—Wang Xinglong came from a middling household; his cousin could not have been raised too poorly and should at least possess a lady's refinement...
The attendants dispersed to their rooms. Haixing Store's regulations required all lights extinguished by ten p.m. Apart from a single oil lamp left with the doorman, everyone was to return to their quarters and lock their doors. Even if one needed the toilet, the chamber pot indoors had to suffice—standard old shop rules. Lin Ming had hoped to chat more with Wang Xinglong about events in East Gate Market, but there was no opportunity. That would have to wait until they worked together the following day.
After lunch the next day, when there was a moment's respite, Lin Ming asked about the events at East Gate Market. Wang Xinglong, delighted to have an audience, eagerly repeated his account.
But his knowledge was limited. He knew only that the brigands had lodged separately around East Gate Market—some in inns, others in rented houses. One group posed as wealthy tourists come to "see the Australian sights"; others disguised themselves as peddlers. They thought their cover was flawless, but the Australians had known their movements all along. The previous night, the net had closed and all were captured simultaneously. Thirteen in total: three killed on the spot, ten captured.
"If those cat-burglars hadn't been so nimble, the streets wouldn't have been disturbed at all," Wang Xinglong said. "But no matter how nimble, one gunshot put them down. I hear one was a martial arts master—ended up riddled with bullet holes, blood everywhere. Horrific..."
Lin Ming asked with concern, "I heard they might be court agents..."
Wang Xinglong shook his head vigorously. "Impossible! Would the court have such loyal and valiant men, willing to risk such danger? I think they simply heard Lingao was wealthy and came here to pull a few big jobs."
Lin Ming cursed inwardly: Who says the court has no loyal and valiant men? There's one standing right in front of you. But then it occurred to him that he himself had not come on official orders—at the end of the day, he was here on personal business.
"Yesterday on the street, I saw women among the constables—among the police, I mean." He feigned astonishment.
"What's so strange about that?" Wang Xinglong laughed. "The Australians quite like employing women in official capacities. As long as you're willing to be 'purified,' becoming a policewoman is nothing special. Many minor officials are women—there are quite a few in high positions too. Take the police stations: they have plenty of women handling household registration. Didn't you see them when you registered?"
"I did see a few, but I never saw any female constables." Lin Ming deliberately steered the conversation. From the previous night's observations, Li Yongxun was serving as a constable. Though women held many official posts here, those engaged in fighting and chasing would be fewer; perhaps there might be some news.
But Wang Xinglong knew no more than he did. After much idle chatter about unrelated matters, not a word touched on female constables, much less Li Yongxun. Lin Ming was quite disappointed: ordinary channels would yield no information about her.
Sister-in-law, oh sister-in-law, where are you?
Less than two kilometers as the crow flies from Haixing Store, in the newly built government administrative zone, stood a nondescript, four-square red brick building rising three stories tall. This was the National Police Lingao County Bureau—though in practice it still served as National Police headquarters.
The iron door of the basement clanged open, and Li Yongxun emerged. Stepping from the dim underground, the light outside dazzled her eyes. She could only shade them with one hand, gripping the stair railing as she slowly ascended.
The flagstones of the central atrium had already been scrubbed spotless. Morning sunlight poured down through the glass skylight overhead. Li Yongxun stood for a long moment with half-closed eyes before adjusting to the brightness.
Though it was only seven in the morning, the building was already running at full capacity. Female clerks carrying document boxes hurried back and forth. The air was thick with the smell of canteen food and the acrid scent of tobacco. Black-uniformed police huddled in low-voiced discussions of cases. Many, like her, wore rumpled clothes and bore dark circles under their eyes.
In the center of the atrium, the bulletin board was plastered with notices. At the top, the date and daily weather forecast were updated each morning. Below, in a prominent spot, the current alert level was displayed: today it was orange. Around the Lunar New Year, all manner of crimes always spiked. The entire National Police system was operating at maximum capacity.
Li Yongxun rubbed her aching shoulder, wondering if she should stop by the infirmary after her shift and get a few Runshetang medicinal plasters. Lately, every time she was borrowed for special duty, her shoulder and arm ached badly. She had visited the general hospital and seen an Elements doctor, who said she was overusing them—she had "tennis elbow."
What "tennis" was, Li Yongxun had no idea, but "overuse" she understood well enough. Yet she had no choice. Were it not for this one inherited skill, how could she have found a foothold among the Australians? She would have been sent back to Guangzhou long ago—perhaps already dragged back to Nanjing and married off.
Marriage she did not oppose in principle. But the match her family had arranged—a young master from a commander's household—was impossible to look at. Rumor had it his wits were somewhat deficient; a grown man, he still wet the bed. Then again, if he were not such a case, why would the son of a distinguished commander's family deign to marry the daughter of a mere garrison-chief?
She went first to the canteen and ate a free breakfast that, by Lingao standards, was sumptuous: a bowl of rice noodle soup. This was one of the perks Ran Yao had fought hard to secure. Ordinary agencies did not enjoy such treatment.
Once her stomach was full, drowsiness crept in. But she could not yet clock out: the previous night's overtime had been a "loaner shift," and her regular morning duties still awaited. On such back-to-back shifts, Li Yongxun had neither the time nor the energy to complain—after all, the Household Registration Division was one of the few National Police units with a normal daytime schedule. No rotating shifts; barring emergencies, she clocked out punctually at six every evening.