Chapter 1581 - Catching a Big Fish
In the black-and-white photograph, the faces of one man and two women were captured with perfect clarity. Zuo Yami had even thrown up a scissors gesture, her smile verging on what might be called "charming." Liu Fuqing couldn't quite acclimate to this "trend" the Senators favored, but that was beside the point. Monitoring Zuo Yami had been casting a net blindly, without any real expectation of catching something—yet here, unexpectedly, was a fish in the net.
Now he needed to determine how big this fish truly was. Liu Fuqing studied the indigenous man in the center of the photograph: by appearance, a young master from a wealthy family. Though the black-and-white image obscured the color of his clothing, the texture, pattern, and the fan in his hand made one thing certain—he hadn't been in Lingao long. These were all fashionable "Suzhou styles."
The so-called "Suzhou style" referred to the Suzhou model, synonymous with high fashion in Great Ming. The seventeenth century had two fashion centers—Beijing and Suzhou—and the External Intelligence Bureau reported the latest trends from both to Lingao every six months, in pictures, text, and physical samples.
Gathering this information served not commercial purposes—though it certainly aided the development of new products—but primarily to provide convincing cover for dispatched intelligence officers of the External Intelligence Bureau. Secondarily, it helped the Political Security Bureau judge the origins and approximate arrival period of suspicious persons entering Lingao.
Judging by this young man's appearance, he was a recent arrival. Had he been a local wealthy youth whose clothing had not yet transitioned to "Song style," he would never have worn such conspicuously "Suzhou style" garments.
Just as Liu Fuqing considered querying the archives for information on this young man, his assistant knocked and entered: "Level I Commander—Director Wu wants to see you."
Liu Fuqing quickly straightened his clothing. Could Director Wu be inquiring about the progress of the Umbrella Special Case? His nerves tightened at the thought: the only progress to date was this photograph of uncertain value.
Though Chief Wu had said "no time limit," a leader's patience was finite.
Wu Mu wasted no words and handed him a file bag directly. "There's new material here. Take it back and study it."
"Yes, Regional Command." Liu Fuqing was privately puzzled. New material?
"These clues relate to the Cultural Festival." Wu Mu gazed out the window. "Generally speaking, there's not much to squeeze from them. But many Senators will be present at the Cultural Festival. You must examine everything carefully—no mistakes allowed."
"Understood, Chief." Liu Fuqing's heart skipped: another lead involving the Cultural Festival! Could it be related to that suspicious wealthy young man?
He returned to his office and immediately opened the file bag. The material confirmed his suspicion—but there was more within. The wealthy young master who had visited the gymnasium with Lian Nishang and Zuo Yami possessed martial arts skills.
A wealthy young master with martial arts training, intimately associating with women in the Senate's police system—in Liu Fuqing's view, this practically constituted "collusion." The matter was deeply suspicious on its face.
He summoned his assistant immediately and handed over the photograph. "Find out this person's identity immediately. I want all information on him and all recent activities! After you locate him, put him under twenty-four-hour surveillance!"
"Yes, Level I Commander."
"And this Lian Nishang—notify General Affairs Section 9 that we're initiating twenty-four-hour surveillance on her as well."
After issuing orders, Liu Fuqing asked the secretary: "Any new word from Ke Yun?" Ke Yun was directly responsible for monitoring Li Yongxun herself. The answer: "No new developments for now."
Liu Fuqing had expected at least twenty-four hours before hearing anything new. Identifying a person took time: checking with the archives department, visiting customs, police stations... To his surprise, less than an hour later, his assistant returned carrying a thick file bag.
"What?" Liu Fuqing was genuinely astonished. "This person already has a case file?"
The assistant placed the bag on his desk. "His name is Zhuo Yifan. Investigator Yang Cao is handling his case."
Bairen City, Senator Dormitory Area
The sun gradually sank; the clock hands pointed to seven.
This prefabricated housing complex, built shortly after D-Day, now stood nearly empty. Most dormitories had been demolished, their materials repurposed elsewhere. Only a handful of buildings where Senators still resided remained, looking forlorn and isolated.
Because the area remained under General Office jurisdiction, gate sentries and road lighting continued as usual, and the yard was cleaned regularly. Though somewhat desolate, it had not fallen into disrepair.
Okamoto and Nan Gonghao strolled through this forgotten dormitory district. Memories of turbulent years past stirred a certain melancholy.
"This place feels a bit eerie." Nan Gonghao glanced around. "It used to be so lively..."
"True enough. See that?" Okamoto pointed to an empty foundation. "That was once the female Senator dormitory. When it was hot, they'd leave their windows open—Western women wandering around in bras and panties, even T-backs..." His voice grew dreamy with reminiscence.
Nan Gonghao did not take the bait. His memories were of the road-building days—returning to the dormitory so exhausted he could barely speak, having to summon the courage just to shower.
Okamoto stopped. "Here it is. No one else lives in this building anymore. He's the only one. Claims it's close to work, so he doesn't have to worry about oversleeping... But I think he just likes being alone."
Okamoto recounted his earlier invitation to dinner at Dongfang Ke's place, before the Art Troupe's founding. Now the two stood outside Dongfang's dormitory door.
Earlier that day, the folk music ensemble's rehearsal of Good News from Lingao Reaches Li Villages had finally gone smoothly. Deputy Director Dongfang, acting uncharacteristically, had offered to treat his colleagues to dinner in celebration. But the restaurants in East Gate Market were too noisy and monotonous, and Nanhai Farm was too distant. With just a small group, he decided to cook for them at his residence.
"Liu Shuixin said she'll arrive later—some complications with the Checkered Skirt Club rehearsal. Let's go up first." Nan Gonghao said. He rarely socialized and had never visited a Senator's home for dinner.
They pushed through the door just as two uniformed naturalized employees were exiting Dongfang's room. The lead employee spoke up immediately:
"Hello, Chiefs! Perfect timing—the shop just delivered the cognac Chief Dongfang ordered! Enjoy your meal!" He bent his right arm in a textbook gentleman's salute and departed.
"Well, well—Dongfang is feeling generous! I heard this batch of brandy just arrived from Goa last month!" Okamoto, exhausted from days of work, perked up immediately. They entered the cramped Senator dormitory. The antique piano had been moved to the Art Troupe's rehearsal hall, replaced by a simple electronic keyboard. This finally allowed a standard dining table to be squeezed into Dongfang Ke's living room. Fresh fruits and a small wooden wine barrel sat on the table, but the host was nowhere to be seen.
"Your timing is perfect! The lamb chops will be ready in five minutes!" Dongfang Ke's voice drifted from the adjacent room.
The dormitory originally had no kitchen. Dongfang Ke had privately commandeered the room next door and converted it himself. Kitchen utensils and tableware had accumulated slowly over time—custom-made or salvaged from war spoils. Everything one could need was there. The only imperfection: the coal-briquette stove lacked sufficient heat.
The two guests followed the sound into the kitchen. A wave of heat and fragrance washed over them.
The oven released the aroma of roasting meat mingled with rosemary and other spices. Borscht bubbled on the stove. Dongfang Ke, his long hair tucked behind his ears, tossed a cast-iron wok with his left hand while his right held a small bottle, sprinkling something into the pan.
"Menu: Rosemary Roasted Lamb Chops, Borscht, Pan-Fried Salmon, Corn Salad. Time's tight, so no cake—just cookies for dessert. You two go sit outside. The wine just arrived. Cups are in the cupboard next to the stereo—pour yourselves." Dongfang spoke without turning.
"We have salmon here?" Nan Gonghao was puzzled. "Didn't a Senator propose that the General Office supply it once? They said it's an Atlantic specialty..."
"That's Atlantic salmon—of course we don't have it. But Asia has Pacific salmon. This is what Old Huang got from the Northeast—commonly called chum salmon. The fish isn't worth much; the ice is what's valuable."
"Damn, that smells incredible. Were you a chef before crossing?" Okamoto was already drooling.
"Just exceptionally picky about food..." Dongfang arranged fish and side dishes on a plate, then returned to stirring the soup.
"If I'd known, I'd have mooched off you after every rehearsal! This is practically a Western restaurant!" Nan Gong was equally excited. He had been eating canteen bento boxes in the rehearsal hall or studio for over a week straight.
"You're dreaming. Lamb chops have to be reserved in advance with the canteen supervisor. Fish needs prior marinating. As for that imported brandy—I only stumbled onto it when I visited Minister Hong at No. 82 yesterday to order clothes. Normally, it's just home cooking here. Besides, with rehearsals so busy, I haven't touched the kitchen in ages."
When Dongfang placed the final dinner plate on the table, he produced three carved European-made glass cups from the cabinet. The PHS phone mounted in the corner of the living room rang.
"Mn? Okay... I see. Go ahead, then." Dongfang Ke set down the phone and looked at his two colleagues at the dining table. "Looks like you two will have the run of the place. Liu Shuixin says that due to last-minute changes in the Checkered Skirt dance program's personnel composition, the rehearsal has to run late. She won't be joining us for dinner. Poor thing..."
"Then we can start eating?" Okamoto seemed unable to wait another moment.
"Mn. Let's begin. For the Senatus!" Dongfang raised his glass with a smile, then set it down and turned to switch on the stereo.