Chapter 1599 - The Jig Is Up
Was Lingao truly safe?
Director Wu Mu stated: The overall security situation in Lingao is good and stable. Ninety-nine percent of all subversive cases are discovered and neutralized in advance. In addition to those uncovered by specialized investigative agencies, a considerable portion of intelligence comes from the broad masses—especially informants. This shows that the evildoers have no popular support... Under the guidance of the Elder Council and the Executive Committee, with the support of all Elders, our Political Security General Administration has...
The next article bore an even more eye-catching headline: Seeing the Light: A Terrorist Surrenders Voluntarily, Admits Loss of Faith in the Ming Dynasty
Okamoto continued to the next piece:
Being a Police Officer Means Protecting Local Peace and Ensuring Public Confidence
"Doctor, I don't have time for an IV drip. Just give me some pills."
"You're not going anywhere. You must rest in bed, or your life could be in danger!"
"Officer, there's no end to the work. I've never seen anyone like you in all my years."
"Doctor, as long as I can keep the Elder Council safe and protect the people of Lingao, we police officers don't mind working hard or suffering a little! Director Ran and Director Mu often tell us this at meetings, and they themselves work through the night. What can we possibly complain about?"
...When Director Mu spoke of how many police officers had passed by their homes three times without entering, sacrificing their small families for the greater good, he inadvertently shed two lines of tears...
Okamoto touched the bruise on his knee from when the carriage had lurched the other day and began to grumble: "Give me a break! They're just patting themselves on the back! Was it really that urgent? If things were really this good, how did so many people infiltrate Lingao in the first place? How did I nearly get hurt?! Shameless!"
He read on. Page three also featured a photograph: a youth posed with several Elders from the Education Department. The Elders were all beaming. Though the boy wore a red flower on his chest, he looked rather nervous. The headline read: Heroes Arise at a Young Age — Nanbao Primary School Student Outsmarts the Villains. Beside it were smaller articles: Education Leaders Credit Success to Emphasis on Ideological and Political Training; We Are All the Eyes and Ears of the Elder Council — Report on a Vivid Moral Education Lesson...
Enough. Okamoto didn't want to read any more. We were the ones who got attacked, and hardly anyone has come to ask after us. Now all these people are rushing to claim credit—what kind of situation is this?! This was classic "turning a funeral into a celebration"! He flung the newspaper aside, too angry to eat breakfast.
Just as Okamoto was sulking, several police officers arrived at the Haixing Inn and knocked on Lin Ming's door.
Lin Ming answered bleary-eyed. He hadn't dared venture out the previous day; though he didn't know which noble warriors had risen up, he knew it was best not to get involved in such chaos.
At the sight of the police outside his door, he jolted wide awake. Could I have been exposed? he wondered. Then again, he hadn't done anything—the Shorn Bandits couldn't have investigated him so thoroughly already. Probably just a routine inspection. With this thought, he forced himself to stay calm and produced his temporary identification card and work permit.
The police examined his documents. The lead officer saluted: "We're from the East Gate Station. Please cooperate with our work and come with us."
Lin Ming believed he had done nothing since arriving in Qiongzhou, and his identity papers were clean. No matter how sharp these Australian constables were, they couldn't have uncovered his entire background so quickly. This thought, combined with years of experience handling cases for the Embroidered Guard, allowed him to maintain his composure.
A horse-drawn carriage waited outside. Lin Ming grew suspicious—the Australian station, or "police bureau," wasn't far from where he was staying. A short walk would take less than the time for a meal. There was no need for a carriage.
"Get in!"
Lin Ming climbed into the carriage and found the compartment divided into two sections by iron bars. As soon as he was inside, the door was locked behind him. The constables all sat in the front section, expressionless and silent.
The carriage started moving, hooves clopping rhythmically. The ride was surprisingly comfortable. Lin Ming had traveled to the capital on official business and ridden in the great sedan carriages there—they really did "shake your brains out." Not only that, but one had to sit cross-legged, and after a while, one's legs went so numb it was impossible to stand.
This carriage allowed one's legs to hang down freely, and the ride was remarkably smooth. No wonder the Shorn Bandits all preferred these carriages.
Yet his first carriage ride happened to be in a prisoner transport... The irony was not lost on him.
After some time, the carriage finally stopped. The door clanged open. Lin Ming stepped out and found himself in a large courtyard. Blue-and-white walls, which in the dim morning light appeared as black bands on white, lent the mysterious compound an air of grim severity.
Several carriages and two-wheeled carts were parked in the courtyard. Numerous constables in black uniforms and soldiers in gray clustered in groups of threes and fives, squatting or standing, eating—holding scallion pancakes, steamed buns, and the like—while several large iron barrels on the ground steamed with fragrant hot soup. The aroma drifted over and set his empty stomach rumbling.
On the north side of the courtyard stood a row of plain, square red-brick buildings of the type most common around East Gate Market. Led by two officers, Lin Ming passed through a small door, descended a long staircase and corridor, and was brought to a small room with a sign reading "Interrogation Room Two" on the door.
The room was stark and empty. White tiles covered the walls and floor. Bright gaslight left not a single shadow anywhere. In the center stood a chair fixed to the floor, facing an equally immovable plain wooden table.
"Sit down!" At the barked command, Lin Ming obediently sat. His hands and feet were immediately shackled.
Lin Ming's heart sank. This setup was not for casual questioning—it had every indication of a "harsh interrogation."
In an instant, his previously empty stomach lost all appetite; instead, he felt a wave of nausea. Remembering the various cases he had helped interrogate and all those scenes of torture, he felt his lower abdomen grow heavy, as though he might lose control of his bladder.
After chaining him to the chair, the police left him alone. Lin Ming struggled to calm himself. Though he didn't know where he was, this place was presumably the Shorn Bandits' version of the Eastern Depot or Embroidered Guard. Having been brought here, even the best outcome would cost him dearly...
He desperately reviewed his journey and his actions since arriving in Lingao. He believed his cover was watertight—besides, he hadn't done anything here. Except for secretly contacting his sister-in-law and leaving a coded signal.
Could the Shorn Bandits have already cracked the code?! At this thought, Lin Ming grew nervous. Setting aside everything else, just the three words "Embroidered Guard" associated with him would be enough for the Shorn Bandits to give him "special attention"...
From time to time, the small window in the door would open as someone peered in, then snap shut again. At such moments, he could faintly hear familiar sounds: men's and women's screams, hysterical sobbing, and harsh shouting.
When he had conducted interrogations, he had long been immune to such noises, completely undisturbed. But now, as a "fish on the chopping block," these sounds were terrifying.
Cold sweat began to drip from his forehead, one drop at a time. His body trembled uncontrollably.
After what felt like an eternity, the door finally opened. Two officers walked in—one of them a sharp-eyed female constable.
He immediately sensed an unusual aura about her—or rather, an imposing presence. It was an indescribable force of spirit. Lin Ming thought he remembered, many years ago, while serving as covert protection when the Provincial Administration Commissioner inspected Foshan, catching a glimpse of the Commissioner from afar. Back then, the Commissioner had given him the same feeling... No, compared to the Commissioner, what he sensed from this constable was not only that same astonishing self-confidence but also a keen edge of being in complete control.
"Impressive!" Lin Ming hastily averted his gaze.
"Name?"
The male officer began questioning.
"This humble one is called Lin Ming."
"Age?" "How long have you been in Lingao?" "When did you arrive?" "Which ship did you come on?" "Who was the ship's captain?"...
He rattled off a string of questions. Lin Ming silently reminded himself: Stay calm, stay calm. You're not Inspector Lin. You're just an ordinary shop clerk. Aloud, he deliberately affected initial nervousness before forcing a more relaxed, ingratiating smile, answering each question carefully. Inwardly, however, he was genuinely tense, choosing his words with extreme care, afraid that one wrong phrase would betray his true identity.
The lead officer asked detailed questions, occasionally exchanging quiet words with the female officer beside him. Lin Ming noticed she was constantly watching his facial expressions—clearly, she was the one running the case. The questions shifted from basic background to the recent incident: "Where were you yesterday?" "Have you been to the stadium lately?" "Have you ever been to Nanbao?"...
Lin Ming answered them all. In fact, there really were no problems—at least, this inspector had not yet had time to do anything untoward. So his answers came easily, and since he had been in the shop for the past few days, at least seven or eight people could vouch for him.
With this assurance, his responses came quickly and his demeanor remained calm. As long as the Shorn Bandits weren't planning to frame him, he was confident he could get through this.
At that moment, the officer picked up a piece of cardboard and propped it on the table:
"Take a look. What is this?"
Lin Ming fixed his gaze on it—and his whole body shuddered. It was the very coded signal he had left on the wall to contact his sister-in-law!
"The jig is up!" In that instant, his heart plummeted. If the Shorn Bandits were bringing out this code now, they must already know its secret—and there was a good chance they had already arrested his sister-in-law!