Chapter 2665: The Capital (Part 21)

The hall was built in the reduced-column style, its front section broad and lofty while the rear rested upon thick wooden pillars. Mottled paint clung to the beams and columns—layers of faded color that marked the passage of years. High on the back wall hung a plaque bearing four dignified characters in regular script: "Righteousness Through the Ages."

Beneath the plaque stood a solid wooden partition screen, its four borders carved with intricate patterns of grass and vines. Couplets flanked the screen on either side. A square table had been placed before the partition, and Li Rufeng sat upright in the grand armchair on the left, steam curling from a teacup on the table before him.

The sun had set, but the moon had not yet risen. The sky hung dark and heavy. In the evening mist, the silhouettes of the two figures sitting quietly in the hall appeared dim and indistinct.

Liao Sanniang occupied the lower seat, gently kneading her shoulder and back with her fist. Li Rufeng glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "If you're tired, go rest. This matter won't be resolved in a day or two. You need to conserve your strength for what lies ahead."

Liao Sanniang did not speak. She merely shook her head and said softly, fatigue weighing on her voice, "I'll rest after we have the telegram decoded."

As they spoke, a fellow came in carrying a large candle, set it on the table, then turned and withdrew.

Liao Sanniang watched the candle flame, her thoughts drifting with each rise and fall of the flickering light.

Li Rufeng waited. He was waiting for an important message.

A telegram had arrived from Lingao. Leng Ningyun's secretary, Hexiang, was decoding it now.

Communication between Lingao and Beijing could only travel by wireless telegraph. The Beijing Station was equipped with a telegraph machine, and while the radio environment in this era remained pure enough that signals from small stations like the two-watt Silicon could cross a thousand miles in fair weather, Beijing and Hainan still lay vast distances apart. Though the radio assigned to the Beijing Station possessed relatively high power, stable communication remained impossible during bad weather or atmospheric magnetic anomalies. Messages generally had to be relayed through the Shandong and Nanjing stations, which meant delays were unavoidable.

This time, however, they had not waited long. They had managed to connect with Lingao precisely when they needed it most, receiving a reply in less than three days.

Lingao had acted swiftly. When it came to the lives and safety of Senators, the Senate's deeply ingrained tendency toward deliberation and delay simply did not exist; their response had always been vigorous and immediate.

Accidents were like illness—they came without warning. No one could guarantee they would never encounter unforeseen events. The more resources one contributed to resolving others' crises, the more righteously one could demand resources when danger struck oneself. Once a special case became precedent, it transformed into privilege.

The Senators' motto had always been: One for all, all for one.

Of course, this motto applied only within the ranks of the Senators themselves.

A servant from the Leng residence walked in quickly, accompanied by a Heliansheng fellow. Without a word, he handed a blank envelope directly to Li Rufeng.

Li Rufeng said nothing. He waved his hand to dismiss them both, then opened the codebook at his side.

After receiving a telegram, secondary decoding was required. Plaintext transmission between personnel was strictly avoided—this prevented messages from being lost, stolen, or glimpsed during transit and handover. At the Beijing Station, only Senator Leng Ningyun, the operator Hexiang, and security head Li Rufeng each possessed a copy of the codebook. Other personnel received their orders only after Leng Ningyun conveyed Hexiang's decoded messages to them.

Li Rufeng produced a pencil, checked it against the codebook, and began recording quickly on a sheet of paper. The pencil scratched against the letter paper with a soft, steady rustle.

He wrote with difficulty. His rough, calloused hands—hardened from years of gripping blades—looked absurdly mismatched wrapped around a slender pencil.

Outside, the sky had turned completely dark. The hall lay quiet. Liao Sanniang watched Li Rufeng in silence.

On the candlestick, the wax had melted and dried into pale rivulets. A fellow entered to replace it with a fresh candle. This was already the third.

The dancing flame cast shifting light across Li Rufeng's angular face, making his expression seem to waver between shadow and illumination.

When he finished decoding, Li Rufeng blew the pencil shavings from the paper with a soft puff, scanned it once, then handed it to Liao Sanniang.

She unfolded the sheet and read by the dim candlelight. The telegram stated:

Guang-Secret-Urgent No. 1007: Jan 4, 1637. Your telegram received. The Senate attaches great importance to the Leng Ningyun Case, now designated "Capital Case 01." As of the date of this telegram, a joint special task force for "Capital Case 01" composed of Military Intelligence and Special Recon has been formed. The task force departed by special ship on the same day and will land at Tianjin Port shortly, proceeding to Beijing overland. Please ensure relevant comrades at the Beijing Station are prepared in advance for coordination, cooperation, and data compilation.

Additionally, we concur with the conservative response plan adopted by the Beijing Station during the initial stage. We specifically propose the following points for implementation:

1. The case shall follow a step-by-step principle: rescue first, solve second. Do not rush to crack the case. The priority is to secure Leng Ningyun's safe return. Under the premise of ensuring the first step, proceed with the second step cautiously. If the two steps conflict, the second step may be abandoned as circumstances require.

2. The right to life supersedes property rights. The Beijing Station may utilize all available resources to ensure Senator Leng's personal safety. Wu Kaidi is hereby appointed as Temporary Acting Station Master of the Beijing Station, authorized to handle all matters related to the Leng Case with full authority. After thorough consultation with relevant comrades at the Beijing Station, he may allocate Delong's working capital, maintaining proper ledgers of all fund inflows and outflows for post-event financial inspection.

3. Principle of secret investigation. All investigative work by the Beijing Station is to go underground immediately. Remain still, watch for movement, and avoid provoking the criminals or threatening hostage safety. All existing cases demonstrate there is no precedent of criminals ceasing their crimes and surrendering under police pressure after family members report to authorities. If the situation deteriorates, criminals will kill hostages to vent their rage before fleeing.

4. Comrades Li Rufeng, Liao Sanniang, and others are temporarily seconded from the Qiwei Escort Agency to the External Intelligence Bureau effective the date of this telegram. Li Rufeng is hereby appointed as Temporary Security Person-in-Charge of the Beijing Station, with Liao Sanniang to assist. The above personnel are to assess the current security situation of the Beijing Station as reference for whether to retain or relocate the station in future. In kidnapping cases, time is critical. Conditions on the front line can change in the blink of an eye. Relevant security personnel must adapt to shifting circumstances and handle sudden situations with flexibility. In the event of an emergency, there is no need to await orders—act freely, dare to take responsibility, and avoid rigidity that might cause delays.

5. Being behind enemy lines, with friend and foe intermingled, avoid armed conflict unless absolutely necessary.

6. Maintain existing relations with the Usurper Ming court to prevent creating a two-front constraint that would impede rescue efforts.

7. Three radio stations are now being deployed from Guangzhou, carried by civilian vessels, to temporarily form a network with existing naval warships and military intelligence radios, striving to ensure reliable communication. Please transmit and receive daily between 22:00-23:00, frequency XXX.XX.

8. On the day the task force arrives, relevant operations of the Beijing Station will be handed over to them. The temporary appointments of Wu, Li, and Liao in this telegram will be automatically relieved upon handover, with follow-up arrangements to be made by the task force.

Recently, military conflicts between our forces and the reactionary armed forces of the Usurper Ming in Guangxi have intensified, and operations to eliminate local bandit forces in Guangdong have also entered a critical stage. Implicated by the war situation, the intelligence, diplomatic, and commercial operations of the Beijing Station have been disrupted and encountered temporary setbacks. In the face of such difficulties, we trust you will hold firm to your principles, confront these challenges head-on, refuse to let passing clouds obscure your vision, and let your resolve surge forth. One day, when we climb high and gaze into the distance, wherever our cannons' range extends shall be the territory of the Great Song. We hope you will work diligently, shoulder this burden with courage, and establish new merits once more. The road ahead is bright; we walk it with you.

——Center Message copied to Li, Liao. Jan 5, 1637.

Liao Sanniang finished reading and released a quiet breath. Her heart seemed suddenly to have found solid ground beneath it. She returned the telegram to Li Rufeng. He took it, read it twice more, then held the translated sheet close to the candle flame until it caught fire. When only a corner remained, he flicked his wrist, and the ember dissolved into a puff of drifting ash.

Li Rufeng let out a long breath. "They're trying to boost our morale—afraid we won't hold out and the whole operation will fall apart. They didn't give us an arrival date, but the task force should be here within ten days at most."

"I'm just worried the situation will change before then," Liao Sanniang said.

Li Rufeng's brow furrowed. "Change is certain."

"If things truly reach the point of no return," Liao Sanniang asked, "how many firearms do we have?"

"Ten Nanyang Rifles, all smoothbores. Effective range is ninety paces—nothing compared to the breech-loading rifles the Forbidden Army carries. And we only have enough men we can truly trust with firearms to match that number. Between us, we have four Repeating Short Guns in total, with rifled barrels. They're all hidden in the secret cellar."

Liao Sanniang nodded. "They could prove useful in a crisis. With only a few dozen men in this agency, if we form up in open ground and rely on our firearms, we could handle two hundred opponents. If we use carts to build a makeshift fort, we could fend off three or four hundred local bandits. With the short gun, I can hit accurately at ten paces."

Li Rufeng sucked his teeth, his voice carrying a note of difficulty. "I can manage fifteen paces. But if we encounter a large force of a thousand bandits or more, it'll be hard to deal with. Even when the task force arrives, we'll still have too few people." He paused. "I know someone in the Capital Battalion..."

Liao Sanniang cut him off flatly. "Absolutely not. A hundred thousand taels of ready silver is enough to incite military chaos. Soldiers have been the same since ancient times—their dark eyes see only white silver. They'd kill their own fathers for it, let alone friends. If the government army gets involved, you, I, and Master Leng will all die in the mayhem. And besides..."

She paused for a moment before continuing. "These aren't likely major bandits. If they were truly large-scale outlaws capable of raising five or seven thousand men for an uprising, they wouldn't operate like this. The Australian Song's military reputation extends only along the coast. The roving bandits of the Central Plains are poorly informed and narrow in their knowledge. Inland local bandits don't understand how formidable Great Song soldiers truly are, and they hold little reverence for the Great Song's prestige. These petty bandits don't think beyond tomorrow; they act recklessly and kill as casually as cutting grass. Abducting one or two wealthy households for ransom is nothing remarkable to them—no need to hide their faces. But these criminals are unwilling to reveal themselves. They're acting covertly, sneaking about. That suggests they're local men of means—perhaps landed gentry or entrenched local powers—men who fear that if word gets out, they'll lose all standing in their communities." She drew a breath. "The Great Ming has always emphasized the center controlling the periphery. The soldiers of the Five Military Commissions and the Capital Battalion are concentrated here in the capital. I can't speak for elsewhere, but around the capital itself, there aren't many places for local bandits to hide. When I scouted outside the city the day before yesterday, I was doing two things: first, positioning eyes at major intersections and passes; second, gathering intelligence on the local strongmen in the surrounding area. My guess is that perhaps..."

Li Rufeng leaned forward, cutting in. "You think they're in the prefectures and counties near the capital?"

Liao Sanniang nodded. "It's just a guess—I have no evidence. Call it, well... a woman's intuition."

Li Rufeng smiled bitterly. "I'm truly exhausted. Seeing this matter drag on without resolution, I actually considered begging help from the Capital Battalion. But for now, we still have to use money to buy back a life, responding to each move as it comes."

"Yes," Liao Sanniang agreed. "Your mind is getting muddled." She frowned. "There's something that strikes me as strange, though. Transporting and storing a hundred thousand taels of silver is extraordinarily difficult. Even if the kidnappers succeed, they themselves will become a very tempting piece of fat meat..."

(End of Chapter)