Chapter 13: A Chance Encounter? (Please add to your favorites!)

This matter must never be known to outsiders. Even though he was painfully aware that, in present-day Ice City, life was easier for White Russians, what about the future?

Zhou Sen knew: once Father Anthony’s true identity was exposed—and he, Zhou Sen, revealed as the man’s adopted son—even in the absence of blood ties, could he truly distance himself from it all? Not to mention that he himself was still serving as a policeman in Manchukuo.

Life had always been hard in the past, yet hadn’t he survived? Now, life was just as difficult, only in a new environment. But was there anything more meaningful than simply living well?

It hadn’t yet come to that point; what was there to despair about? Even if Father Anthony harbored secrets, so what? The old man was himself, and Zhou Sen was Zhou Sen—the two could not be conflated.

The case still needed to be investigated, and life had to go on.

Zhou Sen gathered up the manuscripts, steeled his heart, and decided to return to his room and sleep. Without rest, how would he have the strength to shovel snow tomorrow? At least, in his dreams, he could still see Bai Yulan.

...

With Father Anthony away, the house felt unusually quiet. Zhou Sen rose early to shovel snow. If he didn’t clear a path in the courtyard, how could he even get out?

On the main streets, there were teams dedicated to snow removal—otherwise, the city would grind to a halt in a single day. As for the countryside, there was nothing to be done; people could only hunker down for the winter, with most production activities at a standstill.

In no time, Zhou Sen was sweating all over. Clearing snow was truly hard labor, and his slender build wasn’t quite up to the task.

Clearly, he would need to exercise more in the future. If space at home was lacking, there was always room in the warehouse he rented. He could install some indoor exercise equipment there—it wouldn’t do to leave it outdoors in the dead of winter.

He was only twenty-four; there was a long life ahead. A set of rings, a horizontal and parallel bar, maybe even a wooden dummy and a sandbag—perhaps he could even pick up the Wing Chun he had once studied for a few days…

Zhou Sen mentally calculated how much equipment he could fit in that space when someone knocked at the gate.

He set down his shovel and went to answer it. Unexpectedly, it was Uen.

“Uen, what brings you here?”

“My mother asked me to bring some mutton for you, young master,” Uen replied with his usual honesty.

Only then did Zhou Sen notice the whole, freshly slaughtered sheep slung over Uen’s back. The head was missing, but otherwise, everything was there—it had to weigh at least a hundred jin.

“You carried all this yourself?” Zhou Sen exclaimed in surprise. Uen’s family lived in Guxiangtun, a long way from the city. Normally, it wouldn’t seem so far by bicycle, but in this heavy snow, cycling was impossible—he had to walk. Carrying a whole sheep for nearly ten miles on foot—Zhou Sen could only admire, and even envy, such stamina.

It was truly the old saying come to life: strong limbs, simple mind.

“Uen, what are you doing? How could I accept this from your mother?” Zhou Sen protested. While he had helped Uen’s family before, he’d never expected anything in return.

“My mother said that after last year’s snow disaster, when our house was crushed under the weight, if it hadn’t been for you paying our rent and building us a new home, we’d have had nowhere to live. We can never forget your kindness,” Uen said, carrying the mutton inside.

“How much for the sheep? I’ll pay you back…”

“Young master, if you pay me, I won’t come again,” Uen said resolutely, putting down the meat.

“Alright, I’ll accept it, I’ll accept it!” Zhou Sen surrendered. Uen was just that kind of person—stubborn and principled. Zhou Sen wouldn’t take advantage; he’d find a way to return the favor later.

“Irina, come here and take care of the mutton. Tonight we’ll have lamb spine stew, and store the rest in the ice cellar!”

“Yes, young master!” Irina replied cheerfully. This plump sheep, weighing at least a hundred jin, would last them a good while in the ice cellar.

“Uen, have you eaten breakfast?” Zhou Sen asked, then answered himself, “Never mind—you must be hungry after such a long walk, even if you did eat. Come, join us. Irina always makes plenty for breakfast.”

Roast meat, black bread, and milk—a nutritious breakfast, to be sure, but what Zhou Sen really craved was a bowl of soft tofu pudding with crisp fried dough sticks. That was a true Chinese breakfast, full of flavor.

Watching Uen devour large chunks of roasted meat with relish, Zhou Sen pushed his plate toward him.

“Young master…”

“I have no appetite today; you eat. I’ll just have a glass of milk,” Zhou Sen said with a gentle smile.

Uen didn’t think twice, thanked him, and ate heartily.

Soon, Zhou Sen’s portion was gone too. Seeing Uen still looking unsatisfied, Zhou Sen couldn’t help but sigh. With an appetite like Uen’s, feeding him was no small expense. Uen was an honest man, and his police salary barely covered his own costs.

Still, if Uen could support himself, that was already the greatest help to his family. Without Zhou Sen’s occasional assistance, it would have been hard to save anything over the year.

Uen was no longer young, and his family was already arranging a marriage for him. Only by getting married and starting a family could a man truly shoulder responsibility.

Uen was diligent; after eating, he even helped Irina clean the table. It was this down-to-earth quality that Father Anthony valued, giving him this opportunity.

“Let’s go, Uen. We’ll check in at the police station, then patrol the streets. I don’t expect much will happen today,” Zhou Sen said, changing clothes.

They stepped outside; the streets had been cleared, with a passable path carved through the snow. The heaps at the roadside were still deep, compacted in layers. The bottommost snow might not melt until the following spring.

The snow had long since stopped, and the weather would hold for at least another half month.

Though he didn’t like walking everywhere, for the sake of his health, Zhou Sen decided to set aside his idea of getting a vehicle for now. Walking was slow, but a healthy way to get around—especially when it came to “killing time.”

“Sesame flatbreads, sesame flatbreads…”

Ah, that aroma! Zhou Sen was rooted to the spot. The scent was exactly as he remembered, stirring his appetite.

“Come on, Uen, let me treat you to something delicious.”

“Young master, it’s just flatbread—what’s so special?” Uen scratched his head, puzzled by the young master’s recent changes. He seemed nothing like the man Uen used to know.

But it was truly delicious! Crisp on the outside, tender inside, the flatbread paired with silken tofu pudding was simply divine.

“Waiter, the bill!” Satisfied after the meal, Zhou Sen stood to pay, but suddenly glimpsed a White Russian woman at the next table. Although he’d only caught a glimpse, her face struck him as oddly familiar, as if he’d seen her somewhere before.

Puzzled, Zhou Sen left, but before they’d gone far, the White Russian woman also paid and followed them out.

That unsettled him.

Her tailing was so brazen—did she think nothing of following a police sergeant so openly?

After walking four or five hundred meters, Zhou Sen was certain the woman was following them. To pretend otherwise would be foolish; he turned and confronted her directly.

“Miss, you’ve been following us for a while. Is there something you need my help with?” Zhou Sen asked, barely masking his irritation.

“Are you Officer Zhou Sen?” To his surprise, the White Russian woman addressed him by name.

Zhou Sen’s expression changed. “Miss, I don’t believe we’ve met. How do you know me?”

“Officer Zhou Sen, I’m the girlfriend of Sheerkin, an editor at the Songjiang Daily. My name is Susanna,” she introduced herself.

Zhou Sen couldn’t help exclaiming, “You’re Susanna?”

No wonder she’d seemed familiar—he’d seen her photograph before.

“Miss Susanna, why are you looking for me?” Zhou Sen was puzzled. Susanna looked like a frail young woman; why would she seek him out? It all seemed strange.

“I know you’re investigating Sheerkin’s murder. I came to beg you to catch his killer,” Susanna said, her eyes brimming with tears.

Zhou Sen frowned.

Very few people knew he was investigating Sheerkin’s death—though, of course, many at the Nangang Police Station and the Ice City Police Bureau would know. But who would tell Susanna, who had already been reported missing? And she lived in Daowai—how did she know, and how did she recognize him?

Though he was somewhat well-known in Ice City, their circles would never have overlapped; there was no reason she should know him.

Her sudden appearance completely disrupted his line of thought—there were too many mysteries here.

One wrong move, and all could be lost.

Zhou Sen’s vigilance was at its peak.

This was Ice City in 1938, the Far Eastern capital of spies under the dark, brutal rule of the Japanese secret police. Everything that was happening now suggested an unseen hand orchestrating events.

“Miss Susanna, how did you know I was investigating Sheerkin’s murder? Who told you?” Zhou Sen’s gaze turned icy.

“It was Aunt Feiya.”

“Feiya, the housemaid at Sheerkin’s?” Zhou Sen pressed. “Why would she tell you this?”

“Officer Zhou, could we find somewhere safe to talk? I’ll explain everything,” Susanna said, her eyes full of anxiety and fear.

“Why? Is someone threatening you?”

“I’m not sure; I just know I can’t go home now. I don’t want to put my uncle and his family in danger,” Susanna said, her emotions suddenly overwhelming her as she covered her mouth, almost breaking into sobs.

Zhou Sen realized that discussing matters on the street was unwise. Bringing her to the station wouldn’t do either. But this was a valuable lead—he couldn’t let it slip away.

“Uen, take Miss Susanna to the warehouse. I’ll check in at the station and join you shortly,” Zhou Sen instructed.

“Yes, young master,” Uen replied, not asking more. He just thought Susanna looked terribly pitiable.