Chapter 142: The Disappearing Capsule

My meeting with Xiao Sen was pure coincidence. On the day of his promotion, he hosted a banquet for his colleagues at the Ningxiang Pavilion. During the dinner, the conversation turned to the pavilion’s precarious business situation. He casually dropped a few remarks that hit the nail right on the head. I seized the opportunity to ask for his advice, and that was how we met, Bai Yulan had her story well-prepared.

Yet she still had to put on a show of being caught off-guard, hastily piecing her words together to offer an explanation.

"What did he say that made you value him so highly?" Uncle Chang did not dwell on the details. Why would Zhou Sen be discussing the Ningxiang Pavilion over dinner?

Wasn't this a sign of premeditated intentions?

"He said that the Ningxiang Pavilion is stuck in an awkward middle ground—neither high-end nor low-end—and has continuously failed to cultivate talent renowned for both beauty and artistic skill, or to establish a proper selection mechanism. Naturally, it cannot sustain itself. Men are simply chasing novelty; once that novelty fades, they will no longer linger. If the Ningxiang Pavilion wants to revitalize itself, it must hold beauty pageants and talent contests to attract the absolute pinnacle of talent and grace in Harbin!"

"He understands this industry so well, and women too. Why would you choose to be with such a playboy?"

"It’s true that he is a playboy, but a prodigal who returns is more precious than gold. Uncle Chang, I trust my judgment of character."

"Since there was a solution, why close the Ningxiang Pavilion and undergo a complete transformation?"

"Of course I knew his method could pull the pavilion out of its predicament, but it still wouldn't work in the long run. Because the method is simple, and plagiarism is easy. Rather than being a mere flash in the pan, it was better to make a clean break with this industry. I no longer wanted to run such a morally compromising business," Bai Yulan explained.

"That is true. For a woman like you, being in that kind of business brings a terrible reputation," Uncle Chang nodded.

"Aside from the Ningxiang Pavilion, I had almost nothing left after breaking ties with the Ma family. Whatever I’ve been able to build up now is thanks to the capital provided by Xiao Sen."

"Why would he go to such lengths to help you?"

"We share the same sympathy for each other's plight, and our strengths complement one another. He had a sum of capital in his hands, uncertain of what to do with it—keeping it at home made him uneasy, and leaving it in the bank meant it would depreciate. Meanwhile, we desperately needed funds to make a comeback. So, our interests clicked instantly," Bai Yulan said. "He doesn't care about my past, he understands me, and he is willing to marry me. For someone in my position, finding a decent match is exceptionally difficult. Now that I’ve finally stumbled upon one, how could I let it slip away easily?"

"But as you said yourself, men are always chasing novelty. Once his freshness toward you fades, what will you do then?"

"Any couple inevitably transitions from passion to a quiet routine; that is an objective law of nature. Therefore, as long as our interests remain aligned and we are deeply bound together—evolving from lovers to spouses, and finally into inseparable family—isn't that for the best?" Bai Yulan spoke with a profound clarity regarding matters of romance and partnership.

"Miss, are you truly confident you can hold onto him?"

"If he genuinely intends to spend his entire life with me, why would I need to scheme to hold onto him? But if he truly has a wandering heart, why would I stubbornly cling to him and refuse to let go?" Bai Yulan replied with a faint smile, turning the question back on him.

"Then, Miss, you..."

"Uncle Chang, I know what I'm doing when it comes to the husband I've chosen," Bai Yulan said.

"My only worry is that if the young master-in-law discovers your other identity, he might turn against you," Uncle Chang sighed.

"It doesn't matter. Everyone has secrets of their own."

...

Early the next morning, Zhou Sen went to work at the Sen Company, even though he was soon to report to the Harbin Police Academy.

Until the roster was found, he still had to maintain the pretext of being outside to recover from his injuries.

Of course, time was running short.

By every calculation, he had only four days left. If he couldn't find it within four days, he would have to report for duty, and God only knows what situation awaited him then.

"These are the files concerning the investigation into Shergin. They are strictly confidential. You may only read them, and once you are finished, you must hand them back to me for safekeeping," Anna said, carrying in a metal briefcase.

"Very well."

Zhou Sen nodded. He had tried every possible means to avoid getting entangled in these matters, yet in the end, he still couldn't escape. Of course, without putting up some struggle, how could he possibly pass the Japanese screening process?

If he had agreed readily from the very beginning, there was no guarantee the Japanese would have shown him this level of trust.

Though that "trust" still deserved a pair of heavy quotation marks.

"Thank you."

"I'm only doing this so we can finish the mission sooner." After organizing the documents and handing them over to Zhou Sen, Anna walked over to the side and began playing with the exercise equipment Zhou Sen had prepared for her.

The entire morning was spent by Zhou Sen in quiet reading of the documents. Occasionally he would stand up simply to stretch his body or use the restroom.

At noon, he ate toasted flatbread soaked in seasoned fried flour tea; just two pieces left him thoroughly full and sustained him against hunger.

Previously, his understanding of Shergin was rather flat and one-dimensional—consisting merely of data points like age and height. But after reading the investigative files provided by Anna, a three-dimensional, fully fleshed-out image of Shergin began to take shape in his mind.

On the surface, Shergin was a White Russian descendant consumed by an extreme hatred for the Soviet regime, bearing a deep-seated antagonism toward communism. He frequently published sharp, biting articles in newspapers attacking and slandering the system. Judging solely by these public statements, he appeared to be an unadulterated royalist.

Yet people often wear two faces, and Shergin's alternate face was that of a Soviet spy—a Bolshevik with unwavering faith in communism.

He was a man adept at concealment and possessed of ironclad convictions.

In this regard, he bore a striking resemblance to Old Anton. In the original host's memories, Old Anton's impression was that of a hot-tempered, taciturn White Russian merchant whose educational style relied heavily on harsh, autocratic commands.

Yet this same man had managed to disguise his secondary identity so flawlessly that it never once surfaced in front of Zhou Sen.

Both of these men were masters of disguise.

Fronte arrived with a deeply dejected expression. It was evident that the copper key had yielded very few useful clues.

Perhaps the whole thing was nothing more than a wild goose chase?

"Vadim, time is running out. Are you truly unable to think of any information related to this copper key?"

"Mr. Fronte, you've already torn through my home, my office, and countless other places. What more do you want from me?" Zhou Sen spread his hands in a gesture of helpless resignation.

"And yet, I always feel that you ought to know something," Fronte said, fixing his gaze on Zhou Sen.

"How could I possibly know? I didn't even learn about my adoptive father's second identity until you told me after his death. Before that, I was completely in the dark," Zhou Sen replied with an air of absolute innocence.

"Anna, shall we resort to interrogation under torture?"

Zhou Sen's expression shifted slightly: "Even if you torture me, my answer remains the same. I truly know nothing."

"Then tell me, is there anywhere in Harbin that your adoptive father, Anton, frequented?"

"There is one place he used to visit often, though I imagine nobody goes there right now..." Zhou Sen said.

"Where?"

"The racecourse. It’s only open from April to October. Old Anton loved horse racing and race betting. Whenever he was in Harbin during that period, he went frequently. I still remember, he and my Uncle Ivanovich jointly bought a Turkoman horse and kept it boarded at the racecourse club..."

"The racecourse club! Splendid, splendid! Why didn't I think of that earlier?" Fronte leaped to his feet, pacing around the room in a state of excitement.

"Mr. Fronte, what has gotten into you?"

"Come, let's move out. We're going to the racecourse club right now!" Fronte declared excitedly.

"I'm afraid that won't work right now. The racecourse club is currently closed and doesn't receive visitors," Zhou Sen said.

"Why?" Fronte froze.

"Zhou Sen is right. The racecourse club doesn't accept visitors at this time of year because the racing season hasn't started yet. There's virtually no one there, save for the grooms taking care of the horses boarded at the club," Anna explained on Zhou Sen's behalf.

"Can we ask Chief Shibuya to grant us special entry just once?" Fronte asked.

"As to that, I cannot say. We would have to report to Chief Shibuya to find out," Anna shook her head.

"Come, you're going with me to see Chief Shibuya!"

Fronte was a man of impulsive nature and addressed Anna directly.

Anna glanced at Zhou Sen, who merely shrugged. His meaning was clear: What does this have to do with me? They aren't asking me to go.

"Mr. Fronte, even if we are to go, there is no need to rush this very second. In any case, I have to make my routine evening report to Chief Shibuya tonight. We can discuss it then, how does that sound?"

"Very well, then we shall wait until evening!" After brief consideration, Fronte nodded in agreement.

With Fronte temporarily off his hands, Zhou Sen finally managed to secure a moment of peace.

The information regarding the racecourse club had been leaked, though he had no idea what Old Anton might have left him there. Surely it wouldn't be anything like a "roster."

If it were, wouldn't that be setting a trap for his own demise?

If they went tomorrow and failed to unearth a "roster," all the pressure would shift squarely back onto his shoulders.

How could Zhou Sen possibly bring himself to keep reading the investigative files in front of him?

Though his heart was consumed by restlessness, he forced himself to maintain an air of relaxed composure. Acting out this charade was truly no easy task.

The more critical the moment, the more imperative it was to remain calm. Once panic set in and a mistake was made, it wouldn't just be his own life on the line.

Far too many people would be implicated. It was only now that he truly understood the meaning of carrying a heavy burden of responsibility.

A man must shoulder those weighty burdens; only by understanding responsibility does one grow up and mature. That was the price of it all.

Zhou Sen began to turn every detail of Shergin's life over in his mind, hoping to unearth some clue hidden within the trivialities.

Aside from the postman, Shergin must have had an emergency contact method. Furthermore, regarding his relationship with Old Anton—on the surface, they had no special connection. How had they established contact? Was it merely through Old Anton placing advertisements for his company in the *Songjiang Daily* and thus meeting Shergin? But placing ads would involve the advertising department manager, whereas Shergin was a reporter who frequently worked out in the field. They must have had a secret meeting place.

The Japanese surely must have compared the places where their paths crossed. The files made mention of one specific location: Dijiaduan Street, Hans Clinic.

This clinic was run by Germans and had been established in Harbin for many years. Its medical standards were quite good, drawing numerous people who came seeking treatment for various ailments.

Old Anton had a sweet tooth and frequently suffered from toothaches, so he often went there for dental cleaning. As for Shergin, he suffered from a severe stomach ailment...

According to the clinic's medical records, they had records of seeking treatment at roughly the same time, though the two men were not being treated for the same condition, nor could the doctor confirm whether they knew each other. However, a nurse recalled seeing them speak together.

The Japanese had also investigated Hans Clinic and found nothing out of the ordinary. The clinic's doctor was German and held a German passport, which made the Japanese side hesitant to act rashly.

Shergin's stomach condition required a specific type of imported medication. Zhou Sen didn't understand the precise chemical composition, but among the personal effects belonging to Shergin that Anna had handed over to him, there was indeed a bottle of stomach medicine in capsule form.

Such medication was exceedingly expensive, certainly unavailable domestically, and entirely imported.

Zhou Sen checked the purchase records and then cross-referenced them with Shergin's portable pillbox. It was a custom-made container he used to prevent himself from forgetting his medication—taking out seven capsules from the bottle at one time, representing a weekly dosage, so he could always tell whether or not he had taken his medicine on any given day.

Shergin had the habit of purchasing four weeks' worth of medication at a time. The day he died was a Wednesday, so the pillbox should have correctly contained four remaining capsules. However, the medicine bottle itself should have held another two weeks' supply—fourteen capsules. Yet only twelve remained inside, and one of those had already been taken for laboratory testing. This meant there should have theoretically been thirteen capsules left in the bottle. So where had that missing capsule gone?

Had Shergin swallowed it? If so, it would have long since dissolved during the autopsy and naturally gone unnoticed.

But if it hadn't been ingested, where on earth could that single capsule be?

Shergin's residence and personal belongings had already been thoroughly combed through by Anna and the Japanese; if anything had been there, it would have been discovered long ago.