Chapter 54: A Night Visit to the Fragrant Pavilion

Akiyama was still unwilling to say much about Old Anthony’s death, and Zhou Sen had no way around it; he couldn’t force the man to speak. He had no choice but to let it go for now. But from this, it was clear that Old Anthony had likely been carrying out a top-secret mission; otherwise, there would be no need for such secrecy, not even telling his family after he was gone.

Leaving Akiyama’s office, Zhou Sen felt a sense of melancholy. Life might become even more difficult from now on. The Special Affairs Division of this police station was still far from the Special Higher Department of the Military Police, but it was a bona fide intelligence unit, and Akiyama was determined to have him do intelligence work.

Run? Where to? Into Soviet territory? In the dead of winter, if starvation didn’t get you, the cold certainly would. Head south across the border? Without transportation or help, going it alone, Zhou Sen didn’t have the courage for that—at least not yet.

“Boss, we’re off to the bathhouse. Are you coming?” Back at the warehouse, Gu Laoliu and the others were getting ready to leave work early. It was the Little New Year, after all; the townsfolk had gone home early, so they were calling it a day too.

“I’ll pass, you all go ahead.” Zhou Sen wasn’t in the mood for a bath, still troubled by the matter of transferring to the Special Affairs Division.

“Alright, we’re off then.” Gu Laoliu didn’t insist; the bathhouse they frequented wasn’t exactly high-class, and the crowd was always a mixed bag.

“Go on, take care of Xiao Hu.”

“Don’t worry.”

“Xiao Yao, you can stop working too. Head home early; I’ll take care of things here.” Only Zhou Sen and Yao Yuling were left in the warehouse. She was tidying up and cleaning; soon, she’d have to offer incense to the Kitchen God and sweeten her words.

“Okay, Sen, I’ll head out now.” Yao Yuling nodded, grabbed her scarf, put on her coat, and left.

The spacious warehouse suddenly felt empty and quiet.

Old Anthony was Russian, and Russians didn’t celebrate the Little New Year. So, at home, things would be as usual. Zhou Sen suddenly felt a reluctance to return; the original owner of this body might have felt a deep sense of belonging to that home, but for him, it was just a place to sleep, not as comforting as this warehouse.

But if he didn’t go home, where else could he go?

After tidying up, Zhou Sen locked up and left. By now, dusk had fallen, and the sound of people setting off firecrackers for the Kitchen God festival drifted on the air.

The scent of gunpowder hung heavily.

Zhou Sen sniffed; it stung his nose. He had always been timid as a child, never daring to set off firecrackers himself, though he loved watching others light them.

The scene made him long for his family in that other world—he wondered if they were well.

“The Kitchen God’s real name is Zhang; a bowl of cool water, three sticks of incense...”

Listening to children singing a nursery rhyme, Zhou Sen’s eyes grew red and moist. He genuinely missed “home.”

“Uncle, have some candy!”

“Thank you.” Zhou Sen accepted a piece of sesame candy from a little girl. Before he could say more, her mother hurried over, pulled her away, and scolded, “Don’t talk to strangers.”

Perhaps he’d taken a wrong turn, or maybe he was just preoccupied, but he realized he was heading in the opposite direction of home.

Because of the festival, the streets were especially lively. Zhou Sen thought it would be dull to go home so early, so he decided to wander the streets.

The Ice City’s night market—he might as well experience it for himself.

He gathered his thoughts and moved along with the crowd.

Daowai District was the oldest developed area in Ice City. Though its buildings weren’t as tall as those in the newer parts, it remained the most vibrant part of town. Most structures on the street were Baroque in style, but the residents were predominantly Chinese. Owning a small Western-style house here cost much more than in other districts.

Unlike Gaoshi Street, where Zhou Sen lived, surrounded by wealthy White Russians. It was fine during the day, but at night, the place turned cold and desolate. You couldn’t find anyone to talk to or visit—there was no warmth of daily life.

Here, things were different. Neon lights flickered along the street, vendors hawked their wares, crowds surged to and fro, and the air was thick with excitement.

Before he realized it, Zhou Sen found himself near the Ningxiang House.

He couldn’t help recalling what his colleagues had discussed in the office that afternoon. The thought unsettled him. No matter what, in his heart Bai Yulan was his woman, and who could be happy watching others covet her?

Should he go see her?

Zhou Sen was tempted.

He also wanted to know why Su Wenqing had sought Bai Yulan out—was it truly to propose marriage?

Huifangli was one of the most famous entertainment districts in Ice City. At night, it was the brightest spot in town, as Daowai’s pleasure establishments were concentrated here. Whether it was under the rule of Old Zhang or the Japanese, the authorities had always chosen the same method: gather all such establishments together for easier management. Not only did this attract customers but also brought in a hefty amount in taxes.

After all, businesses like this—if run discreetly—were hard to tax, but once centralized, they became much easier to control.

Naturally, Huifangli wasn’t the only such area in Ice City; several other districts had similar establishments.

Aside from Ningxiang House, Huifangli boasted many other places of pleasure: Yingchun Court, Xianglian Troupe, Peach Garden Library, Defeng House, and so on—each with its own name and reputation.

These establishments were tiered. Ningxiang House was among the higher-class venues, frequented by officials and social elites. The next tier catered to wealthy commoners, with the lowest rungs not worth mentioning.

With Ningxiang House closed, the surrounding establishments benefited. The air was alive with the laughter and music of the entertainers, even the voices of the touts calling out were louder than usual.

The heavy scent of powder and rouge tickled Zhou Sen’s nose, causing him to sneeze several times.

He dared not get too close—someone might recognize him, and if any of these women tried to drag him in, he’d never get away.

Besides, he had no interest in such ordinary beauties.

Ningxiang House’s main gate was tightly shut, its lanterns unlit, the neon sign dark. The grand courtyard was utterly silent.

It was the Little New Year, and the house was closed for business; the servants had all been given leave to go home. The remaining courtesans, with no clients, either rested or gathered to amuse themselves. Some went elsewhere to work—after all, just because Ningxiang House was closed didn’t mean they couldn’t earn a living elsewhere, and Bai Yulan didn’t stop them. Anyone with connections was free to go.

With the New Year approaching and business booming outside, Ningxiang House’s self-imposed closure seemed like suicide, shocking many.

Zhou Sen didn’t go through the front—too conspicuous. He opted for the back door, quieter and less likely to attract attention.

He knocked for ages.

At last, footsteps sounded from within.

“Who is it?”

Zhou Sen smiled when he heard the voice—it was Ah Xiang. He’d worried it might be someone he didn’t know, which would make explanations awkward. He announced himself, “It’s me, Zhou Sen.”

With a creak, the door opened. Ah Xiang was delighted to see him. “Sen, it’s you?”

“Who else?” Zhou Sen grinned and squeezed through the gap. “Close the door.”

“Miss Lan was just talking about you—you’ve come already.” Ah Xiang bolted the door.

“She probably didn’t have anything nice to say, did she?”

“She’s just afraid you’ll get dragged into this…” Ah Xiang replied.

“Is it because Su Wenqing came by?”

“Sen, you know about that?” Ah Xiang was surprised.

“Did you forget what I do? I’d notice even the slightest ripple.” Zhou Sen grinned, enjoying the chance to boast in front of the girl.

“Sen, you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“No, I just got off work and walked over.” Zhou Sen nodded.

“Miss Lan hasn’t eaten either.”

“Come on, let’s deal with the problem. Skipping meals only harms your health.” Zhou Sen led the way toward Bai Yulan’s quarters.

Knock, knock…

The door was ajar. Zhou Sen could already see a slender figure sitting on the sofa, her delicate brows furrowed, a cloud of worry hanging between them.

Perhaps she was deep in thought and hadn’t heard the knock, so Zhou Sen pushed the door open and entered.

“Ah Xiang said you didn’t want to eat?”

“I have no appetite…” Bai Yulan replied naturally, but quickly realized the voice was wrong. Looking up and seeing Zhou Sen, she startled. “It’s you? How did you get in here?”

“I walked in.”

“Who let you in? That girl Ah Xiang—I must be too lenient with her!” A trace of anger colored Bai Yulan’s beautiful face.

A beautiful woman in anger is a sight to behold—it’s true what they say. Men really are hopeless; in front of beauty, they can’t help themselves.

“Don’t blame Ah Xiang. I knocked, and you didn’t say not to come in,” Zhou Sen said, speaking up for her.

“When did you win her over? Now she’s siding with an outsider like you?” Bai Yulan’s expression softened slightly.

“Don’t say that. Ah Xiang is just worried about you,” Zhou Sen said, sitting down. “She knows that right now, I’m the only one who can help you.”

“How could you help me?” Bai Yulan asked.

“Ice City doesn’t belong to Su Wenqing alone. There are other warehouses for storing cotton. If we can rent a different one, we just move our stock.”

“That’s easy for you to say—warehouses for cotton need to be dry and fireproof. If the place is damp, the cotton will mold; if there’s a fire, we’ll lose everything!”

“You signed a storage contract with Su Wenqing, right? If there’s a fire, he’s liable, isn’t he?” Zhou Sen asked.

“You’re not thinking of…” Bai Yulan covered her mouth, glaring at him.

“That’s a last resort—no need to go that far yet,” Zhou Sen said. “I don’t know the storage situation for cotton. Are there any warehouses left in Ice City that could hold our stock?”

“There are, but at this point, who would dare cross Su Wenqing?” Bai Yulan nodded.

“If you can’t rent one, I can.” Zhou Sen grinned.

“You…” Bai Yulan was stunned, then realized—if she went looking for a warehouse, the owners, fearful of Su Wenqing, would never rent to her. But Zhou Sen was different; they’d hesitate to offend a policeman, especially since Zhou Sen was also the young master of Anthony’s Company.

“But then your connection to me will be exposed.”

“Are you afraid?” Zhou Sen looked at her.

“I’m afraid of dragging you into this storm. When the time comes, you may not feel this way anymore,” Bai Yulan said quietly.

“People will just say that Bai Yulan, the first beauty of Daowai, used her wiles to bewitch me, and that’s why I risked everything to help you. I might even be seen as the real victim here,” Zhou Sen chuckled.

Bai Yulan was momentarily startled. That was, in fact, quite possible.