Chapter 74: The Weakness of "Beauty"

“Sister Lan, we clearly have rooms available—why wouldn’t you let Brother Sen stay?” After dinner, Zhou Sen headed home alone.

Ah Xiang grumbled under her breath.

“You little girl, what do you know?” Bai Yulan pressed a hand to her forehead. “He’s only made you two meals and you’re already bought and sold?”

“But Brother Sen really does cook well. You ate quite a lot yourself…”

“Looking for trouble, are you?” Bai Yulan raised her hand in mock anger, ready to give chase.

This man dared to tease her so brazenly, even forced a kiss—what wouldn’t he dare to do? But all this, she knew, was for her sake. If he stayed overnight at the Fragrant Pavilion, it would provoke Su Wenqing and Old Qin. Old Qin might not care, but Su Wenqing was fiercely possessive. In the end, both would be embroiled in trouble.

“Sister Lan, spare me! I won’t dare next time…” Ah Xiang laughed as she scampered off, calling for mercy as she ran.

Bai Yulan could only shake her head, helpless.

Zhou Sen had, in truth, wanted to stay. On one hand, he had no real excuse; on the other, he understood Bai Yulan’s concerns. Good things are worth waiting for—given their current progress, with even a stolen kiss, how much harder could the next step be?

Zhou Sen felt a quiet delight. Still, he couldn’t afford to get carried away; his troubles were not yet behind him. The mess Old Anthony had left for him surely wouldn’t be so easily resolved.

No tails tonight.

With a light heart, Zhou Sen returned to his home on Gaoshi Street.

Irina had already gone to bed; she had always been an early riser, diligent and dutiful for over a decade now. Sometimes, Zhou Sen wondered if Irina harbored feelings for Old Anthony. The two of them—one never married, the other never took a husband. Perhaps they’d agreed to settle down together in old age.

“Lucy, want some dried fish?”

He’d gone to the North Market with Ah Xiang, spotted some dried fish for sale, and brought it back—Lucy’s favorite treat.

Sure enough, the lure of dried fish did the trick, and the little creature soon appeared.

“Easy now, it’s all for you.”

Lucy sprawled on the floor, gnawing enthusiastically at her treat while Zhou Sen went to wash up, savoring the memory of the evening before finally brushing his teeth and washing his face.

By the time he emerged, Lucy had licked up every last bit of dried fish and vanished again, off to play who-knows-where.

He didn’t worry. When the little one was tired, she’d return to sleep.

A glass of milk before bed—tomorrow would be a new day.

Zhou Sen felt invigorated, full of fighting spirit.

…

The next morning, Zhou Sen reported to the police station for work. He had to check in with his new department and formally end his leave. The New Year festival was still ongoing, so many at the station were on rotating shifts; it was quieter than usual, but he greeted those he knew.

Now that Zhou Sen was no longer a mere beat cop—now considered middle management and a favorite of Akiyama-no-suke—people treated him with newfound respect. Even those who’d barely spoken to him before would come over to exchange greetings and offer a “Happy New Year, may you prosper.”

Second floor, Akiyama-no-suke’s office.

“Zhou Sen, did you rest well these past few days? You seem in good spirits,” Akiyama greeted him.

“Thank you for your concern, sir. I’ve finally recovered.”

“The matter is behind us; no need to dwell on it. I hear from Kim Soyoung you’re reluctant to take over the Special High Division?”

“My abilities are limited,” Zhou Sen replied humbly, “and having just joined the Special Affairs Section, it hardly seems right to take charge of the Special High Division so abruptly.”

“You solved the Sheerkin murder at a glance—your abilities are plain for all to see. Don’t underestimate yourself,” Akiyama said with a chuckle.

“I only solved the case by luck, sir. Had someone else been assigned, the matter might’ve been resolved sooner. In fact, I almost let the killer slip away.”

Akiyama’s eyes narrowed. “Rozayevsky came to see you?”

“He did, sir. He told me about Old Anthony’s situation and asked me to continue working for their organization, but I refused.”

“Why?”

“I’m a Manchurian, and their group is all White Russians. They won’t trust me, and frankly, I don’t trust them. There’s no point in it.”

“What if you were representing the Empire of Japan?”

“I am not a subject of the Empire…”

“Japan and Manchukuo are one family. Your adoptive father was the Empire’s most loyal partner and friend. Why not become a partner and friend yourself?”

“Thank you for your trust, sir. But I truly have no interest in such things.” Zhou Sen decided it best to refuse for now; he could not agree too easily.

“You’re worried that if you take over as ‘Pastor,’ you’ll have no one capable under your command, aren’t you?” Akiyama pressed.

“I hadn’t thought that far.”

“No need for concern. As long as you agree to become ‘Pastor,’ the Empire will provide you with capable personnel,” Akiyama assured him. “Of course, you can also recruit your own—Russians, Manchurians, or Baekjeans, as you like.”

“Sir, why must it be me?” Zhou Sen asked with some difficulty. “Aside from being Old Anthony’s adopted son, I have no outstanding abilities—I’m hardly the best candidate.”

“You know, over the years Anthony built a skilled team, all deployed to the Far East to gather intelligence. They took orders from him alone—he was their sole leader. But he died suddenly, without handing over control or contacts to anyone. You are his sole heir. Only you can inherit this clandestine intelligence network,” Akiyama explained.

“I don’t even know all of Old Anthony’s identities, nor who these people are, or where they’re stationed. How am I to take command?” Zhou Sen was alarmed—there were hidden secrets here, whether Akiyama was bluffing or not. Just from this claim alone, the matter was enormous.

Akiyama’s reasoning was tenuous. Why would these people believe him, just because he was Anthony’s adopted son?

“You’ll find out soon enough. Right now, the Empire needs you. Do you understand?” Akiyama’s tone was grave.

“I am willing to serve the Empire of Japan, but I have no idea where to begin,” Zhou Sen replied.

If these people truly existed, he might as well pretend they didn’t—it would keep him safe and do no harm.

“The Empire’s intelligence agency will assist you. All you need to do is agree.”

“Sir, am I allowed to refuse?”

“Zhou Sen, your importance is obvious. Even if you wished to stay uninvolved, do you think the Soviet agents in Ice City would leave you alone?”

Zhou Sen hesitated. He had considered this, but in front of Akiyama, he had to play the fool.

He was Chinese, and it was entirely possible Old Anthony had kept his secrets from him. This was something he needed the Japanese to believe.

It seemed they were starting to accept it—though what Anthony had left him remained uncertain. Most likely, it involved the White Russian Restoration Organization (Russian Patriots’ League) Anthony had embedded in the Far East.

Old Anthony had left behind a real mess.

“Sir, please save me…” Zhou Sen’s face paled, recalling his kidnapping.

“Zhou Sen, you need the Empire now, and the Empire needs you. As long as you deliver the list of undercover agents, your safety will be guaranteed,” Akiyama promised.

Zhou Sen’s forehead broke into a sweat—half from real nerves, half from feigned distress.

If the Soviets did approach him, it might not be such a bad thing; since they needed the list, they wouldn’t kill him outright.

The real danger was the Japanese—if they got Anthony’s list, they’d have no further need for him.

No wonder they took such an interest in him—the reason was right here.

The problem was, he didn’t know if Anthony had left him such a list, or where it would be.

“Zhou Sen, the friendship of the Empire of Japan isn’t something just anyone can claim,” Akiyama said. “With it, you’ll find many doors open in Ice City.”

Zhou Sen understood—once he agreed, he’d be dancing on a knife’s edge. One misstep, and the blade would carve him to pieces.

“Sir, you know I’m timid…” Zhou Sen shivered.

“And your connection to Bai, the proprietress of the Fragrant Pavilion…” Akiyama gave a sly smile.

Sweat slid down Zhou Sen’s brow.

“Young and passionate—understandable. But Bai is no ordinary woman. Be careful not to let her use you as a pawn.”

Zhou Sen mumbled some vague reply, knowing that anything he said now would be wrong.

“But with the Empire behind you, everything changes. President Su and Old Qin—dealing with them will be a trivial matter.”

“Really?” Zhou Sen’s eyes flashed with a hint of struggle and excitement.

“Japan and Manchukuo are one family. Bai Yulan is just a woman—do you really think President Su and Old Qin would dare cross the Empire?” Akiyama’s gaze was icy.

“I… I am willing!” Zhou Sen knew he had to state his position—any further hesitation, and Akiyama would grow suspicious.

He also knew that even if he managed to stall for a few days, the end result would be the same, now that Akiyama had laid everything out.

He mustn’t appear too greedy, but to yield under the lure of beauty suited the character he’d chosen to play.

Akiyama’s lips curled in satisfaction.

He’d finally seized upon Zhou Sen’s weakness. Yet he wondered—why had Zhou Sen once courted Kim Soyoung so assiduously, only to discard her now? Was it because of Bai Yulan?

It was possible. Women like Bai Yulan could ensnare any man, himself included.

A young man like Zhou Sen was bound to be easily manipulated.