Chapter 77: News of an Old Friend

Jiang Rou—known on stage as Xiao Xiangning—delivered a resounding success with her performances at the New Stage. For three consecutive days, she graced the stage with classics like “Flowers and Matchmakers,” “Qin Xianglian,” “Du Shiniang,” and the most talked-about play in Harbin, “Execution of the Camel Dragon.” Each show was a sell-out, tickets nearly impossible to come by. The New Stage was forced to sell standing-room tickets, profits overflowing, and the owner nearly radiant with excitement every day.

Amidst this fervor, Xiao Xiangning’s reputation spread like wildfire. Newspapers devoted entire columns to this celebrated actress from the interior, especially highlighting the honors she’d won in cities like Beiping and Fengtian. It was also noted that Xiao Xiangning was a native of Songjiang, though she’d left with the troupe as a child to seek a living elsewhere. Now, having mastered her art, she returned home crowned with accolades.

The New Stage was not exclusive to the Ruiqing Troupe. After three days of continuous performances, it was time to rest; even the most dedicated troupe couldn’t withstand such a relentless pace. When business flourished, performances would run from morning till night.

“Godfather, we’re off tomorrow. I’d like to go out for a bit,” she said.

“You want to look for that little wolf pup again?” Sun Qingkui, puffing on his pipe, scowled in displeasure. “I’ve told you before, that boy was never obedient. If he was still alive, why wouldn’t he come looking for you?”

“If you call him a little wolf pup, how could he die so easily?” Jiang Rou replied calmly. She felt neither deep resentment nor gratitude toward Sun Qingkui. True, he had set her on her path, but her success owed much to her own effort. She was not the only child Sun had taken in; those without talent or promise had all been sold off by him. To him, she was merely a money tree.

If Jiang Rou truly wished to leave, not even Sun Qingkui could stop her. Contracts of servitude meant nothing to a star of her stature.

“Fine, I can’t persuade you. Take Xiaolou with you, at least you’ll have someone to look out for you,” Sun Qingkui said, his face creased with worry. Of course, he wanted to keep his prized star close, but she was no longer a naive girl; she’d seen the world and would not be so easily manipulated.

“Senior brother is so busy, there’s no need. I know my way around,” Jiang Rou declined gently.

“There are plenty of thieves in Harbin. A young, pretty girl like you isn’t safe alone,” Sun Qingkui reminded her.

“In Beiping, I went out alone as well, and nothing ever happened,” she retorted.

“It’s not the same,” he muttered.

“Godfather, are you afraid I won’t return?” Jiang Rou’s face darkened, and she looked at him pointedly.

Sun Qingkui forced a laugh, embarrassed that his motives had been laid bare. He dreaded losing his money tree more than anything.

“Godfather, I promised to help you establish yourself in Harbin, and I won’t go back on my word,” Jiang Rou said.

“Xiaorou, I’m only worried about your safety. After all, we’ve been away for over a decade. We’re not familiar with the people and affairs here anymore.”

“Don’t worry, godfather. I know how to protect myself. It’s getting late, I should rest.”

“Alright, alright…” Sun Qingkui glanced at Jiang Rou’s graceful figure, suppressed his last trace of forbidden thoughts, and hurriedly left.

These past days, Zhou Sen hadn’t visited the Fragrant Pavilion. He was preoccupied with all sorts of matters—installing a telephone line, for instance, which required his presence. The exercise equipment he’d ordered arrived bit by bit, some of it needing workers for installation, especially the sandbags, which required reinforced beams. The wooden dummy would take a bit longer, but he’d already set aside a space for it. He even cleared out some unused space to set up something like a sparring ring.

Jin Suying came by every day, and once she arrived, she refused to leave, lingering there. She was naturally curious about Zhou Sen’s sudden interest in exercise equipment and the warehouse renovations. Zhou Sen offered no explanation.

Driven by curiosity, Jin Suying began to investigate and analyze on her own. Zhou Sen’s connection to Bai Yulan of the Fragrant Pavilion was no secret—at least to those in the know, and Jin Suying was certainly among them. She dug into Bai Yulan’s past and, piecing things together, concluded that Zhou Sen’s recent strange behavior was likely an attempt to win Bai Yulan’s favor.

Bai Yulan hailed from a family of former Qing military officers and had practiced martial arts since childhood. While her skills were hard to judge, it was natural for someone raised in such a family to favor men with a chivalrous spirit. Bai Yulan’s late husband, Old Ma, was just such a man.

Zhou Sen’s single-minded pursuit of another woman left Jin Suying faintly jealous. Given how he used to flatter and court her, this was entirely in keeping with his character. It was hardly surprising.

Not only Jin Suying, but even Gu Laoliu, who knew a little of the situation, thought the same. He wasn’t one for much scheming. Whoever Zhou Sen liked was his own business; it wasn’t as if he was spending anyone else’s money. And if, by some twist of fate, this came to pass—a powerful businessman like Su Wenqing or a formidable Qin Laoqi losing out to an unknown policeman—it would be the stuff of legend.

“Secretary Jin, you’re Mr. Akiyama’s special assistant. What’s the point of you hovering over me every day?” Zhou Sen could barely tolerate her constant presence.

“Mr. Akiyama instructed me to fully assist you until you’re familiar with the Tokko Section’s work,” Jin Suying replied.

“I’ve read all the materials and documents you gave me. If I have questions, I’ll come find you.”

“That’s why I’m here—to save you the trouble of running back and forth. Less time wasted in transit,” she said with a smile.

“Fine, do as you please.” There was nothing Zhou Sen could do about someone he couldn’t drive away, argue with, or hit. He could only wait for her to tire of it and leave on her own.

“Boss, what’s for lunch today…” Gu Laoliu entered, asking as usual.

“Roasted sweet potatoes, with a bit of salt. If you want soy sauce, that’s fine too,” Zhou Sen replied, glancing at Jin Suying.

“Again?” Gu Laoliu sighed. Ever since Jin Suying started coming by, their lunches alternated between roasted sweet potatoes, baked potatoes, or sorghum rice with pickled cabbage soup—a soup so lean you couldn’t spot a trace of oil. It was enough to make the police station canteen look appealing, especially during the New Year, when there was at least some fat to be had. But he couldn’t leave Zhou Sen alone with Jin Suying, so he had to stay and eat with them.

“Let’s fry some soybeans too. Look at you, after all this feasting, you’ve probably gained a couple of pounds. Time to clean out your system,” Zhou Sen quipped with a sidelong glance.

Gu Laoliu could only smile wryly. Gained a couple of pounds? More like constipated for days. He knew well enough that as long as Jin Suying was around, good days were over. She’d once ignored the boss, but now she clung to him. He’d never seen the like.

Jin Suying knew Zhou Sen was using this as a ploy to drive her away, but she was determined to stick it out. Roasted sweet potatoes? She’d eaten worse—let’s see who gave in first.

Another two days passed. Jin Suying found her bathroom breaks growing longer and, embarrassingly, more difficult.

The job advertisement Zhou Sen had placed in the newspaper via Ye San finally drew a few applicants, though none quite fit his requirements. There were, however, two sharp-looking youths keen to become apprentices. He had Wu En take them to Ah Xiang at the Fragrant Pavilion to start as helpers.

A good pastry chef was hard to find. Anyone truly skilled would either be running their own shop or already poached for high wages. So trying to hire someone meeting all his standards was like searching for a needle in a haystack.

“He’s hiring a pastry chef?”

“Yes, and apprentices too. He’s registered a company called ‘Sen’s,’ and it looks like he’s planning to open a pastry shop with Bai Yulan from the Fragrant Pavilion as his partner.” Jin Suying’s time in the warehouse had paid off. She reported her findings to Akizama.

“So he’s going into business?”

“I’m not sure, but he’s mortgaged all the company shares left to him by Anthony to the bank. With such a large sum, he can’t just live off the capital. Besides helping Bai Yulan, I think he has his own ambitions,” Jin Suying analyzed.

“Is his attitude toward you still the same?” Akizama asked.

“Pretty much. Mr. Akizama, how long do we need to keep watching him? I’m curious what secret Zhou Sen possesses that makes you value him so highly.”

“Not much longer. Focus on those around him, especially any new faces,” Akizama instructed.

“You think others will target him too?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

“Has the messenger not taken action yet? Do you want our help?” Arman called Poporov into his office.

Poporov shook his head. “With our Chinese comrades, we can only request their cooperation, not command it.”

“Can you urge her again?”

“I’ll try to see her once more,” Poporov considered.

“Make it quick. Japanese headquarters has devised a plan for subversion in our Far East region—codename ‘Far Eastern Spring.’ This plan is likely connected to our person of interest. We must obtain all relevant information immediately,” Arman pressed.

“Yes, Mr. Arman. I’ll do my best,” Poporov promised.

On Paodui Street, in the ‘Fu’ General Store.

“Comrade Poporov, I’m already working on it. I can’t just show up on his doorstep, can I?” Jiang Rou said.

“Do you need our help?”

“If he knows I’ve returned to Harbin and still remembers me, he’ll find me,” Jiang Rou replied confidently.

“So how will he know?” Poporov asked.

“There are many ways—through newspapers, conversations, introductions, all of which work, as long as it’s not too obvious,” Jiang Rou replied after some thought.

“Your performance was a sensation in Harbin; he should have heard. But if we wait passively, who knows how long it’ll take? Perhaps I could arrange a chance encounter?” Poporov suggested.

“Absolutely not. That would alert the Japanese around him. I’ve noticed someone shadowing him—I don’t know if they’re monitoring or protecting him,” Jiang Rou said.

Zhou Sen, for his part, knew Jiang Rou had returned to Harbin. With such a sensational performance and prominent coverage in the newspapers, how could he not notice? But more than a decade had passed; people and circumstances had changed. Did she even remember her childhood companion who’d been sold into the troupe with her? More importantly, they now lived in two different worlds—and Zhou Sen, after all, only inherited the original’s memories.

The best course was to leave her undisturbed, to avoid causing her trouble or danger.