Chapter 084: It Truly Was a Delightful Surprise

In the middle of the uproar, the Emperor brought the matter to a decisive close. Since the plan involved several ministries, it would, for the sake of coordination, be placed under the joint supervision of the House of Peers and the Cabinet.

Aoki Qiao’s first prize was East Asia Tongwen Academy, the covert training institution the Foreign Ministry Intelligence Division had long kept stationed in Shanghai.

Shiratori Toshio, chief of Section Two of the Foreign Ministry Intelligence Division, was ordered to hand over as quickly as possible all authority over East Asia Tongwen Academy, along with the network of economic agents stationed in Shanghai under the Republic of China, to Aoki Qiao.

Although Aoki Qiao had already trained himself to remain unruffled in the face of both honor and humiliation, he still drew a sharp breath at the news. East Asia Tongwen Academy of the Foreign Ministry was nominally an academy, but in truth it trained economic spies versed in Chinese culture. The Japanese who graduated from it were more Chinese than the Chinese themselves.

A fortune.

Foreign Minister Kijuro Shidehara opened his mouth, intending to struggle a little, but after thinking it over, he let it go. He seemed to have no reason to object, and voicing opposition at a time like this would hardly be wise if it meant offending Duke Fujiwara.

The House of Peers had landed a handsome assignment: notify all nobles to quickly tally the young talents willing to go to Shanghai in the Republic of China to seek their fortune, then send them in batches to Shanghai and into the academy for training.

Second, the Army Ministry General Staff Headquarters was to transfer all its covert organizations stationed in East Asia to Aoki Qiao, reorganize them, and place them under the unified management of the Aoki Bureau for task distribution. Major Ryukichi Tanaka, bureau chief, was ordered to fully cooperate with Colonel Aoki Qiao in completing the consolidation.

Tanaka Ryukichi, who had only just arrived in Shanghai not long before, was inexplicably demoted on the spot. A colonel had been placed over him, and he himself had become the deputy.

Chief of the General Staff Shoroku Suzuki and Army Minister Kazushige Ugaki had already been at odds over military spending and whether to cut the army, and now that there was a way to make money, with the whole affair being handled by army men anyway, they naturally had no reason to object. Tanaka Ryukichi had complaints? What complaints could he possibly have? Who told your men to keep wandering around outside the pharmacy every day?

Third, the Navy Command’s Third Section was to hand over all its covert members stationed in Shanghai to Aoki Qiao, and a special office was to be set up at headquarters to follow the arrangements of Aoki Qiao and Mio Fujiwara, taking responsibility for transporting the pharmaceuticals.

The naval minister and the deputy commander, Makoto Saito, were both in Europe attending a naval conference, and the acting officers at home did not dare voice any opinion.

The last time Aoki Qiao and Mio Fujiwara had personally paid a visit, promising to make money together with the Saito family, he had thought it was nothing but empty talk. He had never expected happiness to come so quickly. The Saito family could actually be allotted a separate little piece of the meat outside the Navy Ministry. It was unimaginable.

Fourth, the Special Higher Police Section was to assign personnel to assist Aoki Qiao and strive to complete the deployment of the Aoki Bureau throughout Shanghai within three months.

The infamous Special Higher Police was brought online. Officially, they were there to assist, but Aoki Qiao was no fool. This was supervision, like the eunuchs of the Ming Dynasty’s Eastern Depot.

But once they got to Shanghai, the Special Higher Police would have to listen to him. If they refused to behave, he would kill them until they did.

On November 24, Aoki Qiao dragged Yasuji Okamura along with him to the Army Officers’ School to ask the principal for men.

This was a crucial part of Aoki Qiao’s plan.

All he wanted to say was this: he liked the Army Officers’ School, he favored its graduates, and he welcomed alumni of the school to come work in Shanghai, China.

After that, Aoki Qiao found his younger brother, Aoki Seiko, who was studying at the Army Officers’ School, encouraged him at length, and told him that after graduation he should bring his classmates and friends to China.

On November 25, Aoki Qiao, having been praised and encouraged by the Emperor, set out without delay with the imperial writ in hand and boarded the passenger ship bound once more for Shanghai.

On the ship, as he watched the waves outside, Aoki Qiao routinely weighed the gains and losses of this trip in his mind. Overall, the results were good and fell within his expectations. Every faction had sent people: direct relatives, retainers, kin, and friends. With so many different hands and feet in the mix, how could he fail to slip in a few of his own people?

As for the question of Old Zhao’s status and political background, the reason he had made a special trip to the Army Officers’ School to lay the groundwork was precisely this. His preference for classmates and students from the school was not a serious problem; he had done the same sort of thing before in the Kwantung Army.

Next, in important positions, he would have Old Zhao select a few comrades who had studied and lived in Japan and knew the habits of the Japanese.

Yes, that Chen Lanfeng would need to be put on Old Zhao’s agenda. He should be assessed as soon as possible, let him intern in Shanghai first, and once they had built up their organization, he could be arranged to be among the first group sent to Nanjing to open up new ground and serve as the head of the Nanjing district.

Key posts had to be held by one’s own people.

As for the northeast, who could be sent there to go toe-to-toe with Doihara?

Forget it. Aoki Qiao shook off this unrealistic idea in his mind. Too far away, and the old Japanese fox was too formidable. He would not consider that for now.

The passenger ship docked at Shanghai’s Shiliupu Pier, and Chen Jihua took a taxi straight back to his home at number 73. A young man missing home was only natural.

After returning, Chen Jihua shared and analyzed for Mio everything he had gained at Imperial Headquarters.

That night, exhausted from the journey, Chen Jihua was just about to pull Mio to bed when she raised one finger. “Shh.”

In the quiet, late-November air, with no frogs croaking and no cicadas singing, Chen Jihua also heard movement atop the wall.

They had barely come back, and some department’s spy had already taken them under surveillance? Judging by the sound, that gait could only belong to an agent.

Chen Jihua took out two Colt pistols. Mio quietly drew her own handgun as well, and also produced a surgical knife. She was used to it by now; the knife was the handier weapon.

“You go to the third floor. I’ll go down,” Chen Jihua said, slipping off his shoes and descending silently.

Shanghai at the end of November had no moonlight at all. The courtyard was black as pitch, but with his excellent eyesight, Chen Jihua could still make out the “petty thief” at the corner of the wall, awkwardly dragging a suitcase inside.

You came to steal things with a suitcase? Just how much were you trying to take? No, wait, that suitcase was heavy.

Chen Jihua was thoroughly baffled.

No—small stature. Why did he look like Old Zhou? Impossible. Old Zhou was in America. He must be missing Old Zhou so badly that he was imagining things. How could he even think that?

No. It really was Old Zhou.

By the time Chen Jihua rushed to the corner of the courtyard wall, Zhou Yongsu had just landed. He turned and saw a dark figure charging at him, and in terror he hurriedly crouched down.

“Aoki, don’t shoot! Don’t use the knife!”

“Damn it, Old Zhou, how could you suddenly come back? And if you were coming back, why the hell didn’t you tell me? And you even climbed the wall!”

“Can we go inside to talk? I’m exhausted to death! Carry the suitcase carefully. It’s all the treasures you wanted!”

Back in the villa’s first-floor hall, Mio had come downstairs as well. She switched on the lights, and when she saw the dirt-covered Zhou Yongsu, she stood at the foot of the stairs, stifling a laugh with a surgical knife in one hand and a pistol in the other.

Chen Jihua gently set down the suitcase, closed the door, and wrapped Zhou Yongsu in a tight hug. “I missed you to death!”

“Get lost, get lost. You’ll make Miss Mio think there’s something going on between us! I don’t like men.”

Mio brought over a cup and poured in some hot water. After setting it down, she gestured for Old Zhou to sit.

“Tell us then. Why did you suddenly come back now? You came back without notifying anyone, and you even climbed over the wall! If I’d been a little more reckless, I’d have blown you away with a single shot!”

“Didn’t you tell me to come back?”

“When did I ever tell you to come back?”

“Aoki, now that you’ve got a wife, is your memory failing you? You forgot the telegram you sent? ‘Hurry back after converting at least two more, with as many bullets as possible, and depart without delay’—wasn’t that your message?”