Chapter Five: The Fight

Chapter Five: The Brawl

The one who kicked open the door to the interrogation room was none other than Wu Zhengke, who had just rushed back from 32 Ping’an Road. The moment he entered, he saw Mr. Li bound to a pillar, and his heart skipped a beat: could this be the man they captured last night?

Wu Zhengke knew Liu Peiru well enough—he was not one to get his hands dirty unless someone truly warranted his personal attention. The thought made Wu Zhengke’s gaze toward Mr. Li burn with anticipation. There was no need to ask; the man before him was clearly of great importance, which meant a significant achievement was within Wu’s grasp.

But Liu Peiru simply ignored Wu Zhengke’s interrogation and instead ordered the guards to take Mr. Li away. “Bring a doctor. Make sure his wounds are treated, and do not allow any mistakes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Once Mr. Li was gone, Liu Peiru wiped his hands and spoke calmly, “Old Wu, I’ll report this matter to the chief. You’ll receive a satisfactory explanation.”

“I hope your explanation will satisfy the chief. Don’t forget, just now my Third Action Team leader died at 32 Ping’an Road.”

Though Wu Zhengke had been waiting for the Third Team leader to meet his end—after all, the man was a thorn in his side planted by Liu Peiru—now that he was dead, Wu Zhengke had no intention of letting the opportunity slip by. Even dead, the man was a figurehead worth leveraging.

“Hmph, the dead are not my concern. Besides, when has the Action Team ever gone on a mission without casualties? For the Third Team leader’s affairs, just go to General Affairs and ask for the death benefit,” Liu Peiru replied indifferently, making it clear he would take no responsibility.

“General Affairs? Ha, as if you don’t know what a scoundrel Fatty Qian is,” Wu Zhengke sneered, then turned and strode out.

Liu Peiru watched Wu Zhengke’s departing figure with a furrowed brow, then left the interrogation room as well.

…

After leaving 32 Ping’an Road, Bai Zeshao placed his codebook and pistol in a dead drop used for communicating with Mr. Li. He straightened his collar to conceal the marks on his neck, then made his way toward the military academy.

Upon returning to the dormitory, he found it empty. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was only a little after nine and wondered where everyone had gone. Just then the door swung open, and Wang Gang, Zhang Wenkai, and Liu Xiaobing entered, chatting and laughing.

“Xiao Bai, where did you go? The homeroom teacher just called a meeting. Our assignments have been finalized,” Wang Gang said, giving Bai Zeshao’s shoulder a playful punch.

“Oh, I went over to the Disciplinary Office,” Bai Zeshao answered casually, then changed the subject. “Where have you all been assigned?”

“I’m heading to the frontline troops suppressing the Reds,” Wang Gang replied with a grin, then gestured to Zhang Wenkai. “Wenkai’s been posted to Greater Shanghai. As for you and Xiaobing, you two achieved the best results in our cohort, so you’ve landed the most coveted spots—Special Services.”

Bai Zeshao was not surprised by his and Liu Xiaobing’s assignments. After all, Liu Xiaobing was Liu Peiru’s nephew. Though Special Services had a notorious reputation, everyone knew the old man ran it with his own hands.

“Xiao Bai, why are you wearing your collar up so high? Hiding yourself like it’s freezing out,” Liu Xiaobing asked curiously.

“Oh, the weather turned chilly after the rain and I caught a bit of a cold,” Bai Zeshao replied with a light laugh, making up an excuse.

Seeing Liu Xiaobing’s suspicious look linger, Bai Zeshao’s mind turned. “Since our assignments are decided and we’ll soon part ways, let’s go out for a proper meal—a farewell feast.”

“Great idea!” Wang Gang immediately agreed.

“Xiao Bai’s right. We’ll soon scatter to the four winds. In these turbulent times, who knows when we’ll meet again? We ought to gather one last time—and I say we should have a drink,” Zhang Wenkai added quietly.

“Let’s go! We’re graduating anyway. Let’s have a drink outside—as long as the patrols don’t catch us, we’ll be fine,” Liu Xiaobing said brightly.

The four of them quickly left the academy, found a small restaurant, booked a private room, and ordered a generous spread. Most importantly, they asked for several bottles of wine.

During their years at the academy, rules had kept them from drinking freely. Now, with graduation and separation looming, they let loose. They ate little but drank heavily, though Bai Zeshao limited himself, fearing that too much might loosen his tongue.

“If you ask me, the Japanese are eyeing our land hungrily, but here we are fighting a civil war—killing our own people. No matter what, the Reds are still Chinese,” Wang Gang grumbled, clearly drunk.

“Gangzi, you’ve had too much. Watch what you say,” Bai Zeshao warned with a frown.

“Heh, am I talking nonsense?” Wang Gang burped and looked at the other three. “I may be the youngest of us four brothers, but I understand how things stand. Do you not, or are you just pretending?”

He poured himself another drink. “Or is it that you two, Xiao Bai, have already gotten used to your new roles? Makes sense—Special Services is all about this, isn’t it?”

“That’s enough, Gangzi. It’s one thing to say this here, but don’t forget we are soldiers. Remember our oath when we entered the academy: loyalty to the leader, loyalty to the party and the nation. If the patrols hear you, you’ll be in trouble,” Liu Xiaobing cut in sharply, slamming the table.

“I…”

Wang Gang wanted to argue further, but Bai Zeshao stopped him, saying, “Enough. Graduation is upon us, and we’ll soon be scattered. To speak plainly, in these troubled times, it’s fate that brought us together. Who knows if we’ll ever meet again after this parting? Tonight, let’s not discuss affairs of state—let’s drink only to our brotherhood.”

“Xiao Bai is right. To our brotherhood—cheers,” Zhang Wenkai, usually the quietest, spoke up, raising his glass.

“To brotherhood,” Liu Xiaobing echoed.

“May our brotherhood endure,” Bai Zeshao added.

“Cheers!”

Their glasses clinked heavily, and the four friends downed their drinks. After eating a little more, they walked back toward the academy, arms around each other, swaying unsteadily—a rather bedraggled sight.

But just as they neared the dormitory, they ran into members of the academy’s patrol unit. The sharp smell of alcohol on the four reached the patrol from afar, and the officers immediately moved to detain them.

But they were all young and drunk, and with graduation looming, fear had left them. Wang Gang shouted defiantly, “Yeah, I’ve been drinking! What are you going to do about it?”

“Kid, you think just because you’re graduating, the patrol can’t touch you? Take them all in—lock them up!”

“I dare you!”

“Try us and see!”

Tempers flared, and as words flew, shoving began. Bai Zeshao hesitated about joining the fight, but then remembered the marks on his neck—and was the first to lash out, swinging a fist into a patrol officer’s face.

That punch set off a hornet’s nest. Both sides began trading blows, fighting fiercely, targeting vulnerable spots without mercy.

Soon, shrill whistles pierced the night. The academy’s security team arrived, broke up the brawl, and took everyone away, bringing the farce to an end.