(For Chapter 1-163, go to (https://chrysanthemumgarden.com/novel-tl/awbtv/))
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The next day, the skies were clear and bright.
Since Chu Yunsheng happened to be off rotation, he didn't go to the hospital to cover a shift. Instead, he accompanied Yu Jingzhi to a house located in the central district of the Concession.
Aside from the Yu residence outside the Concession, this was another place Yu Jingzhi frequently visited. He almost never stayed here long-term—it served more as a second office where he handled various matters within the Concession.
Chu Yunsheng came both to keep him company on this quiet day and to discuss the current progress and issues arising at the munitions factory.
The two worked until the afternoon when a servant came to report that Mr. Fang had arrived.
Chu Yunsheng was a little surprised.
Based on what he had learned about Fang Jiming these past days, this was a man who normally sent a visiting card before calling on anyone. He possessed progressive ideas, but in his bones still clung to certain traditional notions of propriety. Under normal circumstances, he would not simply show up unannounced at someone's door.
Yu Jingzhi frowned. "Something must have happened."
Chu Yunsheng suspected the same. Without another word, the two set aside their work and went downstairs.
Sure enough, Mr. Fang's sudden visit did not bring good news.
"You're saying… the train headed to the Northeast has been detained?"
The reception room was bright, its windows spotless. Outside stood a lush jujube tree, its shade blocking the harsh afternoon sunlight.
Yu Jingzhi's hand paused slightly as he poured tea.
"Yes."
Fang Jiming answered, his expression carrying a notable heaviness.
He had come today wearing the same simple bluish-white long gown as usual. The constant running about and social dealings of late had added even more silver to his already graying temples, and his face had grown more haggard. Fortunately, his spirit remained vigorous; he could still stay up all night writing articles and doing scholarly work.
Chu Yunsheng picked up the cup of tea Yu Jingzhi had poured and set it on the table before Fang Jiming. His voice was calm as he said, "Could you tell us the details?"
"That goes without saying."
Fang Jiming nodded, seated across from the two of them. "The train departed Haicheng five nights ago. It switched to a freight line in Nanjing, then proceeded as usual, stopping at the regular stations. Nothing about it was different from any other train; under normal circumstances, nothing should have gone wrong.
"But when it entered Qilu Province yesterday, it was suddenly detained at a station in southern Shandong (Lunan). They claimed the city was under martial law and that they needed to inspect it."
"The telegram came at noon today. Three or four other trains were detained as well. The soldiers are checking them car by car. When the telegram arrived, they hadn't reached our shipment yet, but it's only a matter of time. They'll get to it by tomorrow at the latest."
"I've already sent a telegram to Zhang Fengxian in Qilu, but he hasn't replied. I don't know whether the matter has been exposed."
Zhang Fengxian was the warlord controlling the Qilu region. His father had some ties with Fang Jiming's family. Although the two often attacked each other in the newspapers and held opposing positions, there was still a degree of personal connection.
Yu Jingzhi's gaze darkened. He was silent for a moment before saying quietly, "Sir, the people I sent to follow the train north—none of them have reported back."
Fang Jiming froze. "They brought a wireless telegraph set?"
"They brought one," Yu Jingzhi replied.
With those words, even Fang Jiming understood that something about this situation was abnormal.
If Yu Jingzhi's men on the train were able to contact Haicheng at any time, then he should have received information—but instead Yu Jingzhi had heard nothing at all.
Was the message fake, deliberately sent to mislead them? Or had something happened to Yu Jingzhi's people? Or was this an entirely different trap?
…And most puzzling of all—very few people, even among those accompanying the train, knew the exact nature of the medical supplies being transported. So how had the information leaked?
Could it really be such a coincidence — that they had run straight into martial-law inspections for spies in southern Shandong?
In the spacious reception hall, the three fell silent at the same time. Only the faint fragrance of tea drifted from the cups, steam curling slowly upward.
After a long while, Yu Jingzhi returned from his thoughts. "There are still some unclear points in this matter, But fortunately, the train hasn't passed Beiping yet. I still have some people I can move; it's not completely beyond my reach. If it truly can't be resolved… I'll go myself."
"If you leave Haicheng because of this train, won't that confirm to everyone that it is connected to you?!"
Fang Jiming's face was full of disapproval, his tone taking on the sharpness of reprimand. "If they don't find the hidden medical supplies, then fine. But if they do find them, everyone will know you've been secretly supporting the North. Everything you've done these past years will be for nothing. Even coming to me before—all for nothing."
"I'll ask you plainly: do you still want to stay in Haicheng or not?"
Fang Jiming sighed, his voice softening. "You're not like me, Jingzhi. They know exactly what kind of person I am—they won't lay a hand on me. But the position you occupy, the interests attached to your name—they won't allow you to do certain things openly."
Yu Jingzhi didn't refute him. He only said, "There are Chinese patent medicines and antibiotics on that train. If they're discovered, how will you explain it, sir?"
"Don't concern yourself with that," Fang Jiming replied.
Yu Jingzhi gave a small laugh but didn't pursue the matter further. Instead he asked, "Sir, aside from the people listed previously, have you spoken to anyone else about this batch of supplies?"
Hearing the implication in Yu Jingzhi's words, Fang Jiming didn't grow angry. He shook his head. "I understand what you mean. But ever since receiving the telegram, I've thought it over again and again. Even my own family doesn't know about this. There's simply no way for the information to have leaked."
During their conversation, the tea in Fang Jiming's cup gradually ran low.
Chu Yunsheng rose to refill it — but as he moved closer to Fang Jiming's side, he suddenly caught the faintest trace of an ink-like scent.
In a flash, Chu Yunsheng suddenly recalled both the report Lu Yun had given him that morning and the stack of newspapers delivered today…
He set down the teapot, turned to Fang Jiming—whose expression had been somber all along—and asked, "Mr. Fang, why was today's Eastern Daily only released close to noon?"
Perhaps not expecting such a question from Chu Yunsheng—who, by all accounts, seemed to be Yu Jingzhi's close friend and confidant—Fang Jiming was momentarily stunned before answering, "Ah, that. Last night, the editor in charge of printing somehow made a mistake and printed the wrong layout. Thankfully it was caught in time, so they reprinted it. But that delayed the morning release."
"You're not the first to ask today. He Yiqiu even sent someone to inquire, thinking the newspaper office had been shut down again."
Yu Jingzhi knew Chu Yunsheng wouldn't ask without reason. After only a moment's thought, suspicion stirred in him. Calmly, he asked, "Printed the wrong layout?"
Fang Jiming nodded. "You know how the articles in the paper are prepared in advance. Once typeset, barring special circumstances, they won't be changed. But yesterday afternoon there was an article—truly excellent—I couldn't bear to delay its publication. So I decided to replace one of the pieces with it."
"But Chengmei wasn't in the editing room at the time. Later, he must not have seen the note I left for him—or perhaps he picked up the wrong version—and ended up printing the old layout."
Chu Yunsheng and Yu Jingzhi exchanged a look.
Perhaps it wasn't that the note was missed or the wrong version taken—but that the earlier version of the newspaper had already been printed before yesterday afternoon. And that editor named Chengmei had never returned to the newspaper office after midday.
Yu Jingzhi knew that the apartment room rented out on short notice had not been rented by a newspaper editor. The smell of ink there was abnormal.
And conveniently, a printer from Eastern Daily had been absent from the office yesterday.
Yu Jingzhi did not believe in coincidences like this.
He looked toward Fang Jiming and asked directly, "Sir, on the day news of the Ouhua conference arrived—when I spoke with you about the antibiotics—was that editor named Chengmei in the editorial office?"
Fang Jiming's head snapped up. In an instant, he understood what Yu Jingzhi was implying.
"Go to the newspaper office."
Yu Jingzhi stood abruptly, palm striking the table.
The threads of the matter—whether by coincidence or deliberate design—suddenly connected all at once.
Adams's Green Eagle, Sheng €€'s double identity, the Dongyang language, the smell of ink…The train detained in Qilu, the Eastern Daily editor, the antibiotics, the Chinese medicines…
Something faint, half-formed, seemed on the verge of surfacing.
But Chu Yunsheng still felt that something wasn't right.
For example: when Yu Jingzhi handed Fang Jiming that sheet of paper describing the effects of penicillin, their conversation—aside from stating outright that the Chinese patent medicine was something Yu Jingzhi had developed—never directly mentioned antibiotics. Their exchange had been vague and brief. Even if this editor named Chengmei had been nearby, he wouldn't have understood much.
And mere Chinese patent medicines alone shouldn't have been enough to make the authorities in Qilu risk offending both Fang Jiming and Yu Jingzhi just to detain a train.
There was still some crucial link within all this—something strange.
And to unravel this strangeness, Chu Yunsheng had a feeling the key might lie with that Eastern Daily editor named Chengmei.
Yu Jingzhi took several of his men and hurried with Chu Yunsheng and Fang Jiming to the newspaper office.
However, when the three arrived, Fang Jiming's assistant reported that someone had just come looking for Fan Chengmei, and Fan had gone downstairs with that person through the back door of the editorial department.
Yu Jingzhi's expression darkened—not good—and he drew his gun, sprinting toward the back door.
Chu Yunsheng followed closely behind, carefully shielding the elderly master.
They were still pounding down the old wooden stairs when a gunshot, not far away, suddenly rang out. Shouts burst from the editorial department behind them, and Fang Jiming's face instantly hardened; the hand gripping the stair railing clenched sharply.
Yu Jingzhi's expression sharpened. He lifted his boot and kicked the back door open, charging outside.
The gunshot had come from a narrow alley seldom used by pedestrians.
When Chu Yunsheng arrived, another shot echoed. Yu Jingzhi had bypassed the body slumped against the wall of the alley and was firing his gun.
Sparks flared in the shadows deeper inside the alley. An indistinct figure darted out of sight, leaping over a wall in just a few steps as Yu Jingzhi's bullets chased after it—then vanished completely.
"Sir!"
Yu Jingzhi's men rushed in together with Chu Yunsheng.
Fang Jiming arrived moments later, panting, and the moment his eyes fell on the body lying on the ground, he cried out in shock, "Chengmei!"
Chu Yunsheng crouched down and examined Fan Chengmei, whose chest had been pierced by a bullet. He was already gone.
Aside from that, Fan Chengmei's body had clearly been searched in haste—his clothes were disheveled, pockets turned inside out, and various small items had spilled to the ground, now scattered within the pool of blood.
Meeting Fang Jiming's gaze, Chu Yunsheng silently shook his head.
Fang Jiming let out a bitter laugh and slowly pushed himself upright, bracing against his knee.
Yu Jingzhi had paused beneath the wall the assassin had escaped over, then turned and walked back toward them.
As he approached, he reached up and tugged open the collar of his shirt slightly. Warm breath rose faintly from his skin; a few fine beads of sweat slid down the side of his neck, rolling past his Adam's apple. No matter how he tried to contain it, the sharp, lethal aura in his eyes surged upward like the heat radiating from him—unrestrained and unhidden.
"Search!"
Yu Jingzhi barked the order coldly.
Most of the guards standing watch quickly dispersed, fanning out like a web to search the surrounding area.
"Judging from the wound, Fan Chengmei was shot from a considerable distance, killed outright, and then searched afterward," Chu Yunsheng said as he examined the body carefully. His voice suddenly paused.
"But there's a problem."
"If the person who came to fetch Fan Chengmei from the editorial department was also the one who shot him, then the two would've been close together when they left. The killer wouldn't need to run off to create distance before firing. And judging from the attacker's skill just now, he might not have needed to use a gun at all—he could've killed Fan Chengmei silently at close range."
Yu Jingzhi crouched beside him. "That leaves two possibilities."
"First: the killer couldn't kill Fan Chengmei at close range—either because Fan was too vigilant, or the killer could not act up close. Or perhaps they had already finished talking and were preparing to leave when, after walking some distance, the killer suddenly shot him from behind."
"The second possibility is that the person who killed Fan Chengmei was not the same person who called him out."
"If that's the case, then the situation was likely this: Fan Chengmei came here after being summoned by a familiar face. While they were speaking, a gunman hidden in the alley opened fire and killed him. Afterward, that 'familiar face' might have panicked and fled—or he might have been working together with the gunman all along, deliberately luring Fan Chengmei here. Once Fan was dead, he searched the body and left."
"In that case, the man who climbed over the wall just now is very likely that person. And it also explains why, when I fired at him, he didn't shoot back."
"The one who killed Fan Chengmei wasn't him. He didn't bring a gun. So even though I chased him in alone, he had no intention of turning around to kill me."
Chu Yunsheng listened to Yu Jingzhi's analysis and added, "There's another possibility. The gunman and the person who called Fan Chengmei out might not know each other. But the gunman knew they would meet here—and for some unknown reason, after killing Fan Chengmei, he didn't attack the other person."
He came to this thought because when he rushed into the alley, he not only saw that shadow disappearing into the depths but also noticed a window not far away—where a pair of eyes seemed to be watching them, carrying a faint, chilling murderous intent.
He suspected the gunman was there.
And when Yu Jingzhi was chasing the figure deeper inside the alley, that gunman did not fire to cover him, nor did he take the chance to shoot Yu Jingzhi.
That was not how a companion would act.
With that in mind, Chu Yunsheng raised his head again to look at the position of that window.
Yu Jingzhi thought over Chu Yunsheng's words. Seeing Chu Yunsheng look up, he followed his gaze. The next second, he realized what he had overlooked and instantly understood the reasoning behind Chu Yunsheng's earlier deductions.
There was nothing of real value left on Fan Chengmei.
But there was one point worth noting: Fan Chengmei had calluses from gun use on his hands, and his body bore clear signs of combat training. All of this proved he was far from an ordinary scholar.
"I hit that man once—in the thigh. He can't run far. Barring surprises, he'll be caught," Yu Jingzhi said.
Chu Yunsheng gave a slight nod. "You all have been operating outside these days. You've already taken out the antibiotics, haven't you?"
Yu Jingzhi let out a smile with an ambiguous meaning. "If we hadn't already brought them out, and you wanted to talk terms with me with courtesy before force… then just now there should've been another shot—right between my eyes."
Hearing this, Fang Jiming let out a long sigh.
Looking at Fan Chengmei's corpse, he showed neither fear nor grief; after all, he had weathered many storms before.
But the old gentleman's expression at this moment was exceedingly complicated. He closed his eyes, and his face seemed to age several years in an instant. "So it seems… this is the answer they've given us regarding the outcome of that conference in Ouhua. They would rather join hands with the Easterners to seize and plunder than listen a little more to Huaguo's voice…"
Fang Jiming slammed a fist against the wall, his body staggering with the motion.
Chu Yunsheng quickly moved to support him, but just as he reached out, he saw the old gentleman suddenly lower his head and cover his face—moisture seeping between his fingers.
Meanwhile—
Meng Wangda, sitting in a rickshaw, passed through Haicheng's bustling, lively streets and arrived at an old lane near Bao'anli, where the Eastern Daily office was located.
On that old street, there was a shop called White Dove Watch House.