My spy diary

Chapter 675 People from My Hometown Arrive (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

What did Zhang Yi say about this?

Yang Rong and He Zhiyuan exchanged a glance, then stole a look at Dai Chunfeng's expression. He saw that Dai Chunfeng's face was ashen, and it was difficult to guess what he was thinking.

After a pause, Yang Rong, the bystander, spoke up and told Dai Chunfeng everything he had seen and heard in the office, including Zhang Yi questioning the two men and Zhang Yi's furious outburst and the threat to issue an arrest warrant for Zheng Huhe.

After listening, Dai Chunfeng remained silent, his expression somber, revealing neither joy nor anger, deep in thought. Zhang Yi's reactions—from astonishment and realization to anger, questioning, and even rage—seemed to be typical of someone framed and then uncovering the truth.

But is that really the case? Or is it just an act?
In particular, the sudden appearance of Zheng Huhe and the things he had said were like a lump in his heart, making him feel uneasy and a sense of fear he had never felt before in his work as a spy was rising in his mind.

Indeed, he had never encountered such a formidable opponent.

A sentence involuntarily came to mind: the ultimate method of top-notch agents is to manipulate people's hearts.

"People tend to believe in the truth of what they see, ignoring the limitations of their senses and the influence of prejudice. Little do they know that what they see with their own eyes often obscures the truth. In other words, the truth has no fixed form; what matters is not the truth itself, but the 'reality' that people, bound by prejudice, obsession, and habit, insist on believing."

At this moment, he was pondering Zheng Huhe's words. Although he didn't fully understand terms like "information cocoon effect," he had been a spy for many years and was quite knowledgeable. In his own interpretation, it meant—
Sometimes people find themselves trapped in a self-perception barrier, and their vision and mindset are temporarily suspended.

"Am I that kind of person?" Dai Chunfeng asked himself, pondering for a long time without an answer.

Those who know others are wise; those who know themselves are enlightened. But similarly, it is not the knowledge that is difficult, but the practice.

Seeing that Dai Chunfeng remained silent for a long time, Yang Rong and He Zhiyuan looked at each other, feeling the same way, as they also wanted to find out what the story was all about.

Dai Chunfeng, on the other hand, had completely relaxed, his brows furrowed and his face clouded over, as if nothing had happened. He turned to look at the two of them and said gently:
Is Yunyi still interrogating that Japanese female spy?

Yang Rong immediately felt that Boss Dai was truly an unfathomable figure, and his awe deepened. He blinked and said:
"Yes, in the interrogation room. I just heard the people from the operations department leave, so the interrogation must have progressed."

"Did he confess?" Dai Chunfeng looked at He Zhiyuan.

"I don't know much about that. Old Yang and I were in the office just now." He Zhiyuan glanced at Dai Chunfeng's expression and said cautiously, "Should I go and ask?"

Dai Chunfeng remained silent for a moment, then asked, "Does anyone else know about the recording?"

“Besides that Japanese female spy, it was just me, Lao Yang, Zhang Yi, and me. Oh, my subordinate Shen Linfeng only heard the beginning before Lao Yang sent him away.” He Zhiyuan said, then added, “Don’t worry, Chief, I’ll issue a gag order immediately. Not a single word about the recording will be revealed. Anyone who violates this rule will be court-martialed!”

"Family scandals shouldn't be aired in public. First there was Zhang Yi, then Wang Xinheng, and perhaps I, Dai Yunong, will be next," Dai Chunfeng thought to himself. But he still asked in a nonchalant manner:

"Do you think Zheng Huhe said those things intentionally, or did he say them without knowing the truth?"

That's a very important question.

Upon hearing this, He Zhiyuan's heart stirred. He and Yang Rong had just discussed this issue.

"Director, it's hard to say. All sorts of possibilities exist. After all, the Red Party has always been cunning. Old He, do you still hold your opinion?" As expected, Yang Rong spoke first, his gaze and tone carrying a profound meaning.

"Oh, tell me about it." Dai Chunfeng immediately became interested.

He Zhiyuan cursed inwardly. He had originally wanted to phrase things more tactfully, since no one dared to easily take responsibility for the matter. However, after Yang Rong's words and facing Dai Chunfeng's enigmatic gaze, he couldn't help but panic. He dared not hide his feelings and immediately repeated his previous statement in detail:
"My subordinates tend to think the latter. This kind of recording device, hidden inside a record player, was only recently brought back from the United States by our Military Intelligence Bureau. The Japanese might have it, but the Communists could never have seen it."

After listening to He Zhiyuan's account, Dai Chunfeng remained noncommittal. He threw his half-smoked cigarette on the ground, lit another one, and again inhaled and exhaled, taking a few puffs:

"Actually, this matter is not difficult to handle."

As he spoke, he glanced at his watch and gestured for Yang Rong and He Zhiyuan to come closer. “Immediately gather all your men, including outsiders, gang members, and informants. Guard the docks, train stations, bus stations, and all major transportation routes in the city. Launch a citywide manhunt immediately. This man surnamed Zheng must be brought to justice tonight.”

"Yes!" Yang Rong and He Zhiyuan exchanged a glance, both seeing the bitterness in each other's eyes. This Zheng Huhe was undoubtedly a formidable opponent. Capturing him would not be so easy. But military orders were hard to disobey, so they could only bite the bullet and agree.

"Go ahead, I hope you all work together, I'm waiting for your good news."

After the two men left, Dai Chunfeng threw away his cigarette, rubbed his temples, and walked towards the interrogation room. When he arrived outside the interrogation room, he was all smiles.

The night is getting darker.

Shen Linfeng, along with his men from the Action Department, was tirelessly searching for eyewitnesses on the streets several kilometers away from Huanyun Pavilion, carrying Xiaodie's portrait.

Just then, a junior agent came running up, panting:

"Team Leader Shen, the section chief is looking for you."

"Understood." Shen Linfeng stopped and stood across the street looking at a small park where two of his men from the operations department were smoking. The two men had obviously seen him too, and when they saw Shen Linfeng walking towards them aggressively, they panicked and quickly stubbed out their cigarettes.

Their direct supervisor was a team leader, who was standing behind Shen Linfeng, frowning and glaring at them, as if to say, "You've really messed up this time, haven't you?"

The two junior agents were terrified and dared not look at Shen Linfeng. The other agents, who were usually on good terms with him, stood aside, secretly sweating for the two. Team Leader Shen was currently riding high, and these two dared to slack off and walk right into the line of fire.

Shen Linfeng was initially very angry and about to explode, but after thinking about it, he decided to let it go and said amicably:

"Everyone has been under a lot of pressure and stressed lately. It's okay to relax a little, but we still need to stay alert. Finding a witness would be a great achievement."

Hearing him say this suddenly, everyone felt a huge weight lifted off their shoulders.

"Keep searching. Report any leads immediately."

After Shen Linfeng left, the group of plainclothes officers went to other streets to look for passersby.

Not long after they left, the sound of a dog bell came from the path next to the park.

A man dressed in a gray long shirt, black trousers, and black leather shoes walked over, leading a small dog that was panting and sticking out its tongue.

He led the dog along the path, into the depths of the park, and sat down on a bench.

He looked around cautiously, and seeing nothing unusual, he reached out and groped under the bench until he found a small round paper tube. Then he withdrew his hand, got up, and left.

He soon left the park and returned to his residence.

With wooden floors, smoky gray walls, and a combined living room and bedroom, this is an ordinary old tenement building.

Inside the room, a table lamp was on.

The man opened the round paper tube he had retrieved from under the bench, carefully took out the papers inside, unfolded them, and stared intently at them. On the papers lay a text consisting mostly of a dialogue. One of them asked: "Why did you choose a place like this to meet?"

Someone: The organization has clear requirements that it is strictly forbidden to meet in public places or near areas with a high concentration of enemy military, police, and secret agents, or in places with complex personnel flow and no escape route. What you did is a blatant violation of discipline.

Old Zheng: Times have changed. Now that your identity has been exposed and you're wanted by the Military Intelligence Bureau, the most dangerous place is actually the safest place. Although brothels are known for being dens of iniquity and a melting pot of all sorts of people, these places are usually protected by someone and won't be easily investigated, so they're quite safe.

"It seems this is a record of underground party calls intercepted by Black Butterfly." The man looked at the sketch and beamed with delight. He lit a celebratory cigarette and then eagerly looked down.

Just then, the wall clock chimed.

The man glanced at it; it was exactly eight o'clock.

He immediately put the papers away, went to the window, carefully parted the curtains, observed the outside for a while, and seeing that there was nothing unusual, he immediately pulled the curtains tight. Then he sat back down at the table, turned on a radio on the table, and adjusted the tuning knob.

A moment later, a female announcer's voice gradually became clearer on the radio: "Today's grain prices in Shanghai. Rice."

The man took out a pencil and began to record various numbers on a piece of paper.

After finishing his notes, he took the top book from a stack of books on the table. It was a copy of Huanzhu Louzhu's "The Legend of the Swordsmen of Shushan," published in July 1932.

He spread out the novel and, matching the numbers he had just written down on the paper, flipped through the pages one by one to find the corresponding page numbers.

Then, he wrote a string of words on the paper:
Secret order: The spy has been arrested; purge the entire organization immediately.

Under the desk lamp, the man's face was somewhat gloomy.

Didn't the spy just deliver intelligence? How come he was suddenly arrested? What happened?
The man cursed inwardly, turned off the radio, destroyed the papers, thought for a moment, took out a stack of manuscripts from the drawer, turned and went out the door, went to the door of the next room, and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came a hoarse voice from inside the house.

The man outside the door didn't say anything. After two seconds, he knocked on the door again.

Footsteps approached, and the door opened. The man put on a fawning expression and raised his hands:
"Editor-in-Chief Liu, take a look, this is my newly written novel."

Editor-in-Chief Liu, a man in his fifties wearing reading glasses, looked displeased, but still took the manuscript and began to read it. After a few glances, his brows furrowed, and his chest heaved violently with anger.

"The Legend of the Swordsmen of Mount Emei? You plagiarized Huanzhu Louzhu's 'The Legend of the Swordsmen of Mount Shu' again? Zhao Deshan, Zhao Deshan, what can I say to you? You're supposed to be a scholar, have some backbone! A scholar's pen should embody righteousness, not allow you to plagiarize others and engage in such despicable acts, using other people's hard work to glorify yourself. Aren't you ashamed?"

Zhao Deshan said with a fawning smile, "Editor-in-chief, you're exaggerating. As the saying goes, all writing is plagiarism. Which writer throughout history didn't make a living by reading the works of their predecessors? I'm just taking the essence and incorporating it into my own writing. How can that be considered plagiarism? At most, it's just borrowing! Besides, there are plenty of novels written in this style on newsstands these days. Why is it that I'm the only one who can't?"

Seeing his confident and shameless argument, the editor-in-chief was furious:

"Get out of here! Write whatever you want, but don't show it to me. You're dreaming if you think I'll publish it in the newspaper!"

Seeing that the editor-in-chief was angry, Zhao Deshan immediately bowed and scraped, saying:

"I'll stop here. You go ahead with your work. We'll discuss it when I get back tonight."

"What do you mean, 'we'll discuss it when I get back tonight'? Where are you going?"

Zhao Deshan grinned lewdly: "You tend to forget things when you're angry. I just told you yesterday that I wanted to invite you to Huanyun Pavilion; I heard the girls there are..."

The editor-in-chief was truly enraged. He threw down the manuscript in his hand, turned around, and grabbed a broom from the doorway.

"When did I agree to go to such a filthy place with you? If you want to go, go yourself. It's perfect that the Military Intelligence Bureau is arresting people there; it would be best to arrest a shameless scoundrel like you while we're at it. People like you..."

The editor-in-chief grabbed a broom and was about to hit him, but Zhao Deshan fled in panic.

He ostensibly invited the editor-in-chief to visit a brothel, but in reality, he had already gathered all the necessary information.

Back at his residence, he immediately retrieved the intelligence that the "black spy" had sent last time from a stack of documents—intelligence that Mao Zhongxin had leaked after being drugged.

After reading it again, he looked at the information on the paper, raised the corners of his mouth and smiled. This Kuomintang agent named Qian Xiaosan seemed quite interesting.

Qian Xiaosan was off work today, and his nurse wife was on night shift. He was putting the child to sleep when the phone suddenly rang.

He thought for a moment, then walked over and answered the phone, but remained silent, waiting for the person on the other end to speak first.

A moment later, a deep male voice came from the phone:

"People from my hometown have come."

Qian Xiaosan's mind went blank for a moment, and his heart jumped into his throat. This was the emergency communication code he and Mao Qiwu had established, but Mao Zhongxin was already dead! Even if he was slow to react, he had heard about it; after all, it had been widely discussed in private.

So why did Mao Qiwu send someone to contact him at this moment?
Could it be that he wants to take revenge on Zhang Yi or the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics?

Qian Xiaosan was filled with fear and unease. After a pause, he asked:

"who are you?"

“A prostitute named Liu Ningxue has been arrested. She knows something about Mao Zhongxin, which might implicate him. It’s a tricky situation. You need to handle this.”

Qian Xiaosan was completely bewildered: "A prostitute? Where is she? How do we rescue her?"

The person on the other end of the phone interrupted him: "She should be in your judicial office's interrogation room. Not to save her, you have to kill her."

Qian Xiaosan was stunned.

Before he could speak, the person on the other end continued:
"It's getting hot, let's buy a fan so the child can sleep more soundly."

After hanging up the phone, Qian Xiaosan subconsciously glanced at the child sitting on the bed, a chill running down his spine.

Suddenly, he realized what was happening, ran to the window, pulled back the curtains, and saw nothing.

Qian Xiaosan stood frozen by the window, his face almost pale.

Who made that mysterious phone call? Why was that prostitute named Liu Ningxue arrested? And what secrets did he possess about Mao Zhongxin, and why did he threaten all of Director Mao's problems? Qian Xiaosan had no idea.

(End of this chapter)