Republic of China, 1922: Rise from the Post-Zhili-Fengtian War

The shopkeeper leaned closer: "Commander Gu has a good eye! This is an old Mexican from Huizhou. The Chamber of Commerce opened up the road recently, and he brought over a batch of goods. It's not much, just a few pieces."

Before Gu Cheng could even ask the price, the shopkeeper immediately instructed his assistant, "Quickly wrap up all those inksticks; Commander Gu wants them all!"

Before he and Zhang Tingxu could express their opinions, the shopkeeper said, "Commander Gu, it's a blessing that you've taken a liking to these inksticks! They're a gift for you, a gift for you—"

Gu Cheng smiled but frowned, saying, "How can that be? If you say that, I won't even dare to look at the things."

The shopkeeper was about to persuade him further, but Gu Cheng waved his hand to stop him: "I'll buy the ink, and I'll pay for it. If you want me to come more often in the future, then do business according to the rules. If you give me a free gift every time, I won't come to your shop again next time."

Upon hearing this, the shopkeeper could only awkwardly accept the money with a smile and then instructed the assistant to wrap up the ink.

Gu Cheng took the items, glanced around the counter, and then his gaze fell on the plain-colored silk fabric: "Wrap this fabric up as well."

The shopkeeper responded, personally took the fabric, folded it neatly, wrapped it in a clean piece of cotton paper, and handed it over with both hands: "Officer Gu, this is plain satin from Hangzhou. It's soft and perfect for making clothes that fit snugly against the skin. It'll be just right for your family."

Gu Cheng took it, said nothing, and turned to leave the shop.

Sunlight fell on the street, spreading a golden carpet, and the shadows of people and carriages moved and intertwined in the light.

The two continued strolling along the old road. The sun had moved to its zenith, and the temperature was gradually rising. Enticing sounds came from many food stalls along the street.

They went into two more shops and picked out two boxes of pastries and a few bottles of good wine. The pastries were osmanthus cakes from "Renhemei" (a brand of sweet rice cakes), wrapped in oil paper with a thin layer of oil stains on the paper, and the sweetness could be smelled even through the paper.

"Old Yang, go put the things back in the car, and have Xiao Yu park the car at the intersection. Let's eat first."

Gu Cheng handed the things to Yang Song and walked deeper into the road with Zhang Tingshu. They had just passed a steamed bun shop and were about to enter the restaurant that Gu Cheng had mentioned when they suddenly heard a slight metallic clanging sound overhead.

Gu Cheng looked up.

A window on the second floor was pushed open from the inside, a hand reached out, and then two dark objects were thrown out, tumbling in the air with a low arc before falling straight down to where the two people were.

With almost no time to think, Gu Cheng nearly shouted, "Go!" and abruptly turned around, shoving Zhang Tingxu.

Zhang Tingshu was still in shock when he was pushed to the side and staggered two steps, almost falling to the ground.

Gu Cheng didn't look back to see where the two objects landed. He lunged towards the roadside, landing on his back and bumping his shoulder against the door of the steamed bun shop, causing a sharp pain.

Immediately afterwards, he heard a dull thud less than two meters behind him.

Sparks flew and shrapnel flew everywhere. The ground shook violently, and the large stove at the entrance of the steamed bun shop was overturned. Even the coke inside fell down like fire rain, making a clanging sound.

Then came a second blast, closer than the first. The shockwave from the explosion pushed in, carrying a hot, gunpowder- and dusty smell, which hit the back of his head and neck.

Before the shockwave from the explosion had even dissipated, his body had already sprung up from the ground. His shoulder hurt, but he could still move.

He didn't look at the billowing smoke behind him; his gaze was fixed directly on the second-floor window.

A figure flickered in the window and was backing away.

"Block the back door!" Gu Cheng shouted, rushing to the narrow alleyway next to the steamed bun shop.

Zhang Tingshu didn't ask any more questions and went around to the other side, his boots making a soft rustling sound as they stepped on the broken tiles.

The narrow alley was dark, with walls close together on both sides and only a sliver of skylight overhead.

At the end of the alley, there was a wooden door, half-open, with a sliver of light shining through the crack.

Gu Cheng didn't slow down. He rushed to the door, dodged to the side, and rammed the door open with his shoulder.

The door slammed against the wall behind it with a dull thud... Behind the door was a back room filled with miscellaneous items, empty of anyone, but a narrow wooden staircase led to the second floor.

He drew his pistol and stepped onto the wooden ladder, taking two steps at a time, the ladder creaking beneath his feet.

Upon reaching the second floor, one finds a room with old floorboards, an open window, curtains billowing in the wind, and a layer of fine dust on the windowsill.

A person is crouching on the windowsill, about to jump down.

He braced himself against the window frame with one hand, and had already stepped out with one leg—but when he heard footsteps behind him, he stopped, as if he already knew he couldn't escape.

He turned around, holding a short knife in his hand, the blade flashing in the sunlight.

Gu Cheng stood at the top of the wooden stairs, not approaching: "Get down here!"

The man didn't reply, but just gripped the knife and stared at Gu Cheng. His eyes were fierce, and Gu Cheng even suspected that he might pounce on him and bite him at any moment.

Just then, Zhang Tingshu's voice came from downstairs, not loud, but clear: "Jingchuan, the back door is blocked."

The man's eyes finally moved slightly, like a taut string that was suddenly tugged and then snapped back to its original tension in an instant.

Gu Cheng took a step forward.

The man didn't retreat; instead, he moved the knife forward half an inch, making a gesture to hold his position.

Gu Cheng took another step, his gaze never leaving the tip of the knife.

The man suddenly moved—not forward, but sideways, as if trying to avoid Gu Cheng and run towards the wooden ladder.

Without hesitation, Gu Cheng fired the gun. The bullet, trailing a flash of fire, struck the man's thigh. As blood splattered, the man screamed and collapsed to his knees.

"Hmph, is that all you've got?"

The man tried to struggle, but Gu Cheng pressed him to the ground with one hand, his face pressed against the rough floor tiles.

Gu Cheng raised his hand and slapped him twice on the head: "Who let you come?"

The man didn't speak, his jaw clenched tightly, showing no intention of opening his mouth.

Another commotion arose on the street below—someone was shouting loudly, and there were hurried footsteps.

Yang Song ran from the other end of the narrow alley, stood at the top of the stairs, and looked up: "Master Gu... Your subordinate... Your subordinate has failed in his duty!"

Gu Cheng ignored him and instead demanded sharply, "Where's the other one?"

Yang Song quickly stood up straight and replied, "The other one ran away, but he shouldn't have gone far. The brothers have already gone after him."

Gu Cheng didn't turn around, and didn't let go of the person's hand.

He glanced down at the man's calloused fingertips—thick calluses on the base of his thumb and large knuckles.

He twisted the man's hand around, glanced at his palm, and asked, "Have you done manual labor? Or handled a gun?"

The man remained silent, as if he wanted to spit at Gu Cheng.

Gu Cheng released his grip and handed him to Yang Song, who had caught up: "Take him back. Interrogate him separately."

He took a half step back, bent down to pick up the short knife from the ground, and examined it. There were no markings on the blade, and the handle was wrapped with old strips of cloth, making its origin unknown.

He sheathed the knife at his waist, turned around, and walked down the stairs.

"Close off the entire old road! Rescue the injured!"