37. Midnight Conversation

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Zhou Pan’er, who had always been hoping her younger brother would find a partner, marry, and have children, felt a gentle tug at the chord of family happiness in her heart upon hearing Manyu’s words. She immediately shifted from her earlier aggressiveness, leaving Manyu in the hospital room while she took her small bag, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips as she suppressed her laughter.

She stepped out of the room with a clear and steady pace, gently closing the door behind her with a soft, natural motion. At that moment, Zhou Pan’er’s mind began to envision the blissful scene of the Zhou family flourishing with descendants, as if she could see a group of adorable children laughing and playing in the courtyard.

Once Zhou Pan’er had gone, Manyu sat on a bench, a faint smile gracing her face as she said, “Young Master Zhou, your sister is truly beautiful and so elegant—she looks every bit the lady from a prominent family.”

Zhou Hongyi shook off the gloom that had clouded him earlier and sat up on the bed. “Miss Manyu, you really saved me. If you hadn’t come, my sister would have sat here all night. I told her my injury wasn’t serious, but she insisted on me staying at the hospital. I hate the smell of disinfectant in hospitals more than anything. Can you check if she’s gone yet?”

Manyu opened the door and peeked out. The corridor was empty; Zhou Pan’er had indeed left. She turned back and gave Zhou Hongyi an affirming look, and to her surprise, he immediately jumped off the bed and began putting on his shoes.

“Hey? Young Master Zhou, what are you doing? You just got shot—you need proper rest,” Manyu urged anxiously.

Zhou Hongyi waved her off. “I know my own injury. It’s not deep, no tendons or bones damaged. The wound’s been stitched and dressed. As long as I don’t strain this arm, it won’t be a problem. Don’t worry, I’ll come back regularly for dressing changes. There’s no need to stay here. Thank you, Miss Manyu.”

Manyu had hoped to spend some time alone with Zhou Hongyi, but to her dismay, he ignored his injury, put on his coat and shoes, and strode away with ease, leaving her alone in the hospital room.

Watching his departing figure, Manyu felt a swirl of emotions—concern for his wound mixed with a touch of neglected loneliness.

Zhou Hongyi finished dressing, stepped outside, hailed a rickshaw, and headed straight to his newly acquired shop.

After taking over the Western antique store, Zhou Hongyi had renamed it “One Piece,” a name that satisfied some of his quirky tastes.

Upon arriving, he found A Gui tidying up, preparing to close shop. “Bodhi” sat inside, silent and still like a statue.

“Boss, that customer inside says he’s your friend. I want to close, but he won’t leave.”

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A Gui hurried to Zhou Hongyi with a wary glance toward “Bodhi” inside.

“No problem. He really is my friend. I told him to wait for me here. Alright, A Gui, you can go home first. We’ll talk, and I’ll lock up later,” Zhou Hongyi said, patting A Gui on the shoulder.

“Understood, boss.”

After sending A Gui off, Zhou Hongyi entered the shop and locked the door behind him, spreading his hands. “How is it? Not bad, right? This will be our new contact point. My brother can rest assured; everyone here is carefully selected. Besides, he is also a victim of the Qingdong Massacre.”

“Bodhi,” whose real name was Mr. Ruoshui, removed his hat and looked at Zhou Hongyi’s left arm. “You just left, and you already got into such trouble? How bad is your injury?”

“It's minor, just a scratch. But because of this, I gained the trust of the Japanese military’s finance procurement officer, so it was worth it. By the way, how are you handling ‘Fireworks’?”

After receiving Zhou Hongyi’s information last time and passing it on, “Bodhi” had successfully helped the guerrillas evade enemy encirclement. Not only that, they launched a successful counterattack that killed or wounded dozens of Japanese and puppet troops, severely intimidating the enemy.

Now Zhou Hongyi had provided the exact identity of the internal traitor. After investigation, they confirmed that “Fireworks” had indeed betrayed them. Since this person knew much of the organization’s internal intelligence, the entire underground network and contact points in the city had to be replaced to prevent more comrades from being arrested.

This sudden storm disrupted the original arrangements, plunging the Communist Party’s underground work in the city into grave crisis.

Each of these incidents profoundly impacted the Party’s underground operations. It was confirmed that this comrade known as “Four-Faced Buddha” was unwavering in his loyalty, though even “Bodhi’s” superior had never heard of this codename or identity.

After organizational study, it was concluded that “Four-Faced Buddha” was likely the highest-ranking intelligence officer directly under Party control, explaining his concealed identity.

Currently, due to “Fireworks’” betrayal, underground Party members in the city risk exposure and cannot appear openly. Therefore, many critical tasks must fall to Zhou Hongyi.

“Comrade Four-Faced Buddha, your intelligence was timely. I’ve reported it to superiors. We must replace all underground personnel and contact points here. During this period, our information sources will be compromised, and work nearly halted. Your contact point is a godsend! I’ve come to ask for your help. The traitor ‘Fireworks’ must be punished, and you’re the only one I can think of for this task.”

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Trust and hope shone in Bodhi’s eyes, tinged with helplessness—after all, the situation was dire.

Zhou Hongyi’s expression darkened as painful scenes from the Guanyin Temple flashed through his mind. He saw Little Bei’s eyes filled with hatred and despair, A Gui’s anguish, all indirect victims of this affair. The homeless, the shattered families—their gazes were like sharp blades piercing his heart. The traitor must die; this was his firm conviction.

“Rest assured, even if you hadn’t said it, this person is already on my kill list. I, Four-Faced Buddha, will make sure he dies by midnight; he won’t live to dawn... But I need detailed intelligence and his identity.”

His voice was low and resolute, as if squeezed through clenched teeth.

“Alright, I can tell you his identity now. But he’s currently under close surveillance by Unit 76 and the Special Higher Police—essentially protection. Taking action won’t be easy. We must have a solid plan,” Bodhi said, frowning.

That night, Zhou Hongyi and Bodhi stayed late at the shop, drafting several plans, each carefully considered from multiple angles and contingencies. Which plan to use would depend on Zhou Hongyi’s further reconnaissance.

After discussing “Fireworks,” Zhou Hongyi spoke of several safe houses he had in mind and of Hasegawa’s recent arrival in the city.

Hasegawa’s arrival was like a dark cloud over the city. He brought hundreds of boxes of penicillin and weapons ammunition; if the Japanese army received them unimpeded, it would severely damage the situation.

They decided Zhou Hongyi would approach Hasegawa to ascertain the exact transport route and timing, then contact the guerrillas to seize the opportunity to strike.

Those hundreds of boxes of penicillin and arms would be a lifeline for the guerrillas, boosting their strength while striking a blow to the Japanese arrogance.

However, Zhou Hongyi still needed a foolproof plan.

At that moment, his thoughts returned to the bearded assassin from the Military Intelligence Bureau, pondering how to manipulate the Military Intelligence and Central Intelligence agencies into taking the blame.