(For Chapter 1-163, go to (https://chrysanthemumgarden.com/novel-tl/awbtv/))
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In the seventh year of the Republic, on a rainy night in August—
Several factories in Zhabei exploded. Multiple shops and newspaper offices were sealed off. Gunshots echoed across the usually calm and peaceful foreign concessions, some near, some far.
Car horns blared, horses galloped, and many windows of foreign-style residences that had been left open quietly shut themselves.
The marching footsteps of foreign soldiers in heavy boots were uniform and forceful, splashing through potholes and scattered rainwater as they moved through the streets and alleys. In the thick, chaotic, humid darkness, the sound made one's heart tighten.
When the sun rose the next day, several intelligence reports appeared on the desks of every faction.
There are no eternal enemies, nor eternal friends.
Once the fragile transactional relationship ended, Louis exposed without reservation the roles Chu Yunsheng and Yu Jingzhi played in this upheaval and the influence they exerted.
The high-ranking members of these factions did not know whether they should first be shocked by Adams's death, or by the fact that Green Eagle had gone insane and uprooted the entire Dongyang intelligence network in Haicheng.
Perhaps they should also be stunned that the once "timid" Huaguo had actually appeared on a wanted list—becoming the hidden hands stirring up all the bloody chaos.
"Yu Jingzhi has gone mad!"
"If my men hadn't witnessed it with their own eyes, I would've suspected this was a joke—not even a remotely funny one!"
"They will bear the wrath of both the Deyizhi and the Dongyang!"
"I still can't believe it. It's like an ant killing a strong elephant… We need an investigation—there must be something hidden behind all this!"
Louis had practically banked on Chu Yunsheng and Yu Jingzhi never revealing his identity as a spy. After all, with the Deyizhi and the Dongyang thoroughly offended, as long as they still had even a sliver of hope for Faguo's support, they wouldn't say a word.
But reality proved—they had no expectations of Faguo whatsoever.
A report detailing how Louis, as a Faguo spy, had schemed meticulously to murder Adams appeared on the front pages of numerous major and minor newspapers that had been printed overnight.
By the time Louis reacted and sent people to ban and destroy the papers, the news had already spread through every street and alley. Even the beggars by the roadside could mumble a rough summary, though they didn't really understand it—treating it only as lively gossip.
This was outright gangster behavior.
"Louis turned out to be working for Faguo. Even I didn't expect that. Perhaps the intelligence system of Yinglun needs to undergo a proper reform," Pitt said.
He sat in a spacious, sunlit flower hall, a cigarette hanging from his lips, flipping through the sheets of paper with interest. "For someone as suspicious as Adams to keep him by his side for so long—one could say he trusted him deeply. But unfortunately, Louis betrayed that trust."
James, the visitor, was the very image of an Meidi —tall and powerfully built.
He sat on a cushioned chair not far away, admiring an osmanthus tree placed behind a half-open glass window.
At Pitt's words, he raised a brow and said, "Adams is dead. There will no longer be a Deyizhi presence in Haicheng. I believe Colonel André will soon pull out his ticket home and rush to board the ship."
"He doesn't seem like a Deyizhi at all," Pitt agreed with a nod.
James asked, "Pitt, who do you think killed Adams?"
Closing the stack of intelligence, Pitt replied, "I can't yet determine whether it was Huaguo or Faguo. But compared to Yu Jingzhi, I'm more inclined to believe Louis will reap the greatest benefits from all of this. I don't even understand Yu Jingzhi's motive—assassinating Adams and uprooting the Dongyang intelligence network."
"That brings him no benefit whatsoever. Unless you consider facing the wrath of both the Deyizhi and the Dongyang to be some sort of advantage—then perhaps I could understand."
James leaned back in his chair and burst into laughter. "Hey, Pitt, you're far too funny. But perhaps you've forgotten something."
His words paused.
Pitt lifted his chin slightly, looking at James in inquiry.
James didn't bother to keep him guessing and said directly, "Whether it's the Deyizhi, the Dongyang, or the Faguo —they all appear furious, their clamor loud enough to drown all of Haicheng. But Deyizhi has already lost the war and can no longer control the situation in Huaguo. Green Eagle has had its tentacles severed, and after Louis's purge, it's trapped in infighting—its power reduced by at least half. It will be difficult for it to stir up any waves again."
"Their anger toward Huaguo will remain only at the level of a wanted notice. Assassination attempts might increase, but their armies won't make any moves."
James's smile faded slightly. "As for Faguo …"
"That arrogant Louis—if he hadn't let Yu Jingzhi and Chu Yunsheng go last night, but instead silenced them on the spot, he might've easily taken full control of Green Eagle, secretly using the Deyizhi intelligence network to make a tremendous contribution to Faguo."
"But he was truly foolish. He actually let them go."
"No, that's not it. Perhaps he couldn't kill them at all. He was restrained, deluding himself into thinking he was engaged in a high-stakes gamble—thrilling and terrifying—but in reality, he's still a weak and cowardly man. He cherishes his life too much to risk dying together with them."
"So he ended up in this situation—tricked by the supposedly docile Huaguo he was sure wouldn't fight back. They publicly exposed him everywhere. No matter what kind of desperate act he puts on, at least half of Green Eagle and the Deyizhi high command will doubt him."
"They'll suspend him, escort him back to his country like a criminal. All of his schemes will become a laughable pantomime."
Hearing this, Pitt chuckled as well, adding, "Yes, Louis's weakness and hesitation make me no longer wonder whether Faguo fell too quickly in that Ouhua war. Though perhaps he has a little bit of brain left."
He continued, "At the very least, when those newspapers spread this morning, he realized his own stupidity and tried to remedy it. The Faguo Concession is under martial law, and Faguo soldiers are busy 'cleaning up.' Using the excuse of destroying rumors, Louis killed most of Green Eagle's intelligence operatives."
"He can still seize Green Eagle, but it will no longer be a mighty eagle—just a turkey with its wings torn off."
"This is no different from killing Adams outright and taking Green Eagle by force."
"The Ouhua conference is still underway. For Faguo to have this kind of scandal surface now, the pressure will be considerable. The losses from the war were enormous, and they will want to compensate themselves with Huaguo territory—but certainly not now, when the war has just ended and nothing has yet stabilized."
James relaxed his shoulders against the soft chair, continuing Pitt's thought: "So although many voices are shouting for those two Huaguo men to be killed, the only ones who can actually extend their hands and do something… are those cunning Dongyang."
Pitt stood and poured James a cup of Yinglun tea. Together they looked toward the osmanthus tree outside the window, golden and fragrant.
"So, James, do you think those two Huaguo already anticipated this outcome—before they created last night's chaos? Or perhaps… did they take such a desperate gamble because they already received the news… the news that the Dongyang were preparing to march south?"
The thick aroma of tea blended with rich milk, drifting through the afternoon flower hall.
James did not answer. He simply lifted the ceramic teacup, and through the rising steam, exchanged a knowing smile with Pitt.
In truth, the situation in Haicheng was much like the era itself—ever-changing, undercurrents surging beneath the surface. At every moment, it felt as if blood-stained blades and grand clashes were hidden in the shadows.
The concessions were in chaos; the county districts of Haicheng were at odds; newspapers fluttered everywhere.
Streetcars passed through crowds of progressives shouting their ideals, their narrow windows reflecting numb faces and pairs of bright eyes.
Petty quarrels in the alleys, the corpse of a stray child floating in a foul ditch, wails from addicts in opium dens, the glamorous charms along the Suzhou River, the forest of factories beneath the Zhabei sky.
Even the common folk—counting their copper coins carefully, living day by day with no promise of tomorrow—could smell the bloody scent carried in from the sea.
…The storm was coming.
Two days later.
On the second floor of Guanglai Teahouse, the last gunshot in the street-facing private room finally fell silent.
The customers crowded at the entrance, craning their necks to look. After a moment, four men in short jackets came down the stairs. Two of them carried a corpse, hurrying toward the back door of the teahouse.
The shopkeeper, who had been hiding behind the counter, revealed only his eyes as he stared fixedly. After another half minute, a soldier appeared at the top of the stairs, smiling as he offered apologies to everyone.
Only then did the shopkeeper straighten up. He rushed out from behind the counter in two or three steps, pointed at the cluster of customers at the door, and shouted loudly, "You're all regulars—Old Zhang remembers every face! None of you better think you can run off without paying!"
The customers burst into laughter, teased the shopkeeper a few times, dusted off their long robes, and walked back inside the teahouse as if nothing had happened.
Only, once they sat down again, the tea that had been perfectly warm earlier had inevitably grown a little cool.
Someone sighed quietly: "Ay… when will all this end? Sure, there used to be attempts on that Mr. Yu before, but at least they were spaced out—every ten days or half a month. Look at things now, something happens every two or three days. If it were me, I'd lock myself in my house and never step out the door."
"Easy for you to say," another replied.
"A man of that rank has far too many matters to handle—can't compare to us ordinary folks. Besides, he's always handled these incidents well, hasn't he? Brother Liu, look—you're so timid, yet even you dare stand under gunfire for half an hour watching the commotion."
"You get used to it. And besides, who doesn't know the reason these assassination attempts suddenly increased?"
"Those foreigners are truly despicable!"
The man from earlier gritted his teeth. "At my workplace, the general manager turned out to be a Dongyang spy. Yesterday the boss heard rumors, checked the accounts overnight, and discovered that the traitor had siphoned off over a hundred thousand silver dollars—all of it offered to the Dongyang!"
"That's not all. Do you know Mr. Zhao from the Great Steel Daily? He used to constantly praise the Dongyang in his articles. I never liked it. I kept thinking—there are plenty of students who studied in Dongyang, so why is he the only one who talks so strangely, as if he can't wait to lick the Dongyang's toes? Now I understand—he was a spy too!"
Another person chimed in: "Those cases are mild. Plenty of spies kill people and take their identities just to infiltrate! Worse ones wipe out entire families!"
"These spies can't all be rooted out, that's for sure. But it's better than before. When I think about how, in past years, all those vicious eyes were watching us from the shadows, I feel sick all over."
"So just bear with it. These assassination attempts can't go on forever. Besides, I don't think that fierce fellow is the type who can endure for long…"
"Hey, watch your tongue!"
Inside the second-floor private room, the two street-facing windows were propped open again, the heavy smell of blood gradually dispersing.
A faint fragrance of tea rose with the freshly poured hot water, intermingling with the gentle scent of osmanthus.
Chu Yunsheng listened to the noise downstairs, taking the half-eaten pastry that Yu Jingzhi had abandoned midway, deeply impressed by the adaptability and resilience of the people of Haicheng.
In Haicheng—a city overrun with gangs, crowded with foreigners, and tangled with countless competing forces—peace and gunfire had never been mutually exclusive.
And the people of Haicheng, ever adept at embracing new things, were equally skilled at avoiding danger and seeking advantage, always reacting to events in the most sensible way.
Looking down from the window, even the pedestrians and street vendors who had fled during the fight were trickling back, cautiously at first, then gradually reopening their stalls, calling out their wares as if nothing had happened.
"You asked Gao Lan to come. He probably won't," Chu Yunsheng said, glancing at Yu Jingzhi across from him.
Yu Jingzhi's eyes curved with a smile. "Of course he doesn't want to. He made such a grand entrance into Haicheng, and the first person he's supposed to meet is me? I can guarantee he'll die even faster than I would. But whether he sees me or not… that's not for him to decide."
Hearing this, Chu Yunsheng suddenly thought of something and lifted his gaze toward the window.
The street ahead was the main road leading into the city—the route every traveler had to take before entering the foreign concessions. It seemed Yu Jingzhi had learned that Gao Lan wouldn't be arriving by water as originally planned, so he intended to intercept him here.
At that thought, Chu Yunsheng suddenly remembered the original plot: the scene where Li Lingbi met Gao Lan—one of his four lovers—was a coincidental collision at a riverside pier, a classic love-at-first-sight setup.
But now that Gao Lan had changed his route into the city… would he and Li Lingbi still meet?
Just as this question surfaced, the roar of engines and the clatter of hooves echoed from the far end of the street.
Soon, a unit of about a hundred soldiers appeared within Chu Yunsheng's line of sight.
This troop wasn't outfitted with especially fine equipment, but they carried a fierce, bandit-like aura that was quite intimidating.
The nearby townsfolk hurriedly stepped aside, casting wary glances at them. At the very front of the formation were three tall warhorses. On the leading, powerful black horse sat a man in military uniform, his expression stern and cold.
The man was tall and strong, his skin bronzed, and a scar lay horizontally between his brows—adding an air of violence to his already severe appearance. Compared to the photograph, his presence was even more overwhelming.
Chu Yunsheng recognized him at once. This was Gao Lan, the man who had forcefully occupied the northern Jiang Province and even given himself the lofty title of "Grand Marshal."
Yu Jingzhi also lifted his gaze, his expression turning mocking and icy.
And just as the two of them were observing Gao Lan swaggering into the city, a sudden scream broke through the quiet that had unknowingly settled over the street.
A figure burst out of a nearby alley in a panic and, without looking, ran straight toward the thundering hooves of Gao Lan's black horse.