Anti-Japanese War Auction (Part 1)

A sudden downpour twisted the power lines into knots, and the colorful sign erected at the entrance of Sincere Department Store rattled loudly. Instead of the usual "Big Sale" sign, it read "Resist Japan and Save the Nation."

The soaked sidewalks were stained yellow and blue, and pedestrians and vehicles, braving the rain, treaded on the neon-colored patches, turning the wide Nanjing Road into a solid block of metal.

The street was filled with the noise of honking horns. Gao Junxiao stared at the endless convoy ahead, his anger rising. He couldn't help but pull his hat brim down lower to calm himself. The thief who stole the painting had once again lowered his standards. How dare he publicly auction off stolen goods? Was there no law?

A warm massage came from his shoulder. Li Sheng patted him and comforted him, "Don't worry, Mr. Xia will definitely be here soon. You don't need to worry. At worst, we can use the money that Commander Xiong gave us to buy your painting. Anyway, he doesn't care what we buy. The main thing is to gain a good reputation."

"Brother, just do as I say and don't buy it. I'll get it for you. You won't have to spend a penny. In the underworld, it's called 'double-crossing'." Lei Shanhai, who had been honking his horn, suddenly turned around and replied.

Lu Xian, in the passenger seat, threatened, "Go! Don't do anything reckless. Today you represent the headquarters. If you get caught or cause trouble, it won't just be a few days of solitary confinement. You might get a beating."

Shan Hai said confidently, "Are you kidding me? If they find out, I'll change my mind. Big brother, it's just a matter of a word."

"Go to hell, I think you're asking for trouble again." Lu Xian cursed viciously.

"Hey, Lieutenant Lu, don't scare me. I'm not easily frightened." Shan Hai picked at his ear, looking nonchalant.

As the two exchanged barbs, the traffic began to move slowly, presumably because the traffic police had arrived to clear the road. Gao Junxiao closed his eyes, his mind flashing between He Qingcheng's image, the nurse's image, and the pharmacist's image. Which face would she wear today?

A few days ago, I saw an advertisement in the newspaper that the auctioneer had booked the top floor of Sincere Department Store. The department store owner not only quickly arranged the counters to resemble an auction venue, but also set up a series of foreign drums and horns at the entrance, which were played and banged vigorously from the moment customers entered.

This is hardly a war of resistance against Japan; anyone who didn't know better would think it was a big sales promotion. Gao Junxiao headed straight for the top floor with a blank expression.

The temperature on the top floor was noticeably higher than downstairs. The self-service tea table was packed with people, and only a few wisps of cold air could be seen emanating from the ice sculptures. Shan Hai's eyes lit up, and he hopped into the crowd to grab some food. Lu Xian, afraid that he would cause trouble, also squeezed into the crowd.

It's so lively today!

However, Gao Junxiao and Li Sheng were more interested in the exhibits. The two quickly locked onto the exhibition area behind the red curtain, where precious paintings and various antique artworks were all covered in glass cases. The guests stood next to the display cases, glanced at them for a few seconds, and then drifted to the next exhibit.

There were few people in front of each exhibit, but a particularly spacious booth in the southeast corner was surrounded by people, which was for Tang Bohu's "Stealing Fragrance".

Gao Junxiao hurriedly took out a portable telescope, and the details became clearer. The familiar mandarin duck patterned Song brocade had a dark red stain the size of a soybean on the scroll. It was indeed the painting lost by Yin Yang Pavilion.

Suddenly, a foreigner's voice came from beside him: "Agnes, no!"

He was pressing on a foreign woman's camera, seemingly explaining why he was stopping her from taking pictures. Unfortunately, they weren't speaking English, and Gao Junxiao couldn't understand a word. He thought to himself, "Even foreigners are joining in the fun. That scoundrel has a lot of connections."

"Ozaki-san, this drawing is so beautiful."

"Of course it's beautiful. This is an authentic work by Tang Bohu, a famous painter from the Ming Dynasty in China."

How could there be Japanese soldiers? The two young men who spoke Japanese were quickly surrounded by questioning gazes. They stood there blankly, looking innocent, their mouths agape as if they didn't know how to explain themselves.

Ozaki was the first to react. He pressed the head of the person next to him and bowed to the crowd, saying in Japanese-accented Chinese, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you all. We are reporters from the Asahi Shimbun, here to promote anti-war efforts. We are truly sorry for the atrocities committed by the Kwantung Army."

Asahi Shimbun, left-wing, Gao Junxiao immediately felt relieved. The foreigner who couldn't speak Spanish also stood up and spoke in Chinese: "Gentlemen, the foreign journalists who are here to report today all deeply sympathize with the invasion that Northeast China is suffering from, so please allow us to speak out for the people of Northeast China on the international stage."

"Welcome, welcome! We urge all international friends to speak up for China and for the people of Northeast China who are suffering." A loud female voice came from the back of the crowd. "Northeast China needs the support of the world!"

The voice sounded so familiar! The crowd parted to make way for Gao Junxiao, who saw Aunt Xia smiling, her petite figure appearing exceptionally tall at that moment.

"Hey, your old man and old lady are here," Li Sheng reminded them with a smirk.

Gao Junxiao looked up and met his father's gaze. He chuckled guiltily, still angry about the nick on his cane and sword. If he had known he would need to pry open the door, he would have brought a water pipe.

"Hmm, I've seen you in military uniform before. No wonder Chengcheng likes you so much, you're quite handsome." Ms. Xia approached and looked Gao Junxiao up and down with curiosity.

"What's the use of being pretty? It only causes me trouble. What business is it of yours that my rosewood is that you have to gnaw on it?" Old Master Gao rolled his eyes in annoyance.

Knowing he was in the wrong, Gao Junxiao lowered his head and obediently accepted the scolding. Madam Gao gently tugged at her husband's arm: "Husband, everyone is watching. You can talk to him when you get home."

"Good evening, Ms. Xia, Mr. Gao, and Mrs. Gao. I am Zexiu's colleague. My name is Li Sheng."

While Li Sheng was making small talk, Gao Junxiao called out to his wife, "Half of the political and business circles in Shanghai have arrived. You should be here by now."

Twenty minutes into the auction, Gao Junxiao still couldn't sense He Qingcheng's location. Suppressing his disappointment, he whispered to Xiao Shanhai beside him if he had seen the disguised person.

"Yes, there is." Shan Hai nodded affirmatively as he ate, his lips smeared with red jam.

"Why didn't you say so earlier? Where is it?" Gao Junxiao straightened his back instantly.

“They didn’t say it wasn’t the person you were looking for, but rather a group of men.” Shan Hai stopped eating and recalled, “One of the waiters seemed to be from CC… that guy, the one who’s an official… oh, Section Chief Zhang, and the others were probably his subordinates, they were all carrying the same kind of equipment.”

How did Zhang Chong end up working as a waiter? Even if he didn't receive an invitation, with his abilities, getting a real one wouldn't be difficult. He clearly had no good intentions.

"Where is he now? Just a quick glance will suffice," Gao Junxiao asked in a low voice.

As usual during training, Shan Hai glanced at his eyes and moved his head slightly before quickly replying, "Stand behind us at the 7 o'clock position, against the wall."

"Keep an eye on him. Call me if he runs away." Gao Junxiao's smile vanished, the deep black in his eyes spreading like ink in water...

Three thousand silver dollars each time.

Three thousand silver dollars twice.

Three thousand silver dollars three times.

Congratulations, Mr. Enomoto, on acquiring this jadeite court bead from the Eastern Tombs!

A collective gasp rippled through the audience. Gao Junxiao opened his eyes and glanced at the ping-pong ball-sized court beads on the stage. According to the propaganda, these were artifacts lost from the Eastern Qing Tombs, and their most recent owner was apparently General Zhang from Northeast China. General Zhang was so fond of them that he even had them specially inlaid on his Eight Treasures Hat.

There are very few substitutes for such a large jade court bead. Judging from its color, it does resemble an item from the palace. Was this thing sold by Zhang Xiaoliu out of necessity, or was it stolen by the Japanese?

A thousand silver dollars wasn't even enough for Zhang Xiaoliu's daily military expenses. He was after either money or reputation; if he had sold his money to support the resistance against Japan, he would have certainly publicized it extensively to regain some of the face he had lost by not resisting. But the newspapers were silent, not a single report.

That leaves only the second explanation—it was stolen by the Japanese! Now that the buyer is also Japanese, it's hard not to suspect they're trying to launder the stolen goods so they can take them back to their desolate island. The thieves who organized this auction are highly suspicious.

Of course, Gao Junxiao hoped he was overthinking it. The court beads had a simple design and were worn by the harem and officials. In the previous dynasty, the emperor often rewarded meritorious officials. What if it was a gift from someone's ancestors? After all, adding the background of the Eastern Mausoleum could make it sell for a high price. Who cares about the authenticity of the source?

"Next up is the star item of this auction, Tang Bohu's calligraphy, 'Stealing Fragrance,' with a starting bid of 50,000 silver dollars."

As the auctioneer pulled down the red cloth, the entire hall fell silent, save for a soft gasp. Gao Junxiao silently raised his binoculars, his eyes narrowing involuntarily. This painting…

"Big brother, big brother, Zhang Chong has gone out." As soon as Shan Hai finished speaking, Gao Junxiao had already grabbed him and started walking out.

"Where are you all going? Are you still going to buy the painting?" Li Sheng, who was on the outermost side, made way for them.

"Whatever, I'm going to take a dump." Gao Junxiao's alarm clock went off loudly. This guy wouldn't just wander off like that. Could it be that he saw Qingcheng?

A man, probably in his fifties or sixties, excitedly held up his number plate and shouted, "I bid 100,000!"

"120,000."

"150,000."

...

The sounds of people bidding scrambled to get to the right place faded into the distance. There were two people in the corridor, and their target was heading towards the restroom. Zhang Chong quickly hid behind a pillar. After the person entered the restroom, Zhang Chong peeked out from behind the pillar, looked around, and then walked towards the restroom.

Gao Junxiao followed closely behind, but did not go into the restroom with the two. The person Zhang Chong was following seemed to be Mr. Ozaki from the Asahi Shimbun.

A short while later, Mr. Ozaki came out to wash his hands. Instead of heading towards the venue, he quickly pushed open the door to the fire escape and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

After Zhang Chong followed him inside, Gao Junxiao, along with Shan Hai, tiptoed open the passageway door. A gust of cold wind, carrying the smell of water, rushed in. The raindrops pounded weakly on the metal handrail, the faint tapping sound almost inaudible, indicating that the rain had lessened compared to before.

This is the top floor, and the rooftop is above. Gao Junxiao raised his index finger and made a shushing gesture towards Shan Hai. Zhang Chong's voice came from upstairs: "Sir, may I borrow a light?"

A hiss—a red match briefly illuminated the stairs leading to the rooftop, and a faint smell of smoke drifted out. Ozaki spoke in accented Chinese, "You waiters must have a tough job."

"It's not exactly hard work. That's how it is in the service industry. There's no eight-hour workday. Fortunately, there are a lot of rich people here, so at least you can get tips."

Ozaki said with surprise, "Oh! You even know about the eight-hour workday."

“This is a right that every worker should have, and our teachers at the workers’ night school all promote this. Unfortunately, it’s not very effective in practice,” Zhang Chong said, feeling aggrieved.

That damn Zhang Chong is fishing again, but Mr. Ozaki wasn't wary enough and easily started talking.

The two chatted back and forth, having a lively conversation. Gao Junxiao curled his lip, too lazy to meddle, and waved his hand in the air, signaling Shan Hai to go back.

However, Shan Hai patted his chest, his eyes full of anticipation. Gao Junxiao pondered for a moment, then nodded with a smile. Scaring Zhang Chong and preventing him from getting information out of him seemed like a good idea.

Hiss—click!

With permission, Shan Hai immediately covered his mouth with his hand and made a strange sound, somewhat like air leaking out. Gao Junxiao listened to Shan Hai's ventriloquism performance with great interest.

Ding ding ding... The worker knocks on the water pipe.

Plop... Plop... Puff... Puff... The suppressed tremors of the airflow became more and more frequent, and the mountains and seas were getting closer and closer to them. Suddenly, a sharp whistle rang out, as if someone's kettle had boiled.

"What's that sound?" Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden noise.

Gao Junxiao covered his mouth, almost bursting out laughing. Seeing that he had frightened people, Shan Hai continued to exert his strength, and another sharp sound pierced through the rain. The two people on the roof could no longer stand and went out into the rain to find the source of the sound.

Shan Hai ran down with a wicked grin, intending to pull Gao Junxiao away from the scene, when a loud roar came: "Who's there? Don't run!"

It was Kiyosumi! Gao Junxiao's heart skipped a beat. He immediately ran towards the rooftop. The rain blurred his vision. In the misty rain, Ozaki ran wildly across the rooftop, with two people in black raincoats in front of him.

Zhang Chong, who was following behind, suddenly stopped. His disguise was slowly fading under the rain. He turned around sharply: "Come out!"

"Oh no, we've been spotted!" Gao Junxiao calmly peeked out from behind the cover, but gestured for Shan Hai not to come out: "Section Chief Zhang, it's so late, are you looking at the stars on the rooftop?"

“Yes, I’ll wait for you to watch it together,” Zhang Chong said sarcastically.

ah--

A scream pierced the sky, and the stench in the air intensified—the stench of blood. Gao Junxiao instinctively reached for his waist. Zhang Chong fared no better, revealing a small knife hidden in his sleeve as he warily scanned his surroundings.

“Ozaki can’t die, otherwise Japan will have an excuse.” Zhang Chong glared at Gao Junxiao unwillingly, rain dripping down his chin.

He blurted out something out of the blue, then pointed to himself and smiled innocently: "Are you talking to me?"

"Nonsense, is there anyone else here?" Zhang Chong roared, his voice trembling, as if he were afraid of something.

"Oh~" Gao Junxiao pretended to suddenly realize something, "You want me to go with you to rescue people."

“You’re not doing this for me, you’re doing this for the country. If we’re too late, it will become a diplomatic incident,” Zhang Chong couldn’t help but reply.

Seeing his serious expression, Gao Junxiao didn't want to tease him anymore: "Then what are you standing there for? Let's go."

The massive water tank and ventilation openings were partially obscured by the rain, dividing the rooftop into several sections. Following the trail of blood, Ozaki was quickly discovered. He leaned quietly against the water tank, a streak of blood running down his forehead; it was unclear whether he was dead or unconscious.

The man in black had vanished. Zhang Chong rushed to Ozaki's side, touched his neck, and visibly let out a long sigh of relief. It was good that he was alright; Gao Junxiao's anxiety also subsided.

Suddenly, they heard wet footsteps behind them. Fearing they might turn around and attack, Gao Junxiao quickly pulled Zhang Chong behind the ventilation duct. Their identities and motives were unknown, so it was not advisable to confront them directly.

At the center of the ventilation duct is a large glass roof, from which the auction site can be vaguely seen. Gao Junxiao's mind flashes with a clear image, and longing lights up the lamp in his heart. Let me find you.

He reached out and wiped away the water droplets. He was currently facing the auction stage. Tang Bohu's painting had already been auctioned off, and theoretically, once the final piece was sold, the auction should be over.

But the scene was still open to the sky, with people constantly raising their paddles to bid. Gao Junxiao curiously pressed his paddle against the glass and saw that it looked like a jade pendant, in the shape of a dragon. This wasn't in the promotional posters.

"Oh my, the dragon-shaped jade pendant is a symbol of the royal family. Could it be another artifact from the Eastern Mausoleum?" Gao Junxiao muttered to himself.

Zhang Chongxu heard this and curiously craned his neck. Instantly, a look of panic appeared on his face, and the small knife in his hand slipped to the ground. He muttered, "How could it be this? How could it be this?"

Ugh, Gao Junxiao couldn't see the audience seats, and his attention shifted to his pants. They were sticking to his legs and very uncomfortable. He tugged at the pant leg and casually asked, "Do you know this place? Whose is it?"

Zhang Chong gasped: "This is... the jade dragon pendant that Puyi bestowed upon Marshal Zhang, the only one of its kind in the world."

Gao Junxiao paused in his hand as he pulled down his pants. A storm of air surged around his ears. This was the last thing he wanted to see—the thieves were colluding with the Japanese.

This is outrageous! He is using the banner of resisting Japan to commit traitorous acts, wantonly exploiting the patriotic enthusiasm of his compatriots. The proceeds from these auctions will not be used for the war against Japan at all; on the contrary, there is a very high probability that they will become bullets fired at our soldiers.

The sound of splashing in puddles came from the right, and Gao Junxiao and Zhang Chong quickly squatted down.

"That's strange. I clearly heard the signal to start, so why are they still selling things downstairs?"

"I don't know. We agreed that the boiler room would start first, and then we would follow. Why don't we go ask the boiler room?"

"What's the point of asking? They've already succeeded. The steam pipes are leaking. Let's hurry and move the 'material pack' to the vent. If we're late, Butler Lin will yell at us."

"Hey, what about that Japanese soldier?"

"What a load of crap, just let him lie down. Butler Lin wouldn't dare touch the Japanese officer, or he'd get yelled at."

"That's true. He's lucky; he doesn't have to go down and join those dead ghosts."

"Stop spouting so much nonsense and get to work."

Gao Junxiao never expected that his little prank would prematurely trigger a crisis. Should he grab a couple of prisoners and ask them questions? He and Zhang Chong exchanged a glance, silently asking: Are you in or not?

"Damn it!" Zhang Chong picked up the knife again.