Outside the window, dusk gradually settled down like ink, and the all-night working lights were on in the editorial office.
Zheng Wanqing was leaning over the desk, proofreading the Chinese and English manuscripts, the tip of her fountain pen spreading ink on the words "human experiment". She stared at the spreading black, her thoughts seemed to drift away, and she vaguely saw Xie Yun standing alone in the shocking pool of blood in the refugee area.
"The report must be cautious and obscure. The Japanese military cannot be mentioned directly." Liu Zheng looked serious at the meeting and made the final decision.
"The English version could be more straightforward." Smith adjusted his pince-nez. "Reuters likes this mysterious oriental atrocity tone."
Director Li kept scratching on the paper, and after thinking for a moment, he said, "The title could be "Medical Ethics Controversy Emerges in Abandoned Factory in Southern Suburbs", with the subtitle mentioning child injuries and Japanese documents, so that readers can make their own connections."
"Wanqing." Ji Chen came to her side without her noticing, and handed her a cup of strong tea, with a small note pressed at the bottom of the cup. "Adjutant Zhou asked me to give it to you."
Zheng Wanqing quietly unfolded it, and it read: "A foreign doctor from Gospel Hospital is willing to provide guarantee, and the evidence has been sent to the British Consulate."
When she saw the contents of the note, she realized that her nails had already dug deeply into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped blood marks that were particularly eye-catching against her pale skin.
"Leave one-third of the front page blank." Ji Chen whispered, "Wait for the young marshal's troops to confirm the telegram on the spot."
The next day, the front page of Ta Kung Pao was boldly printed with the headline: "A suspected epidemic prevention experiment site was found in the southern suburbs." The accompanying picture was a close-up of a child's wrist tied with an iron chain, leaving deep red marks on his tender skin, which made the foreign company employee who got the newspaper first feel sick and retched on the spot.
Zheng Wanqing leaned against the cast iron railing, her fingertips gently stroking the newspaper that still had the scent of ink. Downstairs, newspaper boys were scattered like dandelion seeds, and their childish voices were heard one after another: "Read the newspaper! The shady business of the foreign hospital in the southern suburbs has been exposed!"
Adjutant Zhou rushed upstairs in two steps, his uniform hem stained with mud in his haste: "Madam, the young marshal has sent a platoon of brothers over. In order to prevent the Japanese from taking desperate measures, we have to pretend to close down the newspaper office."
In the editorial office, Liu Yuzheng was directing the workers to pack the lead type plates. He took off his glasses, wiped them gently, and said, "Everyone, please go in through the back door. Thank you for your hard work during this period." As he spoke, he bowed slightly to everyone to express his gratitude.
No one complained.
Ji Chenqian came to Zheng Wanqing's side and said softly, "You must pay attention to safety during this period of time."
Zheng Wanqing nodded slightly and responded, "You too."
She watched her colleagues evacuate in an orderly manner under the leadership of the soldiers, and finally glanced at her workstation with mixed feelings.
After the last typesetter left, there was a sudden, ear-piercing brake sound at the end of the street. Three black cars with Rising Sun flags rushed over at a nearly uncontrollable speed, and their tires left two charred marks on the asphalt road.
"You've come just in time." Adjutant Zhou sneered and motioned for the two guards at the door to come forward. The soldiers put on their swords and shouted in Japanese with a northeastern accent: "Stop! The newspaper office has been closed down!"
The Japanese consulate official in the lead kicked the car door open angrily, his beard shaking with anger. Behind him, four men in ronin clothing had already put their hands on the handles, with traces of military pants faintly visible from the hem of their kimonos.
"Baka!" The official was furious and tore off the seal on the door, only to find that the newspaper office was already empty, with only a few French typesetters smoking there leisurely. One of them even deliberately blew a smoke ring at him and said in stiff Japanese: "Search and bring it here, Mr. Consul."
Zheng Wanqing sat in the car arranged by Adjutant Zhou, and looked quietly at the angry figure of the Japanese through the single-sided glass.
Outside the car window, the Japanese consul's roar gradually faded away, but the newsboys' cries still echoed loudly on the street corner. A blond diplomat was taking today's Ta Kung Pao from the newsboy, and after seeing the front-page photo, he couldn't help but frown.
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