Danqing Bureau
The customer took out his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and said, "It's not time yet, I'll look around some more."
"Wait." A hoarse voice drifted from the shadows, like a dull knife scraping against blue bricks.
The guest stopped, gripping his mahogany cane tightly in his left hand. A thin old man wearing a melon-shaped hat emerged from the shadows, carrying a lantern at his waist. The dim light only illuminated the corner of his grinning mouth: "Don't wander around with unfamiliar faces, especially a greasy-looking young man like you. You're easy to attract the attention of thieves."
"Hmm~ Why is she swearing?" The guest raised an eyebrow. "Old lady, you're right. You really need to replace this lantern. It makes you look like an unearthed artifact, with all your energy saturated."
"You..." The old man's face stiffened, and after grinding his teeth for a long time, he finally managed to utter a few words through gritted teeth, "I am a man!"
"Oh, sorry. Look at my eyes! I knew there wasn't such a big-footed old lady in Shanghai, with that weird, half-masculine voice. You'd find plenty of those in the Forbidden City." The customer, observing the ashen face opposite him, slowly adjusted his glasses. "Why don't you show me around? I've heard there's a Bridge of Helplessness underground, and an old woman by it. If you can take me to see it, I'll reward you."
"Alright, follow me." The old man tilted his lantern forward, his cloudy eyes gleaming with a sharp light.
"Hey, what's over there?" the guest asked, pointing to the path the old man had come from.
The old man replied impatiently, "There's nothing there."
"Let me see." The guest tried to snatch the lantern, but no matter how hard he tried, the old man's hand holding the bamboo pole wouldn't budge.
"Ha," the old man scoffed dismissively. "I told you there's nothing there, but if you insist on seeing, then come with me."
The guest shrugged and walked away.
After passing the fifth brick archway overhead, the smell of damp moss became unnaturally fishy, and the guest slowed down, staring at the swaying red lanterns ahead.
Suddenly, the cane pressed against the old man's lower back, and the customer said angrily, "Sir, the time you've taken to go around is almost as long as the rickshaws at the North Station. What, are you planning to take me to visit your family's ancestral graves?"
"You're really in a hurry." The old man turned back with a sinister look. "Aren't we almost there?"
"Where?" The guest gently stroked the dark patterns on the cane with his thumb.
With a rustling sound, the air rippled, and almost simultaneously, a flash of cold light appeared in the guest's hand. Clang—the sound of metal clashing rang out as a triangular dart grazed his earlobe and embedded itself in the wall. The red silk tied to the end of the dart was still trembling. In the guest's hand was a specially made cane sword.
"Hmph, a trained fighter, but his mouth is more poisonous than arsenic. Young man, aren't you afraid of your tongue rotting?" The old man drew two sharp Emei daggers from his waist and attacked straight for his face.
The guest parried the attack with his backhand, not forgetting to joke, "Unfortunately, my wife likes this kind of thing. Please bear with me, it wasn't easy for me to find a wife."
"Go to the underworld and talk to King Yama." The words had barely left his mouth when the old man's Emei dagger was already at his throat.
Seizing the opportunity, the guest thrust his sword into the old man's instep, and almost simultaneously, his knee struck the old man's lower back, causing the lantern to crash to the ground with a "thud."
Caught off guard, the old man leaned backward, but the sharp blade was already pressed against his throat. Resigned, he dropped his weapon: "I don't know anything, I was just a lookout."
"I'm just a customer buying things, who gave you permission to stop me?" The customer squinted and questioned repeatedly in a low voice.
After a long pause, the old man said, his neck stiff, "Anyway, someone else already wants what you want. Besides, I wasn't planning on killing you; you just had to court death."
"Enough with the nonsense, take me to see the seller, that shorty." The customer increased the pressure on his hand.
"It's too late. Going there would just be suicide," the old man roared defiantly.
At his age, he's still out working; he must be really short of money. Why risk his life for a pittance? He figured the old man was more responsive to gentle persuasion than force.
"Look how agitated you are. Calm down. At your age, if you get so angry that you die on the spot, I'll have to burn paper money for you. It's a pity no one told me beforehand that I didn't bring any." He pretended to rummage through his pockets, flicked his finger, and revealed a silver coin. "I do have some real money. As long as you lead the way, you'll be well rewarded."
The old man's eyes lit up instantly. Just as he was about to reach out, the silver coin suddenly bounced into the air with a "ding." The customer flicked it with his cane, and the silver coin landed steadily back in his pocket. He pointed his cane forward, indicating that the old man should lead the way first, and then he would pay the bill.
The old man's lips twitched in agreement, and he limped along the mossy path. After only a hundred steps, a strong stench of blood hit him, and a red lantern hanging high above trembled slightly, staining the road ahead red.
A dull thud suddenly came, like a sack hitting the ground. The old man immediately became alert and said, "I told you it was too late. Keep the money; you can buy something else later."
“Nothing else suits my taste.” He grabbed the old man by the back of the neck and rushed toward the lantern following the sound. Two corpses lay intertwined on the ground, blood still dripping from their fingertips. A tattered cloth soaked with blood floated in the pool of blood, on which was written “Bridge of Helplessness”.
The Bridge of Helplessness was actually the name of the shop. Inside, a tiny man lay sprawled on the ground, half a throwing dart stuck in his back—the killer had just left. Something was wrong. His ears twitched slightly, and suddenly he grabbed a lantern from the ground and threw it towards the ceiling. In the flash of light, a dark figure swiftly leaped out of the cubicle.
At this moment, chaotic breathing sounds gathered from all directions. Some people chased after the dark figure, while others came into the house to check the situation. They were all wearing uniform blue short-sleeved shirts and were probably the managers of the black market, similar to the police officers outside.
Thinking of this, the guest pushed the old man onto the group: "You guys are really professional at manipulating people. You won't lead the way unless you get a tip. Is this how the Dragon King taught you?"
"Who are you?" One of the managers noticed the guest, but when he saw the pocket watch in his hand, he immediately clasped his hands respectfully, "Mr. Gao... Bai, we have been waiting for you for a long time."
The guest was Gao Junxiao. He touched the dwarf's neck and complained, "You only know to nurse when the child is dead? Why didn't you do that earlier?"
Using the faint red light, Gao Junxiao searched the lower back of the corpse but found no painting. So he flipped the three-inch-tall boy over. Ouch! The three-inch-tall boy let out a strange cry, which startled everyone and made them freeze in place.
It's a zombie!
Making a fuss over nothing, Gao Junxiao slapped him across the face. After a gurgling sound of phlegm being choked, the three-inch-tall boy's Adam's apple bobbed twice with difficulty, and he spat out a clump of blood. His eyelids trembled, and he slowly opened them.
"Help!" The tiny boy cried out weakly, his hands gripping Gao Junxiao's trouser leg tightly.
Gao Junxiao went straight to the point: "I am Mr. Bai. Did they steal the painting?"
"No, I didn't bring it with me... It's in a safe place." The three-inch-tall guy gave a smile that was more like a grimace. "When they broke in, I used the Turtle Breathing Technique. Without this skill, I would have been dead long ago, but I still fell for their trick."
"Make way! Make way!" The administrator shoved through the crowd and dragged in a traveling quack doctor carrying a medicine box. The doctor was dressed in rags, and a large gourd hung from his waist.
Isn't that the herbalist who sold the powerful pills just now? Don't let him die from his treatment. Gao Junxiao's forehead veins throbbed: "Why don't we find a doctor from outside? He's already bleeding, and we're still giving him blood-activating medicine. It's not good."
"Who gave him blood-activating medicine? You think you know everything?" The medicine man rolled his eyes at him, ripped open the back of the three-inch-tall man's clothes with a "rip," and then sprinkled pale yellow powder on the wound.
Hey, you quack doctor selling fake medicine, why are you so hot-tempered!
Before Gao Junxiao could start complaining, the administrator explained in a low voice that the medicine doctor was using his family's secret wound medicine, which worked well, and they sometimes bought a few packets for their own use. Seeing how skillfully the doctor had applied the bandages, Gao Junxiao pursed his lips and said nothing more; as long as he was reliable, that was enough.
A short while later, the administrator brought hot water. After taking the medicine, San Cun Ding wiped his mouth and rubbed his chest, still shaken. "Damn it... I'm sorry to have startled Mr. Bai. I'm just a painting seller named Gecko. Let's continue our business."
This medicine doctor really has the ability to bring the dead back to life; he's got some skills. Gao Junxiao secretly glanced at him, but the other party had already packed up his medicine box and left, leaving only a dashing back view.
"Mr. Bai, I am your new guide. This way, please." Gao Junxiao's thoughts were pulled back. Under the guide's lead, he discovered that the Bridge of Helplessness was more than just a teahouse. The iron gate slid open silently, revealing a hidden world inside.
At the top is a unique black and white glass lamp, and in the center stands a dark screen wall. On either side of the screen wall, one is black and the other is white, each with a stone door. This is the famous "Yin Yang Pavilion" in the martial arts world, the most secretive trading place in the black market.
"Left hand: the world of the living, right hand: the world of the dead." The man handed over a tray with two identical stone plaques on it. "Buyer chooses first."
Wow, that's quite a ritual. Gao Junxiao picked up a piece, flipped it over, and saw a bright black dot on the other side.
"One Yin fish eye, please enter the mortal realm." The man picked up another stone tablet and handed it to the gecko, "Seller, you may now enter the underworld."
The two simultaneously wedged the stone tablet into the groove on the door. Click, click, the stone door slid open to reveal the interior. In the center was a rosewood table with a matching armchair. On the wall directly opposite was a huge Tai Chi diagram, with a copper rotating box at each of the fish eyes, the opening facing upwards, half on each side. As he stepped into the secret chamber, the stone door slowly closed.
The incense burner on the table emitted wisps of smoke, and the faint scent of sandalwood wafted through the air. As soon as Gao Junxiao sat down, the entire Tai Chi diagram creaked and began to rotate. A platform rose up on the right side of the table, slowly becoming level with it. Only then did Gao Junxiao notice that a brass trumpet flower was embedded on it.
With a click, the sound of the mechanism returning to its original position echoed throughout the room, and the Tai Chi diagram returned to its original state.
"Gentlemen, can you hear me?" A voice came from the platform, a loudspeaker. Gao Junxiao chuckled inwardly; this black market was truly keeping up with the times, even bringing in foreign gadgets.
The two answered in unison that they could, and the sound of papers turning over came from the loudspeaker. The person in charge then explained some common rules and began to preside over the transaction.
"Today we are trading two paintings from the Ming Dynasty by Tang Yin, also known as Tang Bohu. He was one of the Four Talented Scholars of Wumen. He spent half his life wandering the world, enjoying poetry and painting. Due to the age of the paintings and the many wars that occurred during his lifetime, not many of Tang Bohu's paintings have survived. However, each one is a masterpiece. These two paintings are rare depictions of intimate scenes in the boudoir, and their value is undoubtedly high."
"Alright, enough nonsense. Mr. Bai is an expert. He already appraised the 'Swing Maiden' painting last time. This time, we can just pay the balance directly." Gecko's voice carried a hint of excitement.
Gao Junxiao confirmed, "Yes, I have already written the check for five thousand silver dollars."
"According to regulations, checks need to be verified first," the man reminded him.
"No need, hurry up and exchange! Would a big boss like Mr. Bai lie to people? My painting is already in the fish's eye." The gecko's impatient voice came, sounding much more excited than before.
The person speaking through the loudspeaker paused for a moment and then replied, "Alright, Mr. Bai, please drop the check into the fish-eye copper box on the left."
A moment later, the two fish-eye copper boxes began to rotate simultaneously. Through the slowly rotating gaps, Gao Junxiao could vaguely see the gecko sniffing something in its palm, and its cheeks visibly regained color.
Inside the copper box was a scroll with the words "Sixteen" written on it. Gao Junxiao opened it and saw a maid standing on a swing, dressed in a light gauze, a way of trying to cover up but revealing nothing. Half of a man's face was also visible on the wall, peeking out. The brushstrokes were smooth and the ink was rich and colorful.
The framed Song brocade with mandarin duck patterns and ivory buckles highlight its extraordinary value. Like several other paintings of the same style and craftsmanship, it is indeed one of the lost paintings.
“Mr. Bai, look carefully. I do business honestly, treating everyone fairly. What you saw before, you will see again. Unlike those unscrupulous merchants in long gowns who show you the genuine article, then switch it with a fake after you pay. It’s utterly despicable,” Gecko said smugly.
"Gecko is a real man. The market needs more good sellers like you." Gao Junxiao praised with a forced smile. "Gecko, you said you could get the complete set of twenty-four silk scrolls. How many have you collected so far?"
"Ahem," Gecko cleared his throat and stammered, "It might be a little late. The country folk don't know any better and used some other pieces to prop up the corners of the table. I need to find someone to fix it. I'll give you an estimate after it's repaired."
"Heh, if you dare to steal again, I'll make sure you don't leave alive," Gao Junxiao said lazily, suppressing his anger. "I have the whole set. I can add a few more yellow croakers. If you order this, I can only buy it as a regular Tang Bohu painting for now."
"You say it's ordinary, but it's not ordinary either. The painting below isn't as intense as the swing painting, but there's a lot of interaction between the two people. When appreciating a painting, you're not just looking at the technique and content, but also the meaning. Freehand brushwork is more advanced than realism. The artistic conception of this painting would rank in the top three even among Tang Bohu's figure paintings. I'll name it 'Stealing Fragrance,' and I'll only charge you thirty large yellow croakers." The gecko's sales pitch was probably stolen from the shopkeepers, and it clearly exceeded his cultural level.
Thirty large yellow croakers! He dares to ask for such an exorbitant price for stolen goods. Hmph, he probably sold the "Swing Picture" too cheaply and wants to make up for it with another one. Gao Junxiao scoffed, "Such a big mouth. Let me take a look first."
"No problem, Earth element, Black Tortoise position, bring the painting to Mr. Bai." Besides the gecko's voice, there was also a faint crackling of electricity coming from the loudspeaker.
"Should we test the mountain or the water?"
"You have to climb mountains and wade through rivers."
"Is the incense stick not moving straight because of the wind or the banner?"
"If nothing is done, it's greed that's moving."
"Is the beauty in the painting crying or laughing?"
"Neither crying nor laughing, having fallen into the dust of the world, I have no choice but to accept it."
"Password correct. We'll bring you the drawing now," the person replied in a formulaic manner.
So the thief had already stored the painting in the black market's treasure vault; no wonder the robbery failed. Gao Junxiao tapped his knuckles lightly on the table, a more serious problem arising: what if the gecko was killed? Wouldn't the paintings and calligraphy in the treasure vault be confiscated? A chill ran down his spine; the assassin from earlier might have been one of their own, attempting to steal from within.
As the two were discussing their paintings, a voice came from the loudspeaker: "Mr. Bai, watch out for the teleportation box above your head."
His voice was broken, and the static was even more obvious than before. Gao Junxiao patted the brass megaphone: "Hey, your microphones have static. Check the wiring quickly."
“Exactly, check it quickly, it’s going to explode,” the gecko chimed in.
"Okay..." A piercing beeping sound came from behind him, and Gao Junxiao instinctively covered his ears.
The teleportation box, which should have landed on the table, clicked and got stuck in mid-air; the door opened only a crack and then stopped moving.
Oh no! Despite the ringing in his ears, Gao Junxiao jumped onto the table, used his cane to pry open the gap, and the copper box made a teeth-grinding "creak". Sweat slid down his temples, hung on his chin for a moment, and then slammed down on the rosewood table with a "thud".
Even so, the bronze box door only moved half an inch, barely revealing the scroll inside. The box was suspended by steel cables, making it difficult to exert force, so there must be a trick to it. He wiped his face, staring intently at the bronze box, and in an instant, he grabbed the incense burner and smashed it hard against the hinge gear at the top of the teleportation box.
Clang, clang, clang... With each slam, the box door moved a few millimeters. Clang, the deformed incense burner slipped from his hand, and Gao Junxiao's hands went numb from the shock. Fortunately, a gap the size of a child's fist was left in the copper box, and he panted heavily as he reached into the box to retrieve the painting.
After his fingertips touched the texture of the Song brocade, he breathed a sigh of relief, but he got stuck at the doorway. He was just a little short. Gao Junxiao fumbled around for a while, and then pushed out the ivory buckle with his thumb by feel. According to his experience, he could take it out as long as the scroll loosened. So what if it was a little wrinkled?
Bang! Another muffled thud came from the opposite room. Gao Junxiao was distracted and pricked his finger with an ivory buckle. Blood instantly splattered onto the brocade, leaving a dark stain. Ignoring the wound, he held his breath and unfolded the scroll.
Just then, snap! All the lights went out at once, and the overhead conveyor belts spun wildly, violently rubbing together and spewing out red sparks.
"Damn it!" Gao Junxiao cursed under his breath, gripping the rising box tightly with his five fingers. But the more he tried, the less he could get the scroll out. The tracks were spinning faster and faster, and the heat from the resistance was becoming more and more obvious. The table under his feet was shaking.
Just as he couldn't reach the box, he abruptly pulled his numb hand back, leaving only the sound of gears turning and his panting in the darkness.
Just a little bit more, just a little bit more... The overwhelming sense of defeat made it hard for Gao Junxiao to breathe. In a daze, he didn't know that he had been taken out of the room.
Ah! The intense pain pulled him back to reality. Before him was the same medicine seller who sold miracle cures. He rolled up his sleeves and tidied his medicine box: "It was a little dislocated. I put it back in for you. Can a human compete with a machine in strength? What are you trying to prove?"
Gao Junxiao was fuming and didn't reply. He turned his gaze to the other side, where a corpse covered with a white sheet appeared at the foot of the wall. It was a short, gecko!
How did he die? Gao Junxiao panicked inexplicably. The painting was gone, the only clue was lost, how was he going to explain this to his wife?
"You've gotten me into such a mess and you still dare to stand here? Go to the punishment hall and get ten iron whips each, get out!" Master Wu rushed over from the other end of the passage, scolding them in a fit of rage, not even having had time to change out of his police uniform.
Master Wu turned to him and asked with concern, "Brother, are you alright?"
Gao Junxiao shook his head silently, his throat feeling as if it were blocked, unable to make a sound. When Master Wu saw that he did not respond, he went to ask the doctor.
The two exchanged a few words in hushed tones. The herbalist ripped off the cloth covering the corpse. The gecko's death was horrific; its mouth was agape, its eyes were wide open, and its face was ashen. According to the herbalist, the gecko had died of fright because it couldn't catch its breath.
Master Wu seemed to trust him completely, and impatiently pulled up the white cloth, ordering the medicine man to dispose of the body immediately, as he found the thief annoying.
Is it appropriate not to do a retest? The gecko had taken the medicine he gave it before; what if the fake medicine he gave it caused a problem? Gao Junxiao looked at the medicine seller suspiciously.
The medicine seller seemed to have eyes in the back of his head: "Master Wu, I'm just a medicine seller. It's best to have the coroner do the autopsy. My words can only serve as a reference at most."
"Yes, yes, I was so angry I lost my mind. We'll have a foreign coroner examine them later. Men, drag all the people who died today to the morgue," Master Wu waved his hand to summon his men.
After carrying away the gecko, they went into a secret room and took away the newly placed corpse as well. Seeing that there were no further instructions, the medicine man also took his leave.
"Brother~ I'm too ashamed to face you. This mess happened on our own turf, sigh." Master Wu sighed deeply. "You can't lift heavy things with this arm lately, and your shoulder has both a gunshot wound and a dislocated shoulder. You need to take good care of it so it doesn't affect your wedding night. Take these three plasters back and apply them. I twisted my ankle last time, and one plaster was enough. It's amazing."
"Oh." Gao Junxiao was still mentally reviewing what had just happened, so he gave a casual reply. Hmm? How did Master Wu know about the gunshot wound in his shoulder? Only the headquarters and Zhang Chong knew about it.
Suddenly, he belatedly realized what was happening and ran after the medicine seller, only to find the stall empty.
Morgue
A scalpel made a long incision in the corpse's chest, and the cracking sound of breaking bones echoed throughout the room. Soon after, the diaphragm was removed, revealing the complete chest cavity. Rubber gloves slowly squeezed the alveoli, and a small amount of dark red blood flowed onto the operating table.
"Look, his lungs are abnormally swollen, and several alveoli have ruptured. He died of asphyxiation caused by acute pulmonary edema." The surgeon turned and asked, "Was it that number seven who caused the pulmonary edema?"
"Yes, the little dwarf was holding a snuff bottle before he died. I had it tested, and it contained a small amount of No. 7, at an extremely high concentration," another doctor replied.
"And the other one?" the surgeon pressed.
“That person doesn’t smoke or drink, and No. 7 decomposes very easily in the air. I couldn’t find out what the other carrier of No. 7 is.” Another doctor shook his head.
"This is troublesome," the surgeon said, looking at the corpse with concern.
“It’s alright, they’ll reveal themselves once they show their faces. Could you please revise the autopsy report? Write that the short man died of asthma, and the other died of a ruptured spleen, possibly from being beaten to death,” another doctor suggested.
"Okay. I hope you can find the cause as soon as possible, so that the tragedy in Northeast China won't be repeated in Shanghai." The surgeon took the autopsy report and assured him.
Inside a luxuriously decorated hall,
"Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful!" The homeowner, wearing white gloves, gently stroked the painting, as if afraid of soiling this priceless ancient artwork.
"Boss, your mother was so farsighted! We've got General Matsumoto's birthday present now!" the subordinate praised, giving a thumbs-up.
*Slap!* The homeowner slapped him across the face and yelled, “Don’t you dare mention Matsumoto in front of me! That old Japanese devil doesn’t deserve such an expensive painting. Can a wild boar eat fine chaff?”
"No, no, only someone with your discerning eye can appreciate it," the subordinate said obsequiously.
"Hehe, I won't keep it. I'm going to sell the painting." The homeowner revealed a sinister smile. "I'll hold an auction under the guise of fundraising for the anti-Japanese war. I'll invite Xiao Du, Xiao Wu, Shan Gui... and all the celebrities of Shanghai."
"Ah? Then Matsumoto will..." The subordinate was slapped hard again before he could finish speaking, and immediately changed his words, "What if that old devil finds out and comes after me... or you?"
“Idiot, it’s just nominally resisting the Japanese. Once the money is in my pocket, what can they do to me?” The homeowner grabbed his subordinate’s hair, his nose almost poking him.
"I understand, boss, you're so clever to make money under the guise of fundraising." The subordinate shrank back like a quail. "When everyone comes, Mr. Xia will come too, especially with a theme like the War of Resistance Against Japan, he can't resist it."
"Well, at least I've gotten smart this time. We can't let the Japanese get away with their 20,000 taels of bonus. Hahaha." The homeowner laughed heartily, as if everything was under control.
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