Chapter 1507 - Night Patrol

Reluctant though he was, Lin Ming wheeled around and walked briskly back the way he had come, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had not seen her clearly—true—and the words had been spoken in the so-called "Australian official speech," but that accent was unmistakable. He was ninety percent certain: the speaker had been Li Yongxun, his sister-in-law.

Joy and worry warred within him. Joy, because she was alive and whole. If she served the Australians in their constabulary, then clearly she had not been reduced to some Cropped-Hair's concubine or sold at public auction as another man's wife. And as a "constable," she would enjoy considerable freedom of movement. Yet that very fact fed his worry—having thrown in her lot with the Cropped-Hairs, she was no better than one who "acknowledges a thief as her father." Worse still, she had enlisted in that most despised of professions: the yamen runner's trade.

It was true that military households did not rank especially high, but yamen runners were genuinely base people—their social standing equivalent to entertainers and courtesans. If word reached the Ming that his sister-in-law was now an "Australian constable," her parents might die of shame. Even he and his wife would be tainted by association. She had evidently held this post for some time, yet she had neither seized an opportunity to escape nor sent word home. The conclusion was inescapable: the Australians had bewitched her.

Lin Ming knew their talent for bewitching hearts. Once someone fell under their spell, eight oxen could not drag them back.

The only recourse was to appeal to reason and sentiment—above all, to family bonds. Fortunately, Li Yongxun and his wife had always been close as sisters, and in Nanjing there were still parents and kin. Surely she had not become entirely heartless. If he could persuade her to return to Foshan, then—by soft words or by force—once she was safely in the hands of her own parents, his burden would be lifted. As for those daydreams about "half a claim" on her affections, Lin Ming had long banished such fancies. Lingao was a dragon's pool and a tiger's den; there was no room for romantic notions here.

Lost in thought, he missed a turning and found himself in an unfamiliar alley.

Silence enveloped the lane. A few shops and stores lined the street, but all had already shuttered for the night, and the cobblestones were deserted. Lin Ming knew he was lost, but the street lamps burned just as brightly here, and signposts stood at the corners. He pulled out his map, consulted it under the lamplight, and quickly located his position.

Seeing how far he had strayed, he realized that retracing his steps would mean a long walk. Glancing ahead, he noted that the Wenlan River was not far. A thought struck him: why not proceed to the riverbank, survey the terrain, then loop back?

His mind made up, he continued along the alley. He knew this was no commercial district; the buildings lining the street were mostly residences—the ideal place to observe ordinary life under Cropped-Hair rule.

In these side lanes, pedestrians were scarce, and even rickshaws seldom passed. Yet even the most secluded, remote alleyway was lit by street lamps. The roads were mostly paved with stone slabs and remarkably clean, even at night—no garbage, no filth, not even puddles. At every alley entrance stood a public toilet, and midway along ran a communal well-platform. The convenience was undeniable.

The towns the Cropped-Hairs built were truly well-ordered—no wonder so many people were willing to shave their heads and change their garb if it meant joining them. As he marveled silently, he noticed that the shops and residences had all closed their doors. Few windows showed even a glimmer of light; most households had clearly retired for the night. This is true peaceful living, he thought. If everywhere were as bustling as East Gate Market at all hours, that would actually seem abnormal.

Footsteps suddenly sounded ahead. Lin Ming focused his gaze: a squad of short-jacketed "false Cropped-Hairs" was approaching from the opposite direction. The leader carried a blue lantern. Seeing they looked like public servants, Lin Ming considered ducking into a side alley—but the street lamps were too bright. To hide now would only arouse suspicion.

Resigned, he adopted a nonchalant air and walked toward them. After all, he had his papers, and he carried nothing forbidden.

Sure enough, the patrol blocked his path. The lead constable brought five fingers together and raised his hand to the side of his head while snapping his heels together with a sharp clack—apparently some manner of salute. "Night patrol. Papers check."

Why did they have to stop me? Lin Ming groaned inwardly. He was quite nervous but struggled to keep it from showing. Wearing a smile, he respectfully produced his identity certificate and handed it over. The false Cropped-Hair took it and examined it carefully under the lamplight.

"Lin Min... temporary certificate? New arrival?" His voice carried a note of suspicion. The lantern was immediately raised close to Lin Ming's face—apparently to study his features. Lin Ming's expression grew strained. By now he could see clearly: apart from the leader in black police uniform and conical hat, the others wore Cropped-Hair garb with different insignia colors—evidently not all public servants. But everyone wore a red armband reading "Patrol."

A night watch. Even though the Cropped-Hairs imposed no curfew, their night patrols were thorough. No wonder there were no night-watchmen or guardhouse soldiers in the alleys.

"Yes, I arrived in Lingao only three days ago..." Lin Ming replied hastily. "I work at Haixing Store." He quickly produced his "employment certificate" as well—this one bore stamps from Haixing Store, the employment agency, and his temporary household registration. Manager Qian had said this certificate was sometimes more useful than the temporary ID.

He had thought to slip a few circulation vouchers from his sleeve along with the papers, but he did not know the going rate here. Bribing officials required finesse; too much or too little could both cause trouble. Besides, he had heard the Cropped-Hairs governed their subordinates strictly, and most false Cropped-Hairs dared not accept bribes.

The lead policeman muttered something to several of his companions, then turned the papers over and over, examining them from every angle. Apparently finding nothing suspicious, his expression softened slightly, and he handed the papers back.

"Where are you headed?"

"Back to Haixing Store..." Lin Ming said hastily.

"You're going the wrong way." The false Cropped-Hair policeman's face regained its suspicious look. "If you keep going, you'll reach the Wenlan River."

"I've been busy at the shop all day and came out for a walk, to get some air... I thought I'd stroll to the river, loop around, then head back to sleep..."

The policeman was about to say something more when another patrolman whispered a few words—apparently guessing Lin Ming's true destination. He suppressed a laugh as he spoke. At once, the policeman's expression shifted to sudden understanding. He stopped his questioning and merely cautioned:

"Security hasn't been great lately. Robberies happen now and then; there've even been assaults. Be careful walking alone at night." He added, "Don't go out too late."

"Yes, yes. Many thanks for the warning, sir."

Lin Ming was already breaking out in a cold sweat. He did not know the other patrolman, much less what words had stopped the interrogation. But he had no time to dwell on it; he hurried forward, and only when the footsteps had faded behind him did he finally exhale in relief.

Before long, the alley came to an end. Before him rose a stone embankment as high as a city wall, built entirely of fitted stone. Below the dike, the road was lined with trees and flowering plants, and long benches stood for passersby to rest—a quiet, secluded spot.

Lin Ming guessed this must be the Wenlan River. Seeing steps leading up the dike, he climbed them.

Atop the embankment, a fresh breeze swept over him, lifting his spirits and broadening his heart. He gazed into the distance: East Gate Market blazed with lights, glittering like the Milky Way. Along both banks, dots of light sparkled; the riverside lamps reflected on the water's surface, rippling like fish scales in the night wind... Such a nightscape Lin Ming had never seen. Even Guangzhou during the Lantern Festival could not boast such brilliant illumination.

Truly a million taels' worth of night scenery! A nameless bliss welled up in his heart. He stood transfixed—his sister-in-law, the Ming, the Cropped-Hairs—all forgotten. Only after a long while did he withdraw his gaze.

Reluctantly, he strolled along the embankment. Patrol teams were here too, but with his earlier experience, Lin Ming handled them with composure and passed unobstructed. As he walked, he suddenly heard a commotion ahead—voices, mingled with the sounds of stringed and wind instruments, and women singing. Curious, he wondered: this was already the fringe of East Gate Market, and according to his map it was all side lanes here. What kind of establishment could be so lively?

Fortunately, this was also where he was to turn back. Lin Ming descended from the embankment and followed the sounds. Before long, he came upon a decorated archway. On the lintel were three large characters: "Heyuan Street." From the arch hung two pink palace lanterns—under the street lamps they served no purpose for illumination, but they added a certain suggestive air.

The sounds of music and women's laughter grew clearer. Lin Ming paused—what sort of place was this? Passing through the archway, he found a short, narrow street lined on both sides by small buildings—no different from other lanes.

Yet here, every house had pink lanterns hanging by the door. The entire street was bathed in rosy light. Few pedestrians walked the street; the music and voices came from within the houses.

Lin Ming was no innocent. In a flash, he understood: this was Lingao's courtesan quarter! No wonder the patrolmen had looked at him that way—the route he had been walking led right past here. They must have assumed he was seeking pleasures.

Lin Ming smiled bitterly. In the old days, he would not have minded sampling this "Cropped-Hair delicacy," tasting these "Australian pleasures"—according to those who claimed to have tried them, "the amorous delights surpass anything known to mankind." But now he was on an important mission, and there were no wealthy merchants around to pick up his tab. The few circulation vouchers in his pocket had to last until next month's payday.

With that sobering thought, Centurion Lin could only walk glumly past the archway. He quickened his pace and headed back, soon returning to Haixing Store. Back in the courtyard, he found Wang Xinglong had already returned and was animatedly regaling several colleagues with tales of East Gate Market.