Chapter 2659: The Capital (Part 15)

Leng Ningyun started awake. He opened his eyes to see a young man in his early thirties entering the room. The visitor wore a snow-blue Taoist robe with a net kerchief atop his head, and three strands of wispy beard adorned his chin, giving him a refined and measured appearance.

Leng Ningyun leaned forward slightly out of habit. "Sir, you are..."

"My humble surname is Le," the visitor replied simply.

"Mr. Le." Regardless of which spacetime he found himself in, Leng Ningyun's primary occupation had always been dealing with people. His ability to read them had been honed to perfection over the years. At first glance, this visitor appeared young with a dashing bearing, somewhat resembling an otherworldly Taoist blessed with immortal bones. Yet upon closer inspection, his demeanor seemed somewhat affected.

"I wonder why you mobilized such forces to bring me here, sir. What is your purpose?"

"Mr. Le" smiled faintly, seated himself without invitation, and said, "Mr. Leng, please remain calm. Originally, I had no intention of showing my face, but circumstances have forced me to invite you here."

Leng Ningyun had sensed something peculiar about this person from the start but couldn't quite identify it. After a moment, it struck him: the accent and intonation of this "Mr. Le" were far too similar to those of a Senator.

Since the Senate's arrival in Lingao, they had spared no effort in promoting Mandarin for nearly a decade. Yet very few Naturalized Citizens could speak it well. The best among them managed only "Canton-Mandarin" or "Fujian-Mandarin"—serviceable for communication, but heavily accented.

Those who spoke it best were naturally the "new generation" children of Fangcaodi, who had learned from childhood. Their Mandarin had reached a level nearly indistinguishable from that of the Senators themselves, and their consciousness, thinking, habits, and demeanor reflected this as well.

The problem was that such individuals were rare, and the oldest among them were only in their early twenties. No one remotely approached the age of this Mr. Le sitting before him. Moreover, his intonation and manner of speech were entirely unlike those of any Naturalized Citizen...

Leng Ningyun shivered. Could it really be...

In truth, he had entertained such a thought from the moment he first saw the letter. But the "Mr. Le" now before him was practically a living... a Senator!

Cold sweat broke out across Leng Ningyun's body. The External Intelligence Bureau had long harbored similar suspicions. After the "Umbrella" and "Parasol" cases were resolved years ago, they first learned of "Old Man Shi's" existence through interrogations of captives and captured documents. At that time, the Bureau noted that the infiltration methods, contact protocols, and operational plans displayed knowledge far transcending the era. In an age when clandestine operations were essentially the domain of Jianghu folk, such sophistication far exceeded their expectations.

Back then, the senior officials of the "Center" suspected that besides themselves and that "looming Japanese," other people had transmigrated to this spacetime. They compiled a report for the Executive Committee based on the gathered intelligence.

Fewer than twenty people had read that report, and Leng Ningyun was one of them. He had been given access because he was to serve as the head of an overseas station—all Senators assigned to lead overseas stations were required to read it, to understand the potential threats they faced.

Such suspicions reached their peak during the Hangzhou Station Incident. The appearance of Hao Yuan, in particular, had once driven the Senate nearly to madness. Although Hao Yuan eventually died, the one who slipped through the net—Black—still left the Senate feeling as though a thorn were lodged in its back. Based on the intelligence collected, the External Intelligence Bureau's suspicions regarding the origins of "Old Man Shi" were elevated to new heights.

However, the theory that "Old Man Shi" might be another Black diminished significantly after the "Witchcraft Case" at the Guangzhou Station. The Senators found it difficult to believe that a 21st-century "talent" capable of orchestrating the Parasol Action and the Hangzhou riots—someone with exceptional organizational and incitement abilities—would believe in witchcraft and invest such vast resources into pursuing various Feng Shui secret arts and curses. Honestly, wouldn't those manpower and resources have been better spent on other means?

Additionally, Old Man Shi's activities had decreased recently, and even crude schemes like counterfeit currency had been attempted. The External Intelligence Bureau judged that anyone with even basic scientific literacy from the old spacetime would know such a strategy stood little chance against quasi-modern currency.

In short, Black's actions remained consistent with the logical thinking of a transmigrator, but Old Man Shi's behavior was erratic and wildly imaginative, with extremes at both ends that defied logical categorization.

Therefore, Old Man Shi was unlikely to be a second Black. At best, he was a genius of this spacetime who had acquired some modern knowledge. The Bureau's current hypothesis held that Old Man Shi was probably not a single person at all, but rather an organization assembled by certain individuals.

Leng Ningyun had never seen the man before him in any of the External Intelligence Bureau's reports. Yet his Mandarin accent, his manner of speaking, and that strange letter all seemed to reveal countless ties to the old spacetime...

"Mr. Leng, I know what you are thinking," the man smiled. "But I am not."

Leng Ningyun trembled. "You are not what..."

"I am not the person you think I am," Mr. Le said leisurely. "That is, the person the Senate fears most."

"Bah! The Senate fears nothing." Leng Ningyun suddenly found his courage.

"The Senate commands powerful ships and sharp cannons, possessing the wealth of the four seas—of course it fears nothing." Mr. Le tapped his own temple. "It only fears this. Otherwise, why insist on exterminating Hao Yuan completely?"

Cold sweat formed on Leng Ningyun's back. He knew the Hao Yuan situation intimately. During the Hangzhou Incident, Black and Old Man Shi had loomed behind Hao Yuan, an ever-present danger to the Senate. When he learned of Hao Yuan's death, he had secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Presumably, other Senators felt the same.

"In that case, you must be Old Man Shi?"

Mr. Le laughed heartily. "One could say that. Though such a description would be incomplete..."

Leng Ningyun's heart steadied somewhat. So it was the Old Man Shi Group who had kidnapped him. Now he needed to clarify two things above all else: first, why they had taken him; second, whether a second Black existed within the Old Man Shi Group.

The speech and manner of this "Mr. Le" carried a "scent of the old spacetime" that felt strangely familiar to Leng Ningyun, yet he dared not draw any certain conclusions.

After pondering for a moment, he asked, "Then what would be the complete version?"

"There is no such person as Old Man Shi in this world," Mr. Le said, a trace of regret in his voice. "And yet, he is everywhere."

Leng Ningyun turned these cryptic words over in his mind. Their meaning seemed to suggest that such a person as Old Man Shi had once existed, but that he was no longer among the living.

"Mr. Le, you've kidnapped me and brought me here. What exactly do you intend?"

"In Beijing City alone, at least two or three hundred people know Delong's background."

Leng Ningyun nodded. "That's no secret."

"Correct, it is indeed no secret." Mr. Le smiled. "However, knowing what manner of person Master Leng truly is—that knowledge belongs to us alone."

Leng Ningyun remained silent. Unless subjected to torture or threats against his life, he could not admit to being a Senator. This was the outermost layer of the multi-tiered confession protocols the External Intelligence Bureau provided to all Senators.

Seeing his silence, Mr. Le smiled inscrutably, leaned close to him, and whispered:

"Odd changes, even remains; for the sign, look at the quadrant."

Leng Ningyun's eyes widened. Though he had steeled himself for such a possibility ever since seeing that anonymous letter bearing E = mc, the shock that seized his heart when the moment actually arrived was still violent.

After a long pause, he managed to speak. "You really are..."

"The same as you, correct?"

"Aren't you?"

"No." Mr. Le smiled—a smile tinged with nostalgia and a trace of sadness.

Now Leng Ningyun's thoughts fell into complete disarray. Whether Old Man Shi was another transmigrator or this Mr. Le was another disciple of Black's, he could not fathom their motive for kidnapping him.

"The reason I invited Mr. Leng here is to ask you to serve as a peacemaker," Mr. Le clarified.

Leng Ningyun laughed. "Mr. Le must be joking. Since the founding of the Great Ming, there has never been talk of ceding territory, paying indemnities, or marriage alliances. What virtue or ability does Leng possess to serve as such a peacemaker? Even if the Senate agreed, would the Emperor consent?"

"Given suitable conditions, the Emperor might not object," Mr. Le replied. "You are a Senator, one of the noble Five Hundred. The Senate will certainly not stand idly by while your life hangs in the balance."

"So you mean to use me as a hostage to force the Senate to accept your terms."

Mr. Le smiled slightly but said nothing.

"This is wishful thinking..."

"Not necessarily. After all, the Senate has stationed quite a few Senators throughout Ming territory—Senator Zhao in Hangzhou, for instance. Even within Liangguang, Senators are scattered across various locations, and their protection is hardly watertight. Judging by one's own measure, who can guarantee eternal safety?" Mr. Le's voice was patient, guiding.

By now, Leng Ningyun was drenched in sweat. This Mr. Le appeared kind and pleasant, but his words dripped with murderous intent. The "danger to life" he spoke of was probably not a simple matter of confiscation and beheading, but rather "death penalties" designed for maximum spectacle and deterrence—like death by a thousand cuts.

Compared to Zhao Yingong, who maintained deep ties with the Jiangnan gentry and operated almost as an independent kingdom, Leng Ningyun was indeed the weakest link among all the Senators stationed abroad. Small wonder that Old Man Shi's group, desperate and cornered, had chosen to begin with him.

Wave after wave of cold sweat broke over him as he recognized the gravity of his peril. Now he understood: the Old Man Shi Group was no simple cabal of anti-髡 bureaucrats. Their vision exceeded that of ordinary officials and gentry, and their understanding of the Senate ran far deeper. What seemed certain was that a transmigrator was guiding them—though whether this person was Black or someone else remained impossible to determine.

Continuing to bicker was pointless. His only option now was to stall for time and await rescue. Feigning submission, he said, "Since you insist on thinking so, I have no choice. What would you have me do?"

Mr. Le nodded approvingly. "A wise man adapts to circumstances." With that, he pushed the Four Treasures of the Study across the table toward him. "Please write a letter, Mr. Leng."

(End of Chapter)