Chapter Six: The Disappearance

“I also need some local personnel to cooperate,” Xue Ziliang said, “and some safe houses. I need a route to move the target out.”

“I’ll arrange it,” Lin Biguang said. “Are you taking Gao Shunqin back to Lin’gao?”

“Yes. But Jiang Shan said that if it’s inconvenient to take him away, we can just dispose of the body near the mouth of the Pearl River. The Senate has no intention of inviting him to be a member of the Political Consultative Conference,” Xue Ziliang said. “It’s just to have him appear and disappear on the road, to make it seem like he ran away on his own.”

Lin Biguang strongly disagreed in his heart. “With all due respect, isn’t this plan too troublesome? You’re carrying a living person, which is a huge target. And if you go towards the mouth of the Pearl River—don’t forget that Hong Kong Island is in our hands—they will still suspect us. To be safer, it would be better to head north and have him make an appearance in the Nanxiong Prefecture area.”

Nanxiong Prefecture was a key transportation route between Guangdong and Jiangxi. It was a necessary stop for anyone traveling by land out of Guangdong.

“What’s your opinion?” Xue Ziliang had a great deal of discretionary power in carrying out this mission. The Foreign Intelligence Bureau’s directive was to make Gao Shunqin “disappear,” and how he disappeared was up to him. Of course, he was strictly forbidden from using any method that looked like a murder.

“It’s best if he disappears right here.” Lin Biguang had been in Guangzhou for several months and had a good understanding of the social customs and official practices of this era. Although the investigative techniques and administrative capabilities of ancient times were weak, there were city walls. Once an important official like the Provincial Censor was discovered missing, they would immediately “close the city gates and conduct a city-wide search.” To ensure Gao Shunqin was taken out, he had to be moved out of the city at the earliest possible moment.

“Hmm…” Xue Ziliang was noncommittal.

Lin Biguang pointed out a few other aspects of the plan he thought were inappropriate, while also stating that he would instruct the Guangzhou Defense Department to fully cooperate with his actions.

Xue Ziliang said with a smile, “Your Guangzhou Defense Department directly executed that wicked servant. Your methods are quite ruthless.”

“That really has nothing to do with us,” Lin Biguang immediately clarified—he didn’t want any such misunderstandings to exist. “He was a flea-like character; his life or death doesn’t matter. I had my men investigate, and it was Gao Ju’s people who did it.”

The two talked for a while longer before Lin Biguang sent him to the inner courtyard to rest and went to arrange the specific actions himself. Xue Ziliang took a bath and lay in bed, contemplating the next steps of his action plan.

Yu Baocun stared gloomily at the pitch-black sky. Heavy clouds were stacked upon each other, hiding the stars and moon. The entire Gao residence was silent and empty, without a human voice to be heard. Only a single corner lamp was lit in the hall. The dark shadows of the multi-storied eaves pressed down on his head, making it hard to breathe.

All the servants in the mansion, regardless of their status, had been swept out. The servants were detained separately in the Nanhai and Panyu county yamen and the Guangzhou prefectural yamen. The few masters in the residence had moved to a nearby temple with their valuables and luggage—Censor Gao had not brought many family members with him when he took office. The entire Gao residence was now under the complete control of the yamen runners from the prefecture and the two counties.

Yu Baocun sat in the hall, filled with anxiety. Censor Gao had been missing for seven or eight days now, without any explanation. During this time, the city gates had been closed for a city-wide search, but not even a single hair of Censor Gao had been found.

As the Prefect of Guangzhou, the difficult task of finding Censor Gao had fallen on his shoulders. He was suffering from a terrible headache because of it. A Provincial Censor was not a high-ranking official, but he was an important figure in the local administration. He couldn’t just disappear without a trace. When Wang Zunde died of illness in Zhaoqing, the imperial court had even issued an edict to specifically investigate the matter. And this Censor Gao had been perfectly fine just a few days ago!

Everyone knew that Censor Gao hated barbarians, so rumors were flying in the marketplace that the Australians or the Portuguese had secretly murdered him. But so far, he was not seen alive, nor was his body found. No one dared to conclude whether he was dead or abducted.

The yamen runners from the prefecture and the two counties in Guangzhou had all been mobilized, turning the entire city upside down, but they had found nothing. Yu Baocun had also issued a notice to the flower boats and fishing boats on the White Goose Pond and the West River: any floating corpses found on the river must be reported to the yamen. He had specially organized a few of the Gao family’s old servants to not only inspect the newly recovered floating corpses every day but also to check the public cemeteries and cremation sites for the poor and beggars both inside and outside the city. Still, there was no trace of him.

Finally, out of desperation, Yu Baocun had to return to the Gao residence and supervise a team of workers, led by the Gao family’s servants, to dig three feet deep throughout the entire mansion in their search. It was a chaotic scene, but ultimately, they found nothing.

The most suspicious servants of the Gao family—the maid who was on duty in the inner study that night, the pageboy who served him closely in the study—were all taken to the Nanhai county yamen for strict interrogation. They were beaten with hundreds of whips and boards and even tortured. The servants screamed and fainted several times, but they still couldn’t get anything out of them. Their testimony remained the same: after Master Gao returned to the mansion, he had a late-night snack in the inner study and then wrote memorials for a long time. It was not until the end of the Hai hour (9-11 PM) that he undressed and went to bed with the help of Concubine Su. The servants on duty outside the study all confessed during the torture that they had dozed off in the latter half of the night. But how the master could have disappeared, they really couldn’t say.

Concubine Su—Su Ai—had not disappeared, but she was Master Gao’s favorite concubine. Now that Master Gao’s life and death were unknown, Yu Baocun did not dare to torture her. He only invited her to speak a few times. Su Ai was very tactful. She knew that this was a serious matter. If Gao Shunqin were to die, she would have no way out—even if the government didn’t plan to use her as a scapegoat, the Gao family would never let her go. So she didn’t dare to put on airs. She explained the situation of that night clearly and in detail.

Her account was not much different from what the servants had said. She had been serving the master with his writing in the inner study. At the end of the Hai hour, she helped him wash up and get into bed. Then she tidied up the documents on the table, put all the memorials and letters into the document box, and locked it before going to bed to sleep with him. The master was already asleep at that time. As for why he disappeared later, she couldn’t say—anyway, when she woke up, the master was no longer beside her. It was already dawn by then.

Yu Baocun was half-convinced and half-skeptical of Su Ai’s testimony. A living person disappeared from the bed, and Su Ai, who was sleeping next to him, didn’t notice? He felt this was the biggest loophole. He wanted to seize this loophole and torture her, but he was afraid that if Censor Gao returned safely, he would have offended him greatly. He had repeatedly asked Li Fengjie for instructions and even went through He Chengzong’s channels, but the replies were all vague. Obviously, Lord Li himself did not want to get involved in this trouble.

However, someone from the Gao family was clearly dissatisfied with Yu Baocun’s ambiguous attitude. A few days ago, a steward was sent over to express their inability to understand why Yu Baocun was still being polite to the biggest suspect and not torturing her. He also presented a gift of three hundred taels of silver.

Having been in public service for a long time, Yu Baocun certainly understood the subtlety of the matter. However, this was a major issue, and he had to consider it carefully and stand firm. Moreover, Su Ai was also very sensible. On the day she was questioned, she had presented him with five hundred taels of silver.

Fortunately, someone had finally come to share this awkward situation. Seeing that Yu Baocun had not been able to find anything for seven or eight days, Li Fengjie became very anxious. He used his connections to transfer Lin Ming, a probationary centurion of the Jinyiwei from Foshan, to assist in the investigation. Yu Baocun was both surprised and delighted. He was surprised because the Jinyiwei were not easy to deal with; he was delighted because this Centurion Lin had a reputation for being “good at catching criminals.” With him in charge of the investigation, perhaps they could break the deadlock—if nothing else, when it came to dealing with Su Ai, the Jinyiwei would not have the same reservations as he did.

The arrival of this Probationary Centurion Lin immediately gave Yu Baocun hope. After a brief interrogation of the Gao family’s servants, he had the old thief-catchers from the prefecture lead him to investigate around the area. A few days ago, he received a tip from somewhere, and Lin Ming immediately led his men out of the city. He had been gone for several days.

He thought that these Jinyiwei personnel must have some skills. Just as Yu Baocun was thinking, there was a sudden clatter of horse hooves outside the door, and the outside became noisy with voices. Yu Baocun’s spirits lifted. Only Lin Ming and his men had such an air about them. They must have returned. They were the only ones who would ride their horses so brazenly through the streets after dark.

He quickly stood up and paced around the hall, feigning a worried expression.

Sure enough, a moment later, Lin Ming entered the main gate with seven or eight followers. They were all dressed in plain clothes and looked travel-worn. Lin Ming was not yet 30, handsome and tall, standing out among the Ming officials. He was a striking figure in a crowd, quite fitting the image of the Jinyiwei. Yu Baocun knew this man was a “womanizer.” Not only did he keep several beautiful concubines at home, but on this investigation, there was a young woman among his followers—although she was dressed as a man, one could tell she was a woman at a glance.

“Master Lin—” Yu Baocun quickly went out to greet him, his attitude very respectful. In terms of rank, Prefect Yu Baocun was several levels higher than a mere probationary centurion of the Jinyiwei, but the days of the Eastern Depot’s tyranny were not long past, and officials were still very wary of these people.

“Let’s talk inside!” Lin Ming said, travel-worn, just cupping his hands in a salute and striding into the hall, kicking up dust.

Yu Baocun quickly ordered, “Someone! Serve tea! Prepare a late-night snack.”

Lin Ming had indeed brought news. He had patrolled the city for several days and quickly received a piece of information: on the morning of Master Gao’s disappearance, a sedan chair from a wealthy family had left through the Jinghai Gate. Because the city gate had just opened and this group was already leaving, the gatekeeper found it very strange and remembered it vividly.

“An ordinary official or gentry family would never wait for the city gate to open in the early morning to leave the city unless it was a matter of life and death!” Lin Ming took off his cloak and threw it on a chair.

“Please have some tea,” Yu Baocun offered the tea first, then said slowly, “In Master Lin’s opinion, was Master Gao in that procession of sedan chairs?”

“Nine times out of ten,” Lin Ming said with great confidence. “This matter is very strange.”