Chapter 175: The Undercover Agent

However, Zhao Tong’s investigation was not entirely fruitless. He learned from members of the Canal Gang that those recently active in Hangzhou, spreading rumors and posters, were mostly members of the “fighting societies” from Hangzhou and nearby counties.

The “fighting societies” had no conflict of interest with Zhao Yigong. Their involvement clearly indicated that someone was funding them.

Zhao Tong suggested that they could use this as a lead to dig deeper.

“It’s a pity we’re not the authorities here. Otherwise, we could arrest a few of their leaders, interrogate them harshly, and surely get information about the mastermind,” Zhao Tong said with some regret.

Secretly kidnapping and interrogating them in a private court was, of course, an option. But these were troubled times, and his every move was likely being watched. Rashly kidnapping their members, if it leaked, would become a pretext for the opponent.

Furthermore, even if the opponent didn’t know or didn’t care about the well-being of their members, kidnapping ordinary members wouldn’t necessarily yield any useful information.

However, the fighting societies were definitely a breakthrough point. Zhao Yigong considered it carefully and suddenly thought of Zhuang Haoren.

Zhuang Haoren was now the leader of the “Wulong Society.” Zhao Yigong recalled that the relationship between the Wulong Society and the Phoenix Villa was still a secret. Currently, besides Zhuang Haoren himself and a very small number of core naturalized citizens at the Hangzhou station, no one knew that this fighting society was actually being raised by him, Zhao Yigong. Zhao Yigong had used the Wulong Society several times, but on the surface, it was always a paid employment relationship, not one of subordination.

“Go and see him. Have him find a way to use his connections in the fighting societies to infiltrate the enemy’s group and find out who the mastermind is!”

Zhao Yigong’s method was simple: if you can’t pull them out, you have to push someone in. The Wulong Society, as one of the fighting societies active in Hangzhou, was of a medium size, with its own “territory” and a considerable number of members. It had shown impressive “combat effectiveness” in several brawls in Hangzhou Prefecture.

If the opponent intended to take further major action, they would inevitably try to win over more people, especially “fighting societies” with a certain degree of organization and combat strength. The Wulong Society would most likely fall within their selection range. Zhuang Haoren’s current public identity was the leader of the Wulong Society. The opponent would surely try to recruit him.

But Zhao Tong shook his head. “Chief, this is not appropriate.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“You are asking him to go undercover,” Zhao Tong said. “Since ancient times, those who go undercover not only put themselves in great danger, but if their cover is blown, they will surely meet a violent end. That aside, even if they can retreat safely, they will still be seen as disloyal and unrighteous, their reputation ruined. Those sent undercover are either blackmailed into it with some leverage you hold over them, or they owe you a debt of immense gratitude. Zhuang Haoren fits neither of these. If you send him undercover, he will surely just go through the motions. He will definitely not risk his life for this.”

There was another layer Zhao Tong didn’t voice: Zhuang Haoren was not a naturalized citizen, only a peripheral member of the Hangzhou station. He had not undergone a reliability assessment by the Political Security Bureau. It was fine to ask him to fight and carry out simple tasks, but a matter concerning the very survival of the Hangzhou station could only be entrusted to a naturalized citizen.

Zhao Yigong considered it again and asked, “Zhao Tong, do you think the enemy has planted any moles here with us?”

This was a matter of great importance. Although Sun Wangcai was the general manager and security captain of the villa, Zhao Tong was specifically responsible for internal security. He thought for a minute before answering, “Chief, to say there are none at all is impossible. But within the villa’s residential area, I can guarantee there are none.”

Zhao Yigong nodded. The people who could enter the residential part of the villa were either naturalized citizens or the orphans Zhao Yigong had taken in. Even the few local servants like Cai Shi, who were very useful to Zhao Yigong, had their backgrounds thoroughly investigated by the Hangzhou station’s security department and were still not allowed into the inner residence. When Zhao Yigong wanted to see them, he would go to the outer study.

The Hangzhou station’s security department had already discovered multiple attempts to plant spies in the villa and the bookstore: some were blatant, such as directly gifting handsome boys and beautiful maids or recommending clients and tutors; others were covert, attempting to infiltrate by means of “selling oneself” or “applying for a position.”

“How is Xihua doing in the refugee camp?” Zhao Yigong suddenly asked.

Xihua was one of the first six older children, over twelve years old, whom Zhao Yigong had taken in and personally taught and raised. She was already fifteen this year. Because she was capable and decisive, she had been assigned to handle general affairs in the “Orphanage Hall” of the Cihuitang.

Zhao Tong was taken aback and replied, “She is very capable and acts fairly. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“A bit arrogant. She can’t tolerate any faults and has a bit of a temper, often embarrassing people to their faces.”

“Hehe, so you’re saying she’s not very popular.”

“Yes.” Although Zhao Tong had some idea of what the chief was getting at, he didn’t understand why he was suddenly discussing this girl’s personality. These matters had already been listed in the ten-person group’s reports that he had compiled and submitted.

“Does the chief want her to go undercover…”

“That is my intention.”

Xihua was indeed very suitable. Although she had a temper, she was bold yet meticulous and organized in her work. More importantly, she had been saved by Zhao Yigong from the hands of human traffickers; otherwise, she would have been sold into a brothel. She owed him a great debt of gratitude.

“But she works in the refugee camp. How can she go undercover in the enemy’s camp? And she’s a girl. Even if the other side trusts her, they won’t let her move around freely to gather information…”

“Right now, the thing our opponents are most concerned about should be what I’m doing and what I’m thinking, right?”

“The chief wants Xihua to be a double agent?!” Zhao Tong had been trained in the Political Security Bureau’s training classes and had learned a lot of professional “newspeak.”

“Correct.” Zhao Yigong nodded. “We want to know what the enemy is planning, and the enemy certainly wants to know what we are planning. If a good opportunity arises, they will not miss it.”

“The chief is brilliant.”

“Enough with the flattery!” Zhao Yigong said sternly. “Go and make the arrangements.”

A few days later, it was a “visiting day.” The Cihuitang had a “visiting day” about once a month, allowing the charity’s nominal directors and local gentry and scholars to visit.

This was partly to show the gentry who had donated money where their money was being spent, and partly to dispel suspicions. Many of the “religious cases” of the late 19th century were caused by the public’s misunderstanding of the church’s charitable work, and the church, priding itself on its foreign status, was unwilling to communicate, leading to escalating rumors.

At the beginning, many people came to these visits, but recently, the number of visitors had dwindled. The novelty had worn off for the gentry. Moreover, it was the height of summer, with the sun blazing like fire. So this time, only seven or eight people came, one of whom was Wu Zhixiang, who had been desperately trying to curry favor with Zhao Yigong lately.

The “visit” to the Cihuitang was actually just the gentlemen holding their noses and taking a cursory look at the refugee camp at the foot of the mountain. It was said that the place was crowded and smelly, not to mention the smell of coal smoke blowing in from the river. Before they had seen even half of it, several of the gentlemen were already showing signs of annoyance. Cai Shi, being an expert at serving people, was adept at reading expressions. He immediately ordered the sedan chair bearers to bring the palanquins and carry the gentlemen one by one up Phoenix Mountain.

As the mountain breeze blew, the men instantly felt refreshed. It was the height of summer, but the mountain was densely wooded, and after years of greening and management by Zhao Yigong, the scenery along the way was delightful.

About a li from the villa gate, there was a grove of trees, among which was a camphor tree over a hundred years old, its canopy like a great cover. Zhao Yigong had already instructed his people to set up a banquet table under the tree. Incense to repel mosquitoes was lit all around. As soon as they sat down, maids brought iced towels and chilled sour plum soup.

“I never thought Master Wu would be so good at enjoying life! He’s created a paradise on earth for himself!” Wu Zhixiang took an iced towel, wiped his face vigorously, and then drank a few sips of the thick, syrupy, sweet-and-sour chilled plum soup. He felt his mouth water, a breeze under his arms, and a cool sensation throughout his body.

Sitting at the banquet table, they felt the cool breeze blowing. Looking down at the Qiantang River below, the scenery was magnificent, and their hearts opened up.

“I’ve walked on this Phoenix Mountain before. I never expected Master Zhao to transform a barren mountain into such a place. No wonder everyone says Master Zhao’s knowledge of practical statecraft is the deepest,” said Wen Huai, a member of the Fu She, echoing the sentiment.

The others also offered their compliments, and Zhao Yigong, of course, responded with pleasantries. He then instructed the servants to bring out the food and wine.

Because it was the height of summer and everyone’s appetite was poor, the dishes served were all light in flavor. Though there were many dishes, they were not greasy. Many fresh fruits were also served, including some tropical fruits preserved with ice and transported from the south, which were either only heard of but never seen, or not yet available in the country at that time. Their presentation immediately opened everyone’s eyes, and they were praised by all.

A maid brought a large white porcelain plate piled high with fresh lychees still glistening with water droplets. Not only was the skin still red, but the leaves on the stems were still a vibrant green, as if they had just been picked.

“Master Zhao’s fresh lychees are a specialty of Jiangnan.” Wen Huai hurriedly peeled one and threw it into his mouth, already peeling another with his hands. “Even Brother Zongzi has long admired their fame.”

Zhang Dai’s luxurious lifestyle was famous in Jiangnan, but the enjoyment of ice-chilled fresh fruit, a pleasure of the industrial age, was something that no amount of money could buy at that time. Fresh lychees were unavailable outside of the lychee-producing regions of Guangdong and Sichuan, no matter how rich or powerful one was. Even dried lychees were rare. The Ming and Qing emperors, despite their supreme status, could only eat lychees that had been soaked in honey and then sent to Beijing, their taste already different from fresh ones.

Although Zhao Yigong’s place didn’t have a gas-powered cold storage to make ice, the ice-transporting ships from Lingao—ships sailing north to Jiangnan from Lingao—used large quantities of sawdust to preserve artificial ice in their holds as ballast. This ice was for the exclusive use and sale of the Hangzhou station. Naturally, transporting ice-chilled fresh fruit was not a problem.