Chapter 202: The Capture of Jia Le

Some messages were a mix of threats and inducements: “Old Zhao, the Hangzhou Station incident has stirred up a lot of dissatisfaction and opposition against you in the Senate. Given the current situation, if you want to turn the tide of opinion, you’ll need to achieve greater results in a certain area of your work. To be specific, the consensus is that on the principled issue of the Elders’ carnal well-being, and in the important task of satisfying the special tastes of certain Elders, Comrade Zhao Yigong’s contributions to the Senate have been far from sufficient. Of course, a few of us sympathize with your plight and understand that acquiring high-quality maids is a long and detailed process. But you need to hurry up, Old Zhao. Otherwise, even if you get through this, we won’t be able to protect you next time. By the way, my demands aren’t high: you must save Chen Yuanyuan and Li Xiangjun for me. And don’t you dare keep the other Qinhuai River beauties for yourself; they’ve already been claimed. Remember that! Remember!”

“You scum who think with your lower bodies!” Zhao Yigong didn’t even have the energy to retort. But he had to read these private messages, as they all carried hints of the political winds blowing from Lin’gao.

He carefully read every single one. These days, he exchanged many private and official letters with various ministries, commissions, and overseas stations in Lin’gao. He wrote private letters to those he had some rapport with and official ones to those he didn’t. The content was varied—discussing projects, sharing work experience, debating plans… He sent them out everywhere, not to see the results, but to gauge the attitude from the replies.

Overall, the official responses were perfectly normal. The ministries and commissions showed no intention of rejecting or halting any of the ongoing projects. His official correspondence with other overseas stations also received standard replies. The stations in Jeju and Kaohsiung had even sent inquiries about the gender, age, and professional skills of the current refugees in Hangzhou.

However, Zhao Yigong understood that the calmest skies often precede the fiercest storms. From the private correspondence, he could glean that he probably wouldn’t get off easily this time. It was highly likely he would be recalled to Lin’gao for a hearing.

He lit a cigar and paced out of his study. He had already taken the necessary countermeasures. All projects that hadn’t received formal approval from the Planning and Development Council were shut down if they hadn’t officially started. Those that had already shown some results had their expansion plans halted. He reviewed his performance and the resources allocated to him by the Council and felt that his cost-effectiveness in Hangzhou over the past few years had been quite high. Trade with Japan, silk procurement, publishing and printing, refugee reception… which of these tasks hadn’t he over-delivered on? Take the Japan trade, for example. Although he had received significant help from the Japan Station and Elder Ping, if he hadn’t organized the supply of goods and shipping from his end, what the hell would the Japan Station have to sell?

Furthermore, the raw silk and miscellaneous goods supplied to Kaohsiung, and over seventy percent of the goods stipulated in the trade agreement with the Dutch, were now organized and supplied by the Hangzhou Station. Of course, the contributions of the Shanxi and Haizhou routes were indispensable, but as the organizer and leader, his achievements couldn’t just be erased, could they?

“It’s hard to be a man, and even harder to be a man of action,” Zhao Yigong said, holding his cigar with a touch of self-pity. In the end, it was because he had become a regional authority, living a life of comfort, that he had attracted envy… No, it was because he hadn’t provided enough benefits to the “soy-sauce Elders.” He was such a fool, so focused on racking up merits, never realizing that these merits meant little to them. They only cared about things that brought them tangible benefits! He had a sudden “epiphany.”

In Shandong and Jeju, they were constantly selecting potential maids from the refugees under harsh conditions and prioritizing their transport back to Lin’gao. In contrast, he had foolishly buried himself in educating the children and orphans of refugees. He was truly an idiot! Not only did he get no praise, but he was also suspected of having ambitions to “form his own faction”…

Just as his mind was wandering creatively, Zhao Tong suddenly appeared and whispered a few words in his ear. Zhao Yigong’s eyes widened. “Really?!”

The news Zhao Tong brought was exhilarating: the “Sticky Pole” division had captured Jia Le.

“That’s right. The little miss’s father fell ill, and she sent someone out to buy medicine. One of our men at the Runshitang pharmacy spotted them.”

Jia Le had been extremely cautious. Not only did she not go out herself, but she also forbade her family from leaving. Hao Yuan had warned her that the enemy likely had portraits of her entire family, and they would be easily recognized if they appeared on the streets.

But she had underestimated the efficiency of the Sticky Poles. The person sent out, though not a family member, was a neighbor. During their investigation of Nanxiawa, the Sticky Poles had photographed and put all individuals close to the Jia family on a surveillance list.

When the surveillance team noticed this person appearing at Runshitang for several consecutive days to buy medicine, while no one in her own family was sick, Zhao Tong immediately dispatched a team to tail her. They discovered her meeting someone in a private residence to exchange medicine and money.

Zhao Tong was secretly astonished, as this method was identical to the secret operational techniques the Elders had taught him during his training in Lin’gao. Besides the Foreign Intelligence Bureau, no one in the Ming Dynasty knew this system.

If it hadn’t been for the Sticky Poles’ own operations, relying solely on government yamen or the city’s underworld figures would have made it impossible to seize this fleeting opportunity.

He immediately set up surveillance around this contact point and finally tailed the courier who came to pick up the items, which led them to Jia Le’s hiding place.

However, subsequent investigation revealed that Hao Yuan was not there. Only Jia Le and her family were present.

There was no time to lose. To find Hao Yuan’s whereabouts as quickly as possible, the Sticky Poles launched a night raid on the residence without hesitation, capturing Jia Le’s entire family.

Although they failed to catch Hao Yuan, capturing Jia Le was a major breakthrough.

“Where is she now?”

“In the villa’s secret prison…”

“Good. Take me there at once.” Zhao Yigong stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “And ask Chief Qian to come as well!”

Jia Le’s head was spinning. It felt as if she had passed through a long tunnel where time had slowed to a crawl. Suddenly, a basin of cold water was splashed on her face. She jolted, trying to leap up, but a clanking sound stopped her. Her hands and feet were bound.

She forced her eyes open and found herself locked in a sturdy armchair with shackles on her wrists and ankles. She tried to struggle, but the shackles rattled and the chair didn’t move an inch; it seemed to be fixed to the floor. A man stood beside her, dressed in a strange, drab gray, short-sleeved jacket with many pockets and various gadgets hanging from his belt. He was short, stocky, and powerfully built, with his hair shaved to a buzz cut. He looked at her with a blank expression.

It was a surprisingly bright little room. Square glass boxes were installed in all four corners, emitting a brilliant, snow-white light. The walls were inlaid with large mirrors, making the room as bright as day.

There wasn’t a single window, making it impossible to tell day from night. Although it was summer, a menacing brazier burned in one corner.

Jia Le drew a sharp breath. Her previously muddled mind suddenly cleared. She remembered the night raid, the sudden attack. Before she could even struggle, a damp, foul-smelling cloth was pressed over her face, and she lost consciousness.

She had been caught. Fear, mixed with a wave of nausea, rose from her stomach, causing her to retch several times.

The stocky man glanced at her contemptuously, as if he knew all her secrets.

She didn’t need to guess. The one who had captured her was undoubtedly Zhao Yigong, and this place was most likely his stronghold, the Wanbi Villa.

After their plan failed, she and Hao Yuan had separated. His men had arranged for her and her family to hide in a private residence in the city. Following his instructions, she and her family had lived in seclusion, never stepping outside. All communication and supplies were handled through a courier.

To think she was caught so quickly!

The thought of what awaited her in Zhao Yigong’s hands sent an involuntary shiver through her body.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered what she would face if captured. Uncle Hao himself had warned her that joining this cause meant risking more than just her life; if she fell into enemy hands, she would face torture worse than death.

At the time, she had confidently said she would never betray Uncle Hao. But now, with the test right in front of her, her body trembled uncontrollably.

The man pulled a red-hot iron rod from the brazier, examined it carefully, and then gave her a meaningful look. His gaze was lewd and predatory, as if he had already stripped her bare. Jia Le’s stomach clenched into a knot. She watched as he slowly and carefully plunged the hot rod into a bucket of cold water. The water hissed and steamed.

“This is Jia Le?” Zhao Yigong straightened up from the peephole and asked Zhao Tong with a frown.

“Yes. The photo matches, and she has admitted it herself.”

“So young!” Zhao Yigong had never seen Jia Le before, but looking through the peephole, he saw a small, thin girl. By the standards of his own time, she couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve.

“Chief, should we begin the interrogation immediately?”

“Well, it’s a bit…” Although Zhao Yigong had developed the mindset of a ruling class member, torturing such a young “prisoner” felt a bit too depraved.

“Let my men question her,” Qian Shuixie said after a look.

“Well, Old Qian, it’s not that I’m a saint, but… but shouldn’t we adopt an attitude of ‘curing the sickness to save the patient’?”

Qian Shuixie laughed. “I hear you routinely cane the female workers and maids in your villa. Why the sudden compassion?” He clapped Zhao Yigong on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, our special reconnaissance team has a specialized course on rapid interrogation. It won’t get bloody.” He pointed to his chest. “Attacking the mind is the superior strategy. She’s just a little girl; her convictions can’t be that strong.”