Chapter 414: An Imperfect Victory

“Impossible. I was never at the teahouse.”

“Oh?” The interrogator’s voice was laced with a strange curiosity. “Did I say it happened in a room at the teahouse?”

Wang Qisuo knew he had misspoken. He clamped his mouth shut. He knew their technique: a relentless series of questions designed to trap you in your own words. The more you said, the more you revealed.

“Take a look at this,” the interrogator said, tapping a finger on the document. “Did you think that with no ink, no seal paste, you wouldn’t leave a fingerprint? You’ve been in Lingao long enough. You should remember the saying: ‘The Senate is omnipotent.’”

“If you’re determined to find a man guilty, you’ll never want for a crime,” Wang Qisuo retorted, his voice tight. “What makes you so sure you have my prints?”

“These are from the cup. These, from the table,” the interrogator said, his voice a low, steady drumbeat. “And these are from the buckle of Xin Nachun’s belt. The very one you used to strangle her, wasn’t it?”

A muscle in Wang Qisuo’s jaw twitched uncontrollably.

The interrogator continued, his tone maddeningly calm. “I imagine it went something like this: you went in, Xin Nachun poured you tea, and you drank it. The cup has both your fingerprints. She even had pastries ready for you—the woman treated you well, didn’t she? But you didn’t eat. You told her to undress and kneel on the bed. She obeyed, waiting for your ‘favor,’ but what she got was your death sentence…”

Wang Qisuo’s body began to tremble, a tremor he could not suppress. Every word from the interrogator struck home, as if the man had witnessed the entire scene.

“Am I wrong, Master Seven?” The interrogator’s voice shifted, finally letting the fatal name slip.

“I… I’m not Master Seven…” Wang Qisuo stammered. “I’m not…”

“Then who is?” the interrogator pressed.

“It wasn’t me!” Wang Qisuo cried out, his composure shattering. “They forced me…”

He caught himself, the outburst leaving him spent. He lowered his head in defeat. “Give me a chance.”

“A chance for what?”

“I had no choice before. Now, I want to be a good man.”

“Fine. Tell that to the Director. See if he’ll let you be a good man.”

---

Three hours later, Wu Mu received Liu Fuqing in his office. He leafed through the confessions the special investigation team leader had brought him: Wang Qisuo, Lin Ming, Li Yongxun…

Wang Qisuo was Master Seven. There had been little doubt since Liu Fuqing first floated the theory. The fingerprints from the teahouse room were a perfect match. His confession was merely a formality.

According to his statement, Wang Qisuo was indeed an agent of the Imperial Guard, a minor hereditary officer from Shandong. He had once served in the household of Xu Guangqi, where he’d picked up a fair amount of Western learning.

When the Chongzhen Emperor ascended the throne and ended the practice of using the Imperial Guard to spy on his ministers, Wang Qisuo found himself unemployed and returned home. Leveraging his old connection to Xu Guangqi, he sought a new path with Sun Yuanhua. Sun, who was training a new army in Dengzhou and struggling with finances, had taken an interest in the illicit salt trade along the Shandong coast.

That was how Wang Qisuo infiltrated a gang of salt smugglers. Wounded in a skirmish, he was saved, by a twist of fate, by Zhao Yingong.

By the time he had fully recovered, the Dengzhou Mutiny had erupted. Sun Yuanhua was fighting for his own survival, and Wang Qisuo dared not reveal his true identity. Returning home was a tempting thought, but the province was swarming with mutinous soldiers. To leave the protection of his benefactor, Lord Lu, would have been suicide.

His hesitation cost him. He was bundled onto a ship and, after a long journey, found himself in Lingao.

“So he didn’t infiltrate us intentionally?” Wu Mu asked.

“Correct,” Liu Fuqing confirmed. “Director Zhao saving him was pure chance. It couldn’t have been a setup.”

“Then how did he become Master Seven?”

“According to him, it happened during his trips to Guangzhou as an escort for the Elders. A former colleague, now stationed in Guangzhou, recognized him…”

Wang Qisuo, letting his guard down, had shared a drink with the man and reminisced about old times. He told his friend about his new post in Lingao and even asked him to carry a letter back to his family in Shandong, telling them he was safe and would send for them as soon as he had the chance.

“…About six months later, ‘Shi Weng’s’ people found him. They came bearing a letter from his family. It said they had been moved by Shi Weng to Tianjin, where they were living in comfort. The letter implored him to serve Shi Weng with unwavering loyalty.”

“So his family are hostages. That’s why he was so committed.”

“Yes. Wang Qisuo said his wife, child, and mother are all in Shi Weng’s hands.”

“But I’ve seen his file. His personal statement says ‘no immediate family.’”

“I asked about that. He said he didn’t dare mention his family at the time. He was already an undercover agent in a salt smuggling gang and feared that revealing his connections would put him in danger. So he claimed to be alone in the world.”

“Going undercover with salt smugglers only to end up playing a double agent in Lingao. Fate has a cruel sense of humor,” Wu Mu mused. “Are the ‘Sun Umbrella’ and ‘Rain Umbrella’ cases connected?”

“He confesses that both groups were sent by Shi Weng. He also provided the guidance on how they should infiltrate and establish themselves in Lingao.”

“How did he manage that?” Wu Mu was baffled. Wang Qisuo was just a soldier in the Garrison Battalion. Training and guard duty should have taken up most of his time. It seemed impossible he could have had so much contact with Shi Weng.

“He went to Guangzhou as an escort for Elders or important cargo,” Liu Fuqing reported. “I checked. The Garrison Battalion often pulls men from regular companies for temporary escort duties due to manpower shortages.”

“So, we’re as porous as a sieve,” Wu Mu muttered to himself. “How did he contact Shi Weng?”

“By letter. Using a ‘hold for pickup’ mail service…” Liu Fuqing said. “He communicated with Si Maqiu and the others the same way.”

A bitter smile touched Wu Mu’s lips. It seemed the ancients were quick learners.

“Are Lin Ming and Li Yongxun connected to him?”

“No. He did see Lin Ming’s secret sign and assumed a colleague had arrived to assist, which is why he sent Xin Nachun to make contact. After she was rebuffed, he investigated the warehouse where Lin Ming was staying several times. He concluded that Lin Ming likely had a different mission and wasn’t sent by Shi Weng, so he made no further contact.”

Wu Mu asked many more questions. The results were, for the most part, satisfactory. But the identity of Shi Weng, his motives for relentlessly challenging the Senate, and the source of his power to deploy such forces to Lingao—all these questions remained unanswered.

From Wang Qisuo’s confession and the materials from the Hangzhou incident, it was clear that this “Shi Weng” was not the true mastermind, but likely just a front man, a go-between for the pawns and the king. The real power remained hidden in the shadows.

Further interrogation of these prisoners was unlikely to yield more useful information. Only by capturing Shi Weng himself could they hope to unmask the true enemy.

But that was beyond his control, beyond even the Political Security Bureau’s. It would require a multi-departmental operation on the mainland, an action that could only be authorized by the Executive Committee.

At least they had caught this mole, Wu Mu thought. He issued his orders to Liu Fuqing. “Continue interrogating Wang Qisuo. I want to know exactly what intelligence he provided to Shi Weng. I want every detail, compiled into a report for submission. Have Si Maqiu and Zhuo Yifan regained consciousness?”

“They are still receiving treatment.”

“As soon as they can withstand it, begin the interrogations. The same goes for all the captured terrorists. Upgrade the security level on all of them. I want every last scrap of information. I want them picked clean.”

“Yes, Director!”

The phone rang. Wu Mu picked it up. It was Zhao Manxiong’s secretary. “The Director wants to see you. Immediately.”

“Right. I’m on my way.” Wu Mu gathered his materials. For his subordinates, this was a time for celebration, for promotions and commendations. For him, however, there would be no such reprieve. He knew there were many in the Senate eagerly waiting to see him fail.

---

Zhao Manxiong scanned the brief, then looked through the materials Wu Mu had brought. After a long silence, he placed the file on his desk.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Deputy Director.” Wu Mu knew the pleasantries were over. Unearthing Wang Qisuo was a victory, to be sure, but for the Senate, it was a different matter entirely.

“Unfortunately, our victory is an imperfect one,” Zhao Manxiong said.

“I’m aware.”

“We can only say that we were lucky. Otherwise, the problems we’d be facing now would be ten times worse. In that respect, I truly have Qian Shuiting’s American-style education to thank…”

“The incident on the Ogura was, strictly speaking, a failure of our security detail system…”

Zhao Manxiong shook his head. “Ah, Little Wu, our security detail system has its flaws, but is our political security work without fault? We can’t sidestep our responsibility here.”

A chill ran down Wu Mu’s spine. He said, “I am prepared for the consequences of this affair. Just as I said I would be from the beginning.”

“The truth is, our work is amateurish,” Zhao Manxiong said, ignoring his subordinate’s declaration. He rose and began to pace the office. “And it’s not just the naturalized citizens. We ourselves are amateurs. In the coming days, there will undoubtedly be calls within the Senate to restructure our agency…”

“The Political Security Bureau must not be dismantled or merged!” Wu Mu said, his voice sharp with alarm. He knew there had long been a faction in the Senate that wanted to absorb their functions into the national police.

“No, the Executive Committee will not allow the Political Security Bureau to be merged with the National Police. A certain faction of Elders will not agree to it either.” Zhao Manxiong seemed confident on this point. “How familiar are you with Guangzhou?”

“Not very.” Since joining the Political Security Bureau, aside from a few inspection tours of the counties in Hainan and Taiwan, he had never left Lingao.

“I suggest you start familiarizing yourself with the Guangzhou files. Now.”