11. The Tragedy of Qingdong

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Zhou Hongyi left Fusheng outside to keep watch while he crouched low, carefully making his way toward the half-collapsed Earth God temple. The path beneath his feet was rugged and uneven, strewn with broken stones and splintered wood. Every step required utmost caution to avoid making noise.

Upon entering the temple, a strong scent of decay and old rot assaulted his senses. The original Earth God statue was long gone, leaving only an empty pedestal standing alone amidst scattered remnants of candle holders—some broken—and shattered bowls covered in dust and spiderwebs. As for the offerings, they had long since been taken, leaving not a trace behind.

Zhou Hongyi glanced around warily. Suddenly, he squatted down and lowered his voice, speaking to the lonely pedestal of the Earth God, “Comrade, I am ‘Four-Faced Buddha.’ The organization sent me to help you. Can you hear me?”

Just as he finished speaking, a faint sound came—a muffled noise of a head hitting a wooden post.

Frowning, Zhou quickly moved aside a piece of peeling wall plaster. Behind it, a terrified face appeared.

It was a young woman, her face smudged with black soot as if scorched by fire, obscuring her original features. Yet Zhou could tell from her build that she was no older than eighteen. Her body trembled slightly, eyes filled with fear and unease.

“Miss, don’t move. I heard you’re injured. Where are you hurt?”

Zhou Hongyi spoke softly, pulling anti-inflammatory medicine from his pocket.

“I... I hurt my arm...”

Her voice was weak, barely audible, showing she was on the verge of both physical and mental collapse.

But Zhou did not rush to help blindly. Instead, he pondered for a moment. “Miss, the Japanese sweep happened in April, but it’s already June. Have you been trapped here for two months?”

“I... I was originally a student at Tongji... After the enemy’s sweep, the school strictly forbade us from leaving... I only escaped last week... Then... I was shot during a search... My brother told me the Earth God temple underground... is very safe...”

Zhou fell silent, knowing full well that although the Qingdong massacre occurred in April, the cunning Japanese returned repeatedly to this area afterward, claiming the sweep was over. They lured hidden civilians out with false promises of compensation, only to massacre them again.

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This young woman must have been one of those deceived—believing the sweep was finished, she returned home to check, only to be ambushed by the Japanese and nearly lose her life.

“Miss, here is some anti-inflammatory medicine. Take it now. There are police everywhere outside, so you can’t leave yet. I’ll come back at night when it’s safe and move you to a secure place.”

Zhou handed her the medicine and lowered his voice again. “Hold on. I’ll bring some food tonight... Remember, before I come, don’t trust anyone. We must establish a secret code between us—when I knock three times outside and ask, ‘Who goes there?’ you answer, ‘Four-Faced Buddha.’”

The young woman nodded vigorously, tears of gratitude glistening in her eyes.

Zhou resealed the entrance, restoring it as much as possible to its original condition, leaving no suspicious traces. Exiting the ruins, he patted the somewhat dim-witted policeman on the shoulder. “You’re called Fusheng, right? From now on, you’re with me. Our Second Precinct Special Operations Unit needs talented people like you.”

“Ah, S-Sergeant... Yes, sir,” Fusheng replied, confused but respectful, unsure what this meant.

“I was wrong to hit you earlier. Once you join the Special Operations Unit, we’re brothers, no need to call me sir—just call me ‘bro.’ I’ve got your back, so don’t worry. Working with me, Zhou Hongyi, I don’t ask for much skill—just one thing: obedience. You do what I say; if I say don’t touch something, you don’t touch it. Got it?”

Zhou’s gaze was serious as he looked at Fusheng.

The simple-minded policeman nodded several times, showing he understood, a sincere smile spreading across his face.

The reason Zhou chose him as his first Special Operations member was simple: he was foolish. Such people are easiest to control. Treat them fairly and show some care, and they may repay you with their very lives. In this treacherous environment, Zhou needed someone trustworthy by his side.

Leaving the half-collapsed Earth God temple, Zhou waved to Captain Xu and the others not far off, shouting, “Nothing found, Captain Xu. Let’s head back. There’s not a scrap of profit here. Look at those refugees—they’re all gaunt and starving. And those higher-ups, why send us to Guanyin Hall while they go to the concession area? That place’s ripe for profit. They probably use the excuse of searching for communists to pocket whatever they can. No good. From now on, such lucrative jobs should come to our Second Precinct.”

His voice carried a hint of dissatisfaction, but his eyes flashed with a subtle hidden meaning.

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Captain Xu Guodong shared his sentiment, spitting on the ground and grumbling, “Exactly. Now that we have Young Master Zhou in the Second Precinct, tell Director Ding to assign more profitable jobs to us. Heh heh—brothers will remember your kindness.”

Zhou patted Captain Xu on the shoulder, a faint, meaningful smile playing at his lips. “No problem, Captain Xu. We’re brothers—sharing fortune and hardship.”

Afterward, he signaled the policemen still searching the ruins to wrap up early.

In truth, Zhou was worried these clueless cops might accidentally discover the temple’s secret tunnel and find the injured girl hidden below. He would have to return at night.

Although these policemen were not much use in combat, they were all eager to scavenge every bit of profit. Even facing starving refugees with nothing, they wouldn’t miss a chance to grab whatever meager possessions they could, adhering to an unyielding principle of never returning empty-handed.

Seeing the hopelessness in the refugees’ eyes struck Zhou’s heart like a heavy blow, as if it bled.

He told Fusheng and Captain Xu to leave first, then crouched as if tying his shoe. Seizing the moment, he slipped a silver coin from his pocket.

Staring at the coin, determination flickered in his eyes. With a light flick of his thumb, the coin traced a silver arc through the air, landing perfectly inside a refugee’s shabby shack.

This was all he could do for these poor souls. His capabilities were limited, but even this small gesture might bring a glimmer of warmth to those trapped amid fire and water.

After witnessing the tragic scene around Guanyin Hall, Zhou was deeply shaken. He finally understood the anger and hatred he had only read about in books before. Returning to the station, he did nothing but quietly settle Fusheng and then rode off on his bicycle to buy more medicine.