34. The Mysterious High-Ranking Official

Amidst the infectious, rhythmic tempo of the upbeat music, Zhou Hongyi began to sway his hips. He even kicked off his leather shoes, dancing barefoot with a relaxed, daring style as he circled around Manyu.

He was performing the iconic twist from the film *Pulp Fiction*. The dance was simple yet incredibly spontaneous and addictive. It was said that in North America, some people would dance until they were so exhausted they collapsed on the floor. The essence of the twist lies in the core—the waist and hips—using rapid, fluid movements to capture the rhythm.

As Zhou Hongyi displayed his novel and bold dance moves, Manyu’s lips parted slightly. Her initial surprise quickly gave way to amusement; she kicked off her high heels and joined him, her delicate, pale feet twisting on the floor.

Soon, other guests followed suit. To the backdrop of R&B, everyone let loose, dancing however they pleased—technique didn't matter, only the rhythm did. There were no strict rules; it was all about spontaneity.

Seeing the atmosphere in the dance hall reach its peak, "Bodhi" picked up his coat, donned his hat, and slipped out of the ballroom unnoticed by anyone. He had already retrieved a note from the lighter Zhou Hongyi had left for him and was prepared to head to the shop Zhou owned to discuss serious business; the dance hall was certainly no place for that.

As for Chen Gong, the man with the bushy beard, he remained in the corner. Though he didn't join the dance, he couldn't help but bob his head to the melody like a chick pecking for grain.

While dancing, Zhou Hongyi caught a glimpse of the private room on the second floor. He saw Colonel Shimazu standing there with a mysterious man in casual clothing, seemingly pointing in his direction and whispering.

Zhou had staged this performance for two reasons: to get close to Manyu and to attract the attention of the man upstairs. Now that his goal was achieved, he retreated from the dance floor, sat at the bar, and ordered a drink, claiming he was too tired to continue.

He had barely sat down when a young man approached and whispered, "Mr. Zhou, Mr. Shimazu requests your presence in the private room on the second floor."

Manyu, her cheeks flushed and skin glistening with sweat from the dance, took a sip of her drink. After exchanging a few words with Zhou, she headed backstage to change, as her dress was already soaked through.

After saying goodbye, Zhou Hongyi followed the bodyguard-like man to the second floor and entered the room.

"Hahaha, Zhongliang, I didn't expect to run into you here! That dance was quite spirited—I didn't realize you were also a fan of Miss Manyu."

As he entered, Zhou saw Colonel Shimazu, sporting his signature small mustache. He was dressed in a wide-sleeved hemp robe, loose trousers, and comfortable cloth shoes. To anyone who didn't know him, he looked nothing like the head of the Special Higher Police intelligence unit.

Zhou Hongyi feigned surprise and widened his eyes. "Teacher, what are you doing here?" Having studied Japanese under Shimazu years ago, he addressed the Japanese officer as "Teacher" in private.

Shimazu introduced him to the other man with evident pride. "Hasegawa-kun, this is my student I told you about, Zhou Zhongliang. Mr. Hasegawa is an old friend of mine, visiting Shanghai with the Ministry of Finance to scout investment opportunities and establish a new chamber of commerce. What do you think, Zhongliang? Are you interested?"

While Shimazu spoke, Zhou Hongyi used his "Eye of Insight" to uncover the true identity of the man named Hasegawa. This middle-aged man with a round face and round glasses was a procurement officer for the Japanese Ministry of Finance. Though he wasn't a military officer with the authority to command troops, he held immense financial power. Who doesn't want to befriend a god of wealth? Even in their internal power struggles, everyone tried to curry favor with Hasegawa.

Several tags appeared above the man's head, catching Zhou's interest. One was "Procurement," and the other was an ongoing mission: "Transporting Supplies."

Since the man wasn't in a state of panic or fear, the information Zhou could glean was limited. As it was their first meeting, he couldn't jump straight into sensitive topics, so he followed Shimazu’s lead, exchanging pleasantries. However, a flash of inspiration hit him as he remembered the persistent Zhongtong assassin downstairs.

"Teacher, Mr. Hasegawa, I didn't expect to see you both here today, but I discovered something downstairs that, coupled with your presence, causes me some concern."

As a spymaster, Shimazu was hypersensitive. His smile vanished instantly. He signaled his bodyguard to guard the door before asking, "What did you discover, Zhongliang?"

Zhou replied with a grave expression, "I saw a man in the restroom. He was acting suspiciously and looked nervous. I observed him while washing my hands and noticed calluses on his hands consistent with someone who has practiced shooting for years. Even in the ballroom, he didn't remove his long trench coat, and his right hand remained constantly in his pocket. It made me wonder if he was clutching a weapon."

"Zhongliang, are you saying... there is a gunman in the Paramount today? Have you identified him?"

Zhou shook his head. "I'm not sure, but I can confirm he isn't police or from the No. 76 branch; they wouldn't be this tense. After you sent for me, I couldn't help but link this to you two, as he kept glancing toward the second floor."

Shimazu and Hasegawa exchanged a look. Shimazu whispered, "Your discovery is crucial. Mr. Hasegawa, for safety's sake, we should leave immediately. Don't worry—I will identify the assassin at once. As for what we discussed, let’s talk tomorrow at my office. Zhongliang, accompany me to escort Mr. Hasegawa out."

Zhou was more than happy to oblige. He walked to Hasegawa’s side and took his arm; the tags above the man's head fluctuated in response to the news. By dropping this "bomb," Zhou forced Hasegawa to speculate on the assassin's motives himself. It was a trick he’d learned from *Inception*: if you want someone to think of an elephant, tell them not to think of one.

Upon hearing that an assassin was targeting him, Hasegawa’s internal composure faltered. Though his face remained calm, the tags above his head betrayed him: *Penicillin, machine guns, mortars, transport routes, land and sea... the cargo is being delivered to the Japanese troops surrounding Qingdong as military supplies to suppress the guerrillas?!*

Zhou Hongyi mentally logged the intelligence. Surrounded by other Japanese spies, he escorted Hasegawa from the second floor to the main hall. He spotted the Zhongtong assassin—now marked with a red tag—at a glance. The assassin had originally been targeting Manyu, but after Zhou’s manipulation in the restroom and the sight of the mysterious man in traditional Japanese attire, his nerves were frayed.

Zhou had signaled him to wait for his cue. With the ballroom crowded, it was the perfect time for an assassination and a quick escape. Zhou made brief eye contact with the gunman through the crowd. As he walked past a woman, he deliberately pinched her rear.

The woman was fiery; she screamed and, turning around, saw Shimazu’s lecherous face and slapped him. Before her hand could connect, a Japanese spy grabbed her wrist.

"Ah! A pervert pinched me!"

The woman screamed in pain, then kicked the spy in the shin. Her dance partner, clearly not one to be trifled with, called out, and six or seven men swarmed over, blocking their path.

"Baka! Get out of the way!" The bodyguards, already on edge, were furious and drew their pistols on the approaching men.

The scene sent the other guests into a panic, especially the women, who began screaming and scrambling for cover. As they fled, the Zhongtong assassin was exposed.

When the assassin locked eyes with Zhou, Zhou subtly shifted half a step to the side, as if afraid of being caught in the crossfire. The assassin decisively pulled a small pistol from his pocket and squeezed the trigger.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

The shots rang out, and the Paramount exploded into chaos, like a firecracker thrown into a chicken coop.