7. Safe Evacuation

As the agents opened fire toward the river, Zhou Hongyi had already slipped into a kitchen at the back of an alleyway. Moments earlier, while hidden in the enemy’s blind spot, he had thrown a stone into the river. Taking advantage of the distraction, he tore off his false beard, replaced it with a small mustache, removed his glasses, and took off his trench coat. Then, with bold confidence, he strode out.

Hu Junhe, director of Section 2, Unit 76, faced not only failure but heavy losses today. Of the sixteen men he brought along, seven were killed and three wounded by a single adversary. Most troubling was that they barely caught a clear look at him—only that he wore a trench coat, a fedora, had a full beard, and glasses. The civilized baton he held was tossed aside; what remained was a fairly ordinary silver-inlaid cane with no special features.

What truly unnerved Hu Junhe was the opponent’s marksmanship. Forgetting about precise shooting, he had seen sharpshooters who never missed a target, but this was different. The confrontation took place in cramped kitchens and alleyways, mostly close quarters and guerrilla-style fighting.

The way the enemy held his gun was peculiar and lightning-fast. Usually, before they could even raise their weapons to aim, the adversary would fire from strange positions—drawing the trigger from the waist or under the hip—with a rapid-fire cadence. Reloading took but a blink of an eye, a technique Hu Junhe had never heard of or seen before.

“This can’t go unreported. The director must know—this must be a high-ranking undercover agent within the Red Party. Uncovering his true identity would be a major achievement!”

Hu Junhe stopped dwelling on the losses and immediately ordered his men to remove the bodies and clean the scene. Then he returned to the café to interrogate the manager carefully.

Before he reached the café, he noticed smoke billowing from the second floor. Alarmed, he shouted, “We’ve been deceived!”

Rushing upstairs, he found an iron bucket filled with paper documents completely reduced to ashes. Furious, he threw his hat to the ground. “Everyone in this café is a suspect! Send for reinforcements! I want all information about the café owner. Issue a city-wide manhunt. This is clearly a Red Party underground contact point.”

Meanwhile, as Hu Junhe’s men fought fiercely with Zhou Hongyi in the alley, “Bodhi” had already secured critical intelligence and was escaping safely along the rooftop escape route.

Walking briskly down the street, Zhou glanced at his watch—it was nine in the morning. He needed to get home quickly, lest his sister discover he wasn’t in bed.

Having activated both his Insight Eye and Gunfire Mode, Zhou was beginning to feel dizzy, his head pounding and chest tight. His vision blurred, and the passersby on the street appeared doubled.

Fighting to stay upright, he hailed a rickshaw and gave the address of the street just one block away from the garden villa.

The rickshaw pulled swiftly, but Zhou slumped against the back and soon fell into a doze.

“Sir? Sir? We’re here, wake up.”

The rickshaw driver’s voice stirred Zhou. He paid double the fare, unsteady on his feet as he climbed down.

He couldn’t let the rickshaw take him to the villa’s front gate—it would alert the “Shepherd Dog.” Instead, he planned to approach from the back iron fence, toss out the dried meat he had prepared earlier, and stealthily climb back in through the second-floor window.

At the same time, Zhou’s sister, Zhou Pan’er, had already risen and nearly finished breakfast. Glancing upstairs at her brother’s room, she said, “Wang Ma, don’t disturb the young master. Take his clothes down to wash. He looks worn out—surely he hasn’t had time to care for himself. But be careful not to wake him.”

“Understood, Madam,” Wang Ma replied and headed upstairs.

She gently turned the door latch, only to find it locked. Unfazed, she pulled out a set of keys, tried a few, and quietly opened the door.

Just as she tiptoed in, the bedsheets on Zhou’s bed fluttered softly to the floor, stirred by a gentle breeze.

“Oh dear, the young master sleeps with the window wide open.”

Muttering to herself, Wang Ma moved to close the window before turning to retrieve his dirty laundry.

“Hmm... Wang Ma, what are you doing here? Looking for something?” Zhou suddenly turned over and rubbed his eyes.

Startled, Wang Ma blushed. “Sorry to disturb you, young master. Madam sent me to take your dirty clothes down for washing but told me not to wake you. It’s my fault for causing a fuss and interrupting your rest.”

Zhou yawned. “What time is it now?”

“Just after nine, young master.”

“Nine? Well, I’ve slept enough. Time to report to the station. Here’s the plan—heat up some rice for me, and I’ll take my dirty clothes down myself. Thanks.”

“Right away, young master.” Wang Ma began to leave, but Zhou called after her, “Also, Wang Ma, don’t enter my room without permission—not even to clean or do laundry. You know I’m a police officer now. I keep many work-related things here. If anything leaks, you’ll be the first suspect. Understand?”

Wang Ma shivered but forced a smile. “I... I wasn’t thinking, young master. It won’t happen again, never again.”

She knew Zhou’s identity and who the lady of the villa’s man was—a notorious spy chief and traitor. Though the mistress treated the servants well, as Zhou said, if she entered his room uninvited and something went missing, he might shoot without hesitation. Where could she appeal then? Today’s events had already been too careless.

Wang Ma hurried out, cautiously closing the door behind her. Only then did Zhou slide off the bed. His trench coat and shoes were still neatly in place—if anyone saw, his cover would be blown.

“That was close—a hair’s breadth away. Too thrilling,” Zhou muttered, patting his chest.

He tidied up the spare trench coat and hat he’d tossed under the bed, locked them back in the metal trunk, changed into his black police uniform, washed up, and headed downstairs.

“Zhongliang, did Wang Ma wake you? Sorry, I shouldn’t have had her wash your clothes so early. You should have rested more.”

His sister felt guilty seeing him up so early after his late return the night before.

Zhou smiled, massaging her shoulders from behind. “It’s fine. Did you want me to sleep until noon? I was already awake, and I’m hungry. After eating, I need to report to the station.”

After the playful massage, Zhou sat down at the table. Wang Ma brought breakfast, whispering to herself, “That’s strange—the dogs in the yard are all crowded in the corner eating. Who fed them?”

Zhou stuck out his tongue in amusement and changed the subject. “Wang Ma, this fish porridge tastes great today.”

Flattered, Wang Ma beamed and quickly dropped the odd behavior of the shepherd dogs from her mind.

As Zhou ate and chatted with his sister, he finished, gathered his things, and set out for the police station.

Today he rode a bike from the yard, enjoying the breeze all the way.

By the time Zhou arrived at the station, it was already 10:30 a.m., and the atmosphere inside was tense.

“Have you heard? Director Hu from Section 2, Unit 76, personally came to the chief with an investigation order. Their capture mission this morning on Suzhou Road failed miserably. Over ten men went out, seven were killed and three wounded by a single adversary. They didn’t even get a good look at him—terrifying.”

“That’s incredible! Is he a Red Party underground agent? How did he manage that? Machine gun fire?”

“No machine guns. I eavesdropped outside just now. It was only one man with a pistol. His shooting and movements were amazing. The Unit 76 agents didn’t dare show their faces—any exposure meant a bullet. He must be a high-level spy within the Red Party. I heard Director Ding of Unit 76 was furious and immediately ordered a city-wide wanted poster.”

Zhou rolled his eyes inwardly—they were talking about him. Still, his brother-in-law had acted quickly; the wanted notice was already out. He was curious to see how they had depicted him on the posters.