Chapter Seventy-Nine: Finding the Farmer

Ning Zhiheng carefully stored the dozen small tea canisters and wooden boxes, once again confirming he had left no traces behind. He exited Lu Ming’s house, locked the door, and quickly returned to his own home.

He took out the tea canisters again for a thorough inspection. The tea inside was ordinary—Longjing, commonly consumed by southerners and widely available in Nanjing’s many tea shops. Pouring out the leaves, he found the canisters themselves were made of hardwood, exquisitely crafted, and not common in the marketplace. Yet, their surfaces bore no shop marks or merchant insignias.

Why would Lu Ming buy so much tea for his household? These were certainly not purchased all at once—otherwise, there wouldn’t be so many canisters, each filled separately, which was simply too troublesome. It must be that he bought a single canister’s worth each time. But why would Lu Ming repeatedly buy so much tea?

The answer was obvious: he must have frequented a particular tea shop, buying one small canister of tea each visit. With so much tea, far more than he could consume alone, it was clear his purchases served another purpose, merely a cover for his true intentions.

So what was Lu Ming doing at the tea shop? Meeting with a contact? Exchanging intelligence and news? Yes, that must be it!

Ning Zhiheng felt certain he had found the truth. This contact, “Farmer,” must work at a tea shop—either near Lu Ming’s workplace, his residence, or along his commute. That was quite a wide range. Ning Zhiheng knew the task ahead was considerable, and this time, he could not use any of his men. He would have to undertake this investigation alone, slowly and methodically.

First, he returned to the Military Intelligence Bureau, hurried to the morgue, and quietly replaced the key ring on Lu Ming’s body. Then, he went to Wei Liangbi to request leave, saying that the recent casework had left him exhausted and he needed a couple of days’ rest.

Wei Liangbi agreed readily, but he was no fool; he knew full well Ning Zhiheng was about to take action again. He admonished his junior, “Zhiheng, don’t overdo it. You’ve been chasing underground party leads lately. Our Bureau rarely meddles in those cases—you know the situation, so I won’t say more. If you insist on investigating, go ahead, but those Red Party members are desperate people. Be extremely cautious when dealing with them. Take plenty of men when working outside. Remember, nothing is more important than your own life.”

Ning Zhiheng realized just how shrewd his senior was—clear as a mirror within. It would be difficult to conceal anything. He could only agree repeatedly and promise not to take reckless risks before leaving Wei Liangbi’s office.

He gave a few instructions to Shi Hong, then hurried out of the Bureau.

He first went near Lu Ming’s home, quickly locating several tea shops. At each, he asked for a tael of Longjing, checking if the canister given matched the style he sought. He lingered in each shop, observing everyone inside, but found no one that fit his target.

He then followed the route Lu Ming took to work, screening each shop along the way. At last, in one tea shop, he saw a tea canister on the shelf identical to those from Lu Ming’s home.

His heart leapt. He glanced up; the sign above the shop read “Qingshi Tea House.”

He approached leisurely, pretending to select tea, and said to the attendant, “I’ll take a tael of Longjing.”

The young attendant, seeing Ning Zhiheng enter, hurried forward with a friendly smile. “Certainly, a tael of Longjing—sixty copper coins!”

Ning Zhiheng looked around. The shop was small, with only this attendant serving him. He saw no sign of his target and casually asked, “Business is good?”

“Thanks to you! Business is decent!” The attendant replied as he deftly weighed a tael of tea, packed it into an exquisite small canister, and handed it to Ning Zhiheng.

Ning Zhiheng paid, chatted idly for a moment, and, seeing nothing more of interest, simply turned and left.

He looked at the canister in his hand and nodded silently. It had to be here!

“Farmer” was now a middle-aged man—not likely to be a shop assistant. He was probably the manager or owner of Qingshi Tea House. All Ning Zhiheng needed now was to confirm this in person.

He found a discreet corner nearby, keeping his eyes fixed on the tea house entrance, observing everyone who came and went.

Business at Qingshi Tea House was average; few customers entered or left. Ning Zhiheng saw nothing noteworthy for over an hour. Then, suddenly, he spotted a middle-aged man, dressed in a long robe like a businessman, walking straight into the shop. The attendant greeted him, “Boss, you’re back!”

The man nodded and went directly to the back room.

Ning Zhiheng’s keen eyes caught, in a single glance, that this middle-aged man closely resembled the portrait of “Farmer,” save for differences in clothing and demeanor. The portrait showed Farmer as haggard and anxious, wearing coarse clothes, while this man had the confident face of a businessman, clad in a fine cotton robe.

Nevertheless, Ning Zhiheng was certain: this was the man he sought—Lu Ming’s superior, Farmer. He had finally found him!

In recent days, Xia Deyan’s mood had been anxious. He wasn’t sure exactly why—perhaps because of the quarrel he had with Lu Ming. He had repeatedly urged Lu Ming not to contact his old comrades again; it was simply too dangerous. A contact method from years ago had no guaranteed security, and he knew nothing of the other party’s current situation. He didn’t understand why Old Lu was so stubborn; it was not the behavior of a qualified underground operative.

Perhaps it was because so many comrades had been lost over the years, making Old Lu value every surviving partner all the more. The joy of reconnecting twice had already made Old Lu overlook his own safety.

Ah, Old Lu—so many years a veteran party member, experienced in his work, but his character flaws remained unchanged. Not cautious enough, and especially stubborn. If this continued, trouble was inevitable.

He was genuinely worried about Lu Ming’s safety. Their years of camaraderie were as close as brothers; he truly did not wish to hear of any misfortune befalling Lu Ming.

This time, Lu Ming had gone to reconnect with a lost comrade, and four days had passed with no word. That was highly unusual!

It shouldn’t be this way. If contact had been successful, at the very least Lu Ming would have returned to inform him, so the organization could assign personnel to investigate and verify the comrade—a necessary procedure. Yet today was the fourth day, and still no news.

Could it be...? No, impossible! Old Lu was experienced in struggle; over all these years, he had weathered many storms. He told himself that this time would be no different; Old Lu would return safely.

He paced restlessly in his room, hands clasped behind his back, his anxiety mounting. He forced himself not to inquire at Lu Ming’s workplace.

He knew that if Lu Ming had met with misfortune, the Nationalist Intelligence Service would certainly investigate him. If he rashly appeared to inquire, exposing himself to the enemy’s gaze, the consequences would be dire.

Though it was safer to remain still than to act, doing nothing left him unwilling to wait passively.

What should he do now? No, if there was still no news tomorrow, he must report to the organization and have them investigate through other channels.

Meanwhile, Ning Zhiheng, having confirmed Farmer’s identity, rose and inspected the location and surroundings of Qingshi Tea House, then quickly departed.

He never intended to approach Farmer directly, deliver news of Lu Ming’s death, or hand over the wooden box—for he could not possibly gain Farmer’s trust.

Moreover, from the start, he had never planned to expose himself. Though in his previous life he had been a Red Party member for over a decade, that was in peaceful times, when he need not fear for his life, nor shed blood or sacrifice everything.

But in this life, amid the brutal and merciless struggle, the cost of joining the revolution was extremely high—not something to be done on a whim, or with just a shouted slogan.

He needed to be prepared, mentally, to sacrifice himself at any moment, to give everything for the Party—and that was truly difficult.

Yet his greatest wish in this life, amid the chaos, was simply to protect himself and those around him, so they might safely weather the coming storm of war.

To be honest, he was not yet ready to join the Red Party.