Chapter Eighty-One: An Unexpected Bestowal of Honors

But what shocked him most was that the note was signed “Shadow”! Lu Ming’s code name was “Shadow,” a code name that had originally belonged to Comrade Boran. After Boran’s sacrifice, Lu Ming took it on. The secrecy of this code name was extremely high—at present, aside from himself, only the head of the Nanjing Provincial Party Committee knew it, as both he and Lu Ming were intelligence agents directly under the Committee’s first secretary, with very high clearance. None of the other underground contacts knew this code name at all. How could this messenger have known?

The only explanation was that Lu Ming himself must have told the messenger. There could be no other way to account for it. Could it be that Lu Ming had secretly recruited this person? Yet he himself was Lu Ming’s sole contact, his comrade for many years, arguably the person Lu Ming trusted most. Why, then, had Lu Ming never mentioned this person to him?

He forced himself to suppress his grief and set the note aside, then checked the other items in the box. There were a dozen gold bars and several bundles of cash—likely Lu Ming’s last savings. Though Lu Ming’s position in the Finance Ministry wasn’t the most lucrative, it wasn’t without its perks either; the gray income from social dealings was considerable. Yet he had turned almost all of it over to the organization to fund its activities. What remained was kept as a reserve for emergencies.

He recognized the red cloth pouch—he had seen it at Lu Ming’s side many years ago. Inside were two vividly colored Yuhua stones and a photograph of Lu Ming’s late wife, who had died years before. He knew the story of these two stones: when Lu Ming and Huilan pledged themselves to each other, Lu Ming couldn’t afford a proper gift, so together they dug up two Yuhua stones, exchanging them as tokens of their love. Simple as the gifts were, they brimmed with romance. After Huilan’s death, Lu Ming had treasured the stones and never shown them to anyone again. To Lu Ming, they were as precious as life itself—no one but his most trusted confidant could have known about them.

Gazing at these items, Xia Deyan pondered deeply. The objects only confirmed his judgment: this messenger must be the person Lu Ming trusted above all others. The messenger knew Lu Ming’s identity, code name, and most private possessions—most crucially, he knew Xia Deyan’s own cover. No one but Lu Ming could have told him these things; these were secrets only Lu Ming possessed.

Of course, there was one other possibility: that Lu Ming hadn’t been killed on the spot but captured instead, and under torture had revealed everything. If it were any other underground intelligence agent, Xia Deyan wouldn’t dare swear by his loyalty. But this was Lu Ming—a hardened warrior, tempered by war and the harshest tests of the White Terror. His comrades and even his beloved had perished under Nationalist bullets; he bore a blood feud with the regime. Anyone else might betray the revolution and their faith, but not Lu Ming. If he had turned traitor, it would have been Nationalist agents who showed up, not this quiet messenger.

This only strengthened his conviction: the messenger must be someone Lu Ming had recruited and trusted implicitly. If Lu Ming had kept him secret, there must have been a reason. But why had the messenger signed as "Shadow"? Could he be the successor Lu Ming had chosen for his code name? Yes, that must be it! Old Lu had hidden a chess piece so well that, with Lu Ming’s sudden death and no one left to vouch for him, the link between this agent and the organization was broken. Otherwise, the messenger wouldn’t have delivered the message in such a roundabout way; he knew Xia Deyan wouldn’t trust him if he came directly.

Who could this person be? Xia Deyan racked his brains. He stared at the gold bars and cash—an enormous sum for any individual, enough to change the course of an ordinary life. To hand it over to the organization selflessly, untouched by greed, spoke to the messenger’s character. And anyone Lu Ming trusted to handle his final affairs would be above reproach in this regard.

He looked again at the note. The writing was impeccable, each stroke of Song typeface strong and vivid, especially the signature—"Shadow"—written in a single, flowing brushstroke, graceful and lively as drifting clouds and flowing water, remarkably beautiful. Clearly, this was a person of high learning; the calligraphy alone attested to that. In these times, so few in China had the chance for an education; even basic literacy marked someone as an intellectual. To possess such handwriting, the messenger must have received higher education—precisely the kind of talent the Red Party most urgently needed.

Yet one mystery remained: how did this person know the details of Lu Ming’s contacts, Zhang Pei’s betrayal, and Lu Ming’s death? Such detailed intelligence was impossible for an outsider to obtain. Unless Xia Deyan could unravel this, he couldn’t fully trust the messenger. If only he knew the man’s true identity! Ah, Old Lu, what a riddle you’ve left me!

After handling the matter, Ning Zhiheng returned to the Military Intelligence Department the next day. As soon as he reached the office, he saw Shi Hong beaming with excitement, chatting loudly with Wang Shucheng.

“What’s got you two so happy? Let me in on it!” Ning Zhiheng asked with a smile, seeing their lively discussion.

As soon as Shi Hong and Wang Shucheng spotted Ning Zhiheng, they rushed over eagerly. “Captain, you don’t know yet—you and the team leader have to treat us to a meal!” Shi Hong exclaimed.

Ning Zhiheng was momentarily puzzled, but quickly caught on. “The case is closed?” he asked.

Shi Hong nodded, grinning, “Early this morning, Team Leader Wei got notice: at ten o’clock there’s a victory celebration in the South Hall. The team leader and you are the top contributors. I heard even Brother Hong is getting promoted a rank—our Third Action Team is really making a name for itself! Oh, and the team leader wants you in his office as soon as you arrive!”

Ning Zhiheng was delighted. After all their hard work, they were finally reaping the rewards. He hurried to Wei Liangbi’s office. Though Wei Liangbi maintained an air of calm, the excitement and joy in his eyes were unmistakable.

“Zhiheng, the director just called—at ten we’ll have a celebration. You and I are the primary honorees; there’ll be promotions and new ranks! Haha, since you’ve joined the Intelligence Department, everything’s gone my way, smooth sailing!” Unable to contain his joy, Wei Liangbi grabbed Ning Zhiheng’s arm affectionately.

Ning Zhiheng laughed, “Senior Brother, a major getting promoted to lieutenant colonel is worth a celebration, but what’s there to celebrate for a junior officer like me?”

Wei Liangbi’s lips curled with pride. “You’ve been busy running around these last few days, so I haven’t told you. The director said we’re not only getting promoted this time—we’re being decorated as well!”

“Decorated? Is that true?” Ning Zhiheng’s eyes lit up; he’d never expected this.

At this time, the Nationalist military numbered only about 1.6 million—a far cry from the over three million it would reach after the war began, and the quality of the forces was much higher. Both promotions and decorations were rare and strictly regulated. Unlike later, when the chaos of constant battle and high casualties made promotions and medals more common, at this time, rank was tightly controlled and advancement difficult. The Military Intelligence Investigation Department, for example, held enormous power—overseeing intelligence, personnel vetting, and even the authority to deal with all officers below general rank, as well as controlling key departments like police and military police nationwide. Yet its highest officer, the director, held only the rank of major general.

As for military decorations, they were even rarer, only awarded for truly exceptional merit after careful review by the military and approval from the supreme leader. In short, medals at this time were of exceptional value—anyone who received such an honor was a star among soldiers, the envy of all, the greatest glory in the military.

Ning Zhiheng was amazed. He’d expected a promotion, but to be decorated as well—that was truly a wonderful surprise!