Qingshan

Chapter 33 : Chapter 33

Chapter 33: Walking with Wolves

The herb-scented storeroom felt like some forgotten corner of the world.

I mused silently: The Division Officer role in the Military Intelligence Division is highly confidential. My uncle, able to instruct him to look after me, must be a major figure in intelligence.

But why did my mother marry into the Ning Dynasty’s Chen family? Why was I left here?

The Division Officer, seeing my silence, misunderstood: “You seem to resent your uncle.”

I lowered my eyes, asking ambiguously: “Does my uncle still remember me?”

He dusted his clothes casually: “Don’t talk like that. Back then, in his position, he had to weigh everything. Not taking you to the Jing Dynasty had its reasons—maybe to protect you from harm.”

“Is that so? Is my uncle in a bad spot?”

With the Hundred Deer Pavilion shopkeeper gone, the Division Officer grew talkative.

He said calmly: “Your uncle was framed by petty men and demoted.”

So my uncle’s out of power?

I asked: “When can I return to the Jing Dynasty?”

I felt no loyalty to either dynasty, but anywhere was better than tightrope-walking here.

But the Division Officer said sternly: “You can’t leave yet. Since you’re close to Yunyang and Jiaotu, use that identity well.”

His tone brooked no argument.

I paused long: “Then I’ll follow your orders, Lord Division Officer, and gain their trust.”

He shifted: “Wait… Your intelligence line used Zhou Chengyi’s misspelling method. The Military Intelligence never taught you phonetic segmentation. Where’d you learn it? Why notice Recent Reflections?”

I didn’t know how to answer.

I couldn’t explain to this world’s people that I’d dreamed of being a diplomatic officer, devouring books on intelligence and deduction.

I couldn’t say that seven months ago, I topped the written and interview exams for the Army Foreign Language Academy.

That school, soon renamed the Army Strategic Support Information Engineering University, wasn’t just for languages. Its special recruitment tested more than linguistics.

The Division Officer narrowed his eyes: “Why silent? Who taught you?”

An invisible pressure loomed; I saw him reach for his dagger.

My mind raced, and I said: “My mother taught me.”

“Oh?” His tone didn’t ease. “Didn’t expect her to teach you such things so young… What else? Just phonetic segmentation? That’s too convenient.”

I “recalled”: “She said relying solely on phonetic segmentation risks exposure if someone else knows it. So, she created a new method atop it.”

“Hm?” His interest piqued. “What method?”

I said: “She called it a codebook.”

Finding a jar of medicinal wine, I dipped my finger and wrote on the floor: “柳边求气低，波他争日时。莺蒙语出喜，打掌与君知。”

The Division Officer asked sternly: “What’s this poem for?”

I didn’t answer, writing: “春花香，秋山开，嘉宾欢歌须金杯，孤灯光辉烧银缸。之东郊，过西桥，鸡声催初天，奇梅歪遮沟。”

I explained: “The first poem has twenty characters, each with a unique initial consonant. The second has thirty-six, each with a unique vowel. Number them: the first poem, one to twenty; the second, one to thirty-six.”

He frowned: “How’s it used?”

I said: “With this codebook, to send ‘continue,’ write nineteen-two-seven, fifteen-eleven. Those with the codebook decode instantly; without it, it’s unbreakable. If Recent Reflections used this, even if intercepted, it’s gibberish.”

He praised: “Interesting.”

Codebooks, layered encryption, existed in ancient times, perfected in World Wars. Not foolproof, but in intelligence, one step ahead wins.

His tone softened, trusting me: “Your mother taught well, and you learned well. When she infiltrated the Ning Dynasty, she became Jinling’s famed talent in three years, not just skilled in arts but mastering phonetic segmentation. I’ll report this codebook and Recent Reflections to the Division Lord for your merit. You’re a ‘Sparrow’ spy, right? This earns you ‘Pheasant’ rank.”

I exhaled: I’d gambled right.

I guessed my mother and uncle were Jing Dynasty natives. Her marrying into the Chen family only made sense if she was a spy!

She and my uncle came to the Ning Dynasty; he built the southern intelligence network, while she married into the Chen Mansion for intel.

I changed the subject: “Lord Division Officer, my main task is getting close to Yunyang and Jiaotu. Can you tell me more about them?”

He nodded: “With them, don’t trust a word. They rose by stepping on colleagues’ corpses. They use you today, abandon you tomorrow.”

I asked: “Doesn’t that anger their peers?”

“No. The Secret Spy Division values merit, not feelings. They’re ruthless to their own, worse to us,” he added. “With their ties to the Poison Minister, others might resent but stay silent.”

“Hm?”

“Yunyang and Jiaotu were orphans raised by the Poison Minister, trained over a decade into deathless assassins. They may lack others’ skills, but they kill without hesitation for him.”

I recalled the night Zhou Chengyi died, when they swore on their parents…

The shopkeeper, Yuanming, entered: “Lord Division Officer, it’s arranged. Long Whale meets tonight at…”

The Division Officer snapped: “Slap yourself.”

Yuanming froze, then bit down, slapping himself ten times.

His muffled voice came through the mask: “Intelligence lines don’t share info. Forgot that principle and still want to replace Zhou Chengyi as Luocheng’s Sea Goshawk?”

Yuanming bowed: “My recklessness.”

I said: “Lord Division Officer, I’ll work to get close to Yunyang and Jiaotu, but I have one condition.”

“Speak.”

Staring at Yuanming, I said: “The Military Intelligence must recall everyone who knows my spy identity to the Jing Dynasty, never to return. If I infiltrate the Twelve Zodiacs and someone’s caught, outing me, it’s all for nothing.”

He considered.

Yuanming paled: “Lord, he’s settling a personal score!”

I shook my head: “Not personal. You know my identity. If caught, you’d name me.”

“Never!” Yuanming urged. “Lord, I’ve run Luocheng six years—no one’s better suited.”

The Division Officer paused, striding to a herb box.

He opened it, pulling out oiled paper, spreading it on the floor.

Yuanming turned to flee.

But the Division Officer flashed behind, lifting his bulky frame onto the paper with one hand.

He kicked Yuanming’s knee, forcing him to kneel.

Drawing his dagger, he looked at me: “Today’s interrogation was necessary—don’t take it personally. If it’s a thorn in your heart, I’ll remove it now. Infiltrate Yunyang and Jiaotu with peace—only I, the Division Lord, and your uncle will know your spy identity.”

He gripped Yuanming’s jaw, stabbing his heart: “Yuanming, you embezzled 8,327 taels from Hundred Deer Pavilion in six years. It was for Military Intelligence funds, not your pocket. You’re disloyal.”

Yuanming gasped, speechless.

Twisting the dagger, shredding his heart, the Division Officer raised his fanged mask to me: “Without absolute loyalty, you’re absolutely disloyal, Chen Ji. Remember that.”

I watched silently, knowing I’d now walk with wolves.