Chapter 25: Master Jie’s Sword

Song Yingge knew Dai Li too well; had Dai truly been furious, he would not have displayed such a demeanor.

After Dai Li took control of the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics, a classmate from the Whampoa Military Academy once came to him seeking employment. Dai hosted a banquet to welcome him warmly. During the meal, the classmate repeatedly brought up Dai’s embarrassing past, bluntly remarking that he had been entirely unremarkable during their time at the academy. Dai listened with a cheerful smile, appearing completely indifferent. However, after the meal, he gave the man some travel money and had his subordinates escort him away immediately.

For those in high positions, emotions are often merely a tool. Yet, seeing Dai Li’s expression darken, Song Yingge rose hurriedly. It was not that he was truly afraid, but rather that he was signaling his deference to Dai.

"Director, I was in the wrong. Please punish me," Song said.

"Tell me, where did you go wrong?" Dai Li’s face remained cold.

"I should not have acted on my own initiative," Song replied.

Dai Li’s expression softened slightly. "Tell me the situation. You are not the type to act recklessly."

"Yes." Song Yingge laid out the explanation he had prepared. "When I met Zhao Yaohui, the brother of Zhao Yaobang, he said something that sent a chill down my spine. He said that what one fears most is not the need to offer a bribe, but the inability to deliver it. At that moment, I thought of Zhang Tang from the Han Dynasty."

Song Yingge observed Dai Li’s expression. Seeing no sign of anger, he continued, "Uncle, I am genuinely concerned for you. As the saying goes, 'When the birds are gone, the good bow is put away; when the cunning hares are killed, the hound is cooked'..."

"Shut up!" Dai Li snapped.

"Uncle, please look closely—I did not accept a single cent from Zhao Yaohui," Song insisted.

The anger faded from Dai Li’s face, replaced by a look of contemplation.

"Regarding this matter, simply releasing the man will have little effect," Dai said.

"I have thought of a title for you, Uncle. I wonder if you would like it," Song said.

"Let’s hear it."

"The Sword of the Generalissimo! This title can be spoken through Zhao Yaobang’s mouth, and then we simply need to let it spread," Song suggested.

Dai Li pondered for a moment before replying, "Just this once. Let this be the last time."

The title "The Generalissimo’s Sword" only emerged after the establishment of the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics. Dai Li grew quite fond of it upon hearing it and often used it to brand himself. Yet, upon closer inspection, the title was quite intriguing. Dai Li’s reputation had always been foul, but this moniker provided him with a fig leaf. He was merely a sword; he could not decide where to strike—that was up to the one wielding it. Even more cleverly, the title perfectly demonstrated his absolute loyalty to the Generalissimo.

Even if the Generalissimo felt a bit uneasy about it, he could hardly voice his disapproval.

"Director, this is the tea money Zhao Yaohui asked me to bring you," Song Yingge said, handing a small wooden box to Dai.

Dai Li opened the box, took two gold bars, and tossed them to Song. "Even an emperor doesn't starve his soldiers."

"How could I take this?" Song said, though his hands reached out to catch them regardless.

"Do you know what I like most about you?" Dai Li laughed.

"Everything?" Song replied.

"I like that you know how to crack jokes. There are few people left in the Bureau who dare to joke with me," Dai said with a hint of melancholy.

...

The next day, at the Yangpi Lane Prison:

"The Generalissimo’s Sword? Is it just a sword? No, it is a man, hacking through thorns and brambles for the Generalissimo. Wherever the sword points, even if there are millions, Director Dai will go."

"The Han had Huo Qubing, the Tang had Li Jing—who does the Republic have? Tell me loudly! That's right, it is Director Dai."

...

These words were clearly meant to be flattering, but coming from the mouth of Zhao Yaobang, they carried a distinct hint of mockery. Zhao Yaobang was an expert at cursing, but a true amateur at bootlicking. Fortunately, the effect was achieved. Song Yingge did not have his men spread the rumors; it was better to let it ferment naturally, as being too deliberate would only prove counterproductive.

On the third day, Dai Li ordered the release of Zhao Yaobang.

After Zhao Yaobang returned, the Zhao brothers insisted on treating Song Yingge to a meal. Unable to decline, Song attended the banquet. During the dinner, to express his gratitude, Zhao Yaohui produced five large gold bars for Song, which the latter refused. The Zhao brothers now owed Song Yingge a significant favor.

Zhao Yaohui became even more diligent in handling Song’s affairs, and the very next day, he boarded a train to Shanghai. There were not many ships in Jinling that met Song’s requirements, but there were plenty in Shanghai. Presumably, it would not take many days to purchase a vessel.

After the banquet, it was already late. Instead of going home, Song Yingge went to Xu Zhong’s rented room. Xu had not yet returned. After waiting for over twenty minutes, Xu Zhong finally appeared in Song’s line of sight, limping.

"What happened to your leg?" Song asked with concern.

"Had a bit of a conflict with a transport company," Xu replied dully.

"Do you need me to step in and resolve it?" Song asked.

"No need. Tell me, why did you come to see me?" Xu asked.

"I originally wanted you to take a business trip to Shanghai, but in your current state, you can’t go," Song said. He had too few capable subordinates, and many things could not be entrusted to the men of the Bureau.

"Is it important?" Xu asked.

"It can wait. We'll talk once your injuries have healed," Song said, then added, "Which company did you have a conflict with?"

"You don't need to worry about this; I can handle it," Xu insisted.

"Is this how you're handling it? Don't forget, I am the owner of the transport company," Song said, pointing to Xu’s leg.

Xu hesitated for a moment. "It’s the Caimao Transport Company."

Caimao was a large rickshaw company, owning nearly six hundred rickshaws. Song had heard of them; they had backing.

"Why?" Song asked.

"In the rickshaw business, there are more monks than there is gruel. The good spots are all occupied by the big companies, so small ones have to fight for survival in the cracks. One of our drivers, Feng Hai, was caught pulling passengers in Caimao’s territory. Both sides clashed, and Feng Hai’s hand was broken. I went to their office yesterday to demand compensation and got beaten up for my trouble."

"Did you go alone?" Song asked.

Xu nodded. "There has to be some reason in this world."

Song Yingge rubbed his forehead. He had hoped Xu had made some progress, but he was still acting on impulse. "The one with the biggest fist has the reason. That is true between people, and it is true between nations," Song said.

Xu remained silent.

"Give Feng Hai a hundred yuan. His hand is broken, and he won't be able to pull a rickshaw for several months. His family has lost their livelihood; if we don't help, this winter will be hard for them. As for Caimao, stay out of it. Leave it to me."

Xu said, "Wang Sheng is the boss of Caimao. He was the one who hurt my leg."

Some progress, at least he knew how to report the perpetrator. Song felt a sense of relief.

"If I make him pay you back with two legs, is that enough?" Song asked.

"Plus medical expenses, lost wages, and compensation for mental distress. A thousand yuan total," Xu said.

"I’ll make him pay you two thousand," Song replied.

Xu nodded, saying nothing, but he was deeply moved. He finally understood why the ancients said, "A scholar will die for one who truly knows him."