Chapter Nine: Making Money

Huang Jun was spineless. By the time he was taken to the interrogation room in Caodu Alley, he gave up without any torture. Along with Huang Jun and his son, a total of eighteen traitors were uprooted.

In the following days, the secret service was busy conducting interrogations. With the confessions and evidence obtained, the verdict was swift: all sentenced to death.

What followed was the eagerly anticipated house raid.

From the confiscated wealth, after handing over a portion, the secret service intercepted most of the rest. Instantly, their funds became plentiful.

“Ying Ge, I have a task for you,” Zhou Weiqiang said with a bright smile.

Song Ying Ge stood at attention and saluted, awaiting instructions.

“The antiques in the Curiosity Shop are now ownerless. Take two men and deal with them,” Zhou Weiqiang said, clearly in a good mood, assigning Song Ying Ge a lucrative task.

Song Ying Ge knew that at his rank, he wasn’t even qualified to dine at the table yet. Zhou was giving him a chance to earn some money in recognition of his hard work.

Everyone likes money, and Song Ying Ge was no exception.

He first asked Sun Xi who in the team knew antiques well. Sun Xi recommended Liu Dazhi.

Liu Dazhi had previously surveilled Song Ying Ge for a while. Naturally, Song remembered him.

The three took a cart and headed straight to the Curiosity Shop.

There were indeed many antiques and curiosities, though Song Ying Ge had little interest.

Liu Dazhi spent half a day appraising each item, eventually estimating their total value at about eight thousand yuan.

Song Ying Ge selected the two most expensive paintings to keep, planning to gift them to Wei Si and Dai Li.

Under Liu Dazhi’s management, the rest were quickly sold to an antique shop near Confucius Temple, netting over seven thousand yuan.

Though not fetching the highest price, the sale was swift.

Seven thousand seemed like a lot, but in reality, it wasn’t.

Dai Li took the lion’s share, and the top and second-in-command of each department also expected their share, as did the group leaders and members who participated in the operation.

In the end, each person received only around forty to fifty yuan, roughly two months’ salary.

Because they handled the transaction, Song Ying Ge and the others earned a bit more: Song got two hundred yuan, while Sun and Liu each received one hundred.

Holding the two hundred yuan, Song Ying Ge felt like crying—after hustling for days, this was all he earned.

Actually, two hundred yuan was not insignificant; it amounted to about ten months’ salary.

But thinking of the department heads at the secret service who did nothing yet took the bulk of the money made Song grit his teeth with resentment.

Seeing Song’s expression, Liu Dazhi whispered mysteriously, “This is just the appetizer.”

“All the antiques are sold. The Curiosity Shop is rented property—where else can we get money?” Song Ying Ge asked.

“This landlord dared to rent the shop to Japanese spies. I strongly suspect he’s colluding with them,” Liu Dazhi said with righteous indignation.

Song Ying Ge’s eyes brightened; this truly was a lucrative opportunity.

“You’re right. We can’t let any villain escape.”

Extortion was beneath Song Ying Ge, but as an undercover agent, he had to learn to blend in and conform.

The landlord of the Curiosity Shop was named He Shili, who owned a dozen or so shops around Confucius Temple and was quite wealthy.

The three quickly located He Shili’s residence by the Qinhuai River—a quiet little courtyard.

They were rather rough, breaking in without ceremony.

“Where is He Shili?” Liu Dazhi shouted.

The house servants hurried to notify him.

He Shili was about fifty, stout, with a ruddy complexion—clearly living comfortably.

“Honored guests, welcome! Please come in,” He Shili bowed politely.

“Is the Curiosity Shop under your name?” Liu Dazhi asked.

“Yes, it belongs to me,” He Shili replied, puzzled.

“Good. That shop is a Japanese spy base. We strongly suspect you’re in league with the Japanese,” Liu Dazhi said.

He Shili’s mind raced. Thinking it was an extortion attempt, he gave a subtle signal to a servant, who quietly slipped out.

The three saw the exchange but didn’t stop it, letting He Shili stall for time.

Five or six minutes later, the servant returned with seven or eight police officers. He Shili greeted them like they were saviors.

Liu Dazhi stepped forward, flashing his credentials before the police. “Secret Service business. Get lost.”

The lead officer stopped, saying, “Sir, there’s a misunderstanding. We came because of a report.”

“Since the misunderstanding is cleared, leave immediately,” Liu Dazhi snapped.

“Yes, sir.”

Within a minute, the officers left in a hurry.

Liu Dazhi sneered at He Shili, “Any reinforcements?”

He Shili collapsed to his knees.

He had heard of the Secret Service—it was a place that devoured people whole.

“Sir, please spare me! I had no idea those people were Japanese spies. If I had ten of their courage, I wouldn’t have rented my shop to them,” He Shili pleaded.

“Save that for prison,” Liu Dazhi said flatly.

“Sir, I’m truly innocent,” He Shili cried.

Seeing He Shili wasn’t cooperating, Liu Dazhi nodded subtly at Sun Xi. Sun Xi understood and said, “I don’t think Mr. He is that kind of person. Maybe there’s a misunderstanding.”

He Shili crawled to Sun Xi, clutching his pants. “Sir, it really is a misunderstanding.”

“We need evidence to solve cases. If you have proof of your innocence, we won’t arrest you. Do you have any evidence?” Sun Xi asked.

At this point, He Shili was a businessman and wasn’t naïve. “I do. Please wait a moment; I’ll fetch it.”

Sun Xi nodded, granting permission.

He Shili went inside, knowing he would have to pay to escape trouble.

He opened a safe and pulled out two large yellow croaker fish, then bit his lip and took out a third.

The three heavy fish were wrapped in cloth.

He Shili smiled ingratiatingly as he handed the bundle to Song Ying Ge, having already guessed that the silent Song Ying Ge was the leader.

“Sir, please judge the weight of this evidence. Can it prove my innocence?”

Song Ying Ge opened the bundle and saw the three yellow croakers. This old man was really splurging. “Not bad. The evidence is sufficient. You’re innocent.”

With the money in hand, they exchanged polite words and left.

Each yellow croaker was worth about twelve hundred yuan in legal currency; three totaled three thousand six hundred yuan—a substantial sum.

Unfortunately, this money also had to be divided.

Song Ying Ge took over five hundred yuan. Adding the two hundred from selling antiques, his total income for the day was over seven hundred yuan.

He was quite satisfied with this.