Chapter 3: Assassinating the Emperor (Part Two)

“Dai, have you heard? The sound of artillery yesterday came from the Imperial Residence—someone actually bombarded the palace!”
“What! Yoshihide, where did you hear that? Who would dare to bomb the Imperial Residence?”
“My neighbor’s cousin is a soldier guarding the palace. Yesterday, he told his cousin—my neighbor—that it’s best to stay home these days and go out as little as possible.”
“The Imperial Residence, bombed, this is…”
…
…
…

In the breakfast shop, Li Wensheng listened to the low murmurs of the other patrons, feigning surprise on his face while secretly smiling to himself.
Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps sounded, and all chatter ceased in an instant. The shop fell silent as a squad of soldiers entered.
“Inspection! Everyone, present your residency certificates!” the leading officer, a middle-aged man, barked.
Those who had their certificates hurriedly dug them out of their pockets; those without paled in alarm.
While the soldiers began checking documents, the middle-aged man glanced around and strode over to Li Wensheng.
Due to the conscription, besides Li Wensheng, the shop’s patrons were all elderly, children, or women. He was the only young man—standing out like a sore thumb.
The officer approached, but before he could speak, Li Wensheng had already produced his residency certificate. “Sir!”
The officer took the document, opened it, and his pupils contracted slightly—he hadn’t expected this man to be from the Fujiwara family.
The very name made the officer cautious. He compared the photograph with Li Wensheng’s face, and, once satisfied they matched, returned the certificate.
“Fujiwara, what is your occupation?”
Though the identification was confirmed, the bombing of the Imperial Residence was a grave affair; the officer had to be thorough and could not afford the slightest mistake.
“I was conducting business in China. I only returned to the country a few days ago.”
The officer’s brow furrowed. Doing business in China, returning just days before the bombing, and now present in Chiyoda—it all seemed too coincidental.
“What prompted your return, Fujiwara?”
“I’d been in China a long time and found myself missing my homeland, so I came back to visit.”
The officer’s frown deepened. Ordinarily, with a surname like Fujiwara, no one would question such a reason. But not now.
“Fujiwara, I must trouble you to come with me. Rest assured, once everything is clarified, you’ll be free to go.”
“No problem. I returned out of longing for my country; as long as I’m home, I don’t mind where I go.” Li Wensheng replied with a smile.
The officer glanced back—the soldiers were still busy checking the patrons’ certificates—then took a seat across from Li Wensheng.
“Fujiwara, according to your certificate, you’re from Osaka. Why don’t you have an Osaka accent?” the officer asked, puzzled.

Li Wensheng smiled and switched to the Osaka dialect. “I spent the past two years doing business in China, and rarely met anyone from Osaka, so I’ve gotten used to speaking without the accent.”
The officer relaxed slightly. “What business were you in, Fujiwara?”
“Textiles.”
The officer relaxed further. Japanese businessmen in China were mostly engaged in textiles and shipping.
He proceeded to question Li Wensheng about Osaka customs.
Li Wensheng’s answers were flawless, and the officer was mostly convinced, but ultimately, he escorted Li Wensheng and those without certificates to the gendarmerie.
There was no helping it—Li Wensheng stood out too much in the shop, and his reason for returning was not quite solid. The officer had to send someone to verify his registration before releasing him.
“Fujiwara, you’ll need to stay here for a couple of days. If you require anything, just ask the guard at the door.”
After being brought to the gendarmerie, Li Wensheng’s treatment was quite different from the others. They were detained until their identities were cleared, while he was housed in the dormitories.
“It’s fine. As long as I’m in my country, it doesn’t matter where I am,” Li Wensheng replied.
The officer smiled and turned to leave.
“Oh, Ichiro—may I walk around the premises when I’m bored?”
The officer—Akaishi Shoichiro—paused at the door and replied, “Of course, Fujiwara. As long as you don’t enter the offices, you’re free to go wherever you like.”
“Thank you, Ichiro.”
Akaishi Shoichiro smiled and left. Li Wensheng’s brow immediately furrowed.
“A miscalculation—despite having my certificate, I was still brought here.”
His plan had been to bomb the Imperial Residence first, then trigger an explosion in Chiyoda every day.
With his system’s storage space, he would leave no trace—just as the gendarmes had found no sign of the mortar after yesterday’s search.
No trace, yet daily explosions in Chiyoda would give the impression of a ghostly assassin—unseen, unfathomable, making the district feel unsafe. For his own safety, the Emperor would naturally decide to leave the palace for Tokyo, and Li Wensheng would have his chance.
But now, detained at the gendarmerie, even if he was released in a few days, the plan was ruined.
Only daily explosions would keep the Emperor tense and fearful. If several days passed between incidents, the Emperor would not suspect anything supernatural, would not feel threatened, and would not leave the palace.
“A blunder, alas!”
Li Wensheng sighed inwardly, then began pondering a new plan—how to force that imperial turtle out of hiding.

Two days later—

“Fujiwara, my apologies for the inconvenience. You’re free to go,” Akaishi Shoichiro said, bowing.
In those two days, the gendarmerie had contacted his registration district, confirming there really was a Fujiwara Yasumitsu, who had indeed left two years ago to do business in China.
Once all was verified, Akaishi immediately released him.
“It’s nothing, Ichiro. As I said, I returned out of longing for my homeland—any place here is as good as another,” Li Wensheng replied with a smile.
Akaishi Shoichiro’s eyes filled with admiration. “Fujiwara, you are the most patriotic man I have ever met. Never before have I known someone to leave his business behind and travel so far, all out of homesickness.”
“Haha, you flatter me, Ichiro.
Well then, I must be going—I’ve experienced the gendarmerie, now I’d like to see other places and breathe in the air of my country.”
“Let me see you out, Fujiwara.”
With Akaishi Shoichiro accompanying him, Li Wensheng left the gendarmerie. Once back at his hotel, he packed his things, paid for his recent stay, and checked out.
He then took his suitcase and headed for the red-light district.
Most patrons came to the red-light district to enjoy certain services, but some were simply there for a meal or a bath.
So, when he mentioned wanting a bath and ordered a few dishes, the attendant showed no surprise.
The attendant led him to a bathing room and asked, “Sir, would you like someone to attend to you?”
“Yes, but not anyone old.”
The country’s entertainment trade had a long history.
In fact, its rapid development had been fueled by the industry.
During the Meiji Restoration, the government had legalized and protected the trade for economic growth.
The industry brought in substantial taxes and foreign currency.
At that time, the country even encouraged its women to work in the industry abroad, and the money they sent home contributed to foreign reserves.
With this foreign currency, warships were purchased in large numbers, which was why they were able to defeat the Beiyang Fleet.
Given the industry’s long history, many establishments in the red-light district employed older women.
Though Li Wensheng had no intention of availing himself of the more intimate services—only a massage—he still preferred not to be attended by an older woman.
“Very well, sir. Please wait a moment.”
Soon after the attendant left, a young woman in her twenties entered.
And so, Li Wensheng enjoyed his bath, received a massage, and finally sat down to eat.