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墨書 Inktalez
I clutched the blood-stained Copper Playbill, the roar of the Transport Plane still echoing in my ears. Troupe Leader Zhang lay in a pool of blood on the concrete floor, his electronic watch still flashing—05:00, the red light reflecting off the scattered explosives, reminiscent of Sister Mei's last breath as the Glazed Tile ceiling shattered above her.
"Move quickly!" Boss Lu kicked open a wooden crate marked with "Tea Leaves," revealing neatly stacked Type 38 rifles underneath. Veteran Martial Actor Zhao tore at the hem of his Mongoose Robe, exposing sulfur powder bound to his calf. As the fabric brushed against the rifle stock, a plume of blue smoke mingled with the scent of Hokkaido Cedar: "This batch of arms is coated in Nitroglycerin; be careful not to scrape off the paint while moving them."
Fifteen members of the troupe darted through the shadows of the warehouse, the rustling sound of oil-paper umbrellas mimicking the crisp clatter of an abacus. Xiao Cui, the Opera Starlet, suddenly grabbed my sleeve; her white silk flower was soaked in blood, and the three-edged dart nestled within its center pointed toward the southwest corner's vent: "Twelve police officers are waiting at the alley entrance, and their leader is carrying a Browning."
As the seventh strike of Xu hour's gong echoed, twenty-seven balloons adorned with "Fortune" characters floated out through the warehouse skylight. I watched as the last balloon burst into confetti and suddenly heard the creaking of rusted hinges—the sound of Chief Inspector Chen's crocodile leather shoes grinding over the threshold, with bits of Pear Candy stuck to his shoe tip, remnants from what Mother Wang had peeled for the guards that morning.
"What a grand spectacle," Chief Inspector Chen said, using his gun barrel to lift my collar. The cold metal pressed against my throat as I caught a whiff of cherry blossom ointment lingering on his cuff. "Troupe Leader Zhang is a special commissioner from Nanjing; you are staging a rebellion!"
Boss Lu suddenly burst into laughter, his Jade Mouthpiece striking against an iron box and sparking: "Commissioner Chen, why not check the cargo hold of the Cargo Ship?" His Mongoose Robe revealed part of a Brass Paperweight, its gilded character for "Plum" glistening with a crimson hue under the moonlight. "Twenty-seven bodies of Eastern Wanderers—enough to trade for three ships' worth of Penicillin."
The sound of chains from the Water Torture Chamber was particularly clear at midnight. Chief Inspector Chen swung a salt-soaked whip; as it grazed my collarbone, it sent up a mist of blood: "Speak! Who instructed you to blow up the armory?"
I stared at the winding water stains on the wall; those marks resembled the Defense Map from Hongkou Dojo. When the seventh bucket of ice water splashed across my back, a series of knocks—three long and two short—came from the vent—it was Mother Wang signaling from the laundry room.
"What a sin!" Mother Wang rushed into the interrogation room holding freshly washed police uniforms. The scent of Soap Pod mingled with traces of Nitroglycerin from her sleeves. "Did you see this morning's headline in Shen Bao? Troupe Leader Zhang was caught sending telegrams to the Japanese..."
Chief Inspector Chen's Browning suddenly jammed. His hand froze mid-air as he pulled out his gun; in its reflection lay an issue of Ta Kung Pao drifting in through the window, with a front-page photo clearly showing Troupe Leader Zhang clinking glasses with a Black Dragon Society leader.
"These photos..."
"Were sewn into Costume layers by Sister Mei before she passed." I spat out blood and looked at the yellowed peony embroidery on the edge of the photograph—that was Gold Thread from Mei Lan's bloodied clothing, now glinting coldly under interrogation lights. "Commissioner Chen might want to take a whiff; does this photographic paper carry a sweet and bloody scent reminiscent of Yokohama's sakura cakes?"
As the eighth Ginkgo Leaf fell before the courthouse door, twenty-three reporters packed into the spectator seats. When the Bailiff brought out an evidence box sealed with "Tea Leaves," I suddenly spotted Xiao Cui standing on the second-floor corridor; her white silk flower had been replaced with a Red Camellia.
"The defendant is not guilty!"
At the moment the hammer struck, Mother Wang stood up from the spectator seats with a basket of vegetables. The pear peels spilling from the bottom of the basket spiraled out, forming a path leading to the French Concession and the New Warehouse.
Boss Lu's Jade Mouthpiece suddenly erupted, scattering jade shards that traced seven arcs in the sunlight—this was the signal for the Dark Arrow Order to summon the death warriors.
The copper buttons on the Bailiff's uniform began to tremble.
I counted the drops of pear juice seeping through the cracks in the tiles. When the tenth drop fell onto the blue brick with its "Shen" pattern, three shadows of Transport Planes suddenly swept across the courthouse dome—the Rising Sun Flag beneath their wings aligned perfectly with Chief Inspector Chen's Gilded Emblem at his collar.
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