A Prophet - Chapter 4 (Part 4)
Chapter 4 - A Female Con Artist Falls in Love with a Military Statistics Bureau Agent
After Xu Huaijin left, Hua Yuerong sorted through her thoughts in the room, then called down a young girl from the downstairs area, whispered a few instructions to her, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and hurried toward Big Awl Alley. About half an hour later, she arrived before the gate of courtyard number 28, tapped softly, and called out, "Mother?"
Before long, an elderly woman emerged with a strip of white cloth wrapped around her forehead, looking severely ill as she spoke cheerfully, "Has my daughter returned?" Then she began coughing violently.
Before Hua Yuerong could speak, the elderly woman exchanged a meaningful glance with her, swept a quick gaze toward the wall outside, and said in a loud voice, "My daughter, just now two kind-hearted people came to our home saying they were your friends. They inquired about my illness and even left some money for us; they truly are wonderful people."
Hua Yuerong's heart skipped a beat. While supporting the elderly woman back inside the house, she asked, "Mother, what kind of friends? What were their names?"
The elderly woman replied, "I asked, but they didn't leave their names. They just said they were your friends and that they would come back to visit me later."
Hua Yuerong said, "Oh, Mother, next time they come, make sure you ask them to leave their names so I know who came."
The elderly woman sighed and said, "That's true, that's true. The two of us have truly run into our benefactors. Your father died young, and both of your older brothers are gone..."
Hua Yuerong said, "Mother, why bring all that up? With your daughter here, everything will get better."
The two of them walked into the room and closed the door. The elderly woman immediately tore the white cloth off her head, and Hua Yuerong offered her a knowing, mischievous smile. The elderly woman placed a finger to her lips and went "Shh—" to signal Hua Yuerong not to be too reckless.
The two of them exchanged a few more mother-and-daughter lines of dialogue inside the room, after which Hua Yuerong went out to fetch dry firewood from the courtyard to build a fire and cook. Wisps of smoke rose from the chimney, curling straight up into the sky before dispersing high in the air.
In truth, during this entire time, Xu Huaijin's agents had been keeping watch and eavesdropping from outside the back wall. Last night, when Hua Yuerong poured out her life story to Xu Huaijin, he had already resolved to run a background check on her. Near daybreak, when the junior agent went upstairs, the few whispered instructions Xu Huaijin gave him were precisely an order to immediately rush to number 28 Big Awl Alley and verify whether the situation matched Hua Yuerong's claims.
Grandfather and Zhang Enrui, being seasoned veterans at setting up scams, had anticipated this move long in advance. They had prepared an older female con artist ahead of time, applied makeup to make her look deathly ill, and bedded her down in courtyard number 28, ready to welcome the agents' arrival at any moment.
Sure enough, just as day was breaking, the elderly con artist heard a knock at the door. Throwing on a coat and feigning illness, she opened the courtyard gate. Seeing two strangers standing there, she was already mentally prepared. Welcoming them into the house, she sighed heavily in response to their inquiries, recounting a family history that matched Hua Yuerong's words down to the smallest detail. Throughout the conversation, she kept coughing incessantly, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth as if she intended to cough her lungs right out. After coughing for a spell, she paused and unfolded the handkerchief. The blood capsules previously tucked inside had ruptured, and in the dim room, the agents were entirely convinced she was truly coughing up blood.
The agents conversed with the elderly woman for a while longer, and finding no flaws in her story, they followed Xu Huaijin's instructions by leaving some money behind. Then, sneaking out to the exterior wall, they staked out the place. Those agents were truly cunning; they wanted to see what the situation would be like when Hua Yuerong returned. As it turned out, Hua Yuerong and the elderly woman performed their mother-and-daughter dynamic so flawlessly that the two agents felt completely reassured and returned to report back.
The reason Hua Yuerong had been startled upon entering the house earlier was simply because she hadn't expected Xu Huaijin's agents to arrive so swiftly; she hadn't even noticed when Xu Huaijin managed to brief them. For a con artist, this was a fatal mistake. Con artists could never afford to miss a single glance or gesture from their opponents. A wave of confusion washed over Hua Yuerong, and she muttered to herself, "What is wrong with me?"
The elderly woman asked, "What do you mean, what's wrong?"
Hua Yuerong started slightly, "Oh, nothing at all."
That night, Hua Yuerong returned to Fengming House. Having already informed Zhang Enrui and Grandfather of the situation through the bound-foot messenger, she prepared to rehearse the next steps of the plan—what to say, what to do, how to fleece the target, and how to close the net. Every single step played over and over in her mind. Not a single patron dared to come upstairs to bother her anymore, because before leaving, Xu Huaijin had tossed a massive stack of banknotes to the procuress, instructing her, "Flower Girl is exclusively mine."
Late into the night, Hua Yuerong grew tired. Picking at a few bites of food, she unfastened her outer garments and lay down on the bed, wanting to sleep yet unable to do so, leaving her to stare blankly into space. Xu Huaijin's image kept flashing before her eyes. He was genuinely handsome and imposing—a top graduate of the Whampoa Military Academy, with a straight posture and impeccable manners. As her thoughts drifted, Hua Yuerong couldn't help smiling to herself, though she suddenly caught herself, a look of sorrow replacing her smile. She knew full well that she was merely a con artist, a thoroughbred swindler, while Xu Huaijin was her mark, her adversary. This entire enterprise was a scam, a play, and the curtain would inevitably fall and scatter the audience.
By the next evening, after finishing her meal and freshly dressing in her boudoir, Hua Yuerong heard the procuress's loud, shrill cry from downstairs: "Oh my, the officer is here! Flower Girl is waiting for you upstairs! Hurry on up, please!"
Following that came the rapid clatter of military boots ascending the stairs. Hua Yuerong hurriedly opened her room door, and Xu Huaijin strode in. Meeting after a separation felt as long as three autumns; Xu Huaijin smiled faintly and said, "Miss Yue'er."
Hua Yuerong replied with eyes brimming with tender affection, "Section Chief."
Just as Hua Yuerong was about to invite Xu Huaijin inside, he waved a hand. "No rush, Miss Yue'er." With that, he turned, removed his gloves, and reached out to the agent behind him, saying, "Hand it over."
An agent stepped forward to hand a gorgeous bouquet of flowers to Xu Huaijin. Holding the flowers with both hands, Xu Huaijin raised them before Hua Yuerong, gazed intently into her eyes, and said with deep emotion, "Happy birthday, Miss Yue'er. May your youthful beauty never fade, and may you always remain as gorgeous as you are today."
Hua Yuerong was struck dumb by the scene before her. Following the Xinhai Revolution, although Western learning had spread eastward and the populace grew increasingly romantic, such Westernized romantic gestures were mostly played out by great literary talents like Xu Zhimo or Xu Beihong. Seeing a Military Statistics Bureau secret agent pull off something like this was truly a rare sight! Having grown up in poverty and deep within the opera troupes in her early years, Hua Yuerong had only ever learned from theatrical scripts about the covert, restrained loves under chess boards, like Zhang Sheng and Yingying—she had never experienced such a grandiose and passionate display in her life.
Tears welled up in Hua Yuerong's eyes, and for a moment she didn't know what to say. She timidly accepted the bouquet of flowers, her face flushing crimson as she whispered softly, "Please come in, Section Chief!"
Xu Huaijin instructed the agent and the procuress behind him, "Both of you step back down. Without my orders, no one is allowed to disturb us!"
Once inside the room, Hua Yuerong threw herself directly into Xu Huaijin's embrace, and the two held each other tightly. Xu Huaijin then retrieved a small box from his pocket, opened it to reveal a jade bracelet carved with dragon and phoenix patterns, and said to Hua Yuerong, "Before I applied for the Whampoa Military Academy, my mother handed this to me just as I was leaving. She told me to give it to her future daughter-in-law, and now I have found her."
Hua Yuerong gazed affectionately at Xu Huaijin, murmuring, "Section Chief."
Gently pulling Hua Yuerong into his arms, Xu Huaijin said, "I've already sent someone to check on your mother. From now on, I will care for her elderliness alongside you. You will never have to worry about your livelihood again."
Hua Yuerong buried her face in Xu Huaijin's shoulder and let tears fall. At that very moment, how she wished she were genuinely a courtesan.
According to the arrangements laid out by Grand Master Zhang Enrui, unless absolutely necessary, Hua Yuerong was not required to surrender her chastity. She could have followed the plan by using her three-year filial mourning period for her father as an excuse to escape tonight's tribulation, but she changed her mind. She took the initiative to untie her garments...
Later, after Hua Yuerong passed away and Zhang Enrui sent someone to clear out her belongings, they discovered a piece of paper beneath her pillow. It was a small-script letter handwritten by Hua Yuerong herself, which could be considered the innermost monologue of her soul. She wrote:
To the General, My Dearest:
Your humble concubine is of lowly birth and born in an unfortunate era. I had intended to muddle through my days and end this life quietly, yet heaven in its pity granted me the chance to meet the General. The General is full of majestic vigor and has treated me with boundless grace. Having obtained the General, how could I ask for anything more? I have drifted for two decades, enduring every hardship, possessing neither father nor mother, bound by no ties—yet ever since meeting the General, I have finally come to know the true flavor of womanhood!
I am a con artist of the lowest rank, deeply mired in the evil paths of the underworld. From the moment I met the General, I deployed every trick of deception. The General was caught in the scam, while I was lost in a dream. As the General's affection for me deepened by the day, the pain in my heart grew proportionally. When the General advanced, my heart shattered. Now, the General remains trapped in the scam, but my dream has already awakened. How I wish I could linger in that dream forever!
I do not resent heaven, nor do I blame fate. Having won the General's love, this lifetime is complete! Mandarin ducks are always destined for sorrowful partings, and since ancient times, the deeply affectionate mourn separation. I shall soon depart this mortal realm! The General shall live as a man in the world of the living, while your concubine shall become a ghost in the netherworld. From this day forth, we are separated by the realms of yin and yang, each surrendering to the decree of fate. The human body turns to clear wind and mud like clay, and when people die without passion, the flowers fall away. In life I was not master of my own body, but where shall my soul find peace after death? I yearn only for the General, and even through nine deaths I shall never forget!
Words cannot fully convey my thoughts, and my thoughts cannot fully capture my feelings. I pray that you will take good care of yourself, my lord, while I linger behind with reluctant longing.
Your Concubine Yuerong
Written at the Hour of Chou on the Bingchen Day
She addressed this agent as the General, and every word dripped with genuine, profound affection. Truly, the silk curtains were warm, the red candles flickered, and a single night of intimate clouds and rain washed away a hundred sorrows; military statistics romance and con artist love—the boundary between true and false no longer mattered.
She knew it herself: this was, after all, a letter that could never be delivered. In truth, she had already died long ago—dying entirely within her own love.