Chapter 6: "The Gatekeeper"
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Number 1, Honggong Shrine, Headquarters of the Secret Service.
The original base of the Secret Service was the director’s home—No. 53 Jige Lane.
However, as the organization expanded, No. 53 Jige Lane could no longer accommodate the scale. After the closure of the Honggong Shrine Special Training Class, the main base of the Secret Service was relocated here.
Zhang Anping stood at the entrance but did not enter. The agents on duty immediately noticed him and quickly dispatched a few to investigate.
“Who are you?”
Zhang Anping glanced at the agents and smiled, “Just here to buy soy sauce.”
Years later, that phrase would become a joke, but at that moment it was not yet a meme. Still, the agents sensed the teasing tone and immediately said, “I think you’re a spy, huh?”
One of them began to draw his gun, ready to detain him.
This was too much!
Zhang Anping sighed inwardly and, before the agent could draw his weapon, said, “You can notify Captain Zheng Yaoxian or Captain Xu Baichuan and tell them Zhang Anping is here. They’ll let me in.”
Upon hearing this, the agent withdrew his half-drawn pistol, motioned his comrades to keep an eye on Zhang Anping, and went to report the situation.
[This quality is really poor!]
Zhang Anping mused silently.
On his way here, he had grown somewhat disappointed with the current state of the Secret Service.
As a covert organization, it was indeed quiet here, but there were no hidden sentries along the route, and the guards’ professionalism was lacking. For instance, when he deliberately joked, the agents should have responded by trying to get more information from him and signaling others discreetly to prepare for detainment, not just arrogantly pulling out weapons.
A few minutes later, Zheng Yaoxian came running out.
Upon confirming it was Zhang Anping, Zheng smiled, “Anping, little brother, what kind of surprise attack is this?”
Zhang Anping grinned, “Zheng, brother, surprised or delighted?”
“Delighted!” Zheng replied with feigned enthusiasm, then invited him in, “Come with me. You’re here to see the director, right?”
“Finding you, brother Zheng, is the priority,” Zhang Anping said, following him through the Secret Service’s gate. He glanced at the sentries and noticed they hadn’t logged him in, so he smiled and asked, “Brother Zheng, our gate guards don’t seem very professional?”
Zheng sighed, “They were all merged in from the Investigation Department of the Nanchang Military Headquarters Secretariat in ’34. That they’ve lasted this long is due to the director’s strict discipline.”
In 1934, after the “Nanchang Airport Incident,” the Investigation Department of the Nanchang Military Headquarters Secretariat was merged into the Secret Service, instantly increasing its numbers from fewer than 800 to nearly 2,000. But with the influx of personnel came many freeloaders, and it took two years for the Secret Service to digest the mess, though occasional hiccups remained.
After all, compared to the professional agents, the Investigation Department personnel were indeed a bunch of slackers.
Zhang Anping smiled without commenting. He had plenty of suggestions, but as a newcomer, the best choice was to keep a low profile—first get the attitude right, or else it would be suicide.
Not even being the director’s nephew would grant exceptions!
Knowing Zhang Anping was here for the director, Zheng Yaoxian led him straight to the director’s office. After informing the secretary, Zhang Anping was promptly allowed in.
Clearly, this was under the director’s instructions.
Knocking and receiving permission, Zhang Anping entered.
His uncle was reviewing documents, glanced briefly at Zhang Anping, then returned to reading, muttering, “I thought you’d come with your father.”
Zhang Anping, unconcerned, walked to the guest sofa and grabbed the water kettle, “I was afraid it would look bad—people would say I got in through connections.”
He poured water for his uncle, then for himself.
His uncle looked at him with interest. “Hmm? Aren’t you afraid now?”
Zhang Anping sat with legs together, “Reporting, Director, Zhang Shihao at your service.”
Most people would have a heart pierced with holes, but his uncle’s hair was hollow all the way through—he knew exactly what Zhang meant—and immediately laughed:
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“You want to prove yourself? Fine! I’ll satisfy you!”
He pulled out the employment form and quickly signed his name, “Forget the training class for now. Which department would you like?”
Unexpectedly, Zhang Anping said, “Whichever department manages the gate?”
His uncle looked surprised, “The General Affairs Department, Guard Division—you want to watch the gate?”
“First, to get familiar with the place—uncle, I’m going to put on some makeup.”
Zhang Anping took out makeup tools from his bag and tidied himself up. Within minutes, his appearance transformed—worn, mature, with a grown beard that made him look older.
He could pass for thirty easily.
His basic features were well concealed; only those very familiar with him would recognize him.
His uncle watched the quick transformation with amazement, “You didn’t waste your training!”
Zhang Anping stood, “Of course not—Director, I’ll be off now.”
“Remember to give me a report on the Guard Division in a few days.”
“Got it.”
Grabbing the employment form, Zhang Anping left the office. The secretary watched him depart with surprise and disbelief as he headed toward Human Resources.
Next came the onboarding process.
It was complicated, requiring a detailed relationship chart and résumé, all to be verified.
With the director uncle backing him, Zhang Anping boldly fabricated everything.
Because of the director’s signature, no one questioned him—on the contrary, many were curious and discreetly tried to dig into “Zhang Shihao’s” background.
Having trained in communication tactics in the system space, Zhang Anping fabricated a lot of nonsense. It sounded substantial but on reflection revealed nothing.
His credentials hadn’t come through yet, but since he insisted on starting work immediately, Human Resources sent someone to escort him to the Guard Division.
The Guard Division’s chief, Yao Jiangjie, was reading a newspaper.
His rank was not low—major.
But now he was just coasting through retirement.
Before joining the Secret Service, he had been a major in the action squad of the Investigation Department at Nanchang Military Headquarters Secretariat. Although he lacked real power compared to battalion commanders, he was a local leader.
After the Investigation Department merged into the Secret Service, he was sidelined and only managed to secure a position as head of the Guard Division—a largely useless post.
After two years of coasting, he had given up, clocking in and out, drinking tea, and reading newspapers.
Just as he sipped tea and read, a Human Resources officer entered.
Yao Jiangjie quickly stood, offering a welcome and reaching to pour tea.
The officer waved him off, “No need for water—this is Zhang Shihao. He’s assigned to your division. Is that okay?”
“No problem! Welcome, Brother Zhang!”
Yao Jiangjie warmly shook his hand.
Zhang Anping politely replied, “Please take care of me, sir.”
“Alright, I’m leaving him in your hands.”
The HR officer left, and Yao’s smile vanished. He looked at Zhang Anping carefully and asked with a smile,
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“What faction did Brother Zhang swear allegiance to?”
His expression changed quickly; his words were blunt.
Clearly, since the HR officer hadn’t given much explanation, he realized this newcomer likely had no backing—otherwise, he wouldn’t have been sent to guard the gate.
The Guard Division sounded prestigious, but being under the General Affairs Department made it clear it was low status—just gatekeeping.
Being assigned here without HR’s subtle instructions meant no powerful connections.
“Just lucky to get in and earn a meal ticket,” Zhang Anping replied humbly. “Sir, please have some water.”
“Leave it there—go to the gate, replace Zhu Qi, and stand watch. Understand?”
So this was the “show of force.”
Zhang Anping respectfully accepted the order and left the Guard Division’s shared office.
A snort followed his departure.
Zhang Anping smirked inwardly; it was surely because he hadn’t brought a gift as a greeting—too bad, he wasn’t about to give in.
...
On his first day, Zhang Anping stood watch at the Secret Service’s main gate.
Not in uniform, but in a self-provided Zhongshan suit, loitering at the entrance.
The Secret Service was stingy; seeing that Zhang wore a casual Zhongshan suit similar to theirs, they didn’t even issue “work safety” gear.
Days one, two, and three, Zhang Anping arrived on time, left on time, and accepted the nearly nonstop guard duty without complaint. This surprised the lazy comrades in the Guard Division. Moreover, Zhang had no airs and quickly bonded with everyone on the day shift.
By the third day, he was invited by colleagues to drink together at night.
Zhang naturally accepted, and after the outing, generously paid the bill. The others beamed, and by the fourth day, they all called him “Brother Shihao,” signaling close camaraderie.
Zhang was savvy, calling others “brother,” joking with a bit of edge, and soon became the most popular member of the day shift.
But no one in the Guard Division could have imagined that on his fourth day, Zhang Anping would do something to leave them dumbfounded.
The story began on that afternoon.
Because Zhang had stood watch obediently for three days and hadn’t acted up, Yao Jiangjie ended his trial period and allowed Zhang to stand only half a shift daily.
But Zhang ignored this kindness and volunteered to take gate duty that afternoon.
Yao Jiangjie thought he was ungrateful and figured, “If you want to show off, fine—then you’ll stand guard every day.”
What he did not expect was that near the end of the shift, Zhang rushed over.
“Sir, I’ve found some big fish!”
Yao lazily replied, “Big fish? Go away, don’t disturb my reading!”
“I found someone tailing us!”
“Big deal. That’s what the Personnel Department’s Inspection Division does. Our Guard Division just watches the gate. Zhang Shihao, don’t shout for no reason. Otherwise, people will think old Yao can’t lead, that I’m stuck with bumpkins!”
“Sir, I mean the tailing is outside,” Zhang said, exasperated. He thought mentioning “big fish” would spark alarm, but Yao showed no spy instincts!
“They’re even secretly taking photos. I suspect they’re communist or Japanese spies!”
Zhang judged them almost certainly Japanese spies. The reason was simple: Our side tails the Secret Service but doesn’t take photos—only Japanese spies would attempt to photograph members.
Though still fledgling, the Secret Service had clashed with Japanese spies several times. It was normal for the Japanese to be alert and investigate.
Yao Jiangjie perked up at this. “Really?”