THE WHITE FILES: THE MANY

LIVES OF LU HERUO, TAIWANS

FIRST LITERARY TALENT 

Chapter Six: Lü Heruo Comes Under Surveillance by the Bureau of Investigation

25

Xindian. The Bureau of Investigation. Colonel Gu Zhengwen’s office.

A warm lamp illuminated the entire room. Files and documents were piled high on the otherwise empty desk. Colonel Gu Zhengwen sat behind the desk, studying the materials in his hands. The name “Lü Heruo” was prominently displayed on the cover of the file.

He pinched the corner of the folder, and a cold smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“This young fellow certainly has some nerve.”

He opened the file and scanned the lines of writing, his brows gradually drawing together. Every article and every passage was like a sharp thorn aimed directly at the government’s most vulnerable points. Even more astonishing was the discovery that Chinese Communist Party propaganda materials had been distributed through this printing shop.

“This is no small matter,” he murmured, his expression growing more intense.

He picked up the telephone and dialed a number.

“I need more intelligence on Lü Heruo. Take action immediately.”

The scene shifted back to Lü Heruo’s home. Late at night.

Lü Heruo sat on the sofa in the living room, holding a document that had just been delivered from the printing shop. His expression remained calm, but he could not conceal the tension within him. His eyes moved across the pages. Every word and every line bore witness to his involvement in the revolutionary struggle.

“Honey, are you really planning to continue?” Su Yulan stood in the doorway, her voice trembling slightly. She walked inside, her eyes filled with concern. “If you keep going, you really will be putting yourself in danger.”

Lü Heruo put down the letter in his hand, took a deep breath, and looked at her.

“I know none of this is easy. But if we dont do something, who will speak up for these innocent people? Are we really supposed to wait until they are crushed?”

Su Yulan fell silent for a moment. A trace of anguish flashed across her eyes. She walked over to Heruo and gently took his hand.

“I understand how you feel, but you also have to understand that there is no turning back once you take this road.”

Her voice was filled with concern.

“Im afraid... afraid that you will have to pay too high a price.”

Lü Heruo lowered his head and replied softly:

“I am already prepared to give everything for my ideals.”

26

Taipei, early May 1949. A hot, windless afternoon.

The streets and alleys of Quanzhou Street lay silent, as though asleep. Occasionally, the sound of a passing bicycle broke the stillness. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco and coal smoke.

Cai Xiaoqian’s residence stood in an inconspicuous alley. The exterior of the old-fashioned, two-story Western-style house was weathered and peeling. The windows were tightly shut, and heavy cloth curtains hung down, sealing the interior off from the outside world.

Four people gathered in the study on the second floor.

The room was small. A dim yellow pendant lamp hung overhead, its light wavering unsteadily. The bookshelves along the walls were packed with yellowed books and folders. The air carried a mixture of ink, old paper, and tobacco.

A map of Taiwan was spread across the old square wooden table in the center of the room. Several coins and fountain pens held down its corners to keep the paper from curling. In one corner stood a battered electric fan that creaked and groaned but failed to provide any relief from the heat.

Cai Xiaoqian stood beside the map, both hands braced against the tabletop. His gaze was sharp and composed. He wore a light gray Sun Yat-sen suit, its collar buttoned tightly. Although slender, he possessed an unmistakable, quiet authority.

“The choice of location for our base will determine the success or failure of our future underground operations behind enemy lines,” he began in a deep voice, surveying everyone in the room. “So I would like all of you comrades to discuss this together. Feel free to put forward your opinions. We should have an open discussion. I wont establish a position in advance.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Chen Yinong was the first to respond.

He sat beside the table, supporting his chin with one hand while pointing to the northern mountain region on the map with the other.

“I recommend establishing the base in the Qixing Mountain area.” His tone was firm, and his brows were slightly furrowed. “The terrain there is strategically advantageous, and the view is extensive. We could overlook the entire city of Taipei and keep track of developments in the city in a timely manner.”

As he spoke, he gestured along the contours of the mountain range, his eyes revealing a trace of strategic enthusiasm.

Professor Chen Benjiang shook his head slightly and pushed his glasses up.

“In my opinion, the Qixing Mountain area is too close to Taipei. It could easily attract the attention of Chiang Kai-sheks intelligence and security agencies.”

He extended a finger and drew a circle on the map.

“Furthermore, the area is not extensive enough. The enemy could easily cut off our escape routes. Once we were surrounded, we would have very little time to respond, making it difficult for our personnel to evacuate in time.”

Xu Xikuan sat near the wall with his arms crossed. After listening for a moment, he nodded.

“The professor makes a good point. Qixing Mountain is indeed too close to Taipei.”

He stood up and walked over to the map, bending down to examine it carefully. Suddenly, he slapped the table.

“What about Guanyin Mountain in Bali? The Tamsui River separates it from Taipei. If we establish our base on the mountain, the river will provide a natural barrier. I think it would be easier to defend.”

“But how long could we hold it?” Chen Benjiang asked calmly, his tone remaining gentle.

“Guanyin Mountain has an even smaller area than Qixing Mountain.”

He used his finger to trace a possible escape route on the map and continued:

“The base should be a gathering place where our personnel can relocate as circumstances require. When our strength is still insufficient to confront the enemy directly, the priority should be to evacuate quickly and regroup elsewhere. We cannot risk being annihilated by the enemy simply by stubbornly defending one position.”

Xu Xikuan was momentarily at a loss for words. His brows knitted tightly, as though he had swallowed something bitter.

“Professor, then where do you think would be suitable?” he asked, looking up. His tone carried a hint of defiance.

“I recommend...” Chen Benjiang pointed toward the Dahan River basin. “Sanjiaoyong. It is surrounded by hills, with varied elevations. It is suitable for concealing our personnel. If an emergency arises, evacuation would be relatively easy.”

At the mention of Sanjiaoyong, Xu Xikuans eyes lit up. He turned to look at Chen Yinong, and the two nodded in agreement almost simultaneously.

“Yinong and I are both from Sanjiaoyong. We grew up there and know the area very well,” Xu Xikuan said enthusiastically, a rare expression of confidence appearing on his face. “However... it still may not be secluded enough, especially around the forestry area, where we could easily attract attention.”

“Leader, what is your opinion?” Chen Yinong asked, turning toward Cai Xiaoqian. His tone was cautious but urgent.

Cai Xiaoqian pondered for a moment, then straightened up and crossed his arms. His gaze slowly swept over each comrade. He did not answer immediately. Instead, he lit a cigarette, and smoke slowly rose into the air.

“Heres what well do.”

He exhaled a mouthful of smoke and spoke in a low, firm voice.

“Lets discuss this thoroughly first. There is no need to rush to a conclusion for the time being. Each of you should go back and give it some more thought. We will make a decision at our next meeting.”

Everyone nodded silently. Smoke and deep contemplation filled the room. An underground struggle, whose outcome remained uncertain, was quietly taking shape inside this hot, airless study.

27

An afternoon in early winter 1949.

A cold, damp northeast monsoon swept across the shores of Keelung Harbor. A layer of leaden gray clouds hung over the sky, silently foreshadowing the storm to come.

On the second floor of the old red-brick school building at Keelung Middle School, the office windows rattled slightly. Zhong Haodong stood in front of his desk, both hands braced against the tabletop, gazing at a newspaper that had just come off the press. His expression was resolute.

The hot water in the thermos in the corner had long since gone cold. The air was filled with the smell of printing ink and old books.

Beside him stood Lü Heruo, thirty-five years old, wearing a slightly faded Sun Yat-sen suit. His brows were tightly furrowed as he carefully proofread the article intended for the following days front page.

“Old Zhong, I still want to add something to this report about soaring prices. In one county in southern Taiwan, rice merchants have actually been hoarding rice and driving up prices. One catty of rice has risen to 300 dollars, and ordinary people have been standing in line for two days without being able to buy even one catty. This isnt a famine. Its a man-made disaster.”

As he spoke, Lü Heruo slapped the manuscript onto Zhong Haodongs desk.

Zhong Haodong frowned and nodded.

“Writing it this way will offend quite a few local power brokers... But someone has to stand up and tell the truth. If the Guangming Daily only tries to please those in power, then we dont deserve to bear that name.”

The two exchanged glances and remained silent for a moment. Then they each returned to their complicated editorial duties.

By now, the daylight outside the window was gradually fading. From a distance came the long blast of a ships horn from Keelung Harbor, sounding like a warning.

Meanwhile, inside the stone-walled headquarters of the Bureau of Investigation in Taipei, a storm was quietly brewing.

The lighting in the directors office was stark and pale. The air-conditioning system hummed continuously. A portrait of Chiang Kai-shek hung on the wall, his eyes appearing piercing and commanding.

Mao Renfeng sat behind his desk, his expression gloomy. His long, slender fingers held a cigarette as he slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Gu Zhengwen walked in briskly, carrying the latest issue of the Guangming Daily, which had just been delivered that day. He respectfully handed it to Mao Renfeng.

“Chief, this is todays latest issue. Theyve done it again,” Gu Zhengwen said, unable to conceal his irritation.

Mao Renfeng lowered his eyes to glance at the headline:

“Landlords Feast Behind Their Gates While Tenant Farmers Freeze and Starve in the Streets.”

His expression suddenly turned cold, although a faint sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“These people certainly have the nerve to write, and they know how to write, too,” he said softly.

He flicked his finger, sending cigarette ash drifting onto the corner of the newspaper.

“This kind of language is practically copied word for word from the old Communists propaganda.”

“Shall I take a team over immediately, shut down the newspaper, and bring in a few of the ringleaders for questioning?” Gu Zhengwen asked. His gaze was sharp, and his right hand had already clenched into a fist.

Mao Renfeng waved his hand. Amid the swirling smoke, his voice remained unhurried.

“Not yet. Remember, intelligence work is not just about speed, ruthlessness, and precision. It is also about knowing how to assess the situation and act at the right moment. Their writings are suspicious, but so far they remain criticisms of actual conditions. If we act without clear evidence of subversion, we could provoke a backlash among the public. If we strike, we must make sure it is a decisive blow.”

He stood up and walked to the window, gazing at the fine drizzle outside.

“Have your men keep a close watch on them, especially the principal writer, Lü Heruo. Ive heard that he has quite a literary reputation and also writes fiction. His political views lean to the left, but he is not yet completely committed. If we can win him over, he could become a valuable asset for our use.”

Gu Zhengwen nodded, looking slightly excited.

“Understood, sir. Ill start by making contact and finding out more about his position and background. If necessary—”

Mao Renfeng turned around. His expression was stern, but his tone remained calm.

“Theres no need to resort to intimidation yet. Start with inducements. Remember, an enemy who can be turned into a friend is far easier to control than a Communist spy who refuses to yield.”

“Yes, Chief. Ill make the arrangements immediately.”

Mao Renfeng nodded slowly, returned to his chair, and flicked away the cigarette ash.

“Go ahead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gu Zhengwen stood at attention, gave a crisp military salute, and strode out of the office.

As the heavy office door closed, Mao Renfeng gazed intently at the newspaper in his hands. His fingertips pressed against it slightly, causing the paper to curl and crease. It was as though a storm hidden between its lines was quietly approaching.

28

A hot afternoon in mid-June. Quanzhou Street, Taipei. Cicadas were chirping loudly.

Cai Xiaoqians residence lay quietly concealed among the surrounding streets and alleys. Its exterior was plain and unremarkable, but the study inside was arranged with meticulous care.

Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, filled with left-wing literature. An old-fashioned large desk stood beside the window, its surface covered with yellowed maps and several thick volumes on military theory.

An oil lamp burned steadily. The smell of lamp smoke mingled with the scent of paper and ink, filling the hot, stuffy room.

The wooden window was half closed. Through the gaps came patches of sunlight, along with the cries of street vendors and the ringing of bicycle bells from the street corner.

The gathering that day was much more serious than usual.

Several people sat around the desk, their clothes slightly worn and beads of sweat forming on their foreheads.

Chen Benjiang took a folded map from his leather briefcase, spread it across the tabletop, and held down its four corners. His expression was resolute.

“Leader, comrades,” he began, wiping the sweat from his forehead while pointing to an area marked with a red circle on the map.

“This place—Luku Village. I believe it is the ideal location for establishing our base. It is in the Shiding mountain area, where the terrain is steep and the forests are dense enough to block out the sky. It is secluded, yet connected by several mountain trails. To the north, we can travel through Yuguiling to Pinglin, then proceed to Gupoliao and Daodiaoling. To the south, we can pass through Sanxia and reach the mountainous regions of Hsinchu and Miaoli. The terrain resembles a crouching tiger and coiling dragon. We can advance when conditions favor us and defend ourselves when necessary.”

As he spoke, his finger traced the red lines on the map. His voice was low but forceful, as though he were laying out a strategic blueprint.

Cai Xiaoqian leaned back in his rattan chair, his long, slender fingers tapping lightly on the armrest. His gaze was sharp, but he remained silent for a long time.

After a moment, he raised his head and asked slowly, his words carrying weight:

“What do the two of you think of this location?”

Chen Yinong furrowed his brows slightly and pondered for a moment before replying.

“What the professor has said makes a great deal of sense. However...”

He paused and looked toward the distant mountains outside the window.

“Ive been to Luku. The mountains are deep and the forests dense, so it is indeed well concealed. However, most of the residents are tea farmers and families who make their living cutting firewood. Their living conditions are extremely difficult. If we establish ourselves there, Im afraid well have to rely on our own labor to support ourselves. Life will be very hard.”

“A little hardship doesnt matter,” Chen Benjiang said, leaning forward slightly. His tone was firm.

“That is precisely why the location is suitable for us to remain underground. The people of Luku are relatively simple and straightforward, and they can be persuaded and mobilized more easily. Under difficult conditions, our comrades may actually become more united in their determination. Compared with the hidden informants and dangers lurking in the urban areas, a mountain region like this would provide a genuine protective barrier.”

Xu Xikuan stood up, placed his hands on his hips, and walked over to the window to gaze into the distance, deep in thought.

He turned around and slowly walked back.

“The safety of our comrades must be our primary consideration. If we can help the local people understand our principles and win them over as allies, they will not only be able to provide us with cover in the future but also help us build popular support, allowing our armed revolution to gradually take root.”

He paused, his tone softening.

“Moreover, if we can improve their living conditions, we will win their genuine support.”

Cai Xiaoqian smiled and nodded. He slowly stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced around the room.

After pondering for a moment, he spoke.

“Then, in principle, do both of you agree with the professors proposal?”

Chen Yinong and Xu Xikuan exchanged glances and nodded almost simultaneously.

“We agree!”

“Very good.”

Cai Xiaoqian walked back to the table and leaned forward, tapping the location of Luku with his index finger.

“Our next step is to plan a trip to Luku and establish an advance base there. Initially, our priority will be to communicate with the local residents and win their support and trust.”

He paused, his tone becoming more emphatic.

“This is a long-term struggle. We cannot rely on armed force alone. We must also win peoples hearts. I want the three of you to take personal responsibility for this mission.”

The three men nodded in unison. The atmosphere was solemn, yet an intense, suppressed enthusiasm was beginning to build.

They knew that this was more than a tactical plan to relocate into the mountains. It was the starting point of an effort to change the fate of Taiwan.

29

One evening in late June. Taipei was hot and humid, and a layer of hazy twilight hung over the streets.

The Guangming Daily office was located deep inside a narrow alley. Traffic was sparse, and only the occasional ringing of bicycle bells and childrens laughter could be heard in the distance.

The newspapers signboard glowed with mottled golden light in the fading sunlight. The faint smell of printing ink still lingered in the air.

The lights inside the building were already on. The staff were gradually clearing their desks and preparing to leave.

Wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, Lü Heruo was bending over his desk, organizing his manuscripts and newspaper clippings.

He neatly placed his notebook and small document pouch into his briefcase. His expression was grave, with a trace of fatigue.

He nodded to his colleagues and said softly, “Youve all worked hard today. Ill be leaving first.”

His voice was gentle and calm, but he did not notice the sharp gaze fixed on him from a corner near the entrance of the alley.

At the entrance, a Bureau of Investigation officer in plain clothes was hiding behind a utility pole. He gripped a military walkie-talkie tightly and kept his eyes fixed on the newspaper office entrance.

Lowering his voice, he spoke into the radio:

“Calling Lieutenant Colonel Xing. This is Xiao Zhao. That Lü fellow has just left. Hes riding a bicycle in your direction.”

Inside a black sedan parked at the street corner, several officers sat waiting impatiently.

One of them immediately opened the car door and replied coldly:

“Roger that. Were moving in.”

The black sedan started up. Its engine growled like a beast, and the vehicle suddenly shot out of the alley like a hunting dog in the darkness, heading straight toward Lü Heruo.

Lü Heruo was just riding his bicycle out of the alley. The bicycle swayed slightly under the fading evening light.

He noticed nothing unusual. He only heard the sudden rush of a vehicle behind him. He turned his head, and just as he looked back—

The screech of brakes!

The black sedan stopped sideways directly in front of him.

Two young plainclothes officers burst out of the doors on either side, moving swiftly. One suddenly drove his elbow into Lü Heruos shoulder, while the other pulled out a pistol and shouted in a low, threatening voice:

“Dont move! Put your hands up!”

Lü Heruos expression changed abruptly, but he quickly regained his composure. He raised both hands slightly and spoke calmly.

“What is the meaning of this? What law have I broken?”

The plainclothes officer who had snatched his briefcase searched through its contents and gave a slight smirk.

“Chief Editor, were not arresting you. Someone would simply like to invite you for tea.”

At that moment, a middle-aged man slowly stepped out of the car. He wore a neatly pressed Sun Yat-sen suit. His expression was stern, and his eyes were as sharp as an eagles.

“Your name is Lü Heruo, correct?”

Facing him, Lü Heruo felt a jolt of alarm.

He thought to himself:

“So these people really are from the Bureau of Investigation?”

But he did not show any fear. Instead, he asked coldly:

“Yes, thats me. Which agency do you represent? Why are you stopping people on the street? What kind of procedure is this?”

The middle-aged man did not answer directly. He merely smiled faintly.

“You havent broken any laws. But our boss would like you to come to his official residence for a talk.”

“Who is your boss?” Lü Heruo asked, his gaze sharp as a blade.

The mans tone grew cold.

“Dont ask so many questions. Youll find out when you get there. Please get in the car, Chief Editor Lü.”

With that, the two plainclothes officers flanked him, one pushing against his back while the other gripped his arm.

Lü Heruo resisted briefly, but they forced him into the car with some pressure.

Another man moved his bicycle beneath the covered arcade, as though quickly erasing a trace of his ordinary life.

The car door slammed shut.

Lü Heruo was wedged between the two plainclothes officers. His expression was grave, but his eyes remained calm.

The car started and turned into a dark alley, heading toward an unknown destination.

The air inside the car was stifling. The atmosphere was like compressed gunpowder, ready to ignite at any moment.

This was a silent abduction, and a turning point in his fate.

The black sedan slowly drove along a tree-lined road shaded by dense green foliage and entered the official residential compound.

On both sides stood grayish-white military-style buildings and pillbox-like guard posts. The air was filled with the damp smell of pine resin and old engine oil.

The guards at the outer checkpoint had already taken their positions. The sentries stood rigidly at attention, holding their rifles in both hands, and saluted in unison.

“Good day, sir!”

With a metallic clank, the iron gate slowly slid open, and the black sedan glided silently inside.

The car stopped in front of an official residence with red brick walls, black-tiled roofing, and low-hanging eaves. The national flag of the Republic of China hung above the entrance, fluttering slightly in the wind. Two guards carrying rifles over their shoulders approached in unison. One of them briskly opened the car door. “Sir, please.”

Lü Heruo was “escorted” out of the car by two plainclothes men, one on either side. He wore a long gray cloth robe, its hem slightly wrinkled. His briefcase had disappeared, leaving him empty-handed. His sharp gaze swept across his surroundings. The four men pressed their shoulders slightly against him, forming an invisible iron barrier as they ushered him toward the entrance.

The entrance hall was covered with a red carpet. Framed photographs of military commanders in uniform, along with their medals, hung on both sides. At the foot of the staircase stood a marble lion with its mouth open as if about to roar. The moment he stepped into the living room, the strong smell of tobacco and the aroma of aged tea filled his nostrils. The atmosphere was so oppressive that it seemed a thick cloth had been laid over the room.

Gu Zhengwen rose to greet him. He wore a sharply tailored Sun Yat-sen suit, and his leather shoes gleamed. Although his smile was warm and cordial, his eyes were as sharp as blades.

“Mr. Lü, I trust the colleagues I sent to ‘invite’ you didnt treat you disrespectfully?” he asked casually, extending his right hand as he spoke.

Lü Heruo did not shake his hand. He merely replied coldly, “Shouldnt this be called kidnapping rather than an invitation?”

Gu Zhengwen smiled without answering, withdrew his hand, and gestured for him to sit down. “I was concerned you might politely decline, so I had no choice but to resort to this measure. I hope youll forgive me. Please, have a seat.”

The two men took their seats in separate ornately carved armchairs. The table was laden with steaming Taiwanese dishes, including pork belly braised with preserved mustard greens, pan-fried milkfish belly, cod topped with crispy soybean crumbs, and an assortment of seasonal vegetables, all neatly arranged. A bottle of sorghum liquor and two white porcelain cups were also on the table.

“I hear you studied in Japan, have seen the world, and are a leading figure in literary circles. If you were willing to enter public service and put your literary talents to work for the nation, that would truly be making the best use of your abilities.” Gu Zhengwen filled a cup with liquor and handed it to Lü Heruo.

Lü Heruo did not accept it. He merely said calmly, “Everyone has their own aspirations, Colonel Gu. I know very well that I am not suited to the art of currying favor. I am neither a man who pursues fame and official honors nor someone who seeks a life of comfort and luxury.”

“Oh?” Gu Zhengwen narrowed his eyes. The liquor in his cup swayed slightly as if he were weighing how far he could push the other man. “I admire your commitment to living freely and according to your principles. But... if it is difficult to achieve martyrdom, why not choose righteousness instead? What do you think, Mr. Lü?”

“If I can leave behind writings that endure through the ages and a name that will never perish, why should I fear the hardships before me?” Lü Heruo replied firmly. His eyes blazed with conviction, a faint light burning within them like a spark.

Gu Zhengwen set down his glass and tapped his fingers lightly against the edge of the table. His voice grew more somber. “The Bureau of Investigation... is not a heartless place. Commander Mao and I appreciate talent. If you agree, I can immediately arrange a position for you as editor-in-chief at a state-run newspaper. From then on, you will have nothing to worry about.”

“I appreciate your kind offer, Colonel Gu, but... I must respectfully decline.” As he finished speaking, the corner of his eye caught sight of the two plainclothes men standing in a corner of the living room. He remained on his guard.

Gu Zhengwen shook his head and sighed softly. He lifted his glass and took a sip. “What a pity, what a pity... You have prosperity within your reach, yet you insist on opposing the authorities. Isnt that like a moth flying into a flame?”

“If I can become a spark that lights the way for others, why should I hesitate?”

Gu Zhengwen was momentarily taken aback, then suddenly smiled. “Your principles make you sound like a martyr from the history books. But... times have changed. If you insist on your own views, Im afraid you may bring endless trouble upon yourself.”

With that, he waved for the servants to clear away the food and liquor and replace them with a pot of fragrant tea. The two men sat facing each other, the oppressive atmosphere spreading through the room like the rising steam from their cups.

“Recently, the articles in Guangming Daily have grown increasingly sharp. Commander Mao has called several times to express his concern. I hope you understand when to advance and when to retreat, and that you remind your newspapers publisher, Principal Zhong, not to make things difficult for us.”

Lü Heruos gaze remained calm. “Holding the government accountable is a journalists duty. Even if I am punished for what I write, my readers know how to distinguish right from wrong. I have no regrets.”

Gu Zhengwen remained silent for a moment, then clasped his hands over his knees. His tone softened slightly. “If things really come to that, Im afraid... even I may not be able to protect you.”

Lü Heruo rose and cupped his hands in a respectful farewell gesture. “Thank you for your hospitality this evening, Colonel. If there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.”

Gu Zhengwen also stood, wearing a complicated smile. “Although you and I hold different positions, what you have said tonight commands my sincere respect. I will have someone drive you home.”

The front gate opened once more. The night wind swept inside, bringing with it the damp chill and heaviness of the outdoors. Everything seemed as though it had never happened, yet something had quietly changed.

30

Night had fallen. The alley lay immersed in twilight and damp mist. Streetlights outside cast patches of uneven light and shadow across the street, illuminating Su Yulans slightly swollen belly. She wore a dark blue cotton dress and a cream-colored shawl. With one hand supporting her lower back, she stood at the doorway, her face filled with anxiety as she gazed toward the far end of the alley.

The sound of a car engine came from a distance. A faint beam of headlights cut through the darkness. Su Yulan immediately grew alert and took several steps forward, stumbling slightly on the stone-paved road. When she saw Lü Heruo emerge from the entrance of the alley, a black sedan turned a corner and disappeared into the night. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Lü Heruo hurried toward her and opened his arms, drawing her tightly into his embrace. He whispered in her ear, “Im sorry Im so late. I made you worry.”

Su Yulan rested her head against his shoulder, her voice trembling slightly. “Ive been waiting since early evening. When you didnt come home at your usual time after work, I couldnt stop worrying. I was afraid something might have happened to you...”

Lü Heruo gently patted her back. His voice was soft. “Im all right. Lets go inside first. The night air is chilly. I dont want you catching a cold.”

Su Yulan nodded gently and took his arm. Step by step, they walked back into the house. As they entered, the lingering warmth of the food and the scent of charcoal greeted them.

She turned toward the kitchen and called out, “A-Fen, please warm up the food.”

A voice answered from the kitchen, “Certainly, maam.”

Lü Heruo took off his coat and hung it on the bamboo hook beside the door. Seeing that Su Yulans brow was still slightly furrowed as she entered the house, he couldnt help asking, “What? Havent you eaten yet?”

Su Yulan walked toward the dining table, gently stroking her belly as she spoke in a calm voice. “Ive already fed our daughter. Youre the head of this household. How could I possibly feel like eating before you came home?”

Feeling somewhat guilty, Lü Heruo walked over to her and took her hand. “If Im going to be late in the future, Ill be sure to call home first. Then you wont have to wait for me.”

Su Yulan turned her head to look at him, her tone carrying a hint of probing curiosity. “Who was this friend who asked you out tonight?”

Lü Heruo avoided her gaze and replied casually, “A friend from a government office. We had little to talk about, so I didnt stay long.”

“A friend from a government office?” She raised her eyebrows and narrowed her eyes. “I dont usually ask about all the different people you know, but if someone from a government office invites you to dinner, how could it possibly be just a matter of drinking tea and chatting?”

A-Fen came out carrying a plate of braised tofu and said softly, “The food is ready, maam. Please enjoy your meal.”

The little girl giggled in a corner, shaking her cloth doll. A-Fen bent down to play with her.

The light above the dining table cast a soft yellow glow. Lü Heruo pulled out a chair and had just sat down when Su Yulan placed a piece of braised pork into his bowl. Her voice was gentle, yet her words carried a deeper meaning. “I wonder how much longer well be able to sit down and eat together like this.”

Lü Heruo froze. He put down his chopsticks and gazed at her. “Yulan, dont think that way.”

She lowered her head and drank her soup, speaking in a subdued voice. “Sooner or later, youll return to your first wife, wont you?”

“Dont say things like that.” A trace of irritation entered his voice. “Havent I been here with you and our daughter all these years?”

“But how much longer can you stay with us? And what will happen to the child Im carrying?” She placed a hand on her belly, anxiety and sorrow rising in her eyes.

Lü Heruo sighed softly. “Dont worry about these things. Even if something should happen to me one day, Ill make arrangements for you and the children first.”

She suddenly looked up, her voice tense. “Why are you suddenly saying something like that? Are you trying to hint at something?”

He pondered for a moment before finally speaking. “Tonight, an officer from the Bureau of Investigation, a man surnamed Gu, invited me to dinner at his official residence.”

She was startled. “What? How did you get involved with that bunch of devils?”

“Yulan, Ive never hidden these things from you, and I never will.”

“I know. Thats why I was willing to live with you without insisting on a formal status as your wife.”

Lü Heruo spoke in a grave tone. “Colonel Gu warned me that the government was unhappy with our newspaper. At the same time, he said he admired me and wanted me to work for a government-run newspaper. He even said something about how a wise man knows which way the wind is blowing...”

“He was both threatening you and trying to win you over.” Su Yulan nodded thoughtfully. “But, darling, you shouldnt have rejected him outright. Speaking too firmly can easily offend people.”

“Why would you say that? Do you think Im the kind of person who covets wealth and status?”

She held his hand, her voice both firm and gentle. “Of course I know youre not. But we cant afford to provoke people like them. You have to think about me and our daughter. In times like these, one wrong word could get you arrested and executed by firing squad. You have more than one responsibility resting on your shoulders.”

Lü Heruo nodded. “I know. But if I lose my integrity, I would be betraying myself and the readers who support our newspaper.”

She gazed at him for a long moment. Her voice remained gentle, but her concern did not waver. “Im not asking you to flatter them. Im asking you to stay alive. What will become of us if something happens to you?”

He remained silent for a while before answering, “All right. I promise. Ill be careful in my work and wont deliberately provoke the authorities anymore.”

“Why dont you try to influence the newspapers editorial position a little? Principal Zhong and Publisher Lin both think highly of you.”

Lü Heruo gave a bitter smile. “Then the newspaper would become the Kuomintangs mouthpiece. If a newspaper is to survive, it must have a voice of its own.”

Su Yulan sighed softly. “Darling, I dont ask you to be a hero. I only want you to come home safe and sound. Just remember what Ive told you. Dont put yourself on the front lines. Thats all.”

Lü Heruo looked at her and clasped her hand more tightly.

Outside, the wind howled, seemingly foreshadowing the storm that was about to descend upon the country. Beneath the dim yellow light inside the house, this small family struggled to find a little light and peace amid the darkness.