The next two days of filming proceeded in an orderly fashion.
Jiang Yue had completely integrated into the high-intensity rhythm of the crew's operations.
Over the previous two days, they had shot several outdoor arrest scenes for the Secret Service in a row.
In the script, Zhou Jinnan always managed to ruin missions in the most "reasonable" yet chaotic ways.
For instance, during a roundup, he would use the excuse of a "wrong house number" to send his most mercenary informant to scout ahead, directly scaring the target away as a result.
Or he would "coincidentally" bust a black-market deal on the target's escape route, confiscating dirty money under the guise of capturing patriotic organizations.
By the time he pocketed enough grease and called back his squad, the main target was long gone.
These blatant, dirty tricks made Fu Xiao suffer several silent setbacks in a row, leaving the Squad Two captain so furious he nearly crushed his teacup in his office.
This morning, the filming location shifted back to the Chief's office.
“All departments in position! Scene fifty-one, take one, Action!”
Xu Pingqiu gestured from behind the monitor.
Inside the office, Fu Xiao's face was livid as he slammed his hand on the desk. “Chief! Twice in a row, the targets escaped. This is absolutely no coincidence!”
Lu Cheng sat behind the massive desk, his head lowered as he reviewed official documents. He was expressionless, making it impossible to tell what he was scheming.
Fu Xiao lowered his voice. “Zhou Jinnan messes up at the critical moment every single time. His background is clean, but his actions are incredibly suspicious. I'd stake my life on the fact that he isn't just doing this to line his pockets!”
“He is highly likely leaking information!”
Lu Cheng's fountain pen stopped mid-signature. When he looked up, his eyes fixed grimly on the corner of the desk.
He pulled open a drawer and tossed out a dossier stamped with a red "Top Secret" seal.
“A tip just came in. My informant claims it's false intelligence. Number thirty-six Jing'an Road has a contact station for an underground organization, and there's a radio transmitter hidden inside.”
Lu Cheng's voice betrayed no emotion. “I want you to do something.”
Fu Xiao's eyes lit up. “At your command, Chief!”
“I will have Zhou Jinnan lead his squad to raid this contact station.”
Lu Cheng leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “Take your most trusted men and watch them closely from the perimeter.”
Fu Xiao was stunned for a moment, followed by a surge of ecstasy in his heart.
The Chief was using fake intelligence to bait him!
The moment Zhou Jinnan showed any sign of suspicious behavior, Squad Two could execute him on the spot.
“Understood, sir!”
Fu Xiao stood at attention and saluted.
A knock sounded at the door right on cue.
Tang Jingran pushed the door open and walked in, holding several daily briefings.
Keeping his head slightly lowered, his eyes flicked past the dossier on the desk from behind his glasses, his brow furrowing for a split second.
As an operative of Juntong, he knew exactly what Number thirty-six Jing'an Road was. There was no underground contact station there at all.
Quietly withdrawing his gaze, he handed over the documents and turned to leave the office.
“Call Zhou Jinnan in,” Lu Cheng ordered.
A moment later, the door was gently pushed open.
Zhou Jinnan strolled in with long, leisurely strides, looking utterly carefree.
He wore a stiff-collared shirt and a thin wool vest on his upper body, with his lower half clad in fitted trousers. With broad shoulders and a narrow waist, his posture was exceptionally upright.
His leather jacket wasn't worn properly either; it was draped casually over his shoulders, collar slightly open, revealing a patch of skin.
He removed his fedora with one hand and gave Lu Cheng a very gentlemanly nod of greeting.
As he drew closer, the faint scent of powder and perfume still clung to him.
With a smirk playing on his lips, he managed to carry off this wild, uninhibited attitude with a roguish yet handsome charm.
“Chief, you were looking for me?”
He stepped forward, his tone relaxed and familiar.
Lu Cheng pointed to the dossier on the desk. “Number thirty-six Jing'an Road. A big operation. Bring the targets back to me.”
Zhou Jinnan reached out and took it.
He scanned it briefly, his thumb casually brushing over the red seal.
The ink of the seal was incredibly fresh, clearly stamped not long ago.
Several thoughts flashed through his mind, but his face betrayed absolutely nothing.
“A radio transmitter? Now that's a big fish!”
Zhou Jinnan tucked the dossier under his arm, leaned closer to Lu Cheng, and rubbed his fingers together.
“Chief, I'll take this job. But let's make a deal: I'll bring the people back, but if we happen to fish out some stray gold bars from these poor bastards...”
Lu Cheng stared at him coldly. “Aside from the radio and confidential documents, you know the rules for the rest.”
“Understood! Just sit back and watch!”
Zhou Jinnan beamed with joy. He slowly put his fedora back on, turned, and strode out of the office.
...
Half an hour later, Number thirty-six Jing'an Road.
This was an extremely ordinary, old Shikumen house.
Two black sedans screeched to a halt at the entrance of the alley.
The car door swung open, and a long leg in sharp trousers stepped out first.
Zhou Jinnan brushed the hem of his leather jacket with one hand while drawing a Browning from his waist with his long fingers.
With a swift flick of his wrist, a crisp click echoed as he chambered a round with one hand.
The movement was so smooth it was a pleasure to watch.
Paired with his sharp, backlit profile, his dangerous aura was on full display.
“Stay sharp, everyone! Don't let even a single fly escape!”
Zhou Jinnan commanded in a low voice, exuding an effortless authority.
The Squad One agents lunged toward the main door like wolves.
“Bam!”
The wooden door was kicked open.
Zhou Jinnan followed closely behind, stepping over the threshold.
The house was empty.
Standing in the center of the room, his eyes swept over the surroundings rapidly.
The teacups on the table were turned upside down, and the bed was cold—clearly, the occupants had already fled.
As Zhou Jinnan scanned the room, his body stiffened imperceptibly when his gaze passed the newspaper-covered window.
In the gap of the curtains on the second floor of the building across the street, a glint of light flashed.
Binoculars?
Zhou Jinnan sneered inwardly.
As expected, it was a trap within a trap. That bastard Fu Xiao had left the Secret Service before him and was probably crouching across the street right now, waiting to catch him red-handed.
With a quick shift of his thoughts, the excitement and greed on his face collapsed instantly, replaced by a look of utter disappointment.
The disappointment was so realistic, as if he had truly just missed out on a mountain of gold.
He spun the gun deftly on his fingertip before holstering it back at his waist.
Turning to his subordinates, he shrugged with a face full of bad luck. “Well, look at that. Did the brothers in the Intelligence Department invite us here just to admire the scenery?”
With an audience watching secretly from across the street, his subsequent performance naturally became even more spirited.
Adhering to the principle of "never leaving empty-handed,"
Zhou Jinnan let out a long sigh, slowly pulled off his leather gloves, and waved his hand grandly at the room.
“We can't make this trip for nothing! The brothers' travel expenses depend on this raid! Search carefully and take everything that can be traded for silver dollars!”
Upon hearing this, the agents immediately began rummaging through drawers and cabinets.
Zhou Jinnan didn't stay idle either.
He strolled over to a chest of drawers and pulled one open.
Pulling out an old pocket watch, he shook his head in disgust. “A Prussian antique. The pawnshop will give us two silver dollars at most.”
Despite his verbal disdain, his hand was incredibly honest as he slipped it directly into his pocket.
Next, he walked over to the corner, used the tip of his leather shoe to flip open the lid of a camphor wood chest, bent down, and picked up a yellowed fur coat, shaking it out.
“This fur coat is in decent shape. It'll make a perfect tablecloth back home.”
Rate on N.U.
