In Nanjing in 1942, Chen Jingyu knelt at the door of the Japanese Military Police and shouted in fluent Japanese: "I am willing to serve the Imperial Army." No one saw him, but he had just whispered in Hokkien to the little takeout girl at the door: "Mr. Shen, the fish has been caught in the net." A young man who returned from Nanyang pretended to be the most attentive translator at the Wang Puppet Secret Service Headquarters. The phrase "Hello, my friend" he taught Yamamoto was actually "There are mines ahead" in Wenzhou dialect; the "underground party secret messages" he helped decipher the traitors were the menus he wrote in Chaozhou dialect. He can always smile as he watches his enemies step into the holes he dug. But every time he sent a traitor to hell, he had to cross out a name in his diary - those comrades who died for him. Tonight, Ah Jiu's blood hasn't dried yet, and he has to pick up the wine glass to toast Yamamoto again. A gentle knife cuts into your own heart. Not a drop of the blood of our compatriots should be shed in vain.
