The Secret Ledger of Jinling

In 1937, before Nanjing fell, two things were locked away in the Central Bank's vault: a shipload of gold that had never been shipped out, and an encrypted telegram the Japanese would give anything to obtain. The man keeping the books was Zhou Yan. Twenty-four years old, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, he spoke slowly and kept accounts quickly. He had a strange gift: he never forgot a number he had seen. Ciphers, safe combinations, gold withdrawal slips, telegraph codes: what looked like gibberish to others was clear as day to him. The price was a rush of white noise in his ears after every effort to memorize, leaving him deaf for two days. The first trouble he discovered wasn't the enemy's tell, but his own superior's: Manager Rong Zhihe had approved goods worth over a hundred thousand Fabi in just seven days, and the books balanced as neatly as a fresh page. Zheng Xiaonan, newly assigned by the Juntong, was watching the bank. A woman sent by Japan's Kempeitai was waiting for him to make a mistake at a tea party. He couldn't call out, run, or make a mistake. He could only do one thing: keep the gold safe and make the accounts add up.