Chapter 1: Butterfly Wings (Part 1)

  The Red Sea had long since passed, and the ship was sailing on the surface of the Indian Ocean. Fang Zida leaned against the railing on the deck, gazing eastward, lightly flicking off the ash from his cigar with his fingers, a faint smile hanging at the corner of his mouth. It was a French mail boat, but not the Vicomte de la Rochefoucauld, and it wasn't 1937, but rather 1913.

  Two weeks later, in the evening, at Shanghai's 16th Wharf, Fang Zidao finally set foot on Chinese soil.

  Looking at this familiar yet strange city, Fang Zidao didn't plan to stay for long. He thought he would go home first and see how things were going. He hailed a taxi and went straight to the train station. After buying his ticket, he found a corner in the waiting room, put down his luggage, and took out a book to read. Before he knew it, a commotion broke out, and Fang Zidao looked up to see several people wearing woolen coats walking into the waiting room, laughing and chatting. They seemed to be passengers of some importance, but Fang Zidao didn't pay much attention to them. He scanned them briefly before lowering his head to continue reading his book.

  It was almost time to board the train, and there were a lot of people heading towards the ticket gates. Fang Zida, carrying his luggage, followed the crowd and slowly moved forward. As he walked, someone suddenly pushed him from behind, causing the suitcase in his hand to accidentally bump into the person in front of him.

  "Hey, watch it! You trying to get killed?" A man in a black woolen suit suddenly turned around, glaring at him fiercely. Just as he was about to apologize, the stout man unexpectedly turned his head again and continued to push forward with force.

  "My god! What kind of person is this!" Fang Zida, who was about to apologize, suddenly felt a surge of anger in his heart. He subconsciously looked at the man and sized him up, thinking that he seemed a bit strange - rushing for the train without luggage, and awkwardly pushing forward with his hands in his pockets in such a crowded place, his eyes fixed intently on the front. Just as he was wondering if the other person was looking for someone, the man suddenly pulled out a gun from his pocket, his fierce expression accompanied by a sinister smile, the muzzle slowly rising.

  "My mother! There's a gun!" Fang Zida exclaimed in shock, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted doing something stupid and wished he could slap himself. However, he didn't react slowly, and with his life at stake, he gritted his teeth and flung the suitcase in his hand forward. Before he knew it, the gun went off with a loud bang.

  A brief silence was followed by a burst of ear-piercing screams and panic, as passengers scrambled around the platform in all directions. Several people rushed over to pounce on the killer who had been knocked to the ground, while Fang Zida, still shaken, felt his whole body go weak and slowly sat down on the ground, his head covered in cold sweat, panting heavily.

  "What's going on?"

  "What's going on?"

  "Where did the shooting happen? Was anyone shot?"

  Before long, another large crowd rushed over in a hurry, anxiously and disorderly shouting questions, while the ticket gate of the train carriage came with waves of mournful cries...

  A shooting incident occurred, and this train was definitely not going to be sat again. The police who arrived quickly took over the scene, and Fang Zidao, as a party involved, was naturally asked to go over. Fortunately, with the testimony of bystanders at the scene and the ship ticket stub he showed to the police, the British police chief did not make things difficult for him, but only asked some details of the scene in a routine manner before politely letting someone send him out of the police station.

  Just a few hours after returning to the country, Fang Zida was unexpectedly involved in a murder case. Before he could even clear his head, on the second day early in the morning, a middle-aged man with a serious expression rushed to the temporary hotel where he was staying and found him, opening his mouth to warn him in a low voice not to talk nonsense about last night's events, and to stay in the hotel for the time being without going out.

  "Excuse me, may I ask a question?" The person who sent the package asked as he was about to leave: "How is the person who got shot last night?"

  The newcomer shook his head with a sorrowful expression and quickly turned around and left without saying anything.

  Half an hour later, Fang Zidao arrived at the restaurant downstairs and only then learned from the newspaper about the case last night. The person who was shot dead on the platform was Huang Xing, a general and current director of the Han-Yue-Kan Railway Bureau, and also a member of the KMT's board of directors. Among those present yesterday were Wu Zhonghua, Tuo Luosheng, Chen Jinxuan, Liao Zhongkai, Yu Youren, etc. What made Fang Zidao even more shocked was that among these people, there was also Song Jiaoren, the leader of the KMT party, who was preparing to take the train and form a cabinet in the north at the invitation of Yuan Shikai.

  It wasn't until then that Fang Zida finally understood what had happened the night before. He never could have imagined that as soon as he returned to China, he would be drawn into history. His mind was a jumbled mess, and his accidental blow had turned Huang Xing, who should have still been alive for several more years, into Song Jiaoren's scapegoat for no reason at all.

  The matches that had been lit were all forgotten, until they burned painfully on the fingertips before Fang Zidao hastily threw them away. In a state of panic and confusion, he didn't even bother to eat dinner, grabbing the newspaper and rushing back to his room. After pulling up all the curtains in the house and reconfirming that he had locked the door, Fang Zidao sat on the sofa, smoking one cigarette after another, slowly calming himself down.

  Innumerable thoughts flashed through his mind, considering the current countermeasures. He thought left and right, but running was definitely not an option. Now that everything was unclear, if he ran out like this in a place where he didn't know anyone or anything, he wouldn't even know how he died. Moreover, there were the serious instructions from the person who came earlier. If Fang Zidao's estimate wasn't wrong, the person who came was either from the police station or the KMT, and it was more likely to be the latter. However, staying here waiting for something to happen wasn't a solution either. If the accomplices of the killer found out about the news and came to take revenge, he would still lose his life. Anxiously pacing back and forth in the room, the smoke from his cigarettes filled the entire house with fog. For an entire day, Fang Zidao was like an ant on a hot pot, jumping with fright. Just when he was at his wit's end, the middle-aged man came again the next day. After entering the house, he told Fang Zidao to quickly pack his bags and took him out through the back door, getting into a car that soon arrived at a small Western-style building located on Rue de la République in the French Concession.

  "You must be Mr. Fang, I am Song Jiaoren, Song Dongchu, these two days have caused Mr. Fang to be startled."

  A young man in a suit with an eight-character beard walked quickly over and extended his hand to Fang Zidao, who had just entered the door.

  Fang Zidao, who had been anxious all the way, suddenly let out a sigh of relief, knowing that the danger was finally over. He was even more grateful to Song Jiaoren for thinking of him in his busy schedule. He quickly shook hands with both hands: "Hello, Mr. Chu, I am Fang Zidao, Fang Mengming."

  "Please, Mr. Fang, take a seat." Song Jiaoren pointed to the sofa and sat down, sincerely thanking him: "Thank you very much for your timely help, Mr. Fang. If not, I'm afraid it wouldn't have been just Mr. Keqiang who encountered difficulties that night... Alas, poor Mr. Keqiang..." As he spoke, Song Jiaoren couldn't help but get teary-eyed and pulled out a white handkerchief to gently wipe away his tears.

  "Please call me Meng Ming, Mr. Tun Chu, please accept my condolences." Fang Zida replied carefully, following the other's words to comfort him, and asked anxiously: "Who is the murderer? Why did they assassinate Mr. Keqiang? Is it a vendetta or... was someone behind it?"

  "The killer who was caught on the spot was a rogue soldier named Wu Shiying, but he didn't say anything." Song Jiaoren also didn't conceal Fang Zidao, and after pausing for a moment said: "However, according to an informant, Wu Shiying was instructed by Ying Kui."

  "Should I?"

  "Ying Kui Xiang is Ying Gui Xin."

  Song Jiaoren had inquired about Fang Zidao and found out that he had just returned from abroad, so he was afraid that Fang didn't know the background of this person and specially explained it to him. Fang Zidao nodded repeatedly to show his understanding.

  "So the mastermind behind the scenes should be this Ying Kui?" Fang Zidao didn't expect that the police in this era would have such a high efficiency, and they had already tracked down the person behind the scenes in just one day. He asked tentatively.

  Shaking his head, Song Jiaoren slightly furrowed his brow: "It's not that simple. Huang Keqiang is no ordinary person, how could Yu Guixin dare to kill him? Moreover..." Although Song Jiaoren didn't continue speaking, Fang Zida wasn't difficult to guess that there must be some hidden secret, perhaps Song Jiaoren had already sensed in the subtle clues that the killer's true target was himself, and Huang Xing was just a substitute who died for him.

  "What did Ying Kui say about himself?"

  "What's going on?" Song Jiaoren sighed bitterly: "Ying Kui has already died."

  "What! He's dead?" Fang Zidao was shocked, although he didn't know the details of the Song case, but roughly knew something. It had been so long since Yu Kuiwen died, this couldn't be possible! Was it a case of mistaken identity and the killer was afraid of revenge and committed suicide? With a puzzled gaze at Song Jiaoren, he only heard the other party explain bitterly: "Not only is Ying Guiying dead, but also the killer is dead. Just last night, a strong killer died mysteriously in prison, and another person who was still alive and kicking the day before yesterday died at home."

  "The murder" - these four words Fang Zidao did not say out loud, because he had already guessed the answer from Song Jiaoren's expression. The truth about Song Jiaoren's assassination case in history has always been shrouded in mystery, with various speculations about who was behind it and what they said. According to later accounts, one of the most likely possibilities is that it was Beijing's President Yuan, or another possibility is the current Premier Zhao Bingjun. Because both of these individuals had conflicting political interests with Song Jiaoren, and when searching the home of Ying Kui, some "evidence" was found. Of course, there are other theories, but perhaps only God knows who actually gave the order. Moreover, due to Fang Zidao's appearance, the one who was killed turned out to be Huang Xing, making the case even more confusing and mysterious.

  Both of them didn't speak, especially Fang Zida was secretly worried about his own safety and remained silent. Song Jiaoren seemed to have noticed his doubts and kindly suggested: "Mr. Deng has been abroad for many years and just returned home, only to encounter such a big event, which delayed Mr. Deng's journey, I'm really sorry for that. After the Keqiang case, it's very chaotic outside now, so for safety reasons, please stay here for a few days, this place is small but quiet, after Keqiang's funeral is over, I'll personally send you off, how about that?"

  "Thank you, Mr. Tuan Chu, you're too kind, I'll be troubling you for the next few days." Fang Zida was overjoyed and didn't hesitate to agree.