radicalducati Chapter 4 The Perfect Forged Transaction Contract
Chapter 4 The Perfect Forged Transaction Contract
After the war ended, this British businessman named Charles Wilson returned to Shanghai and took over the property again!
Han Zhenhua was extremely excited when he received the accurate results, because he had obtained accurate information that the British businessman named "Charles Wilson" had left Shanghai less than a month after the start of the Battle of Shanghai. Now the war had been going on for two months, and the TV series "Borrowing a Gun" was based on the fact that the property had been vacant for eight years. It was not that there were actually intelligence agents occupying the property.
Of course, to verify its authenticity, Han Zhenhua hailed a rickshaw after entering the British Concession and went to No. 169 Jing'an Road in the British Concession to check it out in person. When he saw the thick layer of dust on the doorknob of the independent two-story villa with the "built-in lock", he knew that the property was indeed "vacant"!
The surrounding area is also full of detached villas and mansions, because this is a high-end residential area in the British concession, where most of the residents are senior executives of foreign companies, diplomats, translators and wealthy businessmen!
He immediately had an idea, which is why his first stop was St. John's University, where he became a visiting student!
Because typewriters were extremely rare in those days! But university students could use them!
After giving the Indian guard a one-yuan tip, Han Zhenhua's fingers flew across the old-fashioned typewriter in the printing room of St. John's University.
The Remington typewriter's greasy keys required force to press, but it was far more advanced than copying English contracts with a brush.
"Charles Wilson voluntarily transfers the property at 169 Jing'an Road to Mr. Han Zhenhua for a symbolic price of £800..." He compared the key clauses word by word with the standard 1935 British property transfer agreement template on his phone.
AI even provided a sample of Charles Wilson's signature!
The next morning, in front of No. 169 Jing'an Road, Han Zhenhua was wearing a three-piece suit he had bought at a secondhand clothing store for 20 yuan. His briefcase contained the original contract that had been aged overnight.
He deliberately chose the time when the police changed shifts, and sure enough, he ran into an Indian policeman who looked exhausted.
"Sir, this house has been vacant for two months," asked Singh, an Indian constable wearing a red turban, as he approached suspiciously.
Han Zhenhua immediately slipped over a 1-yuan tip, saying, "Mr. Wilson was in a hurry to leave and sold this property to me." He then took out a copy of the "Property Purchase Contract" from his St. John's University student ID and handed it over.
When the police officer saw the British consulate's "stamp" on the contract (actually a masterpiece carved by Han Zhenhua from canteen potatoes with AI's step-by-step guidance), his attitude immediately became respectful. In this era, Indian police officers in the concessions were most afraid of getting involved in property disputes between white people.
Three hours later, after thoroughly cleaning the entire 280-square-meter villa, Han Zhenhua, exhausted to the point of collapse, finally relaxed in the villa's cast-iron bathtub. He looked at the marble walls and the gilded faucet flowing with warm water carrying a rusty smell, creating fine ripples in the tub.
On the second day after his transmigration, he finally had a home in Shanghai, and could finally take a hot bath in peace, just like in his previous life! This property was not only extremely luxurious, but also contained many valuable items, such as wall clocks, pure wool carpets, radios, various antique vases, tea sets, coffee sets, and other large and valuable items that he couldn't take with him.
The clock, its brass body gleaming with an ancient and weighty luster, features exquisite carvings that meander down from the top, as if telling stories of bygone years. Every hour on the hour, it emits a clear and melodious sound that echoes throughout the room, seemingly awakening the dormant memories of this house.
The pure wool carpet is thick and soft, making you feel like you're sinking into clouds when you step on it. The exquisite patterns on the carpet are intricate and gorgeous, meticulously woven by skilled artisans, with every detail showcasing unparalleled quality.
As Han Zhenhua lay in the bathtub, his thoughts drifted to these items. With these things, he wouldn't be short of money for the time being, because there were many pawnshops in Shanghai. He could just take a couple of items to a pawnshop and have money for a while!
As for the Military Intelligence Bureau, they absolutely could not contact them again before their information was confirmed on November 5th. Everything had to wait until the intelligence was fully confirmed to be true. Then, even if they couldn't explain the source of the intelligence, they wouldn't be at risk of being imprisoned, investigated, or executed. After all, no one would use such important military intelligence as a "pledge of allegiance"!
While Han Zhenhua was comfortably lying in the bathtub, dreaming of a bright future, the Shanghai Special Operations Team, which had just received a secret telegram from the Military Intelligence Bureau, was brightly lit!
Zhao Lijun, the leader of the Special Operations Group in Shanghai of the Military Intelligence Bureau, held the secret telegram that had just been sent to him by headquarters. Everything was as expected!
Because after he received the important intelligence from Chen Jianghe of "Bird's Nest" from the peripheral intelligence agent "Crow", he knew that this telegram from headquarters to verify his identity would definitely come!
He stood in the shadows, and when he heard Bird's Nest's report: "Crow didn't go to the safe house? He dared to disobey orders... I went back to the rendezvous point and only found a few strands of hair..." Zhao Lijun then smashed a teacup, his face as gloomy as an unsheathed knife, his features thin and sharp, his cheekbones slightly high, his jawline hard, as if forged from cold iron. His face was as pale as paper, yet it faintly revealed a morbid stubbornness, like someone who had never seen the sun for years, even the color of blood swallowed by shadow.
Meanwhile, Shen Zui, the deputy team leader beside him, was using tweezers to pick up a short hair.
The military intelligence technician immediately handed over a magnifying glass: "The hair is 1.2 centimeters long, with neat ends. It was cut with Western hair clippers. The hair is smooth and shiny, not greasy, indicating that it is washed frequently. The cross-section of the hair strands is almost round, indicating good nutrition. It is highly likely that it is not a poor person suffering from long-term malnutrition."
Judging from the trimming marks on the hair and the lingering fragrance at the ends, this person likely worked in an environment that values appearance, such as a Western-run school, a foreign firm, or a government agency...
Just as Shen Zui was demonstrating his exceptional professionalism with a lengthy analysis, another intelligence officer entered with a telegram and said to the three, "Team leader, a telegram from headquarters: Today, the density of Japanese reconnaissance aircraft patrolling the waters near Jinshanwei, Quangongting, and Caojing Town has nearly doubled compared to yesterday..."
Presidential Palace in Nanjing.
Dai Chunfeng stood outside the reception room of the principal's residence, his palms damp with sweat. He clutched the intelligence report about the Japanese landing in Hangzhou Bay, carefully considering the wording of his report.
"Yu Nong (Dai Chunfeng's courtesy name), the principal is waiting for you," the attendant said softly as he opened the door.
Inside the study, the principal was facing away from the door, intently staring at the map of the Shanghai-Nanjing war zone on the wall.
Dai Chunfeng stood at attention and saluted, his voice steady and powerful: "Principal, I have an urgent military intelligence report."
The principal did not turn around, but simply raised his hand to signal him to continue.