Nara, a historic city in Japan, heir to the Tang Dynasty’s legacy.
Lu Zheng and Lin Wan strolled through the famous Todaiji Temple. The various styles there blended Tang and Japanese influences. And it had to be said, they harmonised quite well.
“No wonder those Japanese with comfortable lives once claimed Chinese heritage lived on in Japan. They do have something to them.”
Lin Wan counted on her fingers. “Architecture, calligraphy, flower arranging, tea ceremony, Tang swords, Tang hand…”
Lu Zheng nodded. “Pity. They only grasped the surface, not the essence.”
Lin Wan giggled. “The economic base determines the superstructure. Back then, Japan’s culture was something we looked up to.”
Lu Zheng smiled. “That is surface too. After all, Japan does well with appearances. That much we must admit.”
“So what is the core?”
“Most citizens are ordinary. The core is whether heroes draw inspiration from national culture. And in crises, lead the country on the right path.” Lu Zheng said. “This shows in how China never left the historical stage.”
Lin Wan teased with a laugh. “The teacher studied German Marxism.”
Lu Zheng smiled. “Great capacity accommodates all, draw from many schools, three people walking together must include a teacher. Marx said workers are greatest. But the teacher took the road of rural areas encircling cities.”
Lin Wan nodded. Hard to refute. In truth, communism shared much with the Hundred Schools and Chinese traditions. But it was more timely, more advanced.
Perhaps, compared to that fallen red giant, China seemed the true heir.
“It is a big weekend. We are out for fun. How did we end up on politics?”
Lu Zheng laughed. “A man who does not discuss politics, is he even a man? Those old men under Beijing’s city walls can chat about it all day.”
Lin Wan smiled faintly. “I know well if you are a man. No need for politics to prove it.”
Lu Zheng, “…”
How did the topic veer off like that?
“Matsuda Kenji really has the interest to hold the meeting in Todaiji.”
“I hear he is a Buddhist. And a very devout one.”
Lu Zheng’s lips curved. He said lightly, “Praying to Buddha for protection? To keep nightmares away in daily life. And avoid falling to hell after death?”
Cold light flickered in Lin Wan’s eyes. She looked towards the distant Great Hero Hall. “Perhaps. Who knows if Buddha can shield him?”
Matsuda Kenji, another shareholder in the overseas Japanese school. But he was far more vicious than Ito Tansi. He entered China early. Back then, he dabbled in smuggling-related business. And he loved setting up high-pollution factories. Sucked enough blood from China before slowly withdrawing.
More importantly, his father was enshrined in the Yasukuni Shrine.
Lu Zheng said, “This time, I will handle it. Since he believes in Buddha so much, let him live in nightmares forever.”
Lin Wan had no objection, of course.
The two strolled along and soon reached Todaiji’s back courtyard, closed to outside visitors. They stepped in casually. Yet the monks coming and going, and Matsuda Group’s security, all overlooked them completely.
Hand in hand, they toured. Soon they found Matsuda Kenji in a back courtyard meditation room. He sipped tea and discussed Zen with the abbot.
A stern-looking Japanese old man. Ruddy face, sharp spirits. He looked set to live another decade or two.
With a flick of his finger, Lu Zheng planted the nightmare curse on Matsuda Kenji’s brow.
“Eh?”
The abbot let out a soft sound. He looked at Matsuda Kenji, who had just lifted his teacup.
“What is it?” Matsuda Kenji asked.
The abbot shook his head. He had just seen black qi flash at Matsuda Kenji’s brow. But now, looking closely, it was gone.
“Old age, eyes playing tricks.” The abbot chuckled.
Matsuda Kenji was old too. He only liked sweet words. If the abbot said he saw black qi on his brow, would that not invite trouble?
So the abbot just smiled and continued brewing tea. He went on explaining Zen to Matsuda Kenji.
…
With the nightmare curse on Matsuda Kenji, Lu Zheng and Lin Wan did not rush to leave. They kept touring Todaiji. Now and then, they used illusions to blur others’ sight. Then they showed themselves for a photo. They had quite a fun time.
Until noon, time for a meal.
What to do?
This was the benefit of Japan not yet widespread with mobile payments.
Lu Zheng raised his hand. The yen they exchanged for the Japan trip was still untouched.
“What about identities?”
“Illusion will do.”
So the two flew to Osaka. Each ordered a bowl of eel rice. Full and satisfied, as they prepared to leave, they saw a plane take off from the nearby Osaka base.
Their eyesight was sharp. They spotted the American military emblem on the plane clearly.
Lin Wan wiped her mouth with a napkin. She raised a brow at Lu Zheng.
Lu Zheng patted his belly. “Fed and watered. Before heading back, shall we work off the meal?”
Lin Wan smiled lightly. “Sure!”
…
That afternoon, the US military stationed in Japan announced two fighter jets collided mid-air due to sudden turbulence and crashed. Fortunately, no casualties.
…
“Though small-scale, if one or two crash weekly, he cannot hold out forever, right?” Lu Zheng asked.
Lin Wan smiled bitterly. “Far from it. No matter how natural you make it, they will start investigating.”
“We can vary the causes.” Lu Zheng shrugged. “Without exposing ourselves, what can they find? If they find nothing, it is national fate. America’s fortune wanes. What can they do?”
“Speaking of America…”
Lin Wan blinked. “Did you get the money from the Saint Miguel treasure auction?”
“Oh right!” Lu Zheng recalled. “Half a month passed. Why no deposit in my secret account?”
Lu Zheng spent little and lacked for nothing. The ten million USD Grant prepaid last time still lay intact in the encrypted account. So he had not minded this payment at all.
But…
Not minding did not mean others could swallow it.
Lu Zheng’s eyes narrowed. “Does Grant have such nerve?”
He had scared Grant with dream entry. Upon waking, showed telekinesis too. Yet Grant still dared, money over life?
“Not necessarily Grant.” Lin Wan pondered. “Maybe FBI or CIA.”
Lu Zheng raised a brow. “Because of that Allen Art Company?”
Lin Wan reasoned. “Possible. Think about it. They got the Saint Miguel tip from Allen Art. And soon after the clue, the sunken treasure surfaced. They would wonder if linked. Key point, Allen Art was attacked then, lost eighteen artworks.”
Lu Zheng, “…”
“Careless. Did not expect Grant to leak it.”
