A Girl Traveling Through Troubled Times

Chapter 1150 The Development of the Situation

Gui'er had no choice but to give an awkward smile and slowly walk out.

As she left the newspaper office, she sighed and slowly walked downstairs. Just then, an editor came out. Gui'er recognized him immediately; wasn't he the same editor who had handed over intelligence to Detective Feng when she first met him?

She quickly asked, "Hello, uh, that private investigator seems to have had dealings with you before, right? Do you have any information about him?"

The editor, seeing Gui'er's question, paused, glanced back at the office, and gestured for Gui'er to take a few steps down before saying, "Excuse me, miss, I'm not actually very familiar with him. He was someone our deputy editor-in-chief contacted. He came once last week and hasn't come back since. I asked our deputy editor-in-chief if we should contact him again, but he seems to have had a falling out with him and doesn't want to talk about him. Just mentioning him makes him very irritable. So we don't mention him anymore. I suspect it's because he didn't give the deputy editor-in-chief a kickback. You've written ads for the deputy editor-in-chief before, you should understand..."

Gui'er immediately understood that he was referring to Zhou Honghui withholding other people's wages.

She smiled and said, "When was the last time he came here? Is there any way to find him? I really need to."

"Just last Friday, when he came over, he said that he had recently investigated and found out that some big entrepreneur was actually a traitor, but no one wanted the information he found. He also said that he was planning to go to Macau to seek refuge, which sounded quite mysterious."

Gui'er was stunned. It turned out that Detective Feng really had revealed that he was investigating the Liu family. It seemed that the news was leaked by someone from the newspaper. Had he told her about it?

She quickly pretended not to understand, brushed it off, and then took her leave.

When she got home, she told Wu Mingqiang the information she had gathered.

Upon hearing this, Wu Mingqiang exclaimed, "Last Friday? The police said he died around last Friday or Saturday. Does that mean he was murdered after leaving the newspaper office? The people at the newspaper office are indeed quite suspicious."

He frowned, his fingers tapping rapidly on the table: "The newspaper office is a mixed bag, and now with this kind of thing happening, there's no way the Liu family could have spies there. Gui'er, go there less often in the future, lest you get dragged into it."

Gui'er nodded, her heart heavy. The Xingmin Daily was where she and Chen Zhongyu had reunited. She had also taken on many part-time jobs there, even becoming an advertising writer. She never imagined that a mole was hiding there. If this person could betray Detective Feng to a traitor, then Zhu Zhiming and Chen Zhongyu might also have been betrayed by this person. Thinking of this, Gui'er felt a chill run down her spine. However, after considering the matter, she couldn't be sure who the mole was. She could only sigh and decide to follow Wu Mingqiang's advice to temporarily stay away to protect herself.

Life went on as usual, but the anxiety in the air grew stronger. It became increasingly difficult to hold classes at school. Teachers were often absent, claiming "emergency at home," but everyone knew they were mostly working part-time jobs. Prices were soaring, but the salaries offered by the school hadn't changed, making it quite difficult for teachers to make a living.

The scenes on the streets were even more shocking.

The dock became the liveliest place, yet also the most desperate. The wealthy, laden with large and small suitcases, crowded in front of the cruise ship's gangplank, handing out banknotes like scraps of paper, hoping to obtain a ticket to Macau or Southeast Asia. Whenever Gui'er passed by in her car, she would always see the dock packed with people: crying children, women clinging to the ship's railing, and refugees being driven away by police batons—a scene of utter chaos, like a pot of boiling porridge.

In the banks, long queues formed every day to withdraw money, or to secretly transfer gold bars and pounds to foreign banks. The luxury goods in the shop windows remained gleaming, but few people paid any attention to them. Occasionally, a few wealthy ladies would rush in, grab a few pieces of jewelry, saying it was "for a rainy day," but their eyes were full of anxiety.

In contrast, there are an increasing number of beggars on the streets. Most of them are refugees who have fled from the interior of China. They are ragged, thin as skin and bones, their outstretched hands like withered branches, muttering, "Give me something to eat." Some children, who are so hungry, squat at the back door of restaurants, waiting for the waiters to throw away the swill, then they rush forward to grab the scraps of food.

The black market is rampant, and rice prices have skyrocketed. A few pounds of rice can be exchanged for a gold ring. Every day, people bring family heirlooms to pawn at Gui'er's pawnshop. An old lady tearfully takes off her dowry silver bracelet, and a young man takes off his only watch, just to exchange for a few pounds of coarse rice. Zhao Ding said that even the pawnshop is almost unable to accept anything now. The warehouse is overflowing, but no one has the spare money to redeem their items.

At school, Sheberan said her father had transferred most of the family's assets to Malaya and was just waiting for ship tickets to take the whole family away. Other classmates said that British teachers had received evacuation notices, and even some school leaders were packing their bags.

Gui'er sat in the classroom, listening to the air raid siren outside the window. She felt completely lost. The words on her textbook became blurry one by one. She felt that the world was like a giant hourglass, with the sand slowly leaking out. She and the people around her were all in this hourglass, waiting for the moment they would be buried.

On the way home from school, Acheng pointed to the mountaintop in the distance and said, "Miss, look, those foreign mansions have been keeping their lights on at night lately. I heard they're packing up overnight."

Gui'er looked up and saw the lights on the mountaintop flickering in the twilight, like dying stars. She suddenly thought of Zhu Zhiming and his family, Professor Chen Muli, and the refugees still struggling on the streets. The rich could escape, but most people could only stay on this land, waiting for their unknown fate.

As the car drove along Queen's Road, the once bustling street was now much more desolate. Most of the shops had signs saying "Clearance Sale," but they were still deserted. Gui'er looked out the window and suddenly felt as if she were standing on a ship that was about to sink, but she was helpless and could only watch it slowly sink.

“Brother Cheng,” she said softly, “go visit Brother Zhu and the others tomorrow and bring them some rice.”

Acheng replied, "Okay."

The next day after school, Acheng, following Gui'er's instructions, prepared some rice, flour, and several cans of food, and drove to the small courtyard where Zhu Zhiming was temporarily staying.

The courtyard was hidden deep in the old neighborhood, surrounded by old buildings crammed together, their walls peeling and cluttered with miscellaneous items, yet it was surprisingly quiet. Zhu Zhiming was sitting on a small stool by the door, basking in the sun, holding a coarse cloth in his hand, slowly wiping the pair of silver candlesticks—something he hadn't pawned last time, which he treasured dearly.