Rong Jinzhen certainly seemed to possess a quality that forced him to waste time on insignificant matters. And yet, his remarkable intelligence and divine luck perhaps all relied upon this indomitable spirit to keep at it, no matter how many times he might have to bang his head against the wall. What’s more, it was this spirit that seemingly gifted him with a sublime deliberateness. This was simply Rong Jinzhen. Although he had read a countless number of books and possessed an unparalleled breadth of knowledge, when it came to daily life he was completely clueless, unaware of what was happening around him; which made him overly cautious and stupid at the same time. It was truly beyond belief. During all those years, he had only left the complex once, and that was to rescue his sister, Master Rong. His trip to Beijing was only his second time away. In all honesty, in the years that had followed his decryption of PURPLE, his life was not especially stressful and he had the time to go home for a visit, if he so desired. Indeed, we would have made arrangements immediately should he have asked. But he always flatly refused any suggestion that he leave the unit. It was as though he were a criminal being watched by a prison guard: his speech was circumspect; his movements, too. The thought of doing simply as he pleased had no meaning for him. But perhaps more to the point, he was afraid that something would happen if he were to leave even for a short period of time. Just like a person who fears being locked at home alone and divorced from human contact, he feared stepping outside his door; feared meeting people. His reputation and his job were like a sheet of glass to him, transparent and fragile. There is nothing that can be done for this kind of person, and he himself made matters worse by nursing these reclusive emotions, painstakingly cultivating them inside him. There was simply nothing we could do. .
[To be continued]
Due to his profession and his overly cautious nature, to say nothing of his fear that something might happen, Rong Jinzhen was trapped within a valley of secrets. Days and nights passed in this fashion; from beginning to end he was like a fenced-in animal. His approach to life at Unit 701 soon became familiar to everyone: he had a singular attitude — stiff, almost suffocating. His only joy was to pass the time in a world of the imagination. But now he was on his way to Beijing. It was only his second time away from the complex and it would also be his last.
As his habits dictated, Vasili was once more wearing his windbreaker — a crisp beige jacket, very stylish, with the collar turned up. He looked terribly mysterious. Today, however, his left hand was not buried in his pocket; instead it grasped a leather suitcase. The suitcase was neither big nor small. Brown in colour, it was made of cowhide with a hard shell; a perfectly common travelling safetydeposit box. Inside, however, were the files on BLACK, a veritable ticking time-bomb. Vasili’s right hand, Rong Jinzhen noticed, was constantly twitching inside his pocket as if he had some nervous tick that he was self-conscious about. Rong Jinzhen of course understood that Vasili had no nervous tick; his pistol was in his pocket. Jinzhen had once inadvertently caught a glimpse of the weapon and he had overheard what people said about it. Rong Jinzhen couldn’t help but feel somewhat aghast: holding tight onto that firearm had become a habit, a need for Vasili; something he couldn’t do without. Taking this thought further, Rong Jinzhen felt a sense of enmity, of terror. A sentence came into his mind — ‘A pistol is like money in one’s pocket; it can be taken out and used at any moment.’
Thinking that there was a weapon next to him, perhaps even two, Rong Jinzhen felt anxious. They might be pulled out suddenly to deal with trouble, like water is used to douse flames. But sometimes water can’t put a fire out. If that were to happen. . he could dwell on it no further. Meanwhile, the muffled sound of gunshots rang in his ears.
Of course Rong Jinzhen understood that if anything happened, if they were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, Vasili would not hesitate to turn the pistol on him and fire. ‘Death before divulging secrets.’ Rong Jinzhen repeated this maxim in silence. The sound of gunshots that had begun to fade once more echoed in his ears.
This sense of impending failure, a sense that catastrophe was just waiting to happen, accompanied Rong Jinzhen throughout his trip to the capital. No matter how he tried to beat it back, to resist it, he couldn’t help but think that the road was long and the train moved ever so slowly. It was not until he arrived safely at headquarters that his mood began to change and the dread in his heart subsided to be replaced by a warm and relaxed feeling. At that moment, he bravely thought that there was no need for him to frighten himself so in future.
‘What could possibly happen? Nothing. After all, no one knows who you are; no one knows that you carry top-secret information,’ he mumbled, as though berating himself for his earlier silliness.
2
The conference began the day after he arrived.
It had a grand inauguration, with four deputy heads of the Intelligence Service in attendance. An elderly, grey-haired senior official acted as host. According to the introduction provided, the elderly man was the first director of the research section. Privately, however, many said he was the first secretary and military advisor for official XX. Of course, Rong Jinzhen cared little about titles. The only thing he was thinking about was what the senior director had said — ‘We must decipher BLACK; our country’s security depends upon it.’
‘What we are talking about here,’ he said, ‘is decryption; but not all attempts at decipherment have the same objective or significance. Some ciphers are broken to ensure victory on a battlefield; others are cracked to demonstrate military superiority; still others are decrypted to guarantee the safety and security of a nation’s leader; and others for diplomatic reasons. Some are even broken simply to satisfy professional pride. There are of course numerous other reasons for decryption, and yet, out of all of those many reasons, none truly involve the very security and safety of the nation as a whole. To speak frankly, this extremely sophisticated cipher now being deployed by X country threatens the very integrity of our nation. There is only one means by which we can resolve this precarious situation and that is by swiftly decrypting BLACK. Some people say, give me a place to stand and I will move the earth; decrypting BLACK is where we take our stand. If we say that at present the security of our nation is in a critical situation, that we are being pressured, then decrypting BLACK will be the key to fighting against this threat.’
The emotional and yet stately inaugural address delivered by this solemn and respected elderly official brought forth a resounding chorus of applause. When he spoke, his silver hair moved in unison with his excited gestures, as if it too were speaking.
In the afternoon, it was time for the professionals to give their lectures. Rong Jinzhen was ordered to take the lead, giving a report that lasted well over an hour on his progress towards deciphering BLACK. Unfortunately he had made no progress whatsoever. Later, on the way back to Unit 701, he regretted having publically shared his own bewilderment at the conference. Over the course of the next few days, he spent countless hours listening to the opinions of other cryptographers as well as attending the two final closing addresses. Taken as a whole, Rong Jinzhen felt that the entire conference had been more of a discussion and not a rigorous research symposium. It had all been rather frivolous and shallow. The lectures had been more flowery speech and clichéd slogans than anything of substance. There had been no meaty debates, nor any cold, detached contemplation. From beginning to end the conference seemed as though it had been floating on a calm sea and all that Rong Jinzhen could do was to blow bubbles — the tranquillity and monotony had been suffocating.