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Kapitel 1

Ghost Flag

A photo from 67 years ago (1)

The only intact buildings that survived the Japanese bombing raids years ago are now going to be destroyed.

At the entrance of Lane 85, Yutong Road, near Hengfeng Road in Zhabei District, stands a row of unassuming three-story Chinese-style houses. According to the *Zhabei District Gazetteer*, this three-story building is an important historical site. In 1937, after the Japanese bombing of the Suzhou Creek area, Zhabei was reduced to ruins, and this three-story building was the only intact structure remaining. Now, due to urban renewal, this important historical landmark is slated for demolition. Some insightful individuals argue that the three-story building should not be demolished and should be protected from the perspectives of patriotic education and as a historical site.

Yesterday, a reporter visited the "Three-Story Building" and, coincidentally, the office of the "Three-Story Building Neighborhood Committee" of Tianmu West Road Subdistrict is located within the building. Zhou Yulan, the director of the neighborhood committee, explained that the "Three-Story Building" was built in the 1930s by four wealthy individuals; there were four buildings in total. It is said that it "escaped" the Japanese bombing because the foreigners living in the buildings displayed foreign flags. Afterwards, the surviving buildings became the most prominent structures in the area and, for a long time, the tallest buildings in Zhabei District. People habitually called it the "Three-Story Building," and even the "Three-Story Building Neighborhood Committee" got its name from it.

Due to the widening of Hengfeng Road and the renovation of the old district, two three-story buildings had already been demolished, and the remaining two are now in imminent danger and have been included in the demolition plan. Seeing this historical site about to disappear, Wu Daqi, a member of the Zhabei District Political Consultative Conference, and others are extremely anxious and have submitted a proposal opposing the demolition of the three-story buildings. He believes that although the historically significant three-story buildings do not have the status of protected buildings, they are invaluable historical witnesses, and such sites are rare in Shanghai. Various measures should be taken to actively protect them and transform them into patriotic education bases to educate future generations not to forget national humiliation and to be vigilant against the resurgence of Japanese militarism. Zhou Yulan also feels that demolishing the three-story buildings is a real pity. Although the dozens of families living there hope to improve their housing conditions, they also believe that the three-story buildings should be protected.

Xinmin Evening News, June 9, 2004

Because I was participating in today's newspaper review, I read through the daily newspapers of several major competing media outlets in the city. Each newspaper holds similar meetings daily, and everyone has a few media outlets they keep a close eye on. If another newspaper has a story that yours doesn't, it's called a missed article, and the responsibility can range from minor to serious—even resulting in the immediate dismissal of the reporter. If yours has a story that others don't, of course, you feel smug. The reward? A few coins, and most of the time just verbal praise. Heavy penalties and light rewards—that's how it is.

So an hour before the meeting, I scanned through newspapers such as the Morning Post, Youth Daily, Oriental Morning Post, Liberation Daily, Wenhui Daily, and Xinmin Evening News, and that's how I came across the news article above.

We missed this news.

However, in my opinion, this isn't exactly major news, nor is it a must-publish story for any newspaper. It's an exclusive story for another publication, discovered by their own reporters. We can't deny others exclusive stories, can we? Although the higher-ups always think this way, we lowly employees still feel we should give others a chance to survive… If there really were a newspaper that never missed a good story, wouldn't other newspapers be out of business? Besides, the *Xinmin Evening News* has a daily deadline of morning, giving it a natural advantage over our morning papers that have a deadline the previous evening. It's common for us to report a day later than them.

Besides, it's just a newspaper review; is it really necessary to offend colleagues you see every day at the newspaper office?

So when it was my turn to speak during the review, I simply said, "Today's Xinmin Evening News has an exclusive article about historical sites. If we could have more of these discovery-based articles in the future, the newspaper would be even more interesting." I didn't mean to offend anyone in the slightest.

But the leader has his own ideas. And if it's a new leader, he'll have a lot more ideas.

After the review meeting, Lan Tou asked me to stay behind.

Lan Tou's surname is Lan, and he's the new boss, hence the name Lan Tou. His position is Deputy Editor-in-Chief. He's a Deputy Editor-in-Chief in charge of business operations, so we now have two Deputy Editors-in-Chief in charge of business operations, resulting in overlapping responsibilities. Everyone knows this involves a power struggle among the newspaper's upper management.

The new guy with the blue hat is working hard, sharpening his knives, and already a lot of unlucky reporters and editors have gotten their comeuppance. Being stopped by him really annoyed me. But I'm a veteran reporter at the newspaper, with a distinguished reputation, and I've heard plenty of stories like this. So I steeled myself and thought, who's afraid of who?

A photo from 67 years ago (2)

That's what I'm saying, but I still feel a little uneasy, just a tiny bit, really only a tiny bit.

"I wanted to talk to you about that exclusive article in the evening paper," said the man with the blue hair, his face beaming.

I watched him nod, looking like a confident, seasoned veteran, as if I were the leader.

“It’s okay if others have exclusive stories, but we have to keep up. Sometimes, the one who produces the news first isn’t necessarily the one who has the last laugh.” Blue Head began to explain his plan in detail.

He wanted me to conduct an in-depth investigation, to uncover the details of those two buildings, and to amplify the impact, hoping to ultimately save them through the influence of the media. In his words, this was a "meritorious deed that also demonstrates the power of media oversight. Most importantly, it also demonstrates the power of our *Morning Star*." There's something I know he didn't say: "This also demonstrates the brilliant leadership of my Blue Head."

“Although I haven’t been here long, I’ve read a lot of your reports. You’re a key member of the Morning Star, so I’ll entrust this special report to you.” He stood up, walked over to me, and patted me on the shoulder.

"No problem." I patted my chest to assure him, secretly chuckling to myself. See? This Blue Head knows who can be touched, who can't, and who should be pampered, doesn't he?

In-depth reporting is meticulous work. I made a phone call and arranged to interview the neighborhood committee tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow morning, I plan to visit the Shanghai Library. If the building is truly as famous as the *Xinmin Evening News* report claims, the Shanghai Library must have information about it. To preserve the building, such materials proving its value are indispensable. Besides, citing some sources will make my article easier to write.

I arrived at the Shanghai Library at nine o'clock the next morning. I'm a regular there; I had already obtained a special reading card, which allowed me to access materials not available to the public. I knew several of the people in charge of publicity, and most importantly, I knew the clerks who were in charge of sorting out old and rare books. Although I could search the catalog on their internal network, I often felt lost without anyone to guide me.

Coincidentally, as soon as I entered the lobby on the ground floor shown in the picture above, I saw the branch manager Zhao Wei walking through the lobby.

I called him over and handed him a "Chunghwa" cigarette. I don't smoke much, but I always carry good cigarettes with me.

"Forget it, you know smoking isn't allowed here. So, what are you checking for this time?" Zhao Wei pushed away the cigarette and said shrug it off.

"Hehe, you know me best." I laughed and put the cigarette away.

"Why would you come here if there's nothing wrong?"

After I explained the situation, Zhao Wei pointed to the VIP lounge, said "Wait there," and left.

After sitting on the sofa for about ten minutes, Zhao Wei came over with a thick, hardcover book.

"A Pictorial Catalogue of Old Buildings in Shanghai"

"This book was published in 1987. It mainly uses old photos of old buildings, and the descriptions of the buildings are quite detailed," Zhao Wei said, turning to a page.

"Look, these are those four buildings. These photos were taken shortly after the Japanese bombing. They are precious, and there are also a lot of written materials. Take your time looking at them. If you want to scan the photos, go to the office. You know that place well. I have something to do, so I can't keep you company any longer."

"You're busy, you're busy," I said, but my eyes were fixed on the photo on this page. A moment of surprise made me even forget the politeness I should have shown to Zhao Wei, who was walking quickly out of the lounge.

I have to admit, this is a truly stunning photograph.

That was nothing short of a miracle; this photograph captures a miracle that occurred nearly seventy years ago.

I'm guessing when this photo was taken—an hour after the bombing, or a day or two? It couldn't have been any longer, because the scene in the photo is filled with ruins and thick smoke, and there's not a single person in sight.

After the Japanese bombing, there were many places like this in Shanghai that were in ruins, but in this photo, four buildings stand out in stark contrast to the rubble and broken tiles.

This photo was taken from a high vantage point, capturing a distant view. In the distance, four towering buildings, significantly taller than the surrounding dilapidated bungalows, stand out prominently.

For a moment, I even thought that when the Japanese bombers dropped heavy bombs, this neighborhood had deployed an energy shield that I had only ever heard of in science fiction novels, so it was completely unharmed. Otherwise, given the severity of the damage to the surrounding buildings, it would have been a case of "when the nest is overturned, no egg remains intact."

This is obviously a ridiculous idea. If there really was a protective shield, how come all the bungalows around and between the four buildings collapsed, leaving only these four buildings? However, the state shown in the photos is clearly more absurd and unbelievable than preserving an entire block.

A photo from 67 years ago (3)

I casually flipped through the first few pages and noticed that all the other buildings were shown in close-up, and the photos only occupied about half of the page. Only this photo was a distant view, taking up the entire page. I turned to the next page, and sure enough, there were four close-up photos of smaller buildings, along with textual information. The editors at the time must have found this distant view photo quite remarkable, hence the special treatment it received.

I turned back to the previous page and examined the photograph closely. The arrangement of the four buildings was strange; each building was spaced a distance apart.

There are two buildings at the very front, one behind, and one further behind.

I always felt there was something wrong with the arrangement, so I flipped to the text description at the back and sure enough, I found this paragraph:

"At that time, the four Sun brothers built four buildings. The eldest brother's building was the center, and the other three buildings were arranged in a triangular shape around it. The distance between each building was five or six hundred meters."

I flipped it back and compared it, and sure enough, it was a triangular shape.

Without realizing it, my brow had furrowed. This wasn't a concession area back then, so why did the Japanese planes bomb all around but leave such a large blind spot?

No, it's not a blind spot, but four points were deliberately left unexploded?

Good heavens! Even with today's precision-guided missile technology, the Americans can't guarantee this. Even if the Japanese devils back then had no intention of blowing up four buildings, they couldn't have done it with such precision and skill.

The text also mentions the reason why these four buildings were preserved, which is basically consistent with the report: the foreigners living in the buildings raised foreign flags, and the Japanese planes saw them and did not bomb them.

Many things, once someone provides an answer, are no longer worth investigating further; the present situation is a prime example. As a journalist tasked with in-depth reporting, I certainly cannot allow this intellectual inertia to persist.

No matter how much I pondered, the doubts only multiplied, and I couldn't come up with a single answer.

First, what national flag was that? Second, why weren't those foreigners staying in the concession? How many foreigners were there, and how many flags were there? If flags were being raised in all four buildings, why were so many foreigners gathered here?

Even if all of the above were true, how could the pilot on the plane have noticed the small flag below?! Even if he had, under such war conditions, and with the Japanese invaders' high and even bloodthirsty will to fight, would they have let these four buildings go just because of this small foreign flag?

Furthermore, the most peculiar thing is that even if the Japanese pilots were determined to spare these four buildings, how did they manage to bomb the surrounding buildings to smithereens while leaving the four buildings completely unharmed? Could it be that the Japanese pilots at that time could control the accuracy within ten meters with the naked eye?

These unsolvable questions lingered in my mind for a long time. Suddenly, I chuckled. Wasn't an incredible sight, an inexplicable miracle, the best reason for the building's preservation? With a little hype, everyone who read the report would think that these four buildings, which miraculously survived Japanese bombs, couldn't even survive half of them in today's peaceful times? The unremarkable appearance of the four buildings, and the fact that the four Sun brothers, the builders, were wealthy but not prominent, would no longer be issues.

After photocopying and scanning, having finished everything, I returned the book and happily left the Shanghai Library. I had found the main thread of the report, and I knew how to structure the article. Next, I just needed to find some elderly residents who had experienced the war and have them recount the details of the "myth" that occurred back then, and I would be done. According to the information, when the four Sun brothers purchased these four plots of land, they reached an agreement with the original owners that some rooms would be allocated to them after the four buildings were completed. Therefore, some residents moved back into the buildings after they were finished. From this perspective, although I don't know what kind of business the Sun brothers were involved in, their actions were quite reminiscent of "red capitalists."

In the afternoon, at the entrance of Lane 85, Yutong Road, I easily found one of the two remaining buildings. Before entering, I took a picture at the entrance; from a journalistic perspective, I needed a photo from today to compare with one from sixty-seven years ago.

Like the four close-up photos of the building I'd seen in the book, standing before it now, it looked no different except for its gray exterior that made it appear old. It was an extremely ordinary old building, devoid of any architectural features, and certainly not related to aesthetics or art. The only slightly unusual thing was that this "three-story" building was quite tall, roughly equivalent to a five-story building today. If I hadn't found that old photograph as a starting point, I really couldn't find any reason to stop its demolition.

A photo from 67 years ago (4)

The "Three-Story Neighborhood Committee" is located on the first floor of this building. Director Zhou wasn't there; I was greeted by a deputy director surnamed Yang. He enthusiastically introduced me to the building, but I already knew most of what he said. After more than half an hour, I finally had a chance to interrupt him and ask how many long-term residents currently lived in the building.

"An elderly person who has lived here since then?!" Deputy Director Yang frowned.

He thought for a moment and told me that there were very few old residents like this anymore. Most of the residents in the building moved in around the time of the Cultural Revolution. The old residents either moved out or died, after all, more than 60 years had passed.

"There are no more people living in this building, but there are still two in the building behind it. Old Zhang on the second floor and Mr. Su Yicai on the third floor. They are both over eighty years old."

I noticed a subtle change in how Deputy Director Yang addressed him; both were over eighty years old, yet he used two different tones in his address. It seems he didn't have much respect for that old man, Zhang.

"Old Su is such a kind man. He has done countless good deeds over the years, both in public and in private. I heard that he has donated hundreds of thousands of yuan to Project Hope. Last year, when Old Li's son-in-law got liver cancer, he secretly gave him 30,000 yuan. Old Zhang is different. He is very withdrawn and doesn't like to talk to people." Deputy Director Yang began to introduce the two elderly men to me.

“Old Zhang, his name is…” I can’t address the old man like that when I’m writing this article. Rather than asking this reclusive old man his name in person, I might as well find out now.

"His name is Zhang Qing. But to be honest, I think both of them are a bit strange. No matter what, they've been living alone for so many years, without getting married or having children. No one in the building has ever seen their parents or relatives. They just live alone in the building. And they don't talk much about their past. I wonder if they'll tell you."

An octogenarian bachelor? I was taken aback; that's truly rare, and there are two of them here at once. Leaving the past behind… I thought of that photograph again.

Suppressing my doubts, I stood up and said goodbye to Deputy Director Yang. There was no point in thinking about anything before we even met; maybe they'd be willing to tell me, a reporter, something.

“You have to walk a bit further into the alley to see that building; it’s quite far,” Deputy Director Yang reminded me.

I suddenly remembered something and asked, "I heard that the four buildings were originally arranged in a triangular shape with one building at the center. Now, which two buildings are left?"

"The three-story building you're going to now is the one in the center. It's the one of the three outer buildings that faces northwest."

As I walked along Lane 85 of Yutong Road, I finally understood just how far "quite far" meant. It wasn't until I reached the end of the lane—or rather, walked out of the lane and onto Puji Road—that I saw another three-story building. It was about 100 or 200 meters away from the previous one.

I rubbed my forehead with my hand; this situation really was a bit strange.

If it's this far from the building in the center to the one on the edge, then the distance between the three buildings on the edge must be 300 meters or even more. If you calculate the location, if those two demolished "three-story buildings" were still there, one would be on Minli Road or Gonghe Road, and the other would be near Hanzhong Road.

Actually, when I saw that photo, I already felt that the distance between these buildings was quite large. Now that I've walked around in person, I realize that the distance between them is so large that it's illogical.

Four brothers building four buildings—shouldn't they be built right next to each other? Why are they so far apart? If the four brothers didn't get along, why would they build houses in the same area, and with the exact same style? It just doesn't make sense.

After rubbing my forehead several times, I walked into the central "three-story building".

The building was constructed in a very down-to-earth style, both inside and out. The first floor was poorly lit; even though it was afternoon, many areas were still shrouded in shadow. I walked up the wooden staircase to the second floor, the wooden planks creaking under my feet.

If it were me, I would definitely build a smaller building, only two stories, but it would be much better than the current one. If the construction costs of four buildings were combined to build one, it could be quite luxurious, more than enough for four brothers to live together.

With that thought in mind, I went up to the second floor.

The old-style buildings didn't have house numbers, so Zhang Qing had to ask around to find out where she lived.

"Excuse me, where does Zhang Qing live?" I asked an elderly woman who came out of the left-hand door.

A photo from 67 years ago (5)

"Zhang Qing?!" The old woman spoke with a Ningbo accent, frowning as if she couldn't remember him.

"It's Old Zhang."

The old woman suddenly realized what was going on and casually pointed to a tightly closed vermilion door on the right front.

There was no doorbell, so I knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" After a while, a low and confused voice came from inside the door.

The door creaked open, and standing in front of me was a short, wiry old man. His body was so thin that it seemed as if a gust of wind could blow him away, but his eyes were very bright, and his hair was gray. He looked more than ten years younger than his actual age.

"Hello, are you Mr. Zhang? I'm Na Duo, a reporter from the Morning Star." I showed him my press card.