Li Junyu was pushed into a room lit by a dim electric lamp, and the door slammed shut behind him. Before he could even get his bearings, someone in the room shouted in surprise, "Junyu? You were arrested too?"

Startled by the familiar voice, Li Junyu turned and saw two figures rising from a pair of simple wooden benches. They were Song Shiping from Beijing Normal University and Wang Donglu from Tsinghua School.

The three had been entrusted by the Beijing Student Union, which had organized the recent protests in the capital, to travel to the Northeast to coordinate with local schools. Song Shiping had gone to Siping, while Wang Donglu had headed for Changchun. They hadn't expected that just three days after parting ways in Shenyang, they would be reunited under such circumstances.

Li Junyu looked them over; neither seemed injured. Wang Donglu asked anxiously, "Junyu, they didn't treat you roughly, did they?"

Li Junyu thought back. Although the black-uniformed soldier who grabbed him had a grip like iron, Li Junyu had known better than to resist. The soldiers hadn't struck or insulted him. Seeing that he was fine, he hurriedly asked, "What about you two?"

Song Shiping raised his arms, his face flushed with anger. "The two of us were handcuffed and escorted here by train like common criminals. Everyone in the carriage must have thought we were bandits."

Wang Donglu was equally incensed. "The newspapers all call He Rui a patriotic general," he spat. "I never expected him to act exactly like the Beiyang government in Beijing—not allowing anyone to speak! A warlord is a warlord, after all!"

The three young men spent some time venting their fury at the Northeast government's suppression of student activities, but exhaustion eventually took hold, and they slumped back onto the benches. Li Junyu took the opportunity to survey their surroundings. Under the yellowish glow of the electric lamp, the room was sparse and orderly: a long bench, a small tea table, and two chairs placed by the door.

There was nothing else—except for the iron bars on the window, which made escape impossible. After a moment of futile searching, they sat back down. Li Junyu sighed. "Brother Qinian, will this arrest affect your plans to study in the United States?"

Wang Donglu, courtesy name Qinian, was a Guizhou native and a student at Tsinghua School. As a preparatory academy for study abroad, Tsinghua maintained incredibly strict standards; any blemish on a student's record could be disqualifying. Consequently, almost no one from Tsinghua had participated openly in the protests. Wang Donglu had accepted the mission to the Northeast in secret, believing that under He Rui's rule, the region would be a bastion of progress. He hadn't expected the security here to be even tighter than in Beijing.

Hearing Li Junyu's concern, Wang Donglu tried to summon his courage. "It shouldn't... Is patriotism a crime?"

Just as he spoke, footsteps echoed in the hallway. The three students fell silent, their eyes fixed on the door. It swung open, and three soldiers in black uniforms entered.

Two of them pulled the chairs over and sat across from the students, the tea table between them. The third stood by the door, watching them in silence. It was the first time any of the three had been arrested. Despite their outward anger, their resolve was already crumbling. As the soldiers stared at them without saying a word, the minutes stretched on, and the silence began to weigh on them. Unease and fear slowly crept into their hearts.

After what felt like an eternity, one of the seated men reached into a briefcase, pulled out a folder, and began leafing through the papers inside. He handed one to the soldier beside him. The students grew even more terrified. Had they already prepared a report to be sent to Beijing?

"Why did you come to the Northeast?" the lead soldier asked abruptly.

Li Junyu didn't dare answer, but Wang Donglu spoke up. "To expose the government's betrayal of the nation."

The soldier in black continued, "Have you read the *Northeast Daily* lately? If you had, you would know we've already covered the news—the Paris Peace Conference, the protests in Beijing. We don't need you running outside the pass to tell us what we already know."

Li Junyu had indeed read the paper and knew the man was telling the truth. He found himself at a loss for words. He certainly couldn't admit that their true goal was to establish a National Student Union.

"There is nothing wrong with patriotism," the soldier said. "But your attempts to mobilize the local schools have disrupted the educational order in the Northeast, and we cannot ignore that. You have two choices. One: you leave quietly and do not return. However, given the schools you attend, you are likely from wealthy or well-connected families and might think the government won't dare touch you. If you refuse to go, there is another way: we detain you and telegram your schools to send someone to fetch you. How do you students wish to proceed?"

As the soldier guessed, the three did come from privileged backgrounds and weren't particularly afraid of the law. But the threat of involving their schools made them trade panicked glances. For Wang Donglu especially, this was a matter of his future. If the school found out, years of hard work would vanish like water down a drain.

Li Junyu was about to agree to leave when Song Shiping spoke up. "General He recovered the Chinese Eastern Railway; his reputation for patriotism is known to all. So why does he remain silent regarding the interests of Shandong? General He is a son of Shandong himself—does he intend to sit back and watch his own people be tormented and slaughtered by the Japanese?"

Hearing these righteous words, Li Junyu felt the fire in his chest flare up again. Since He Rui was from Shandong, many students had hoped he would intervene. Yet the reality had been disappointing; He Rui had remained entirely indifferent, showing none of the spirit of the hero who had reclaimed the railway.

The soldier's expression soured, but he didn't explode in anger. When he spoke, his voice was chillingly detached. "If that is how you feel, why didn't you shout slogans during your protests to demand the Beiyang government appoint Chairman He as the Military Governor of Shandong?"

Li Junyu was stunned. He hadn't expected such a retort and found himself unable to answer. The soldier's companion added impatiently, "Why bother talking to them? These students don't even have the courage to become soldiers. Spouting pretty words takes no effort at all. Let's finish this; we're busy."

Li Junyu quickly tugged at Song Shiping's sleeve, gesturing toward Wang Donglu. Song Shiping, likely thinking of his friend's future, finally fell silent. In the end, the three agreed to leave the Northeast immediately and never return. They were led out and ushered into a waiting car.

They spent the night in a holding cell at the railway station's police precinct. At dawn, they were escorted onto a train with their luggage and sent out of Shenyang.

Once the train pulled out of the station, Wang Donglu thanked his companions. Li Junyu didn't know what to say. Everything that had happened over the past day felt like a bad dream. But now that it was over, aside from a lingering sense of resentment, no real harm had been done.

The three sat in somber silence for most of the two-day journey. When they finally stepped out of the station into the familiar streets of Beijing, they said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. For Li Junyu, a student at Peking University, the trip had left a bitter taste in his mouth.

It wasn't just the arrest; it was the soldier's words. The man had effortlessly struck their weak point. Their protests had no real impact on the Beiyang government and couldn't change a single policy.

Moreover, Li Junyu had spent much of the train ride considering whether he should join the army, only to admit to himself that he had no interest in military service. That meant the soldier's mockery was accurate. This realization only fueled his resentment toward He Rui. *Does a man have no right to speak if he isn't a soldier?*

What Li Junyu didn't know was that his name had been included in a report and sent to Xu Jia, the current Director of the Statistics Bureau. The report, however, didn't focus on the three students themselves.

Xu Jia was reviewing a summary of how the national movement sparked by the Paris Peace Conference was affecting the Northeast. After finishing it, he picked up the phone. "Have Comrade Wang Bin come to see me."

A short while later, a soldier in a black uniform appeared at the door. Xu Jia stood and beckoned him in. "Come in, quickly!"

Once Wang Bin was seated, Xu Jia personally went to the door and locked it. Turning back, he said, "Comrade Wang Bin, prepare yourself. You're going to take this report and present it to Chairman He. Also, what are your thoughts on our previous discussion about forming the Security Bureau?"

Wang Bin was a slightly stout young man, one of the few graduates from the Baoding Military Academy recruited after He Rui became the Zhen'an General. Hearing this, he looked a little unsettled.

Xu Jia understood his reaction. The Statistics Bureau was currently preparing to establish the Security Bureau—a powerful internal security organ that some had already jokingly dubbed the 'Imperial Guard.' The fact that the Security Bureau had been granted exclusive use of black uniforms was a clear sign of the importance He Rui placed on it.

It would have been stranger if Wang Bin hadn't been excited to shoulder such a responsibility.

When Wang Bin had composed himself, he spoke up. "Secretary Xu, I believe the Security Bureau's mission should be to maintain the order of production and education, and to strike at those who disrupt it. Therefore, I think it would be best to recruit personnel from the front lines—from the factories and the rural areas."

"Oh?" Xu Jia was surprised.

Wang Bin bit his lip, his confidence wavering slightly. "Secretary Xu, those of us who sit in offices... we don't really know who the bad elements are."

He paused, looking at Xu Jia to gauge his reaction.

These words were exactly what Xu Jia wanted to hear. He laughed. "Go on."