12

Po Leung was happy. He commanded a detachment. Even if he had to fulfill a mission a little out of the ordinary. Winter was showing itself and it looked like it would be harsh. That would multiply the activity of the insurgents by millions.

In the distance he saw the smoke and the flash of gunfire. Two explosions with the inevitable noise of an armored car going off.

--A fight!-- he shouted with joy, speeding up the truck, sending his troops to reload ammunition. They quickly mounted a machine gun and began to fire without rhyme or reason.

--Come dogs, here comes Po Leung to give you breakfast,-- he shouted, plunging into combat.

They arrived to see an overturned car and a smoking wrecked armored car. Many Japanese wounded, along with many, many dead guerrillas. Po's soldiers immediately began to finish them off. Until he saw a foreigner fist-fighting with his soldiers to prevent the guerrillas from being finished off.

When the foreigner hardly came to his senses. Very slowly Po approached him, circled him, like someone who sees a bull ready to be evaluated and taken to the slaughterhouse.

--Well, well, well. A Nazi,-- said the young man with sarcasm and contempt. He continued to look at the other who kept his smoking pistol.

--Hey "boche",-- said Po, after spitting on the floor, very close to the other's boots, making gestures of both, --You speak Japanese, do you understand me?

--Yes, I am Major Fulvio Gallipoli, of the Fascio del Duce,-- answered the man in excellent Japanese.

--What? What? What? What?--said the other mimicking,-- "Fulviiioooo Gal--Iipol---li.

--I am from the Italian army. I go in search of my people in Tientsin,-- said the other, annoyed with the little dwarf who looked at him with a cynical smile.

--Well, you seem to be more hurt by the Chinese than by your own soldiers,-- said the man, as he turned to a wounded Japanese.

---Will you stand up? He shouted at the soldier. The soldier tried to sit up. Po unceremoniously shot him in the head. Without looking at the corpse he went and did the same to the other wounded. Suddenly he seemed to remember the Italian again and approached the man.

--I am Leung Po and we are leaving for Shanghai immediately. Ahead are Mao Tse Tung and Chang Kai Seng and today I don't want to talk to those gentlemen.

--Over my dead body. I am going to Tientsin and answer to my general Namura for it,-- replied Fulvio irritably, restraining himself from shooting the wretch.

Po Leung nodded in understanding. He made a gesture with his mouth, holding his chin with one hand. Then he scratched it and mumbled, "What the hell". He immediately spun around at extraordinary speed, unloading a phenomenal blow on the other knocking him out immediately.

--Well, Namura will tell,-- he said, carrying the heavy body of the Italian, gesturing to his people to leave immediately to return.

II

....A week later came the news. A foreigner had been ambushed, apparently killed along with some 30 Japanese.

Madame Moonlight absorbed the blow with quiet fortitude.

Almost immediately an attack on the ammunition depot thus established strict martial law. She remained in Fulvio's ruined house with the doctor. Practically the entire city was in revolt and the fighting was continuous. Their orders were to wait, for they could not risk falling and exposing the greater plan. He checked Fulvio's ruined room. He saw his impeccable uniform. He saw his photos. He saw his clean and simple Japanese cot. He saw his razor. His gold tie clips and his yokes. A gold ring. Could it be a wife's. Would there be children?

She undressed and lay down on his cot. The room was full of mosquitoes in spite of the inclement cold. She wrapped her sheet around her. She breathed in the soft manly smell of the man. He smelled of good wine, of a man who played soccer, made love with passion and experience at every sunrise, of tasting theater and drinking coffee on the Via Veneto. He noticed that Dr. Xia Jiang was sleeping right next door. A full-fledged woman. As mature, attractive and active as he was. A rabid jealousy bit her, made her pursed her beautiful lips. Suddenly reality hit her.

--!My God!-- she said, suddenly understanding the news. A dreadful fear assailed her. Fear. Fear of everything.

In the dawn Marina got up, she tended the bed impeccably. She saw Bersaglieri's shirt. Carefully and respectfully she took it, as a widow she grabbed it from her inheritance. Ignoring the curfew she wandered into the ruined streets, eluding the Japanese patrols that swarmed all over Shanghai.

II