Stealing The Wind But Not The Moon [Completed]

02. The Heavens Spared Him, And He Lived.

In the spring of 1945, at the port pier under the moonlight, a ship embarked, its departure witnessed by a blurry crowd on the shore. In the cabin on the second floor, Shen Ruozhen removed his suit jacket and relaxed his body to the sound of the whistle.

The war had been unrelenting, leading to the evacuation of his mother and younger sister overseas for refuge. Many relatives had also found proper resettlement with the assistance of the Shen family.

Last fall, his father had passed away unexpectedly, and the funeral had been kept simple. Afterwards, the old housekeeper had accompanied the body back to Ningbo for burial.

Once a prominent landmark, the Shen mansion now stood vacant, a monument to Shen Ruozhen's sudden departure.

He had publicly declared a return to his hometown to fulfill his filial duties towards his late father, a narrative woven with threads of respect and piety.

However, beneath the surface of noble intentions lay a more calculated move.

The conflicting demands of loyalty to his position – president of the Bank – and filial piety had forced his hand.

The room felt stuffy, prompting Shen Ruozhen to unbutton his white shirt. Placing his suitcase flat on the edge of the bed, he opened it to reveal its half-empty contents. Inside, there was a toiletry bag, two suits, and a box of gold-plated crystal wax seals for official use.

Pulling out the partition, Shen Ruozhen discovered a few unpublished propaganda coins that he had overseen. They had been produced secretly in a batch and successfully shipped a month ago. He kept them as a memento.

Underneath the propaganda coins lay a newspaper, its pages prominently featuring an article he had written titled "Admonishment to the People - Fuhua Bank's Closure Announcement."

Shen Ruozhen had personally penned this piece, and the thought and effort behind it couldn't be adequately expressed in just a few words. Upon rereading it, a multitude of emotions overwhelmed him.

Lying flat on the narrow bed, he rested his hand on his forehead, the hard agate ring between his index fingers feeling like a needle administering tranquility to his skin.

Shen Ruozhen was incredibly fatigued and soon fell into a deep sleep.

After a while, the ship began to violently sway, causing the small table in the room to slide across the floor and hit the wall with a resounding "dong."

Shen Ruozhen awoke and glanced through the small porthole. The sky appeared gloomy, with lightning illuminating the dark expanse and the sea roiling with waves.

People hurriedly passed by in the corridor, their footsteps growing louder amidst the turbulence.

Throwing on his clothes with haste, Shen Ruozhen rushed outside. The sight that greeted him was a furious display of nature's wrath. The sea breeze howled like a banshee, whipping the ocean into a frenzy. Dense clouds, heavy with impending rain, sagged low, seemingly ready to graze the very surface of the water.

A tense urgency crackled in the air as crew members, previously enjoying a brief respite, were swiftly mobilized. This sudden flurry of activity was a stark indicator – the situation had turned perilous.

Anxiety permeated the deck, thick enough to cut with a knife. Low growls of thunder rumbled ominously, punctuated by the relentless drumming of heavy rainfall.

A monstrous wave, a towering wall of churning water, surged towards the ship. Panic erupted as passengers scrambled for shelter, their unsteady movements resembling those of frightened shrimp desperately seeking refuge in their burrows.