Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Chapter 1187 Are you married?

Qi Anzhi nodded heavily, the worry in his eyes gradually dissipating and replaced by determination: "Understood. I prefer the second route, a dispersed retreat."

The mail truck was a sitting duck; driving it out would be like telling the Japanese our location—it was too risky.

When I got back, I arranged for the brothers to familiarize themselves with the route through Lingjing Hutong. They had to memorize every corner and every fork in the road to ensure they wouldn't get lost during the retreat.

"That's what I meant too." Chen Gongshu put away the notebook, carefully tucked it back into his pocket, and then looked up at the mail truck in front of the post office to confirm the location of the sentry posts and the frequency of the Japanese patrols.

"But which route to take depends on the situation at the time. The battlefield situation is constantly changing, and we cannot be bound by the plan."

Remember, prioritize. First, confirm Wang Kemin's death; this is the core task.

Second, try to survive as many as possible. Our brothers' lives are precious; only by staying alive can we continue fighting the Japanese and avenge our fallen comrades.

The two pretended to wait for customers and observed for another hour, carefully noting the military police patrol route. The military police patrol team would pass by the intersection about every twenty minutes, with four to six people each time, which was very frequent.

After confirming that they had memorized all the details, the two of them each pulled their rickshaws and slowly drove away, their steps unhurried, like two real rickshaw pullers who made a living by pulling rickshaws, without arousing anyone's suspicion.

After walking about half a street, the cold wind grew stronger, and the snowflakes stung my face.

Chen Gongshu suddenly spoke, his voice slightly muffled by the cold wind, yet still clear: "Company Commander Qi, are you married?"

Qi Anzhi froze for a moment, his grip on the handlebars tightening suddenly until his knuckles turned white. He looked down at the thin layer of ice on the road beneath his feet, the wheels making a soft sound as they rolled over it.

After a moment, he slowly raised his head, a bitter smile on his face, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded: "Not yet. I used to have a girlfriend in Nanjing, a student at Jinling Women's University named Su Wanqing. She was very gentle, could play the piano, and could also paint traditional Chinese paintings."

His gaze drifted into the distance, as if piercing through layers of cold wind to see the past.

“We had agreed that I would marry her this year. She even said she would paint a picture of me on the banks of the Qinhuai River, a picture of me in military uniform.”

But on the day Nanjing fell, the Japanese army entered the city, and there were gunshots, explosions, and the cries of civilians everywhere.

I was fighting on the front lines at the time and couldn't go back. When I later tried to find out about her, I learned that she and her family hadn't escaped; shells had landed in their yard...

As he finished speaking, his voice became so low it was almost inaudible, and the light in his eyes gradually dimmed, leaving only an overwhelming sadness and hatred.

"I'm sorry," Chen Gongshu said softly, his voice full of remorse.

He knew that such tragedies were happening every day in the occupied land, with countless families torn apart and countless compatriots dying tragically. This was their reason for fighting.

"It's alright, it's all in the past." Qi Anzhi shook his head, raised his hand and wiped his face, as if wiping away snowflakes or hiding tears in his eyes.

He turned to look at Chen Gongshu, hesitated for a long time, and finally couldn't help but ask, "Station Chief Chen, do you think it's worth it for us to do this?"

In the Battle of Shanghai, we fought until we ran out of ammunition and food, but we still lost Shanghai.

In the Battle of Nanjing, our brothers fought valiantly, but in the end, they were unable to hold Nanjing.

So many brothers and so many civilians have sacrificed their lives; sometimes I'm afraid... afraid that all our efforts will ultimately be in vain, afraid that this land will never be the same again.

This was also the uneasy feeling in the hearts of most Chinese people at this time.

Chen Gongshu did not answer immediately. He looked up at a silk shop on the side of the street that had been bombed.

The once bustling shops are now nothing but ruins. The vermilion doors were blown up and scattered all over the ground, riddled with bullet holes. Black marks from burning remain among the ruins, and a faint smell of burnt food can be smelled in the air.

An elderly woman with white hair sat in front of the ruins, holding a tattered cotton-padded coat in her arms. The coat was covered with patches and the edges were worn.

She stared blankly at the street, her face expressionless, as if she were numb to everything around her. Only when the wind occasionally blew through her gray hair could one tell that she was still alive.

Chen Gongshu knew that she might be waiting for her family, or perhaps she was reminiscing about the past, but in this occupied Beiping, such waiting was mostly in vain.

“Some things are more important than living.” Chen Gongshu’s voice was soft, but it carried a power that penetrated people’s hearts: “We are fighting with all our might now, not for ourselves, but so that more people can live well, so that our children don’t have to live a miserable life under the iron heel of the Japanese army, and so that our country still has a chance to turn things around.”

Even if we sacrifice ourselves, many more will stand up and follow in our footsteps. One day, we will drive the Japanese out of China and restore peace to this land.

Qi Anzhi remained silent, simply lowering his head and pulling the rickshaw with all his might. The dilapidated axle creaked and groaned, the sound particularly jarring on the empty, deserted street, yet it also conveyed a tenacious spirit of defiance, as if telling the story of the stubbornness inherent in the Chinese people.

The cold wind was still biting, and the snowflakes were still falling, but the two of them walked with a more determined stride than before.

After the two parted ways, Chen Gongshu pulled the rickshaw around several alleys to make sure that the Japanese army was not following them before returning to Rongbaozhai.

The waiter in the front hall saw him and simply nodded slightly.

Chen Gongshu walked through the front hall and into the secret room in the back hall, where Zhao Guangyuan was already waiting, and everything needed for the rescue was ready.

"Station Chief, you're back. I hope nothing went wrong." Zhao Guangyuan strode forward and reported in a low voice, "The ambulance and uniforms are ready. The ambulance is parked in the alley outside the back gate. I've already had Sun the Cripple check it. The engine, brakes, and lights are all fine. The body has also been aged to look exactly like the ambulances from the Japanese military hospital. It won't be noticeable."

Chen Gongshu nodded. The efficiency of the Beiping station was quite good. Now that the assassination of Wang Kemin was a matter of personal concern to Dai Li, the subordinates were even more efficient.

Follow Zhao Guangyuan into the alley outside the back gate.

The alley was narrow and deep, dimly lit. A white ambulance was parked deep in the alley. The body was painted white, and the words "North China Garrison Military Hospital" were printed in Japanese on the side. The red cross was clearly visible. The vehicle had some wear and scratches, and looked weathered, just like the ambulances commonly used by the Japanese army.

Two people stood beside the car. One was a man in his forties, burly and dressed in coarse cloth. His face was weathered, but his eyes were remarkably calm.

The other was a young man in his early twenties, wearing black-rimmed glasses, with a refined and scholarly demeanor. He was dressed in a dark blue long gown and was holding a Browning pistol in his hand. His grip on the gun was standard, his fingertips steady, and he showed no sign of fear.

Back in the secret room, three sets of Japanese military doctor uniforms were laid out on the table. The fabric and buttons were identical to the real thing. Even the folds on the uniforms were deliberately made to mimic the dressing habits of Japanese military doctors, making it look like they were worn regularly.

Next to the uniform were three military doctor's certificates, with dark brown covers and Japanese military insignia printed on them.

Chen Gongshu picked up the document and opened it. The person in the photo was indeed him. The seal was clear, and the serial number conformed to the Japanese army's regulations.

"Stationmaster, this photo was obtained from a Japanese military doctor whom I had urgently killed. I then had someone replace the photo, making it so realistic that it's indistinguishable from the real thing."

The remaining two are counterfeit; unless someone familiar with the subject examines them closely, they won't notice the difference.