Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Chapter 1177 Sacrificing oneself for the country in times of crisis, regarding death as returning ho

The train station was bustling with people, mostly officials of the puppet government, businessmen, and Japanese soldiers, creating a tense and oppressive atmosphere.

Japanese soldiers, armed with guns, patrolled the station, their eyes warily scanning everyone. They would stop passersby from time to time to search them, and if anyone disobeyed, they would be punched and kicked.

Chen Gongshu remained calm, head held high, and walked confidently into the train station with Xiao Li and Xiao Wang.

He carried a briefcase and walked with a steady gait, exuding the air of a puppet government official, which did not attract much attention from the Japanese soldiers.

After successfully passing through security, I boarded the train bound for Beiping and entered my reserved soft sleeper compartment.

The soft sleeper compartment is simply furnished but relatively quiet, with only two berths.

Chen Gongshu placed his briefcase on the table, sat on his bunk, and looked out the window at the North China Plain. It was deep winter, and the fields were withered and yellow, devoid of any sign of life. Occasionally, one could see villages burned down by the Japanese army, their ruins bearing clear bullet holes, like hideous scars, silently telling the story of the cruelty of war.

Along the railway line, there was a Japanese checkpoint every few hundred meters, with the Rising Sun flag fluttering wildly in the cold wind, looking particularly glaring.

Xiao Li and Xiao Wang sat on the opposite bunks, one resting by the window, the other vigilantly observing the activity outside the compartment, ready to respond to any possible emergencies.

The train slowly started moving, heading towards Beiping.

Chen Gongshu knew that from this moment on, he had truly stepped into the heart of the enemy's territory, and every step he took was like walking on thin ice. If he was not careful, he would be doomed.

About an hour later, there was a sudden, urgent, and forceful knock on the door of the private room. Chen Gongshu's body tensed instantly, and he instinctively gripped the Browning pistol at his waist. His eyes darted warily towards the door, and he asked in a deep voice, "Who is it?"

"Ticket inspectors." A harsh voice came from outside the door, with a distinct Japanese accent, followed by a Chinese translator's voice: "Open the door, Imperial Army is checking tickets."

Chen Gongshu took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

He winked at Xiao Li and Xiao Wang, signaling them not to make any rash moves, then slowly got up and opened the door to the private room.

Two Japanese soldiers stood at the entrance, followed by a Chinese translator.

The Japanese soldier in the lead looked very young, no more than twenty years old, with a somewhat immature face, but he carried a Type 38 rifle on his back, the bayonet gleaming coldly, and his eyes carrying a hint of arrogance and vigilance.

The other Japanese soldier remained expressionless, gripping his rifle with both hands, ready to respond to any unexpected situation.

The translator, a Chinese man wearing round-framed glasses and a suit, arrogantly said to Chen Gongshu, "Sir, the Imperial Army is checking tickets. Please show your identification."

Chen Gongshu forced a perfectly measured smile, appearing respectful and humble. He took out his identification from his briefcase, handed it over, and said in broken Japanese, "I am Han Deren, a purchasing specialist from the Economic Bureau of the Provisional Government of North China. I am returning to Beiping after a business trip."

His Japanese was not fluent, but it was enough for him to express himself clearly, which was more in line with the identity of a puppet government official.

The young Japanese soldier took the identification document, looked at the photo for a long time, then looked up and scrutinized Chen Gongshu with a look of scrutiny.

His gaze lingered on Chen Gongshu's suit and glasses for a moment, then swept over the briefcase on the table, as well as Xiao Li and Xiao Wang standing to the side, but he did not find anything unusual.

But he seemed uneasy and suddenly asked, "Are you afraid of the Imperial Army?"

The translator was taken aback, clearly not expecting the Japanese soldier to ask such a question. After a few seconds of hesitation, he quickly translated it into Chinese, his tone tinged with embarrassment.

Chen Gongshu's heart tightened, and he instantly understood the Japanese soldier's intention: he was testing him.

If you appear too timid, it may arouse suspicion.

If he acted too forcefully, it would only bring trouble. He quickly adjusted his mindset, his smile becoming even gentler, and said respectfully, "I'm not afraid. The Imperial Army is here to help us; we are friends. Why should I be afraid?"

His tone was natural, his eyes were calm, and he showed no sign of panic, perfectly playing the role of a puppet government official who was subservient to the Japanese army.

The young Japanese soldier stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly believing him, then slowly nodded, handed the identification back to Chen Gongshu, turned around, and left the private room with another Japanese soldier.

The translator quickly followed, and before leaving, he even closed the door to the private room for Chen Gongshu with a fawning smile on his face.

Only after the door to the private room closed did Chen Gongshu slowly breathe a sigh of relief. His back was already soaked with cold sweat, and his close-fitting clothes clung tightly to his skin, bringing a chill.

He leaned against his bunk, panting heavily, his heart still pounding. That moment had undoubtedly been terrifying; a single misstep could have exposed his identity, with unimaginable consequences.

Xiao Li and Xiao Wang breathed a sigh of relief. Xiao Wang lowered his voice and said, "Stationmaster, that was really dangerous."

Chen Gongshu waved his hand, signaling him not to speak. He looked warily towards the door of the private room, and after confirming that there was nothing unusual, he slowly said, "The journey ahead will be even more dangerous. We must be more cautious and cannot afford to be negligent in any way."

He took out the small metal box from his pocket, which contained the two heart stimulants that Lin Mo had given him.

The tin box is small and exquisite, silver in color, and engraved with simple patterns.

Upon opening the tin box, there were two white pills inside, with a fine texture and a faint medicinal smell.

Inside the tin box, there is a line of small characters engraved in vigorous and powerful handwriting, which is Dai Li's own handwriting.

"To sacrifice oneself for one's country in times of crisis, to regard death as returning home." - Dai

This line of text, just ten characters long, perfectly encapsulates the fate and beliefs of the Kuomintang secret agents.

For the sake of the country and the nation, they would not hesitate to sacrifice their own lives.

Chen Gongshu's eyes welled up slightly. He gripped the iron box tightly, tucked it back into his bosom, and pressed it against his heart.

. . . . . . . . . .

Winter in Beiping is as cold as a dull knife, slowly cutting into one's bones.

The bluestone pavement of Qianmen Street was covered with a thin layer of snow, which was crushed into gray-black mud by the passing rickshaws and Japanese military boots.

On the flagpole by the street, the puppet government's "five-colored flag" fluttered helplessly in the cold wind, like a dying body, barely clinging to life.

The carved wooden door of "Rongbaozhai" was slowly pushed open, and the copper bell rang crisply, startling the sparrows that were perched under the eaves.

Chen Gongshu walked in.

He was wearing a dark gray long gown with a navy blue woolen overcoat, the collar turned up to cover half of his face.

The brim of his hat was pulled down very low, revealing only a pair of eyes, which were extremely calm and deep, like a moat in winter, with ice on the surface but turbulent currents underneath.

He carried an old leather suitcase in his right hand, his left hand was in his coat pocket, and his fingertips touched the cold grip of the pistol.

A wave of warmth wafted in from inside the door.