Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

What will Chapter 1144 be called?

Xu Tian lowered his head and stared intently at his hands.

Those hands had long, slender fingers with relatively small but strong knuckles. Their nails were exceptionally clean and neatly trimmed with rounded edges, without a trace of dirt or damage.

These don't resemble the hands of someone who does heavy manual labor and handles rough tools year-round, nor do they resemble the hands of a pampered young master. Instead, they seem like the hands of someone who requires delicate handling and demands stability and cleanliness.

Shen Suqiu's thoughts drifted in confusion for a moment, but she had no time to delve into them at the moment.

Xu Tian kept his head down for about ten seconds, then spoke in a calmer tone, more like chatting about the past, abruptly changing the subject once again:

"Suqiu." Xu Tian called her name softly, "Do you remember... about a week ago, when you were sick, had a high fever, and slept for two days in a daze?"

Shen Suqiu was taken aback, a little confused by the sudden change of topic.

A week ago? She did get sick; it came on suddenly, with a high fever, and it took her two days to recover.

Why did my cousin suddenly bring this up?

"I...I remember a little," she answered hesitantly, unsure of what her cousin was up to.

"The day you had the worst fever," Xu Tian said slowly, his pace even and calm, as if he were telling a story from a distant past that had nothing to do with him. His gaze remained fixed on his fingertips, as if he were reading memories from the lines on them.

He rambled on and on, some parts of it were clear, some parts were not.

Shen Suqiu's heart, which had just calmed down a little due to the change of topic, instantly jumped into her throat again.

Delirious ramblings during a high fever and coma?! She has absolutely no idea what she said in that state! Could it be...?

“You kept calling out one name,” Xu Tian continued, his tone completely flat, as if he were simply stating that he had bought two pounds of vegetables that day: “Over and over again, many times. Sometimes it sounded urgent, and sometimes it sounded like a sigh.”

Shen Suqiu's face turned even paler than before, completely bloodless, and even her lips turned slightly blue.

My body swayed almost imperceptibly; if it weren't for the cold wall behind me, I would have almost lost my balance.

That name... which name could it be?

In her hazy state of consciousness, she dreamt of her comrades who had already sacrificed their lives, their faces gradually blurring, and in despair, she called out their names.

Or... when his mental defenses were at their weakest, did he unconsciously reveal something that could never be known to outsiders?

A tremendous fear gripped her, making her feel cold all over.

"What...what did I shout?" She tried to remain calm and make her voice sound steady, but her slightly trembling fingertips and momentarily unfocused eyes betrayed the turmoil in her heart.

"I was so delirious from the fever, I... I don't remember anything." She tried to use "I don't remember" as an excuse, but her weak explanation seemed so powerless in the face of Xu Tian's calm narration.

"What you called was..." Xu Tian paused, his brows furrowing slightly, as if trying to recall those vague syllables. His serious expression left no room for doubt.

Then, he clearly and calmly uttered a name.

The pen name of a writer who was quite prestigious among progressive students and literary youth in Shanghai's left-wing cultural circles.

This writer is known for his sharp essays and novels full of resistance, and is a spiritual idol for many progressive young people.

More importantly, Shen Suqiu knew that this writer was not just a literary figure; he also had another hidden identity, which had "disappeared" after a search and arrest operation.

Shen Suqiu's nerves, which had been stretched to the limit, suddenly relaxed the moment she heard this name.

Thankfully, it wasn't one of the things she was most afraid of!

Although this pen name is sensitive, it has been publicly used in cultural circles, and many students know about it. It is also possible that my cousin heard about it from elsewhere.

She secretly breathed a sigh of relief, her tense shoulders slumping slightly.

But Xu Tian seemed to have only laid the groundwork; the real test was about to follow.

He raised his eyes and looked at Shen Suqiu with a calm and unwavering gaze. His eyes were clear and deep, as if they could reflect the most subtle ripples in a person's heart.

"Lately... you seem to be hanging out with a lot of people, acting all mysterious." He used the slightly colloquial phrase "hanging out with people," making it sound casual: "Are you doing something... clandestine?"

He emphasized the word "secret" slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"This writer... is he one of yours too?"

At this point, Xu Tian tilted his head slightly, straining to listen to the sounds coming from the doorway. He found that the faint, almost inaudible breathing outside, aside from still sounding angry, remained unchanged.

really. . .

A strange smile appeared on Xu Tian's lips.

"Cousin, how... how did you know this?!" Shen Suqiu blurted out, her voice rising involuntarily with astonishment.

She regretted asking as soon as she did, as it was tantamount to admitting that she "knew" about the author, and her cousin's guess was not unfounded!

But her cousin's words shocked her!

In her and everyone else's impression, her cousin Xu Tian was always the kind of person who "didn't care about anything else and only cared about living his simple life."

He was concerned with vegetable and rice prices, the gossip of his neighbors in the alley, and what to have for dinner that night. How did he know the writer's pen name?

Do you also know that this author has "disappeared"?

Even... linking her to "secret matters"?!

“When you were unconscious, you kept calling out, and I heard you, so I remembered it,” Xu Tian said calmly, his tone as indifferent as if he had just mentioned seeing eggplants at the market that day.

"Later, I went to the local market to buy tofu." He even added a specific location to increase credibility: "I overheard two young people, who looked like students, squatting in the corner talking about how this writer's articles were really good and his criticisms were so satisfying. It's a pity he's gone; I'm afraid he's probably in grave danger."

He paused again, as if recalling more details: "Later, I passed by that used bookstore in the old West Gate one time."

Xu Tian then gave a specific location: "I glimpsed the stall owner furtively pulling out a thin booklet from the bottom, without even a cover, and handing it to a person wearing glasses."

I glanced at it, and the title on the page seemed to have been written by that person.

The stall owner muttered under his breath, "This is the only one left. It's sealed. Be careful."

Xu Tian's narrative is extremely detailed, filled with everyday life: the small market, the corner of a wall, students selling newspapers, the old West Gate, the used bookstores, the shifty-looking vendors, the pamphlets without covers... These details weave together to create a vivid picture of the daily life of ordinary Shanghai citizens, making his "accidental discovery" sound incredibly real and irrefutable.

After saying that, Xu Tian held his breath and listened intently to the breathing sounds outside the door.

Nothing has changed... The information I shared is meaningless to him... That's enough... Enough to make a judgment...

The person breathing this is really short-tempered; they're still fuming.