Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

The heavy mahogany desk divides the space into two worlds.

Zhou Zhengqing watched the almost boiling madness in Lingzi's eyes gradually fade away, and the chaos that was forcibly suppressed settled down, leaving only a hollow space like blood loss and fine cold sweat on the forehead, then he slowly walked around the corner of the table.

The leather shoes made a dull sound as they stepped on the floor.

Stopping in front of Lingzi, Zhou Zhengqing raised his right hand, not to comfort her gently, but to press it hard on the top of Lingzi's soft head with an unquestionable control.

The force of the palm penetrated the hair and rubbed it twice irresistibly, as if confirming some kind of tamed touch.

Then, the slender and powerful fingers slid down, lifting Lingzi's pale and delicate chin almost domineeringly, forcing her to raise her face and fall into his bottomless eyes without any escape.

The skin of the chin where my fingertips touched was smooth but cold.

Zhou Zhengqing changed his voice to a deliberately gentle one: "Lingzi, I'm sorry. Perhaps... Shen Xilin's business burden has been too heavy recently, and it's weighing on you."

His thumb unconsciously rubbed the smooth skin of her jaw, his eyes focused on capturing the subtle changes in her pupils: "Your mind is too heavy, and your nerves are too tense, so it's inevitable that you have random thoughts."

"How about this, you should put Shen Xilin aside for now. Rest well for a while and calm your mind."

Lingzi's thin lips were bitten hard by her pearly teeth. The blood color on her lips quickly faded, leaving a clear tooth mark, which slowly recovered as she tried her best to relax.

She forced herself to raise the corners of her lips, trying to replicate the gentle and calm maid in her memory. That smile was like a carefully painted mask, covering up the remaining fear in the depths of her soul and the unextinguished spark of enthusiasm: "It's okay, Master."

Lingzi's voice softened, a barely perceptible tremor lingering in it. "Really... I just... just thought that maybe I could play a small role in furthering your reputation, and I couldn't contain my excitement."

Lingzi carefully replaced the word "ambition" with "excitement," her gaze flickering slightly around Zhou Zhengqing's chin. "Mr. Shen is the one who's pulling all the strings. I'm just there to remind him and keep him in touch. I can't say I'm tired, so I really don't need to rest."

"You." Zhou Zhengqing looked at her trying to pretend to be calm, even trying to control the last word of her voice, and a barely perceptible helplessness flashed across his eyes.

He placed his hand on her head again and rubbed it hard, his fingertips brushing against her hot earlobe.

Feeling Lingzi's body stiffen at the touch of his fingers, Zhou Zhengqing said, "Since you insist," and withdrew his hand. "Then I'll go to the ball. You're right about one thing; it's necessary to test the waters of the consuls."

Zhou Zhengqing's tone returned to his usual calmness as he changed the subject: "Is the time set?"

Hearing the word "go", Lingzi raised her drooping eyelids suddenly: "Three days later, Master!"

Lingzi spoke a little faster: "Mr. Shen said that it will take some time to prepare the paperwork for the negotiation. I think he wants to have enough bargaining chips so that he can pave the way for you, young master."

Zhou Zhengqing's eyes fell on her cheek, which had lost most of its color but was still pale. "Well. You will come with me then."

Now, go and rest immediately. You look so pale... It hurts my heart to see you like this."

"Hi..." Lingzi lowered her head obediently, her thick eyelashes covering the complex emotions churning deep in her eyes: "Lingzi is fine. Thank you for your mercy, Master."

After bowing, Lingzi quietly retreated like a silent shadow, closing the door gently, leaving Zhou Zhengqing alone facing the silence in the room.

The air seemed to still linger with the echo of her scream, and...

That fierce aura called "ambition" but disguised as "loyalty".

Zhou Zhengqing turned and looked out the window, his eyes dim and unclear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Shanghai, Hongkou.

A dim full moon hung overhead, struggling to squeeze out some light from the sultry clouds peculiar to Shanghai in August, sparingly coating the alleys of the Hongkou Concession with a layer of sticky, oily sheen.

The air seemed to be frozen, weighing heavily on people's chests, steaming with the blood accumulated during the day, the stench of garbage, and the ubiquitous bitter smell of burnt buildings.

A dull thud was heard from afar; it was the painful roar of artillery fire tearing through the earth. The continuous bombardment of the navy's naval guns barely prevented the loss of the Hongkou Concession.

Deep in the neighborhood occupied by Japanese expatriates, sporadic gunshots sounded like frightened poisonous snakes, exploding "bang! bang!" suddenly and briefly, and each time startled the rats in the shadows of the wall, making them scream and run away.

The huge shadow cast by the consulate building lay on the ground like a cold corpse.

At this moment, at the edge of this shadow, there was a commotion in the courtyard of the former Qing Dynasty official's residence temporarily requisitioned by the Hongkou Marines.

The firelight danced, casting a group of anxious, swaying figures on the twisted sliding door lattices and bare walls.

"Assemble! All members of the Overseas Chinese Volunteer Corps, assemble!" A hoarse roar like an iron spoon scraping against a broken gong tore through the air. It came from a skinny retired Japanese officer with a short caterpillar-like beard on his lips.

Startled by the roar, Aoki Takeshige, who was originally leaning against the cold white pillar, suddenly straightened up.

Is the battle coming again? His heart beat like a drum under his ribs.

He clearly remembered that a few days ago, when he stood before a consul at the consulate who was on good terms with him, the old man glanced at him meaningfully with drooping eyelids: "Aoki-kun, opportunities must be purchased with blood."

The turbid voice now seemed like a curse, buzzing in Qingmu's ears.

He was already tired of wearing the uniform of the consulate police station. It was such a shame to waste time on paperwork and to have to smile and apologize between the consul and the businessmen!

Keep going and keep living!

Only by surviving to the end! The light of the medal will completely pull him out of this humble quagmire.

He pushed the roof of his mouth with his tongue, and Aoki Takeshige felt an almost violent excitement rush to the back of his head.

"The Chinese are in the ruins ahead!" The old soldier pointed his skinny cane at the deeper outline in the darkness in the distance.

Those were several rows of houses destroyed by days of artillery fire. The collapsed walls and roof beams were piled up randomly, leaving only some hideous gaps and dark window holes, like a ghost city: "The safety of the empire's expatriates depends on you! Forward!"

"Black card! Get on board!" A chaotic but fanatical roar broke out from the crowd.

Hoarse but fanatical shouts tore through the brief silence and ignited a roar of response.

The sound was like a whip lashing Aoki's nerves.

"Get on board!", followed by a group of expatriates in various clothes and also roaring, rushing out of the courtyard gate and rushing towards the suffocating dark alley.

The sound of footsteps on the rubble made a sharp and clattering noise, hitting everyone's eardrums.