The country entrusted me to buy an aircraft carrier, Hou Liangping, do you dare to investigate?

The footsteps drew closer and stopped at the shop entrance. Through the gaps in the shelves, Huang Feipeng saw the man's figure pacing back and forth at the door, his sharp gaze sweeping over every corner. Those eyes carried a fierce, oppressive aura, as if trying to force Huang Feipeng out.

Huang Feipeng held his breath, observing the movements behind him. Only after confirming that the man had left the street corner did he slowly relax his tense nerves and walk forward. As he raised his arm, a sharp pain came from his sleeve. He realized that in his hasty escape, his forearm had grazed a sharp piece of metal, cutting his skin in several places, with beads of blood faintly oozing out.

Surrounded by people coming and going, he suppressed his discomfort and casually walked into a convenience store. It was a small store open all night, its dim lighting giving it a warm yet slightly weary feel. The glass windows were plastered with various advertisements, a dazzling array of goods. Shelves were scattered throughout the store, piled high with fast food, snacks, and daily necessities. He glanced around and quickly found what he needed on the shelf near the checkout counter—a pack of bandages. The moment he saw the bandages, he seemed to feel a sense of security, and reached out to pick up a box to examine it closely.

"Hello, is there anything else you need?" The shop assistant looked up at him from behind the counter and gave him a routine smile.

"This is it." Huang Feipeng nodded slightly, placed the band-aid on the counter, and casually glanced outside to make sure the man wasn't following them. This caution was ingrained in him; even buying a small band-aid, he dared not be careless.

The clerk scanned the code and processed the payment swiftly. Huang Feipeng paid, took the bandage, and walked towards a small corner of the store. He gently rolled up his sleeve and found that the blood had dried somewhat and was sticking to his skin. He looked down at the wound, a hint of impatience rising in his heart. This small injury, while not serious, could not be ignored, especially in his current situation; any negligence could lead to serious consequences.

Tearing open the packaging, Huang Feipeng gently applied the band-aid to the wound, skillfully treating the minor injury. The moment his fingers touched his skin, his thoughts drifted away. How long ago was it that he was a carefree young man, even considering injuries a trivial matter, always believing he could handle anything? Yet now, he had to be much more careful with this small wound—all of this was life teaching him a lesson, smoothing out his past sharpness and making him more cautious.

He smiled bitterly to himself, thinking that his life seemed to have long since returned to those carefree days. Those so-called "trivial matters" were no longer simply about bloodshed or pain, but rather represented exposure and risk. Every tiny detail, every action, even every expression in life could be a harbinger of crisis, a sign of an enemy's spying.

"Hey, buddy." A deep voice suddenly sounded from the side.

Huang Feipeng was slightly taken aback. He looked up and saw a middle-aged man in a black coat. The man looked travel-worn and his eyes held a hint of vicissitude. The man stood opposite him calmly, a smile on his face, but his eyes held a playful glint.

“You look a little nervous,” the man said with a smile, his voice low and husky.

Upon hearing this, Huang Feipeng's heart tightened, but he quickly smiled calmly and said, "It's nothing, just a minor injury on my hand that I need to treat."

"These days, everyone bumps into things sometimes, right?" The man shrugged, his gaze lingering on the bandage on Huang Feipeng's hand for a moment before casually turning his head away and giving a polite smile.

Huang Feipeng nodded slightly, but inwardly he was on guard. His gaze quickly swept over the man's hands and pockets, not missing a single subtle movement. This man was clearly not simple; the seemingly casual conversation actually carried a probing intent. In that instant, he felt his heart beat slightly faster, and his skin tighten slightly, like the tension before an impending battle.

The man seemed to sense something, waved his hand, and said with a forced smile, "Buddy, don't be nervous. I was just passing by and saw you putting on a band-aid, so I couldn't help but say a few words. What's wrong, you've been through quite a few injuries, haven't you?"

"It's alright." Huang Feipeng's answer was brief, his eyes remaining constantly alert.

“Ah, I was like that when I was young, I didn’t care about anything, I’d just patch up any wound and call it a day. But later, life taught me that you really have to be careful. Don’t you think so?” The man seemed to be joking, his tone casual, but Huang Feipeng could sense the deeper meaning in his words.

"Hmm, that sounds reasonable," Huang Feipeng replied casually, pondering the man's true intentions. He knew very well that such a stranger's approach was unusual, especially given his current situation; anyone who approached him might have ulterior motives.

The man stared at him for a moment, then suddenly whispered, "You know, sometimes the most dangerous people aren't the obvious enemies, but those who always greet you with a smile and speak kindly."

Huang Feipeng frowned slightly, feeling a chill creep up his spine. He stared at the man's face, his doubts growing stronger. These words reminded him of his past experiences—the deception, pretense, and even deadly traps hidden behind those smiling faces. This man before him seemed to know everything he knew.

He sneered, his eyes turning sharp: "I think dangerous people often like to pretend to be friends." His words were clearly probing, trying to glean a clue from the other person's reaction.

The man seemed to sense his probing and shrugged noncommittally: "Maybe. But if it weren't for our mutual need, we might never have truly met."

Huang Feipeng stepped out of the convenience store, a cool night breeze brushing against his face. He instinctively pulled his coat tighter and clutched the band-aid packaging to his hand. The streetlights cast long, indistinct shadows in the darkness. The night was quiet, but his heart was far from calm.

He walked slowly along the sidewalk, looking down at his shadow, reflecting on his recent state of mind, and a sense of helplessness welled up inside him. Perhaps it was because he hadn't had a proper rest in so long, and the constant rushing around had inevitably left him feeling tired. He suddenly realized that his appetite had increased significantly recently. Whether it was due to emotional stress or the constant travel, he felt a strange hunger every day, even craving snacks and treats in addition to his three meals, especially when he was alone late at night, unable to resist the urge to find something to fill his stomach.