The police station's gate was closed. A two-story building and a bungalow were surrounded by walls on all four sides. The lantern in the gatehouse was on, and the light shone through the window, illuminating a small area inside the gate. However, the policeman on duty was already asleep, hunched over on a small bed in the room with his clothes on.
The bungalow was located between the office building and the back wall. It had a warehouse, a dormitory and a dungeon. The light was on in the duty room at the entrance of the dungeon. Through the window, you could vaguely see a few policemen playing cards. After a long time, two policemen would come out reluctantly, symbolically patrol around the wall with flashlights, and then go back to continue winning or losing.
Policemen are not soldiers. After get off work, those who live in the city will go home. After dark, in addition to those on duty, there are also a few people living in the dormitory who are still in the police force. At this moment, they are snoring in the dormitory at the other end of the bungalow. There is also an office on the second floor of the office building in the courtyard. There is a police officer on duty answering the phone.
In the eyes of Hu Yi, who was used to seeing the enemy's positions, all this was not even a paper defense. The police force separated from the gendarmerie by a wall was Hu Yi's feint target, which could not only attract the gendarmerie's attention but also get a gun.
Although Su Qing emphasized the need to keep a low profile and speak in a low voice, and although Li Youcai said not to run away when the gun was fired, Hu Yi was not a professional assassin, and he felt uncomfortable without a gun and a bayonet. Since the mission was mine, I would just do it the way I liked, and would not obey the orders of the king when away from home.
When the flickering light of the flashlight showed that the two patrolling policemen had returned to the bungalow duty room at the back, the iron hook flew onto the top of the wall, followed by a figure climbing up with a rope, then retrieving the rope and landing, crouching like a soldier dodging a hail of bullets and rushing towards the office building as fast as a civet cat.
After entering the door, the light suddenly dimmed. He stopped inside the door to adjust to the situation, then began to walk slowly and lightly. He tried a few doors in the corridor on the first floor, but they were all locked. Then he left the corridor and began to walk slowly up the stairs, holding the iron hook in his hand and casually wrapping the short rope around his arm to avoid mopping the floor.
Arriving at the second floor corridor, I could see a light coming through the crack of one of the doors. At least that door was unlocked, and I should have all the keys to the building, so I walked towards that door steadily. I wasn't nervous at all, really not nervous. Compared to carrying a grenade and touching the enemy's firepower, this was nothing at the moment.
He prepared himself mentally for the attack. He lowered his right hand holding the iron hook by his side, then lightly grasped the door handle with his left hand and slowly pushed it open. The door hinge made a slight sound.
I saw an office desk and a policeman crouching over a phone on the desk. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and was about to raise his head when he heard the door open.
One step, two steps, steadily walking towards the side of the desk, numb and expressionless. The third step, the target finally put down his hands that were rubbing his eyes; the fourth step, he frowned in confusion; the fifth step, he looked surprised and puzzled; the sixth step, the target unconsciously began to widen his eyes and slightly open his mouth, but he was already standing next to him.
He suddenly covered his mouth and nose with his left hand, and pushed his head hard against the back of the chair behind him. He heard the sound of his cervical vertebrae breaking when it was hit violently by the hard end of the backrest. At this time, he placed the iron hook in his right hand on the throat that was bulging due to the head tilting back, and pulled it horizontally.
In the light, you can see the black trachea that was torn apart by the iron hook and is constantly emitting blood bubbles and accompanied by strange breathing sounds.
He put away the hook, pulled out a Mauser pistol from the holster on the body, checked the magazine, loaded the gun, and placed it on the table. He tore the body aside, sat behind the desk, staring blankly at the dark corridor outside the door with his narrow eyes in the light.
She said that we didn't owe each other anything, but how is that possible? If I died, would we be even if we didn't owe each other anything? It seems impossible... At least she would be relieved.
After a while, he sighed deeply, picked up the gun on the table and put it in his pocket, took a bunch of key chains marked with numbers from the side, picked up the flashlight on the table, stood up and walked out of the room.
He visited the gun room, the warehouse, and the evidence room... When Hu Yi returned to the duty office again, there were some new things on the desk.
Under the light, a beautiful reddish-brown wooden Mauser holster glowed with a faint warm light. Sitting on a chair, he opened the holster and pulled out a nearly 90% new Mauser pistol. This was a 1932 model, and its biggest difference was that there was an additional speed selector on the left side of the gun.
He inspected the gun carefully and attentively, then removed the original ten-round magazine and filled it with bullets, then filled the two twenty-round long magazines he had collected with bullets, and finally loaded a long magazine into the gun.
Afterwards, he looked at the brand new police uniform on the table for a while, and finally got up and started to change into it.
Actually, it doesn’t matter what clothes I wear, but I may die today and I don’t want to look too ugly at the end. Also, the police uniform has a belt and shoulder straps. When they are tied on my body, I will feel at ease and not empty. I’m used to it, just used to it. Let’s just wear the police uniform.
This is an old standard police uniform, but without the blue sky and white sun badge on the hat. When wearing it, people will secretly call them black dogs.
The laces of the black leather shoes were tied tightly, the white leggings were wrapped around the calves of the black police pants, the brown leather belt was tied tightly around the straight black jacket, the military belt was slung over the shoulder, the length and angle were carefully adjusted, and the holster was slung over the back. Finally, he picked up the black brim black cap with white trim, and put it on carefully and attentively.
I have never been interested in looking in the mirror, but now I want to, but there is no mirror, so I have to turn around and look at the window.
In the light, several square areas of glass pieced together a dim police figure, who was too tall to look like a policeman. The image was not clear, but the black and white were distinct.
The time was almost up, so he put two spare magazines, one long and one short, into his right trouser pocket, unloaded the bullets from the earliest Mauser pistol, and put them into the lower right pocket of his jacket along with the pile of bullets collected on the table. Then he randomly wrapped the bloody iron hook of the bolt rope a few times and hung it on the belt behind his waist.
I had thought it would take some time, so I prepared a Molotov cocktail. Now there's no need to bother. I simply tore off the sackcloth at the mouth of the bottle and started pouring it into the room.
He threw down the empty bottle, picked up the lantern on the table, walked to the door, threw it down and broke it, then walked into the darkness of the corridor without looking back.
…
Under the illumination of the flames rising into the sky, a hurried police whistle finally sounded. In the police compound, a dozen policemen who ran out of the dormitory tried to rush into the office building in panic to put out the fire.
The gendarmerie next door also sounded an emergency call for assembly. All the Japanese guards on duty stared blankly at the flames rising to the sky across the wall. They would not leave their posts for anything and could only watch the flames rise to the sky. The Japanese soldiers who were still asleep hurriedly assembled, and then, led by the officers, picked up pots, pans, and other handy tools and went to the police to help stop the fire from spreading.
Feng Zhong woke up, awakened by the noisy whistles and hurried footsteps in the corridor. In a daze, he instinctively pulled out the gun under his pillow and wanted to crawl under the bed. He noticed the red light coming in from the window and heard someone shouting "Fire!" in the distance. Only then did he put aside his panic, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and ran to the window to see what was going on.
This is a two-story dormitory building in the corner of the gendarmerie compound. Each floor has more than a dozen rooms facing each other on the north and south sides, with an aisle corridor in the middle. The entrance is at the end of the corridor on the first floor, and the stairs to the second floor are at the other end of the corridor. Because some rooms in this dormitory building are occasionally used for other purposes, metal fences are fixed outside all the windows.
Feng Zhong lives in a room in the middle of the first floor. The reason he chose this building was because of the fences covering the windows. He doesn't have to worry about anyone breaking in. Is there any place safer than here
…
A Japanese military policeman was standing guard at the entrance of the building. He looked at the flames rising from the wall in the distance from time to time, listened to the noisy shouts from the fire scene, and randomly guessed the cause of the fire. Later, he suddenly felt a chill on his back and wanted to look back, but suddenly he felt his head shaking and he seemed unable to breathe. It felt more like he didn't need to breathe. After falling to the ground, he still didn't understand what happened, because he couldn't see his throat that had been cut by an iron hook. He could only see the back of a policeman walking into the entrance of the building as if no one was around.
The corridor was dim but not pitch black. Some of the doors of the rooms were open because the panicked gendarmes had not bothered to close them. The burning light shone into the windows and leaked into the corridor through the half-open doors. Irregular pieces of light were scattered on one side of the wall, red, sometimes bright and sometimes dark, swaying slightly, making this long corridor look eerie and strange.
He put the hook and rope behind his waist, pulled out the 1932 with a long magazine, turned off the safety, held it in his right hand, and began to walk forward slowly. When he passed the first open door, the light suddenly illuminated the Mauser pistol he was holding casually, flashing a beautiful roasted blue color, which was not very bright, but dazzling and clear.
There was a floor under his feet, and every time his leather shoes took a step forward, they would make a sound, and occasionally there would be a creaking sound from the loose parts of the floor. But he didn't seem to mind walking in the dim light, because his steps were neither fast nor slow, and he didn't deliberately lighten his steps, but just walked forward slowly, more like a black zombie.
One hundred and six, one hundred and seven. He stopped in front of a closed door and pointed the gun at it.
He kicked it open with a swift kick, and his movements suddenly became quick and alert. The muzzle of the gun pointed to the corridor; after shaking twice, it suddenly pointed to an empty room, under the table, to the window, and then to a door opposite.
Without caring whether the target had already pointed the gun at the door because of the sound of the door breaking, he kicked it open again without hesitation. At that moment, the trigger had been pulled more than halfway and could fire at any time. The gun was pointed at the bed in the room. The quilt was opened and the bed was empty. He quickly turned the gun to the corner on the side, where there was only a chair.
The firelight outside the window illuminated the cold face under the black shiny hat brim. He was thinking, what did I do wrong
…
The second floor has a wider view, so it is more convenient to see. Feng Zhong was in a room on the second floor, looking at the fire outside the wall, and couldn't help taking a deep breath. Being a traitor is not as comfortable as imagined. Before the rebellion, he was promised to flee far away. When he finished his work, he became a temporary official in the gendarmerie and continued to serve the emperor. From then on, he lived in fear every day.
Just when he was feeling frustrated, he suddenly heard some noise on the first floor. He didn't know if it was one of the imperial soldiers returning, so he left the window and went out, walking down the stairs step by step, and habitually pulled out the pistol on his waist.
When the corridor on the first floor, which was sometimes bright and sometimes dark, came into view completely, Feng Zhong suddenly froze and did not take the last few steps.
A policeman stood quietly at the door of Room 107, casually holding his gun, facing the staircase. The dim light from the door illuminated the police uniform, which was very dark. The eyebrows and eyes under the brim of the hat were also so dark that only the chin reflected a little light.
He couldn't see the eyes but he could feel it. It must be a ferocious look, the look of looking at prey, because Feng Zhong felt a chill on his back, so cold that he seemed to be hallucinating, as if he saw two green animal eyes lighting up in the darkness under the brim of the black hat.
At this moment, even time has become so cold that it has stopped...