Folk Strange Stories Part 1: Miao Township Wu Zu Chapter 12 Section 1 Confidentiality

The speaker was a tall and chubby middle-aged man, quite different from the chubby guy who was still recovering from vomiting water. He had a kind expression with a slight upward curl of his lips, naturally giving off a friendly vibe.

The team leader paid him no attention, turning towards the sentry on guard duty and scolding, "Who let him in? Anyone can just waltz in, huh? You guys don't want to work anymore, is that it?"

The newcomer seemed unfazed and continued to smile as he looked at the team leader. After the team leader had vented his frustration, the newcomer took a document from his bag and handed it over, saying, "Captain Zhang, right? Could you please sign this for me?"

The team leader glanced at him, took the document, and read it with a furrowed brow. His expression tightened as he read, almost turning into a scowl. After a moment of hesitation, he returned the document to the newcomer, saying, "No! Even if it's Commander Zhao himself, it's still a no-go! My men died in there, and I must personally go in to figure out how they died!"

The team leader's reaction was somewhat expected by the middle-aged chubby guy. He nodded in agreement, seemingly expressing some sort of understanding towards the team leader's attitude. After the team leader finished speaking, the middle-aged chubby guy took a step closer, his smile still present, and said, "I understand your feelings. Your Zhao Battalion was also following orders, and besides..." He lowered his voice and whispered a few words into the team leader's ear. I strained my ears, but I couldn't catch what he was saying.

The team leader's gaze at him became somewhat abnormal, reminiscent of how I first saw Wu Mian in the main hall. After a pause, he continued with a slightly disheartened tone, "So, you guys really exist." He paused again and sighed, "You should've come earlier." With that, he ignored the middle-aged chubby guy and turned to the other squad leaders, saying with a hint of disappointment, "Dismiss the troops. This place is no longer under our jurisdiction."

And so, we disbanded without understanding what was happening. On our way back, as we passed through the wild wormwood forest surrounding the Dead Man's Pool, we noticed about seven or eight people dressed similarly to the middle-aged chubby guy waiting there. They seemed to avoid us, and only after they saw us, the soldiers, leave, did they gradually walk towards the Dead Man's Pool.

On the return journey, the four of us—myself, Song Er, Li Yan, and the narcotics officer—were arranged to travel together in the same vehicle. In the meantime, the narcotics officer requested to meet with the leader of the anti-narcotics division, but his request was denied. The narcotics officer seemed to take it in stride and, after finishing his meal in the car, leaned against the seat back and fell asleep.

The sacrifices of Old Wang and his team were quite devastating for the three of us who survived: myself, Song Er, and Li Yan. We didn't speak to each other throughout the journey. I wanted to close my eyes for a bit, but every time I closed them, I could only see Old Wang, gasping for breath as he carried me for ten kilometers during our cross-country run.

Upon our return to the military base, a directive was issued by higher-ups for all participants in the operation: no one was allowed to privately discuss the details of the mission. Violators would be treated as having leaked classified information.

Song Er, Li Yan, and I were each assigned individual rooms at the military base's guesthouse. Our movements were temporarily restricted. Apart from our rooms, we were not allowed to go anywhere. We took it in stride since we were used to following orders. Meals were delivered on time, and the food was much better than what we had in the barracks. Every meal had three meat dishes and one vegetarian dish, complete with fish and meat. When we were bored, we would turn on the cable TV to watch the fifty-odd channels available.

But the narcotics officer couldn't tolerate this treatment. Perhaps he had been an undercover agent for too long; his personality carried a bit of a rogue element. We could often hear him arguing with the food delivery staff. He would complain that he was a cop, not a soldier. Even if he needed to explain the situation, the location shouldn't be a military guesthouse. It was restricting his personal freedom. He even threatened to go on a hunger strike in protest. However, when mealtime arrived, we still heard him yelling, "Not enough to eat, bring me more."

Five days later, the military finally sent someone to meet with us. The representative was an official named Sun from the battalion's office. To my surprise, Sun didn't inquire about the detailed events inside the main hall.

Instead, he highly praised the heroic efforts of our Falcon Hunting Squad and the battle against the drug traffickers. Captain Wang Donghui and several other soldiers had persisted in fighting even while heavily injured, ultimately sacrificing themselves alongside the drug lord Mote. Wang Donghui and the other fallen soldiers were posthumously honored as martyrs. Shen La, Song Chunlei, and Li Yan were awarded second-class merit once. Additionally, their military ranks were promoted by one level. Comrade Sun Desheng (the narcotics officer) was separately commended by the anti-narcotics division. Due to the classified nature of this anti-drug operation, all participants were forbidden from leaking any information. This was the final outcome, and the blame was laid upon the deceased Mote.

The situation seemed to have concluded. I had gone from Second Lieutenant Shen to First Lieutenant Shen, already one rank higher than my uncle when he retired. I was still basking in this happiness when, one noon, I was summoned to the battalion office. To receive me was none other than Sun, the official who had met with me before. He delivered surprising news, "Comrade Shen La, the higher-ups have decided to let you retire early."

I was utterly dumbfounded. This couldn't be true, I had just been promoted to First Lieutenant for a few days. The day after my promotion, I had already informed all my relatives back in my hometown. My grandfather had summoned all the matchmakers in the county to his house that very day to start arranging my marriage. Now, telling him that I would be retiring early, he would probably be so angry that he'd beat me to death before dying himself.