Courtyard House: Why is my time-travel experience so shabby?

Moscow, the capital of Soviet Russia, was founded in 1147 along the Moscow River.

It has been the capital since the Grand Duchy era, through the Tsarist period and up to the current Union of Soviet Republics, and has a history of more than 800 years.

Moscow is currently the largest city in Europe, with a population of 800 million, much larger than London.

The whole city is unusually clean and tidy, exuding a solemn and dignified atmosphere.

The Kremlin, located in the city center, is the central brain of the entire Soviet Union. This ancient palace has a long history and is magnificent.

Like a giant octopus with countless tentacles, it issues orders all the time and controls this terrifying red giant bear.

Northeast of the Kremlin is the famous Red Square, which is completely open to the public and has many world-famous buildings.

For example, the fairy-tale-like St. Basil's Cathedral, the first shopping mall GUM, the History Museum, the Arch of the Resurrection, etc.

Every day, countless tourists from all over the world come here to take photos with a pilgrimage mentality.

In the early morning, when the sky just started to brighten, the Red Square was already crowded with people and it was very lively. Everyone was smiling happily.

However, they could never have imagined that at this moment, a man as terrifying as the god of death was staring at them.

On the south side of the square, more than 500 meters away, in the People's Hotel, in a suite on the top 8th floor.

Du Weiguo was leaning against the window, overlooking everything through the thick wool carved curtains. He could see everyone, including the most subtle expressions.

When I saw a black Volga car with a special red license plate and a golden deer logo slowly approaching the Kremlin.

Du Weiguo raised his eyebrows slightly, took out a photo from his pocket and compared it, then turned his head to look at Miss Hu:

"Hu Da, don't eat yet, Dianzi has appeared."

Not far away, Miss Hu was curled up in a leather sofa with her legs crossed, holding a box of Black Sea sturgeon caviar in her hands, eating it sweetly with a silver spoon.

These things are among the many free gifts in the guest rooms.

In addition, there are Cuban cigars, French champagne, Spanish ham, etc., which are all top-quality products and can be described as extremely luxurious.

You know, although Russia can be considered rich now, it is far from this level. The ordinary people at the bottom can barely make ends meet.

The People's Hotel was one of the highest-standard hotels in the Soviet Union, and only high-ranking officials were qualified to stay there.

According to China's standards, the lowest level you have to be is department level or above. Hey, privileges are everywhere, those who understand will understand.

  As for how Du Weiguo and Miss Hu got in?

Now, in the eyes of others, they are a middle-aged couple, a senior official and his wife who came to Moscow for a meeting, while the real owner fainted in the bathtub in the bathroom.

With Miss Hu around, Du Weiguo also became more confident and could do almost whatever he wanted!

"How annoying! It's just dawn, and you're rushing over to attend court so early? You're pretending to be so enthusiastic, but who are you acting for?"

Miss Hu licked her lips, stood up lazily, and muttered reluctantly with a tone full of disdain.

Just before the Volga bus was about to drive into the forecourt of the Kremlin, Miss Hu opened the curtains a little and glanced at it casually.

"Is it the fat white guy wearing an otter hat in the back seat?"

Du Weiguo nodded:

"Yes, it's him, Tchaikovsky, Mikhail's deputy. The first thing he does when he gets to work is to meet this old fox. Hu Da, keep an eye on him and we will be able to find the real culprit."

Miss Hu placed the caviar on the windowsill, took the cigarette butt from Du Weiguo's hand, took a puff, and slowly exhaled the smoke:

"Du Da, what will happen after we find Mikhail? You don't want me to go into the Kremlin and force him to commit suicide, do you?"

"Why not? Isn't this the best solution? It solves the problem without anyone noticing, and avoids a direct conflict with the entire Russian bear and a war."

Du Weiguo shamelessly put his arm around Miss Hu's shoulders and responded in a scoundrelly and righteous tone.

Miss Hu shook her head, a hint of subtle fear flashing in her eyes:

"It's not that simple. I can't do this."

"Huh?" Du Weiguo was a little surprised.

  Miss Hu put out her cigarette and looked far away at the palace bathed in the morning light. Her expression suddenly became serious and her tone was particularly solemn:

"Master Du, this is the hub of the Mao Bear, and it is also the place where the national destiny converges. Right now, the national destiny of the Mao Bear is like the scorching sun in the sky. I will be extremely weakened and may be exposed."

"What, national destiny? Does such a thing really exist?"

Hearing this extremely unfamiliar and mysterious word, Du Weiguo was completely stunned.

  What the hell? This is a science fiction script, how did I suddenly travel to a fantasy movie set?

Miss Hu raised her eyes and rolled her eyes at him unhappily:

“Nonsense, of course there is national destiny, and the suppression of us spirits is very strong, otherwise, with our abilities, we would have ruled the world long ago.

This Kremlin, even from such a distance, already makes me feel very uncomfortable. I guess after entering, I will be extremely suppressed and even worse than ordinary people. "

  hiss~

Du Weiguo took a deep breath. This was the first time he had heard of this statement. Although it sounded a bit absurd, it made sense in theory.

There seems to be a saying in the past that when a country is about to perish, evil spirits will appear. Only when the country's fortune is extremely weak will these monsters hidden in the deep mountains and forests jump out.

The Soviet Union is now at its peak, ranking as one of the two superpowers, and even has a tendency to suppress Citigroup. It is at its peak and unstoppable.

Although Miss Hu looked careless, she was always concerned about his affairs, especially such a big thing, so she would not speak nonsense.

"What should I do?"

Miss Hu spread her hands:

"How should I know? Aren't you the God of Death, known as the world's number one assassin? What did you do before when I was away?"

Damn it, I've never met such an old turtle who is so afraid of death and refuses to move no matter what!

Du Weiguo's face darkened, but he still did not give up:

"Hu Da, can you hypnotize this fat guy named Tchaikovsky and let him go in and kill Mikhail?"

Miss Hu shook her head decisively: "No, as long as he walks into the Kremlin, my mental control will be cut off by luck."

"Damn it, after all, no one can be trusted, and in the end I have to do it myself!" Du Weiguo thought to himself, and shook his head helplessly:

"Well, if that's the case, then there's no point in us staying here any longer. Let's go quickly and think of a solution after we get out."

Miss Hu was a little surprised:

"Ah? Are you leaving now? Duda, even though I can't get in, I can still help you draw a map or something~"

"No need, Nikonov can also provide that."

Du Weiguo interrupted her in a muffled voice. In fact, he really didn't need any topographic map. His assassination methods had never relied on infiltration, but teleportation.

  What you see is where you are!

Moscow is located in the cold zone, so it gets dark very early. At 9 o'clock in the evening, it is already pitch dark.

Red Square, the magnificent St. Basil's Cathedral that looks like a dream castle, with its central tower and drum-shaped golden dome.

The tower is 47.5 meters high, equivalent to a 15-story building, and is considered the commanding height of the entire Red Square.

Du Weiguo suddenly appeared above the golden roof. He swung the Nine Nether Lock lightly and wrapped it around the protruding conical round hat. Then, like a night owl, he squatted steadily in the slippery dark side of the golden roof.

He squinted his eyes and looked down at the entire Kremlin with a hawk-like gaze, scanning it inch by inch.

Soon, Du Weiguo's gaze fixed on the northwest corner of the palace, an office with the lights still on, and a cold arc appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, old fox, I found you!"

He freed one hand and took out the custom-made pistol from the space. As soon as he raised it, Du Weiguo's brows frowned slightly. He keenly sensed something was wrong.

The next moment, Du Weiguo disappeared without a trace, leaving only two extremely clear footprints on the golden roof.

This is irrefutable evidence, but it will probably be washed away by rain and snow soon, and no one will ever find it.

At the same time, in the office that Du Weiguo had targeted, the Director of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Tchaikovsky, was reporting to an old man sitting behind the desk.

"Minister, the situation in Nizhny Novgorod has been clarified. The 145th Brigade has already evacuated the city. Remiel and his men are all dead, but the whereabouts of their bodies are unknown."

Remiel, one of the legendary archangels in charge of thunder, is also the code name of the one who can control electric arc "Boiled Egg".

"Since the bodies have not been found, how can we confirm that they are all dead?"

The old man behind the desk had white hair and beard. His tone was majestic, neither slow nor fast, and full of the oppressive feeling of a superior.

He is Mikhail Vladimir Vodsky, the current Minister of Internal Affairs and a member of the Supreme (Military) Committee. He is Nikonov’s mortal enemy and now Du Weiguo’s mortal enemy.

Tchaikovsky raised his eyebrow slightly, quickly glanced at Mikhail's face, and then replied tremblingly: "Minister, the bodies of Remiel and others were seen by the guards of the 145th Brigade. They were also the ones who collected them initially. There were a total of 6 bodies, and another one was burned to ashes and buried on the spot."

"Ding~"

The lighter made a crisp sound, and Mikhail did not speak immediately. Instead, he lit a long white filter cigarette.

Tchaikovsky's pupils couldn't help but shrink slightly, and he was a little surprised.

These were not the Chesterfields that Mikhail had smoked for decades, but Lucky Strike, a high-end brand from Citibank.

There is also this extravagant lighter made of pure gold and inlaid with diamonds, which is also very eye-catching. Mikhail has a simple lifestyle and has always used matches.

Mikhail took a deep breath and slowly exhaled the smoke. The strange smell of tobacco immediately filled the air.

"Tchaikovsky, do you think it was him who killed Remire and the others?"

The "he" here refers to Du Weiguo, who is now very powerful. Not only does he top the CIA's blacklist, he also enjoys the same treatment in the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

Tchaikovsky was even more surprised when he saw Mikhail holding the cigarette between his thumb and index finger, with his little finger raised, in a strange, slightly feminine posture.

  However, he was also a shrewd man, so he suppressed these chaotic thoughts and replied in a deep voice:

"Minister, with all due respect, he is the only one who can possess such terrifying combat power."

Mikhail smacked his lips.

"Tsk, they are indeed lawless, killing people without restraint in our Soviet Union. That guy Nikonov really chose a good ally."

Suddenly, the subject changed: "Tchaikovsky, do you think he dares to come here?"

Hearing this question, the always smooth-talking Tchaikovsky instantly broke out in a sweat, but facing Mikhail's eyes that seemed to penetrate his soul, he could only bite the bullet and talk nonsense:

"Well, Minister, I think he will still have some reservations after all. After all, his attitude towards us Soviet Russia is quite kind, and the dignity of the Soviet Union cannot be violated."

Mikhail sneered and bluntly exposed his lie:

"No, Tchaikovsky, you are lying. You think in your heart that he will come, and maybe he has come now, and I am going to die soon."

Mikhail pointed his cigarette butt at Tchaikovsky, his tone full of sarcasm and ridicule:

"So, that's why you sent someone to contact Ivan and Nikonov at the same time today. Isn't it a bit too impatient to start placing new bets so soon?"

  Upon hearing this, Tchaikovsky broke out in a sweat and quickly explained:

"No, no, Minister, I didn't contact them. I just wanted to find out where they were hiding, and then~"

"Ha." Mikhail interrupted him with a sneer.

"The evil spirit is indeed powerful. It can turn decay into magic and reverse a deadly situation. But Tchaikovsky, do you think I will definitely lose?"

"Of course, of course not, Minister, you will definitely be the one who has the last laugh."

  Mikhail put out his cigarette in the ashtray and said jokingly:

"Oh, go ahead, go home quickly, there's a surprise waiting for you at home."

"What?" Upon hearing this, Tchaikovsky's face changed instantly and his pupils shook violently.

He knew very well how cruel Mikhail was in dealing with traitors, as he had done it himself many times in the past.

The Ministry of Internal Affairs certainly cannot kill people indiscriminately in the streets like gangsters do.

But people like them who have been in the gray area for many years have nothing clean under their belts and cannot withstand investigation. According to the current laws, they are enough to be shot a hundred times.

As for trying to get higher up, that is simply impossible. Once you are in the special prison of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, Mikhail is the boss and there is no freedom to speak.

"Minister, I really didn't."

Tchaikovsky wanted to explain, but when he met Mikhail's cold and cruel eyes, he immediately changed his words.

"Please show mercy, my family members are all innocent~"

Mikhail's lips curled up slightly in a cruel arc:

"Tchaikovsky, for the sake of our years of working together, I advise you to leave immediately. Maybe you can still see your family!"

Tchaikovsky stood up suddenly and thrust his hand into the inner pocket of his coat, where a pocket S4M silent pistol was hidden.

Furious and filled with evil, Tchaikovsky wanted to force Mikhail, but when he reached out his hand, he was surprised to find that the gun was gone.

"Are you looking for it?"

Mikhail suddenly pulled out a drawer, took out a small, exquisite silver pistol, rubbed it, and then rotated it with his index finger.

When Tchaikovsky saw the gun, he trembled like a sieve, as if his spinal cord had been pulled out, and he was so terrified that he could not bear any more.

He clearly remembered that the pistol was under his armpit before he entered the door, and he didn't know how it ended up in Mikhail's drawer.

Because he was too panicked, he ignored the fact that Mikhail was actually turning the gun with his left index finger, and that finger was obviously disabled and could not be straightened at all.

"Tchaikovsky, you really amaze me. Not only did you betray me, you even wanted to kill me."

"I, I'm not~" At this moment, Tchaikovsky was dumbfounded and couldn't even utter a complete sentence.

Mikhail's tone was teasing, but his eyes were unusually cold: "Get lost now. Letting you go home by yourself is the greatest respect I can give you."

When Tchaikovsky staggered out of the office in a daze, Mikhail suddenly threw the pistol into the air, and the gun suddenly disappeared out of thin air.

"Ghost, don't let him return home alive. Shooting himself on the way should be a good choice."

What's even more strange is that Mikhail's voice also changed. It became that of a young woman, speaking fluent English with a thick Citi accent.

"Chameleon, be careful. Maybe the evil spirit has already sneaked in."

A deep male voice suddenly rang out from the empty office, also speaking American English.

Mikhail stretched out wantonly, still making a strange female voice:

"Don't worry about it, ghost. Please leave quickly. Otherwise, I feel like I'm talking to a ghost and I'm getting goose bumps all over my body."

The door suddenly opened and then closed by itself. Mikhail waited for a few seconds and tried to shout twice:

"Ghost? Ghost?"

"Forget it, it doesn't matter. I'll just assume you're gone. It's not like I haven't seen it before anyway."

As he spoke, Mikhail's chest suddenly swelled up, forming an arc that a man could never form.

  Then, he put his hand into his clothes and rubbed it very indecently, cursing:

"No, I'm almost suffocating to death."

"Ring ring ring!"

Suddenly the phone on the table rang. Mikhail picked it up immediately, and in a second his voice turned back to that of an old and majestic one:

"Hello, I'm Mikhail from the Ministry of Internal Affairs."

The same voice as his came from the other end of the phone: "It's me."

The fake Mikhail quickly changed back to a woman's voice: "Oh, dear Minister Mikhail, what are your instructions?"

  The voice on the other end of the phone sounded a little angry:

"Chameleon, I have stressed many times that you should not mess around in my office."

Upon hearing this, the chameleon immediately lowered his head to look at his surging chest. Even his collar was torn, which combined with the old man's head, was indeed very abrupt.

Then she raised her head and looked around slyly, and soon her eyes fixed on a portrait of a great man. There was an almost unnoticeable reflection on the black frame.

"Hey, I found you, Minister Mikhail. It turns out you have been hiding in the dark and spying on me all this time! Why? Are you afraid that I will really take your throne?"

The tone of Chameleon's statement is very casual, even a little frivolous, and it doesn't imply the slightest respect.

On the other end of the phone, Mikhail emphasized:

  "Watch your words, Chameleon, you are in the heart of Soviet Russia now, not free-wheeling America!

Change back immediately, he may have already sneaked in now! Hiding in a corner and watching your every move. "

"Ok, ok! You are the boss, you have the final say."

As soon as she finished speaking, she hung up the phone, but her chest shrank instantly and she buttoned her clothes in the process.

"Tsk! You cowardly old man, why are you pretending to be so great? If it weren't for the mission, do you think I'd want to become such a disgusting ghost like you?"

The chameleon pouted and muttered something in English, then looked out the window again:

"Tsk, Sha Shen, I heard he's a rare handsome man, I'm really looking forward to it." (End of this chapter)