An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 258 Close-up Eavesdropping
Meng Youyou gripped the rope with both hands, tilted her head back and looked up. The moss-eroded gully climbed upwards, and the Y-shaped crack formed by the rainy season gleamed with a slippery, eerie light under the moonlight.

The man beside him reached out a hand, picked a piece of moss off the rock wall, and rubbed it in his palm.

Meng Youyou glanced at him sideways, not understanding his intention. Just as she realized he was about to look up at her, she quickly turned her face away, her gaze abruptly fixing on the knot in her hand.

Suddenly... she felt a cool sensation on the back of her neck, a damp and slippery feeling rubbing against her skin. Meng Youyou instinctively shrugged and pulled her neck back, turning to look at him with a puzzled look in her eyes, which also carried a hint of resentment.

The man casually slipped one hand inside the back of her collar, his expression serious, looking directly into her eyes without any hesitation, his gaze unwavering.

Their faces were covered with a black charcoal powder mixed with plaster, and their tiny, gleaming eyes were sunken in their sockets as they looked at each other.

After a moment's thought, Meng Youyou quickly realized that he was helping her fill in the gaps in her disguise on the back of her neck. Meng Youyou blinked uncomfortably and avoided his gaze.

After doing all this, the man calmly withdrew his hand. Compared to his businesslike composure, Meng Youyou seemed less at ease. After his fingertips left her skin, Meng Youyou subconsciously moved her neck slightly.

His sudden action momentarily disrupted her tense nerves. For a split second, her thoughts wandered. Meng Youyou couldn't help but wonder if he would have touched the back of her neck without warning if it were another woman she was with tonight.
But it only lasted a second. The idea had just popped into her head, and before she could even ponder the answer, Meng Youyou immediately banished this chaotic thought from her mind.

At this crucial juncture, it's not the time to waste time thinking about these things.

Turning her head, she saw Huo Qingshan gesturing to her—"You go first, I'll stay behind. Give me the radio package."

The man placed his hand on Meng Youyou's shoulder, as if to take the communication backpack from her shoulder.

……

The leaden-gray clouds, like soaked cotton blankets, pressed heavily on the mountain ridgeline.

The thick clouds shredded the moonlight into thin silver powder, and occasionally a wisp or two would leak through the gaps in the clouds, only to be swallowed up by the night fog before they could even touch the rock face.

The silhouettes of the two figures on the cliff face dissolved in the darkness, like silhouettes swallowed by the night.

After climbing only halfway, Meng Youyou felt sweat trickling down her temples and pooling at the tip of her chin, forming a thick, dark line.

Just now, when I watched the bald dove climb, it moved with incredible speed and ease, as if it were flat ground. How come now that it's her turn, she's struggling to move even an inch?

The rock surface was covered with moss, and each step felt like walking on oiled glass. The anti-slip teeth of the combat boots scraped against the rock surface in vain, and my feet kept slipping and crossing, unable to find a solid foothold.

Unable to exert any force with her legs, she could only rely on the strength of her hands to keep her body from falling. With each exertion, the wound under the tape on her left hand burned with a stinging pain, and her other, uninjured right hand was not much better off.

As soon as his right foot touched a protrusion, the weathered rock crumbled away, the debris rolling down his trouser leg into his combat boots. His body suddenly plummeted straight down nearly a meter, and even rubbing his palms against the thick rope only provided minimal braking effect.

My heart leaped out of my throat.

Just when she thought she was about to repeat the fate of Sergeant Liu, a large, strong hand suddenly clamped down on her dangling right ankle. Huo Qingshan's fingers gripped her joint firmly like shackles, instantly catching her falling body.

The man pressed his upper body against the rock face, his right shoulder blade braced against the protruding rock edge, and placed her right foot on it, creating a foothold for her on the vertical cliff with his own body.

"Step on me." His voice was extremely low.

Those two simple words drifted into Meng Youyou's ears, and at that moment, they were more reassuring than any rope, as if all her fear had instantly transformed into trust.

At that moment, Meng Youyou suddenly understood the meaning of his initial statement, "I'm behind you."

A mix of emotions welled up inside her. Meng Youyou looked down through the gap between her body and the cliff face, her boot tentatively landing on his shoulder, which he was bracing for. It felt reassuring. As always, reassuring and steady.

And so, she continued to climb up, stepping on his body; or more accurately, he lifted her up. For most of the journey afterward, Meng Youyou barely exerted any effort.

After some twists and turns, they finally arrived at the location of the vulture.

The three of them were suspended below the protruding rocks, as if they were under a natural stone eaves. After Meng Youyou was settled, she did not rest for a moment and quickly took out the radio from her backpack.

All indicator lights on the radio were covered with black tape, so they could only be identified by touch.

Meng Youyou fumbled around, pressing her right thumb onto the brass fingerprint sensor on the table, and then glanced at the man to her right.

Huo Qingshan immediately understood, freeing one hand to take out his military officer's ID card from his inner pocket and precisely insert it into the magnetic card slot.

"Click"—the mechanical sound of the safety bolt being released was even softer than a breath.

The radio was successfully turned on. Meng Youyou carefully rubbed the tuning knob with her index finger, searching for the third groove like a blind person reading Braille. Operating the radio in such a low-visibility environment was quite difficult for Meng Youyou.

She had received training in blind radio operation, and Meng Youyou had performed exceptionally well in these assessments during her training. She had practiced extensively in private, almost developing muscle memory for it. However, when it came to actual use, she was overly concerned about the potentially unpredictable consequences of accidental operation, and the psychological pressure was too great. She operated with extreme caution in every step.

Even when you're absolutely certain, you still have to check it one more time.

Meng Youyou gently rubbed her thumb on the knob, her fingertip feeling every subtle change in the scale. She adjusted it slowly, pausing for two seconds after each small turn to allow her ears to adjust to the changes in sound from the headphones.

The noise surged like a tide, and amidst the static crackling, a familiar melody suddenly broke through—it was a revolutionary song being played by the Y Army radio station.

Meng Youyou's breath hitched slightly, and her fingers moved even more cautiously. This frequency was already close to the boundary of the military frequency band; any further ahead was the target area.

Her fingertips suddenly stopped.

A steady, low-frequency hum emerged from the noise, like someone continuously pressing the lowest key of an organ in the distance.

She held her breath and slowly turned the knob back half a notch. Finally, the audio from Y-language communication started playing in her headphones. It was intermittent and accompanied by obvious echo interference—that was the comb-like filtering effect caused by the repeated refraction of radio waves between rock strata. Each syllable was followed by a tiny trailing sound, like shouting in an empty canyon.

Meng Youyou closed her eyes and focused on listening, but suddenly pressed down on her left earcup—the instruction to turn off "Huang Lihua" was immediately drowned out by the noise.

The oscilloscope on the radio was covered with black tape, but Meng Youyou could tell from experience alone that the existing audio quality was substandard—the signal-to-noise ratio was lower than the evidence standard.

Meng Youyou kept one hand in the position of holding the radio, while the other hand traced the outline of the man's body on the right, her fingers running down his arm and touching the back of his hand.

Fingertips danced and tapped on the back of his hand, Morse code: [Signal-to-noise ratio < 4:1, not accepted by the court.]

Immediately afterward, Meng Youyou flicked her index finger, pointing to the suspended rock directly above the three of them. Then, she turned her wrist and tapped the back of his hand again—[The rock is blocking the signal, causing at least a 10-decibel attenuation, and the signal strength is currently insufficient due to the distance.]

After a pause, Meng Youyou raised her hand and pointed to the upper left of the suspended rock, where there was a patch of bare rock. Her eyes were fixed on Huo Qingshan.

Her meaning was clear: she wanted to climb over the overhanging rock to get closer and eavesdrop.

Huo Qingshan decisively shook his head, his tactical hand signals resolute: [Rejected; the sniper's line of sight covers the leftward movement route.]

That area was not only closer to the sniper post, but also had no cover whatsoever. It was as if once you climbed over the overhanging rock, you were already one foot in the grave.