When I went home for Chinese New Year, I spent a million times more money on my foreign wife.

One morning in early September, three military helicopters flew in from the south, the roar of their rotors drowning out the mechanical noise on the construction site.

Lei received the notification 15 minutes in advance and led the security team to clear the landing area in front of the main building of Snow Palace.

The helicopters landed one after another, the cabin doors opened, and Li Bu was the first to jump out, followed by four generals in military uniforms and two high-ranking officials in civilian clothes.

Everyone's expression was serious, but not in a businesslike way; rather, it carried an undeniable solemnity.

Chen Yue stood under the porch, clutching the contracts she was to sign that day.

She glanced at the newcomer's military rank, and her expression changed.

Chen Yang was walking out of the main building. He nodded but didn't say anything more.

Li Bu quickly stepped forward and shook hands with Chen Yang.

"Mr. Chen, the reason we came without prior notice was at the behest of higher-ups—we didn't want it to be reported publicly and we're only holding it at your home."

"What for?"

Li Bu did not answer directly, but turned around and glanced at the general behind him.

A lieutenant general received a flat black leather gift box from his adjutant, the box bearing the national emblem embossed in gold.

He walked up to Chen Yang.

"Please come with us to the yard."

The group entered the courtyard of the Chen family villa.

The yard wasn't big; it had a few flowers that Chen Ma had bought from the market, and a row of cucumber trellises that she had built herself against the wall.

Anyone who comes here is a person of high rank and great power.

At this moment, everyone was standing next to an old rural woman's cucumber trellis, and no one felt it was inappropriate.

Mr. and Mrs. Chen were called over from the flower room by Chen Yue.

Chen Ma was still wearing her apron, her hands covered in flour. When she saw the yard full of military uniforms, her legs went weak.

"Xiaoyang, this is—"

"Mom, it's okay."

Chen Yue moved two chairs for her parents to sit down, and then stood next to Chen Yang.

Katyusha came out of the kitchen and stood on the veranda without moving forward.

Li Bu stood in the center, unfolded a document with a red cover, and began to read it aloud.

"With the unanimous approval of the Supreme State Council of the People's Republic of China, Mr. Chen Yang is hereby awarded the Special Class Bauhinia National Hero Medal in recognition of his outstanding contributions to national energy security, cutting-edge military technology, and the restructuring of the international financial order. This medal is the first of its kind in the history of the People's Republic of China, and there is only one of its kind. It has no class or series."

He finished reading and closed the document.

The courtyard was quiet for two seconds.

The lieutenant general opened the black gift box.

The box is lined with deep red velvet, and a medal is embedded in the center.

Shaped like a bauhinia flower, it is made of pure gold, with a pigeon blood ruby ​​set in the stamen, and a line of small characters engraved on the back: "Peerless Hero".

The lieutenant general handed the gift box to Chen Yang with both hands.

"Mr. Chen, please accept."

Chen Yang took the gift box, glanced at it, and then looked up at Li Bu.

Chen Yang closed the gift box and turned to walk towards his parents, who were sitting in a chair.

He knelt down on one knee and placed the gift box in Chen Ma's hands.

"Mom, look."

With trembling fingers, Chen's mother opened the box. When she saw the gleaming gold medal, tears welled up in her eyes.

She didn't know anything about the Order of the British Empire, but she recognized the national emblem in the box.

Chen's father stood up, walked to Chen Yang's side, opened his mouth several times, but didn't say a word.

He reached out and patted Chen Yang's shoulder twice, then turned around to wipe his eyes.

Chen Yue's eyes also reddened, but as the person in charge, she held back her tears and clenched her fist tightly.

"Brother, if Grandpa were still alive, he would be so happy to see this."

Chen Yang stood up and patted the dirt off his knees.

"Keep it safe. Put it in the safe."

Li and his men didn't linger; the ceremony lasted less than twenty minutes in total. Before leaving, he spoke a few words to Chen Yang alone.

"The higher-ups told me to pass on a message—if there's anything that requires the government's intervention, just let them know."

"As Chinese people, it is our duty to contribute to our motherland."

"Also, intelligence reports indicate that the external public opinion environment is not good recently. You've dealt too harshly to those old families in the west, and there might be a backlash."

"I see."

The helicopter took off and left.

The wind whipped up by the rotor blades made the cucumber leaves in the yard sway wildly.

Chen Ma sat on the chair holding the gift box, wiping away tears for half an hour, until Katyusha came over with a bowl of rock sugar pear soup and handed it to her, and she slowly calmed down.

Mr. Chen took the medal out of the box, looked at it over and over a dozen times, and finally carefully put it back and handed it to Chen Yue.

"Lock it up, so it doesn't get bumped or damaged."

-

the same day.

Newark, the basement of a private clubhouse in Manhattan.

Seven people sat around a long table. There were no electronic devices on the table; cell phones and watches were left in the signal jamming cabinet outside the door.

The man sitting in the main seat was a gray-haired man, around sixty years old, wearing a gray three-piece suit and an eagle head brooch on his tie.

His name is Vincent Gray, the fourth-generation head of the Gray family, who controls the third-largest military-industrial complex in North America and two energy companies.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I won't beat around the bush," Vincent began. "Everyone here has been directly or indirectly drained of their blood by that man surnamed Chen over the past six months. Howard's foundation is gone, Carlson's island was splattered with pig manure, and Weber is still a laughing stock on the internet. Lockheed Martin's stock price is still 40% away from its all-time high."

No one responded, but their expressions were all grim.

Vincent continued, "He single-handedly shook the foundations of the old order. He has drone technology, energy channels, the backing of a major Eastern power, and that damned settlement system. If we continue to fight our own battles, within five years, the family assets of everyone here will all shrink by more than half."

A balding middle-aged man interjected, "You want to form an alliance?"

"No," Vincent corrected him, "it's the formation of a new force. Its codename is—the Dragon Slayer Society."

There was a few seconds of silence on the table.

A balding middle-aged man asked, "How exactly do I do it?"

"His security is military-grade; messing with him is suicide. Let's target his base first." Vincent pushed a hand-drawn map to the center of the table, marking two locations on it.

"One is his snowy town in Northeast China, and the other is the laboratory at Harbin Institute of Technology. That laboratory is the source of all his military technology. Destroying these two points is equivalent to cutting off half of his arm."

"Where are the manpower?"

"It's all arranged."

Vincent folded the map twice and stuffed it into his suit pocket.

"Gentlemen, from today onwards, this matter ceases to exist. After the meeting, return to your respective hotels, and depart on your own flights tomorrow. Do not have any direct contact for three months. All instructions will be relayed through the dark web."

The seven people got up and left one after another.

The basement lights went out.

-

The top floor of a gray residential building in the old town of Harbin.

A middle-aged man in a plaid shirt is sitting at a desk grading student papers.

He is an associate professor at the School of Materials Science and Engineering, Harbin Institute of Technology. He has lived in the city for twelve years, and his neighbors all call him "Old Zhou".

His phone rang once.

An encrypted text message.

He glanced at it for three seconds, deleted the message, turned off his phone, and continued grading papers.

Next to the coffee cup in my hand, there was a work ID card from Harbin Institute of Technology.

The person in the photo looks exactly like him: gentle, ordinary, and harmless.