Police officer Chen Shu.

Wang Yan, the liaison officer who had been working in Myanmar for many years, watched Chen Chuan's figure grow smaller and smaller by the roadside, then turned to comfort the group, saying, "Although these people are fighting and killing on their own turf, they are still quite polite to us. In formal occasions like this, with a general present, they won't make things too difficult for us."

Although Zhu Yiba still had a stern face, he relaxed a little after hearing Wang Yan's explanation. Then, as if he thought of something, he immediately tensed up again.

How conflicted Zhu Yiba must have been inside.

Whether he was seeking revenge or just passing through, even now, as he truly stands on this land in northern Myanmar, he still can't quite grasp his own true feelings.

Ma Rongcheng let out a soft sigh and kept repeating, "That's good, that's good." The old detective's tone was filled with unspeakable struggle, with a hint of relief that the mission was accomplished, even if the final result was just as everyone had been talking about, that he had only gotten a few scapegoats.

This outcome is a fitting explanation for both the official and civilian sectors of both countries, as well as for various organizations in northern Myanmar.

Xiao Wang from the Donghai Provincial Department, however, couldn't hide his excitement; his eyes gleamed with a burning, vibrant fire.

Chen Shu fell into deep thought.

Chen Shu glanced at the front of the truck bed.

Zhu Yiba, a retired soldier, craned his neck, staring intently in the direction of the park; Ma Rongcheng, on the other hand, hunched his neck and looked quite nervous, showing none of the imposing manner of the "Yunnan Provincial Detective" he had displayed when they first met; while Wang Yan, a heroine who was no less capable than any man, also looked ahead with a solemn expression, her right hand seemingly casually resting on the Type 64 pistol she had taken from the Myanmar special police's armory.

Xiao Wang from the Donghai Provincial Department, on the contrary, looked eager to try, but his gaze swept high above the front, constantly looking left and right towards the valley behind the park.

Perhaps the information provided by Li Xia was hidden there when he left... Chen Shu nodded slightly, quickly planning his next move.

"Commander, we've arrived!" Badara poked his head out of the passenger window, turned around, and spoke with a distinct northern Chinese accent.

boom.

Lin Hua, the deputy director of the Mandalay Intelligence Bureau, opened the car door and got out first.

Looking around, a park is built in the forest and surrounded by a river that is several tens of meters wide. The only way to enter and exit the park is a cement bridge at the entrance.

Even though it is surrounded by a long river, the park is still enclosed by a wall about three or four meters high, with barbed wire strung on top of the wall.

There is also a small security booth next to the entrance.

This looks more like a prison.

Or rather, it's more like a prison than a prison.

......

One hour ago.

roadside.

As Chen Chuan watched the convoy disappear from sight, his previously smiling face vanished instantly, his lips tightened, and his eyes became serious.

Since entering Dalalin, Chen Chuan had clearly sensed a change in Chen Shu's emotions, a change that sent chills down his spine.

Back in police academy, his smile was as bright as the large police badge hanging at the school gate. In the years after he started working, he remained decisive and efficient, and began to constantly remind people to "be careful." Despite his young age, he acted like a talkative old man.

But now.

No one can say for sure when Chen Shu's transformation occurred. Perhaps it was the day he witnessed the sacrifice of his SWAT team colleague Xu Mingliang, perhaps it was in the early morning after sending Xiao Pang off in southern Xinjiang, or perhaps it was during those hostages who were taken hostage by rioters and could not be rescued.

He began to fall silent.

This silence is like language losing all meaning in the face of a certain experience, leaving only violence and means to achieve the goal.

On quiet nights, Chen Chuan would sometimes think that if they hadn't been to southern Xinjiang, northern Myanmar, or experienced such bloodshed, but instead lived like their classmates, as ordinary police officers at a local police station or patrol officers who trained every day, what a carefree life that would have been.

But there are no "what ifs".

Chen Shu remained a good policeman, even gaining the trust of high-ranking leaders and the respect of ordinary people. However, he could never return to the simple world where he believed "justice will prevail," nor was he the people's policeman who stood in the sunlight, free from any shadows.

"Are you still you?"

Chen Chuan clutched his empty backpack tightly, and instead of going to the courtyard where the black SUV was parked, he turned and disappeared into the street corner without looking back.

His goal was clear: the bank. He needed to fill his backpack with green banknotes again and then use them to bribe anyone he could.

In no time, the backpack was filled to the brim.

"call..."

Chen Chuan let out a long breath; the heavy backpack gave him the same sense of security as always.

Chen Chuan chose the largest and most luxurious Chinese restaurant in the area and ordered a table full of local seafood and wild game. He sat alone at a large round table that could seat more than a dozen people, drinking one bottle of Maotai after another.

He opened the wine, but didn't drink it right away. Instead, he poured it into the empty glasses on the table one by one. When the glass was full, he would pour it into the next one, just like a child playing in the water.

The pace was neither too fast nor too slow.

The waiter couldn't stand it any longer; this customer's attitude was clearly beyond his ability to handle, so he turned around and ran to find the restaurant owner.

"This guest."

A middle-aged man in a white shirt strode over, speaking with a strong Yunnan accent and sporting a standard businessman's smile. "I'm the owner of this shop. Are you waiting for a friend, brother?"

"We won't wait for anyone." Chen Chuan didn't even look up, his eyes fixed on the glass as he continued pouring the wine.

"So, brother, what's going on...?"

"Eat. What, can't you eat alone?"

The owner smiled, pulled out a chair next to him, and sat down naturally next to Chen Chuan: "Of course, we're in business, and we always welcome customers who come to eat."

The owner paused for a moment, then slowly said, "I just noticed you ordered so much food by yourself, and I was worried it would be a waste. How about I take some away from you?"

After emptying the bottle of wine in his hand, Chen Chuan finally looked up and glanced at the boss.

The restaurant owner was about forty years old, slightly overweight, with a smile that was typical of his many social engagements. He was a bit greasy, but he was very friendly and his eyes were lively and bright.

The overall impression he gives is that he's been living in northern Myanmar for many years and is very well-connected.

His hands were clean and even a little chubby, clearly indicating that he had never done any hard labor.

I like Policeman Chen Shu.