Police officer Chen Shu.

"it's me."

Chen Shu lowered his voice and suppressed his emotions. The severely injured young man in front of him was the person he had rushed to northern Myanmar to rescue overnight—the flamboyant photographer, Xiao Zhao.

Xiao Zhao's lips began to tremble.

"Waaaa...waaaa...waaaa..."

He wanted to say something, but all that came out was a series of uncontrollable sobs in his throat. After the sobs, he grabbed Chen Shu's sleeve with his still intact left hand, gripping it tightly, like a drowning person grabbing the last piece of driftwood, afraid that he would disappear in the next second.

Once Xiao Zhao had calmed down, Chen Shu asked, "When were you injured? Let me see."

Chen Shu tried to slowly untie the knotted clothes on Xiao Zhao's arm. The knot was tied very tightly and became even harder after being stained with blood. It was a messy tangled mess. With a little force, Xiao Zhao gasped in pain.

"Let me do it." Zhu Yiba walked over, squatted down next to Chen Shu, and pulled out a folding dagger from his waist. The handle was polished to a shine, indicating that it was something he always carried with him. It was a mystery how he managed to get through airport security.

"Chen Da, help me hold him down." Zhu Yiba pushed the blade away with his thumb, looked at Xiao Zhao, and said in a gentle tone, "Don't look at his hand, look up at the ceiling, hmm, take a deep breath, that's right. Brother, hold on."

Wang Yan also came in. Originally, she wanted to persuade the group to quickly lift the person into the car and send them to the hospital, but once she got closer and saw the serious expressions on their faces, she inexplicably shut her mouth.

She had seen that expression before—during evacuations, in field hospitals, in those times when she knew it was too late but still needed to do something. It wasn't determination, nor courage, but something far heavier than either of those.

"hiss!"

Although Zhu Yiba's methods of treating injuries were exceptionally skilled and quick, Xiao Zhao was still in so much pain that cold sweat poured down his forehead. The cloth stuck to the wound had long since become fused with the flesh and blood, and the slightest touch would cause the skin and flesh to tighten.

Zhu Yiba focused intently, inserting the tip of the knife into the outermost fold of the clothing. With extremely light and quick movements, he sliced ​​through the originally wrinkled and hard fabric in just a few moments. Then, he changed the angle of the dagger and continued the previous action, peeling away another layer of fabric.

Until only the last piece of cloth stuck to the wound with blood remained, and it couldn't be pried open, Zhu Yiba pulled out a pair of scissors and carefully cut away the excess cloth around it, leaving only a small piece tightly attached to the wound. That small piece had almost melted into Xiao Zhao's flesh.

When Xiao Zhao's wounds were fully exposed to everyone, they were, in short, horrific.

"Ugh...uh!"

Unable to bear it any longer, Wang Yan covered her mouth and ran away.

She was a frontline police officer who had experienced evacuation operations and had witnessed all kinds of injuries on the battlefield, but when she saw the wound on Xiao Zhao's right hand, she couldn't hold back her tears.

Wang Yan is a police officer, a highly qualified one. If there were any room for her to maintain her composure, she would not allow herself to appear so out of control in front of the injured.

But the truth is that Xiao Zhao was tortured terribly.

Chen Shu frowned.

The index finger was broken off from the second knuckle. The cut wasn't clean; instead, jagged bone fragments protruded, clearly indicating that it had been repeatedly struck by a blunt object and shattered.

The middle finger was broken off at the metacarpophalangeal joint, with only a small fragment of bone, less than two or three centimeters long, remaining crookedly at the base. When poked out, a small, white bone tip protruded.

The ring finger was the most severely damaged, smashed into several pieces. All the ligaments and tendons connecting the phalanges were severed, leaving only a little skin and flesh barely attached to the palm.

My little finger is gone, it's nowhere to be found.

The thumb is still there, but the nail has been completely pulled off.

Upon seeing this, Chen Shu glanced at Xiao Zhao's other hand. He had initially thought it was his left hand, but what he saw were five nail beds that were blackened with blood, nail beds that had also had their nails forcibly pulled out.

Buzzing, flies flew in from who knows where and landed nearby, making a rather unpleasant sound.

Xiao Zhao was trembling, not from pain, or rather, it wasn't just from pain.

He looked down at his injured right hand, straining to see with his barely open eye. His gaze fell on his hand, which was mostly rotten, but his vision was empty; the focus of his eyes passed through the hand and landed far, far away.

"Brother Shu, why don't I feel any pain anymore all of a sudden?"

"Brother Shu, have you seen Sister Yang? Is she alright?"

"Brother Shu, can I still be a photographer?"

"Brother Shu, I want to go home..."

Chen Shu reached out her right hand and gently placed it on the back of Xiao Zhao's head, pressing his head down onto her shoulder. Her movements were very light, as if she were afraid of hurting the young man again, and as if she were afraid that her movements were not gentle enough.

On the back of Chen Shu's hand, the veins stood out one after another.

Zhu Yiba stood behind.

From behind, Chen Shu's shoulder blades were taut, so taut that two straight creases of his clothes were stretched along his back, extending all the way to his waist, like a fully drawn bow, just waiting for a "bang" to shoot the arrow.

Zhu Yiba suddenly remembered that when he was in the Zhengming Special Police Brigade, his colleagues talked about the outcome of the Chen Shuyu Qingyue Bridge incident, and the anti-K elements who were shot dead on the spot for assaulting the police.

At that time, Zhu Yiba thought that this style was quite similar to their special forces.

"Officer Wang," Chen Shu called out, his voice deep.

Wang Yan wiped her mouth and walked over quickly.

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"Let's go," Chen Shu said in a low voice, speaking quickly. "Take everyone away to the nearest border crossing. Then, give me the gun."

A hint of doubt flashed in Wang Yan's eyes, but she quickly handed the Type 64 pistol, which she had taken from the armory of the Myanmar special police brigade, to Chen Shu.

The advantage of this gun is that no one knows its origin. Even if someone knows where it came from, no one can completely investigate its origin. After all, even its original owner just kept it under the table as a cushion.

Wang Yan glanced at Chen Shu for a few seconds, then silently turned around and went to take care of her business.

Chen Shu walked up to Ang Suoling, a smile returning to his face: "County Chief, this operation was made possible by your cooperation, thank you. Now that the matter is settled, I'll take these people with me."

Ang Suling grasped Chen Shu's outstretched hand and nodded, saying, "Commander Chen, to be honest, you are younger than I imagined, and you have a bright future ahead of you."

"You flatter me, County Head."

"No, this is not a compliment."

Ang Suling's smile faded slightly as he said, "Commander Chen, young people are prone to impulsiveness, to oversimplifying things, and to turning good intentions into bad ones. Look at our place here; it looks small, you can't even find it on a map, but the waters run deep. Some things are better left unsaid for everyone's benefit."

"The county magistrate is right."

Ang Suling stared at Chen Shu for a few seconds, then slowly withdrew his hand: "Then I wish the commander a safe journey. I prepared some gifts in your car."

"Thank you, County Magistrate."

Chen Shu did not refuse, nodded, turned around and led everyone away.

I like Policeman Chen Shu.