A courtyard house; Li Yunlong, a subordinate of the deputy director of Harbin Military Engineering I

Inside the house, as Old Xu listened to Zhang Renfeng's complaints, his brows furrowed deeper and deeper, and his eyes widened like bull's eggs.

He was always hot-tempered, and after being kept in Shandong Province for years with his career stagnant, he had been harboring a lot of resentment. Now that he had finally been reinstated thanks to his younger brother's great victory, the moment he heard Zhang Renfeng talk about how Old Chen was exploiting him, that anger shot up to the top of his head.

"Hmph!" Brigade Commander Xu slammed his hand on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), making the enamel teacup on the table jump.

"If it weren't for his worsening leg condition, I would have broken his other leg! How can you treat someone like that?"

"The battle is over, and we're not even allowed to catch our breath. If Chen the Cripple wants to be a model worker, he can be one himself. Why should you be dragged down with him?"

Zhang Renfeng sat on the kang (a heated brick bed), his hands outstretched, his face showing the utmost grievance. But in his heart, the scales were pounding loudly—Old Xu couldn't stand seeing his own people being bullied. The more you showed weakness, the more agitated he became; this trick always worked.

Sure enough, after Commander Xu finished scolding Old Chen, he took a half step closer, his tone softening, but he couldn't suppress the heartache he felt for him.

"It's been so many years, Renfeng. I brought a whole sack of Moutai liquor. Would you like to have a few drinks with me?"

He pointed to the door, and sure enough, the guard was carrying a bulging sack there, with half of a Moutai bottle neck sticking out of the sack, and the words "Moutai" written on a red paper label.

Zhang Renfeng followed his gaze to the sack, then waved his hand, "Never mind, I won't drink anymore."

He looked a little embarrassed as he said this, but he couldn't help rolling his eyes inwardly.

His alcohol tolerance is some kind of cheat code that came with his time travel; he's never been drunk since he was born.

Back in Yan'an, I drank with my master, who was known as the best drinker in the entire army and could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk. The two of us drank three jars of strong liquor together. My master was lying on the table unconscious, but I was still able to steadily carry him back to the cave dwelling.

The next day, when his master woke up, he slapped his forehead and said, "You're a drunkard, aren't you?" From then on, he never drank with him again.

Later, when he returned to the Taihang Mountains, he drank with the old political commissar, the teacher, and Lao Xu and the others. Every time, he would arrange to carry everyone back one by one, while he himself could still soberly review the day's battle reports.

Over time, everyone in the Taihang Mountains knew that Zhang Baopo's alcohol tolerance was bottomless, and anyone who drank with him was doomed. Gradually, no one wanted to clink glasses with him anymore.

Every time he drinks, he has to pretend to be drunk, and he has to do it convincingly, without being too fake or overdoing it. The skill of striking that perfect balance is more tiring than commanding an army corps.

Life is like a play, it all depends on acting skills!

These days, Old Xu is both incompetent and loves to play around. When he's drunk, he likes to spout off in a mix of classical and vernacular Chinese, saying things like "I now wield my sword and go forth" and "The only heroes in the world are you, my lord, and Cao Cao," which makes people's scalps tingle.

Zhang Renfeng gets a headache just thinking about that scene.

"Oh dear!" Commander Xu's eyes widened immediately when he heard that he wasn't going to drink.

"You're not going to drink? If you don't drink, you're disrespecting me, Mr. Xu!"

I carried a whole sack of Moutai all the way from Shandong Province to give you this. Do you think it was easy for me? Do you think my old bones are made of iron?

.......

Old Chen paced back and forth in the temporary command post of Harbin Military Engineering Institute, tapping his cane on the ground twice as often as usual.

He walked to the window, glanced at the gray sky, then returned to the table, glanced at the silent telephone, and then went to the door, poked half his head out, and shouted into the corridor, "Xiao Liu! Has Political Commissar Zhang called back?"

From the end of the corridor came the voice of Secretary Liu Zhiyuan, tinged with helplessness: "Reporting to the Dean, no! The thirteenth email has been sent for three hours, and not a single reply has been received!"

Old Chen clicked his tongue, retreated into the house, and plopped down in a chair. He stared at the stack of telegram drafts on the table, each one shifting from polite to urgent to almost pleading...

But they didn't reply.

"That son of a bitch, is he really not coming?"

Old Chen muttered something under his breath, his anxiety impossible to hide.

He picked up the appointment document on the table, stamped with the seal of the Central Military Commission—"Comrade Zhang Renfeng appointed as Political Commissar, Vice President, and Party Secretary of the Military Engineering Academy."

He knew in his heart that Zhang Renfeng now held more than just the Harbin Military Engineering Institute.

Deputy Director of the Weapons Commission, Commander-in-Chief of the Military Parade, Second Ministry of Machine Building... any one of these titles is impressive.

In contrast, although Zhang Renfeng is nominally called the political commissar at Harbin Military Engineering Institute, he is actually the second-in-command. If Zhang Renfeng really feels that the position is not weighty enough, he can make excuses to his superiors, and Old Chen really can't do anything about it.

What are they now? They're the Shield of the Republic! How can I, a cripple, compare?

Sigh, tears have soaked my roast duck... I'm afraid my brother will suffer, and I'm also afraid my brother...

But that wasn't the most troublesome thing for him.

What gave him the biggest headache was Liu the Blind Man who was squatting in Shenyang.

Old Chen's temples throbbed whenever he thought of the teacher's "investigative" face.

What does "investigating the Northeast Military Region" mean?

Who doesn't know that the Northeast Military Region has absolutely nothing to do with Harbin Military Engineering Institute?

But you can't find fault with him—he's the president of Jinling Military Academy, and it's perfectly reasonable and legal for him to visit and learn from other units.

Old Chen knew perfectly well that Blind Liu's little scheme was simply to calculate that Zhang Renfeng would inevitably transit through Shenyang after entering the country, then intercept him under the guise of "going by on the way," and have Zhang Renfeng give a few lectures at Jinling Academy. Then the whole of Shenyang would know that Zhang the Bombardier was "Dean Liu's beloved student"—a more shameless way to gain an advantage than Old Chen showing off at Gongdelin Temple...

Old Chen grew increasingly angry, slammed his hand on the table, stood up, walked to his desk, picked up a pen, and began drafting a telegram...

[In my capacity as President of Harbin Military Engineering Institute and Deputy Chief of the General Staff, I hereby send this urgent telegram to Political Commissar Zhang Renfeng of Harbin Military Engineering Institute, requesting that you immediately come to Harbin Military Engineering Institute for a preparatory meeting upon your return to China. You are not permitted to stay in Shenyang. Failure to do so will result in the most severe punishment under the institute's regulations. Urgent! Awaiting your reply!]

After writing the last word, he put down his pen, picked up the telegram, blew on the ink, and read it again to make sure the wording was strong and carried weight before folding it and handing it to his secretary who had just entered the room.

"Send another telegram to Zhang Renfeng!"

Liu Zhiyuan took the telegram, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Dean, we haven't replied to the first thirteen telegrams, and this fourteenth one... should we wait a little longer? We're the top leaders, after all, surely we can't afford to..."

"What are you waiting for!" Old Chen glared at him. "If we wait any longer, it'll be too late! Distribute! Distribute now!"

Liu Zhiyuan quickly saluted, turned around and left.

The room fell silent again. Old Chen stood by the table, his eyes darting around as he watched the flame of the kerosene lamp.

He suddenly realized that his posture was somewhat ridiculous.

The president of Harbin Military Engineering Institute and the deputy chief of the General Staff was so flustered by an unanswered telegram that he was like an ant on a hot pan.

But he couldn't help but wonder, if Zhang Renfeng really was intercepted by Liu the Blind and taken to Shenyang, how would he, Old Chen, explain the boast he had made to the school construction team?

What kind of nonsense is this: "Our political commissar is Zhang the Explosive, who wiped out two American divisions," "He'll be there next month," "If he doesn't arrive, I, Dean Chen, will eat shit..."

He's already made the promise; if the person doesn't show up, where will he put his old face?

He sighed, opened the drawer, took out the hardcover diary, and began to write:

[Outrageous!! I'm furious!! How outrageous can people be when they're shameless? The headmaster personally came to Shenyang, under the guise of a research trip, trying to intercept my brother Renfeng halfway. How could such behavior be allowed? Fortunately, we agreed on 300 silver dollars beforehand, so Brother Feng wouldn't try to bargain, would he? Now that he's boasted, my legend is all over the city! But Renfeng has indeed worked hard! At this moment, he's probably on his way back, working from dawn till dusk. He's truly my Chen's top-tier workhorse! Although he's often mischievous, you can't say he's bad.]