Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

The brazier was still burning in Old Sun's dugout.

The room reeked of alcohol mixed with the smell of leather and smoke; it was very stuffy.

On the kang table sat a half-empty bottle of strong liquor, a plate of salted meat, and a pair of fur-lined gloves lying beside it. The firelight cast flickering shadows throughout the room.

Ivanov was sitting alone on the edge of the heated brick bed, drinking.

Old Sun isn't here.

He was alone in the room, leaning against the wall, holding a wine glass in his hand, looking slightly tipsy and relaxed.

The curtain outside was lifted, and a gust of cold wind rushed in.

Ivanov frowned and looked up.

Upon recognizing the person, his grey-blue eyes brightened instantly, the alcohol on his face seemed to dissipate somewhat, and he grinned:

"Zhao!"

"My friend, what brings you here?"

"Have you thought it through—"

He had only spoken halfway when Zhao Shanhe strode inside.

His face was extremely grim, and he still carried the chill of the night air. Without uttering a single polite word, he directly pulled out the folded medicine prescription from his pocket and placed it on the kang table.

"Ivan."

"I need your help."

The room fell silent.

Ivanov's smile froze for a moment. He put his wine glass aside, picked up the prescription, and unfolded it.

He initially just glanced at it, but as soon as his eyes fell on the first two lines, his brows furrowed.

Looking further down, he clicked his tongue softly, and the smile on his face vanished completely.

The firewood in the brazier popped softly.

Ivanov stared at the list for a long while before looking up at Zhao Shanhe, his voice noticeably lower:

"Zhao".

"These are not easy items to obtain."

Zhao Shanhe stared at him:

"Is it possible to get it?"

Ivanov glanced down at the list again, his fingers lightly rubbing the edge of the paper, as if he were going over it in his mind.

After two breaths, he finally spoke:

"It's a bit difficult."

"But it's not entirely hopeless."

"Give me ten days, and I should be able to put the materials together for you."

Zhao Shanhe's eyes didn't move at all, but his voice was even lower:

"Ten days won't do."

"Too late."

"It's due tomorrow morning."

Upon hearing this, Ivanov was visibly taken aback.

He looked up at Zhao Shanhe, as if he doubted that he had misheard:

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Zhao, you're not kidding me, are you?"

"This isn't something you can just buy on the street."

"These are all very precious imported medicines."

"It's not like you can just walk into a pharmacy, say you need medicine, and someone will pull it out from under the counter for you."

As he said this, he looked down at the list again, the smile in his gray-blue eyes almost completely gone.

"I need time, my friend."

Zhao Shanhe stared at him, his voice deep: "But I'm in a hurry."

Ivanov looked up at the somber expression on Zhao Shanhe's face, remained silent for a moment, and then asked, "Is this medicine for your family?"

Zhao Shanhe shook his head: "No."

"He's my brother."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Ivanov held the paper, silent for a long time. After a while, he scratched the back of his head twice and muttered, "Damn it..."

"This is troublesome."

Zhao Shanhe looked at him: "Do you have any connections?"

Ivanov placed the prescription back on the table, tapping the edge of the paper twice with his finger, as if mentally reviewing it.

"I do know someone... who might have this."

"Who?"

"Alexei Ivanovich Belikov."

"Ukrainians."

"This guy specializes in reselling these things—medicines, injections, rare items leaking from hospitals—he'll touch anything as long as there's a way."

"He used to travel aggressively between the Soviet Union and China; he was a veteran in this line of work."

Ivanov raised his hand and scratched his hair, his tone a little annoyed:

"And this guy is really smart."

"He doesn't like having all his stock tied up in one place."

"Medicines, injections, and medical instruments are all stored separately."

"The edge of the forest, the river bend, abandoned houses, old forest ranger posts—he used to have several outposts outside."

"So I think he might actually have what you want."

Zhao Shanhe stared at him: "Ivan."

"Then let's go find him now."

Where is he?

Ivanov clicked his tongue and slammed the prescription on the table: "That's the problem."

"I don't know exactly where he is now."

All I know is that he was released recently.

Zhao Shanhe frowned: "Come out?"

Ivanov glanced at him and cursed, "Because I reported him for illegally reselling medical supplies."

"He was imprisoned for several years."

Zhao Shanhe remained silent.

Ivanov lowered his head, picked up the glass, and looked up to drink, but then put it down again, clearly no longer interested in the wine.

"This is no ordinary little grudge, Zhao."

"It's an old grudge."

"I cut off one of his main paths. During the years he was in jail, he probably wanted to kill me every single day."

"If I were to go to him now, the first thing he'd do when he sees me is rip my guts out."

Zhao Shanhe stood by the kang table, his face unchanged, staring at him: "But I need medicine."

"Ivan."

"This time, I owe you a favor."

The firewood in the brazier popped slightly, a spark jumped up, and then quickly went out.

Ivanov stared at Zhao Shanhe for a couple of moments, then suddenly cursed, before patting Zhao Shanhe on the shoulder.

"Damn it." "Zhao, that's a really harsh thing to say."

He grinned, but the slickness in his smile was gone.

What do you mean by owing me a favor?

"We are friends."

After saying that, he didn't waste any more words. He turned around, walked to the corner of the dugout, squatted down, and lifted the old wooden board on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).

There was a hidden compartment under the wooden board.

Inside was a bulging canvas bag.

Ivanov grabbed the bag and threw it onto the kang (a heated brick bed).

With a "bang," the bag fell heavily, causing the wine glasses on the kang table to sway slightly.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes darkened slightly.

Ivanov unbuckled the bag and deftly turned it inside out.

The first thing I found was an old camouflage uniform, rolled up very tightly, the color was worn out, but the fabric looked durable.

Following that were two leather gloves, a short knife, a roll of thin hemp rope, several small tin boxes, and several heavy bulletproof vests.

As Ivanov rummaged through the contents, he muttered under his breath, "That bastard Belikov, he just came out of there, his nerves are on edge like a mad dog."

"I don't want to go and kill him in the middle of the night."

As he said this, he paused for a moment, then pulled a long cloth bag from the bottom of his bag.

The layers of cloth were untied one by one. What was revealed inside was the bolt-action shotgun with a scope from last time.

The gun barrel gleamed with a dark, cold light; the stock was oily and the scope was shiny black.

Ivanov held the gun horizontally, glanced at it twice, and then looked up at Zhao Shanhe: "Zhao."

"Now, you can hold it, right?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

Zhao Shanhe looked down at the gun and took it.

The moment I held the gun, that familiar feeling of weight, stability, and solidity immediately returned.

He raised his hand and gently pushed the bolt, the metal making a crisp, clear sound.

"Outside the city to the north, on the edge of the woods, there is an abandoned forest ranger station."

"That place used to be one of his favorite spots."

"It's remote, chaotic, and the roads are difficult to navigate."

"If he had just come out and hadn't yet re-established his career path, he would probably have stayed there for the time being."

But I can't guarantee it.

As he said this, he pointed to the gun and lowered his voice, "When we get there, I'll go in and see him."

"Don't show yourself. Find a safe place to hold your position."

"There's a small earthen slope next to that place, and behind it is a pile of half-rotten logs. If you lie down there, you can see the front door and half a window."

"You just stay there and keep an eye on things."

Zhao Shanhe didn't speak, he just listened.

Ivanov continued, "I'll talk to him first."

"It would be best if he were willing to release the goods."

"But what if he turns on you—" Ivanov paused, looked up at Zhao Shanhe, and all traces of his usual joking expression vanished: "Zhao."

"Just shoot."

"Just kill him."