014 Finding the Organization
Li Changjiang? Li Lin? If he remembered correctly, this father and son had come to Libya as laborers with Delong Construction. Since when did laborers become so fierce on the battlefield? Yang Jianyong’s gaze toward Li Changjiang grew somewhat peculiar. Still, he understood that everyone had their own secrets and had no intention of probing further, merely making a mental note of Li Changjiang’s name.
On the other side.
At the mention of Li Lin’s name, Li Changjiang immediately became agitated.
“You didn’t find my father? No, let me out, I have to go back and find my father.”
“Calm down first.”
“Let go, let me go, I need to find my dad.”
Li Changjiang’s face flushed a deep red, but his arms were pinned tightly by Yang Jianyong, leaving him almost immobile. His expression quickly twisted into something fierce.
“You ungrateful wretch! I saved so many of you on the battlefield. Why won’t you let me find my father? Let me go!”
A guttural cry escaped him.
Inside the vehicle.
Yang Jianyong’s expression changed. He hadn’t expected Li Changjiang to be so strong. He himself was an elite marine from the Southern Military District, yet he was barely able to restrain Li Changjiang.
“Tian Weiliang, stop the car!”
A screech of brakes sounded, and the car jolted violently. Li Changjiang lost his balance, and with a quick move, Yang Jianyong pinned him back onto the seat.
“You bastard! If you were my soldier, I’d shoot you on the spot.”
Another cry of pain.
Li Changjiang broke out in a cold sweat from the force.
Tian Weiliang got out and opened the car door. Yang Jianyong, without a word, kicked Li Changjiang out of the vehicle, then jumped out himself, fixing his gaze on him.
“Go on then! I’m not stopping you. Get lost.”
“The whole of Benghazi is crawling with rebels. Even if your father is still in the city, do you really think you can save him? Damn it, you’re nothing but a pig, a stupid pig!”
“Even if I can’t save him, I have to try. He’s my father, don’t you understand? He’s my father!”
Li Changjiang bellowed with all his strength, then collapsed to his knees on the scorching gravel, sobbing uncontrollably.
“He’s my father!”
“My father!”
Gentle waves lapped the distant shoreline. Wherever the eye could see, the sea and sky merged into one. The blue Mediterranean rippled ever so slightly. Were it not for the war, this might have been a splendid tourist destination.
Yang Jianyong and Tian Weiliang could both feel the pain in Li Changjiang’s heart. But they knew that trying to rescue someone from Benghazi now was not something one man could accomplish alone.
“Don’t be so disheartened—your father may have already escaped with the crowds. We’ll head to Tripoli first, and once we’re there, I’ll contact the embassy to see if there’s any news about him.”
Yang Jianyong’s words were like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. Li Changjiang’s eyes lit up, and without another word, he climbed back into the car, sitting stiffly in the back seat.
The car started up again.
Tripoli.
As the capital, this was Libya’s largest city. Compared to the ruined Benghazi, Tripoli was a truly modern metropolis—ancient civilization blended with modern development. Yet the war had cast a pall over this Mediterranean city of nearly two million souls. Since the outbreak of the uprising, the once-bustling city had grown increasingly deserted.
Mass protests and endless military crackdowns were everywhere. The embassies of all countries in Libya had shut their doors. Apart from a few armed guards, most of the staff at the Chinese Embassy had already evacuated.
Gaddafi’s government forces and security agencies guarded every street, setting up extremely tight checkpoints. The road from eastern Tripoli to Benghazi was lined with layers of defenses, with refugees and vehicles stranded all along the way.
“Thank you, kind lady!”
After thanking a Libyan woman, Liu Bo and Meng Yao got out of the car and squeezed toward the checkpoint. People swarmed everywhere, and aside from their distinctly Asian faces, the two—clad in ragged clothes—were indistinguishable from the other refugees.
Shortly after they left, two more cars pulled up at the roadside. As the doors opened, the leader was none other than Chief Hao, accompanied by Yang Jianyong’s men—Li Xiaomao, Yang Sheng, and Teng Fei.
“Carry him. We can’t leave a Chinese body in Libya.”
“Chief Hao, you go ahead. We’ll wait here for our captain.”
Hao Bing hesitated, glancing at Li Xiaomao and the others.
“All right. If Captain Yang returns, tell him to find me at the embassy. I still have important intelligence and can’t stay long. We’re leaving.”
He turned and melted into the crowd, leaving Li Xiaomao and the others rooted to the spot.
“Xiaomao, what do we do now?”
“What else? We go back.”
“Back?”
“What, you don’t want to? The captain covered our retreat so we could get out first. Now we don’t even know if he and Tian Weiliang are dead or alive—are we supposed to abandon our brothers?”
“Fine, we’ll go back! If worst comes to worst, we die and answer to the heavens.”
The three had just turned around when a sudden commotion erupted behind them, followed by the staccato roar of machine-gun fire.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Bang! Bang!
“!”
“Get down!”
Boom!
A blazing tail streaked across the sky and exploded, sending the crowd scattering in terror and screams.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Bullets from the machine gun spat fire, mowing down lives and turning the ground before the checkpoint into a river of blood—a scene too gruesome to witness.
Li Xiaomao was shocked.
“What’s happening?”
“No idea! Situation unclear—take cover!”
Another rocket, trailing fire, shot toward them. The three had no time to catch their breath before the blast wave hurled them to the ground.
As Li Xiaomao struggled to his feet, he saw a group of figures running their way—it was Hao Bing and the other Chinese who had just left.
“Lieutenant Li! Lieutenant Li!”
The pain was excruciating.
“Chief Hao, what happened?”
“A squad of rebels infiltrated the refugees—about twenty people. There’s no getting through up ahead now. Are you all right?” Hao Bing rapped Li Xiaomao on the cheek, speaking rapidly.
They regrouped, huddling behind a large bus, surrounded by fleeing crowds.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Li Xiaomao caught sight of two Asians.
“Look, are those our people?”
He pointed east. The others followed his gaze and saw a frantic man and woman—definitely Asian—fleeing for their lives. Of course, they might not be Chinese.
“Hey, who are you?”
On the other side.
Clutching Meng Yao’s hand, Liu Bo was nearly scared out of his wits.
Damn it, what rotten luck. They’d just arrived, thinking they could get through, only to realize the group ahead of them were rebels. During the inspection, someone slipped up, and the rebels attacked immediately.
If he hadn’t reacted quickly and dragged Meng Yao away, they’d probably be dead already.
Hearing someone shout nearby, he froze for a second, then glanced over—and was overwhelmed with joy.
Heavens!
A whole group of Chinese!
Thank God.
He’d finally found his people.
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