005 Between Life and Death

The moment the gunshots rang out, Liu Bo saw Meng Yao’s face turn pale.

“Meng Yao, when you get the chance, run out the back door. Run as far as you can and don’t worry about me,” he said.

Bang!

He squeezed the trigger again. Sparks burst from the muzzle. The recoil wasn’t particularly strong, but with his injured arm, sweat the size of beans gathered on his brow.

He had fired ten rounds; even with controlled bursts, Liu Bo felt anxious. He’d agreed with Li Changjiang to launch the attack in three minutes. But a third of his thirty bullets were already gone, and if Li Changjiang didn’t make a move soon, things would get truly dangerous.

The rebels’ firepower wasn’t overwhelming, but it was enough to pin him down. Liu Bo glanced at Meng Yao and shouted urgently.

“No, Liu, I can’t leave you here alone!” Meng Yao protested.

“Don’t talk nonsense! What’s the point of staying? To die with me? It’s better one dies than both. Go!” he barked.

“Go!”

Bang!

He uttered the command, took aim, and squeezed the trigger again. Another bullet left the chamber.

The eleventh shot.

Nineteen rounds remained. At this rate, they wouldn’t last long.

At moments of crisis, a trembling rises from the soul. Liu Bo, a typical liberal arts graduate from a journalism background, was supposed to be sensitive and timid. Yet now, his blood surged hot.

He had been a senior reporter for China News Agency for seven or eight years, joining after graduating from university. He’d built a family and a career. If he died now, he’d have few regrets.

But Meng Yao was in the bloom of youth; she shouldn’t die here.

This time, five people from the agency had come to Libya. The other three were lost when the fighting broke out. He and Meng Yao had escaped with a local guide—the one who was killed by a sniper outside.

When Liu Bo was first shot, he thought death was imminent. The pain was intense, but he barely knew which part of him had been hit.

He’d only just regained consciousness when Li Changjiang spoke.

Like Meng Yao, he didn’t know who Li Changjiang really was, but on the Libyan battlefield, a compatriot was more trustworthy than anyone else, especially after being rescued.

So he trusted Li Changjiang completely to draw the fire from the front.

Now, all he could do was keep pulling the trigger and wait quietly. Whether he lived or died would be up to fate.

“If you don’t leave now, it’ll be too late. Meng Yao, listen to me. Go out the back door and follow the street we used to escape, head west. Don’t go east; there’s fighting there.

Remember, if you make it out, take this watch home to my family. Tell them I love them very much.”

Liu Bo lowered his voice, but emotion still broke through, choking his words.

Meng Yao shook her head, covering her mouth. Her once fair face was streaked with dust, tears spinning in her eyes and falling down her cheeks, leaving two clear tracks.

Though young, she wasn’t naïve. She knew this was Liu Bo’s final message.

Before this, she was just a sheltered university student, untested by the world, and the gravity of the situation overwhelmed her.

“Liu, I’ll keep the watch safe!”

She took the watch, gripping it tightly. Glancing at Liu Bo once more, she crawled across the floor toward the back door as Li Changjiang had done earlier.

It was late at night.

Benghazi lay within the tropical desert climate, the temperature swinging harshly between day and night—scorching at thirty or forty degrees by day, dropping to barely above freezing at night.

Meng Yao wore tight jeans below and a short-sleeved shirt above, its color indistinct with grime, layered with a white sun-protective long-sleeved shirt, which now was as filthy as the short sleeves.

A chill swept over her, and she shivered.

The watch still held Liu Bo’s warmth. She paused, then crouched low, edging along the wall to the west.

Suddenly—

As she lifted her leg, a burst of gunfire erupted behind her.

Rat-tat-tat!

Bang!

“Come on! I’ll fight you all!” Liu Bo’s voice bellowed.

Bang!

Bang bang!

A flurry of scattered shots followed—fast and frantic. Liu Bo’s gunfire sounded similar but was much quicker. After a few seconds, silence fell, heavy as death.

The bullets were spent.

Meng Yao squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. She knew Liu Bo must have been killed. Her chest constricted, but she resolved to take the watch home to his family, their only comfort now.

Summoning courage, she kept low, moving along the base of the wall.

Ah!

Suddenly, a scream burst from her lips. She spun her right hand behind her, striking blindly.

The moment she stepped forward, someone seized her left arm. Her heart thundered as if the sky had collapsed. Instinctively, she lashed out with her right hand.

“It’s alright, it’s me,” a gentle voice came from the darkness.

Him!

Hearing that voice, Meng Yao immediately pictured Li Changjiang’s indistinct face. Instantly, her guard fell, and she was enveloped by the warmth in his words, collapsing as if drained of all strength.

The sudden tension dissipated at Li Changjiang’s voice, nerves snapping from taut to slack—the shock sent her straight into a faint.

He cursed softly.

Li Changjiang reached out and gathered Meng Yao into his arms. Her soft form pressed against him; he couldn’t deny she smelled sweet.

In truth, as soon as Liu Bo fired the eleventh bullet, Li Changjiang had found the perfect vantage point. Marksmanship mattered little at such close range—just over ten meters—with the scope on the display, eliminating those six rebels was not difficult.

He lifted Meng Yao in his arms and carried her back into the house. Liu Bo’s face was tinged with blood, his eyes shining with a strange excitement.

Exhilarating!

Utterly exhilarating!

When the rebels burst in, Liu Bo had snapped, firing a three-round burst and, to his surprise, taking down the nearest enemy.

His first kill.

Rather than feeling terror as he’d imagined, Liu Bo was oddly elated, almost manic. After all the ordeals, he realized that men were all alike at their core—born with a fierce spirit that only needed awakening.

Death, seen often enough, was no longer so frightening. Living in peace for too long bred timidity.

That was why only soldiers who survived piles of corpses became true elites.

“What happened to Meng Yao?” Liu Bo asked, shocked to see Li Changjiang carrying her.

“She’s fine, just a bit of shock. Hurry and gather their guns and ammo. We can’t carry it all, so pick the best ones.”

Liu Bo collected the guns and ammunition as instructed. Li Changjiang selected three of the best, slinging two across his back, then seemed to remember something and set them down.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before Liu Bo could reply, he disappeared into the night, returning less than five minutes later with a rifle Liu Bo didn’t recognize, fitted with a scope.

Russian-made!

Yes, it was the sniper’s weapon, left behind after Li Changjiang took him down. Along with several dozen rounds, Li Changjiang packed six magazines into the pouch and chose a decent rifle to cross with the sniper rifle on his back.

“Take this one. Strap it on, bring all the ammo. We’re leaving the city now—go!”

Liu Bo didn’t hesitate, slinging the bullets and guns as Li Changjiang directed. He realized now that this indistinct-faced compatriot was likely a professional soldier.

He’d never seen an ordinary person stay so calm on a battlefield, let alone shoot so accurately—every shot a hit.

If he knew Li Changjiang was merely an obsessed military enthusiast, perhaps he would have slapped him silly.

With everything ready, Li Changjiang bent down, lifted Meng Yao, and led the way out. Liu Bo crouched behind, and the three figures slipped swiftly into the black night, vanishing from sight.

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