Chapter 1061: Foreign Navy

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But through investigation, Moraviev knew that the main force of the cadre army's counterinsurgency force was the army of the Fengtai battalion trained by Lin Yiqing. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

The number of this army is small, only more than 10,000 people, and the forward force is only 2,000 people, but the combat effectiveness of this army far exceeds that of the local garrisons in Hunan Province and surrounding provinces. After this force entered the battlefield, the situation was quickly reversed, and the rebels who had originally attacked the city and plundered the land were easily crushed, and in less than a month, with only a small price and few casualties, this rebellion of unprecedented scale was quelled.

In his report, Moraviev recorded everything about this unit in detail: brand-new Western-style uniforms, French naval rifles, German Krupp cannons, British Rendal gunboats, American small steam carriers, and so on, but he also stated in the report that the number of cadres with such equipment was very small.

Everything shows that this ancient country has not changed as much as some foreigners think.

Of course, in a country where conservative forces are strong and hostile to foreigners, intelligence activities are not so easy.

Accustomed to his own state of mind, Moraviev was accustomed to his own state of mind and did not mind the occasional little fatalism. He also has some fame of his own, which is completely different from his father's, and it is not at all deliberately pursued.

After a multi-day journey, he took the train all the way to Ningbo, an important treaty port of the country at the mouth of the Yangtze River.

It was nearly dusk when the train arrived. The train was much delayed, but the man who had been sent to pick him up was waiting on the makeshift platform: "Mr. Moraviev? ”

"You've been waiting a long time, haven't you?"

"It doesn't matter." They descended the dimly lit wooden staircase. A horse-drawn carriage was parked on a gravel floor. "I brought a book."

They put their travel goods on the wagon and entered the carriage. On a large road in disrepair, pedestrians struggled through the twilight, bypassing large potholes and carefully riding over the smaller ones. They breathed the dust, and through the dust, they smelled the sea.

Moraviev asked: "What book are you reading?" ”

The other party groped on the floor with his free hands. "A book from my girlfriend."

Same photo: his father sitting at his desk. On the cover of the book, the white title, the deep blue sky, and the Acropolis surrounded by snow.

Moravyev pulled his own book from the pocket of his raincoat.

"I was so surprised."

They laughed and became active from the monotony at the beginning. The young man was probably only twenty years old: a sturdy body, a simple, cheerful face. The gray eyes are very open and alert.

"Are you relatives?"

"He's my father."

"It really surprised me."

Now they were close to the sea, walking along an abandoned stone path.

The young man kept his eyes on the road ahead. "Do you write on your own?"

"Yes, just not as much as he has."

"If you do what you like, it's never too late."

The lad apparently thought that his passengers were past the stage of enlightenment. They had a teenage age difference, which determined that they were separated by war. The young soldier was drafted into the army when the gunfire had stopped, and he was at peace with his superior—courteous, comrade-like with little salutation or call to the commander, no longer bound by red tape. And intuitively, they share the same uneasiness: finding themselves out of place, far away from their homeland.

"How are you doing here?" The man had a deep voice, and if he were to use color to illustrate it, it would be dark blue; Or what people in high-end stores call fuchsia.

"There is nothing to complain about. When you're not on duty, there's not much to do except drink. There are women, but none of them are the kind you want. There are so many people working for us that we are not allowed to go out often. （”

Night fell, undisguised on the piers illuminated by the bright lights set up by the authorities. The sentry pointed out to them a wooden trestle. As they disembarked from the carriage, a bitter cold wind blew their open coats up. Now he heard the waves and smelled the sea, its black waves faintly visible under the cracked thick planks. Through the doorway of a shack, a wooden table and a machine for sending telegraph signals were seen, and a blue and white porcelain cup with tea was kept. The two Qianguo soldiers checked his identity papers, with a little indifference, and there was a hint of hostility in the laziness of being disturbed. They glanced at the collar badges and armbands on their uniforms. A small generator, in addition to making a noisy sound, emits a burst of burning smell. One person said, "Be careful with the wires. ”

At the end of the trestle, the anchor lights of a motorboat gently lapped the reflective waves, and the water flowing beneath the rough logs was filled with garbage and floated with oil and fragments of wooden boats. On that side of the place, though not surrounded by land, is the sea. For two years, Moravyev rode boats, ferries, barges and sampans on rivers, lakes and canals. The ocean rarely appears in front of him.

"Ahh I think we can get through it. However, he was not there. He went to the city. ”

"And when will he be back?"

"It should be tonight. I reckon he'll go straight home. In the mountains above. He lives there and does not live on the island. ”

"Will they let me spend the night on the island?"

"It's not easy to say, I'll try it later, you know, the port has been dredging these days, many facilities are also being renovated, you know, those warships that the Qianguo people bought from Europe and the United States, have come back."

"That's what I'm here for." Moraviev walked out with the young man. "I need you tomorrow. But I don't know your name yet. ”

"Sergey. Petrovich. Betslev, sir. But here, they thought I was British and called me Toth. ”

"Then I'll call you Toth, too."

Together, the two put Moraviev's belongings into the motorboat, where a sailor stood, silently at the helm. Moraviev jumped into the motorboat, stood next to his luggage and shouted: "Goodbye then." Toth held up his hand. They untied the ropes and released the boat, and swayed on the strong sea, the sea breeze blew, and the waves were salty; Underneath the starry night sky are moving clouds. The lights of the harbor faded away, as did the dim lights of the city. The mountains and the islands were shrouded in a darkness that had existed since ancient times, and the few lamps - kerosene or animal oil lamps - were lonely, rickety, dim: frugal and essential.

"You don't have electric lights?" Morawiev asked the helmsman.

The helmsman said, "No." He then explained, but was obscured by the wind, so Moraviyov heard nothing.

On board, Moraviev was silent, as if alone. The loneliness, the flowing chill, came from the sea, and likewise from behind his companions, unhurriedly. Ahead, islands gradually appear in the net of lights.

Over the years, in the form of that division that has become Moraviev's life, arriving somewhere always has its novelty side. The excitement is getting less and less, but the curiosity is growing. Opportunity reawakens the illusion of discovery, like a person waking up in a strange room, once again amazed, wondering not only where I am, but also who I am; To get rid of assumptions, even certainty. That night at sea, the expectation was insignificant. Earlier in the day, on a rocking train, Moravyev wrote to a close friend: "We must go and create our future selves. He now thinks that was a fool's word, and tore the letter to shreds in his heart. There is enough self-reflection everywhere, the whole system of introspection. The lack is not there. Denying the external and unpredictable makes calmness and composure nothing. It's like grudgingly accepting a future without coincidence or luck.

He wondered how his mood could change everything, like an accidental accident.

A series of icy droplets of water spilled across the ship. Morawiev's coat was blown open, like a sail in the bow of a ship. The tiny anchor lamp, like gently swaying emeralds and rubies, might reveal the man smiling—just as a man might smile at almost anything in private: a memory of a girl, or a good meal; Or a friend. It's like a woman smiling at a compliment or a new dress. Moraviev's smile was due to the fact that he was happy to share a book, and a young companion in the city of Ningbo in the Qianguo country was present with the same book in his hand—an unlikely thing, but yet a common thing.

The sound of the engine was weakened. They entered the leeward side of the island and were greeted by a row of white lights. On the breakwater, a sailor dressed in the uniform of the Qianguo Navy was waiting there with a brace with a hook at one end. The motorboat stopped, jolting back and forth, approaching sideways, gasping hoarsely. The paved pier, splashed with foam and soaked with the tide – a floating pier from which a majestic flight of steps ascended to a colonnade of angular pillars reminded Moraviev of the poor imitation of Venice at the pier in Petersburg.

When he greeted the sailors of the enemy side, he felt a little puzzled in his heart, should I casually associate with people who might become enemies in the future? But that's exactly what he's here for.

He grabbed his duffel bag and threw it onto the stone slab, jumped onto the damp reef on the shore, and waved the boat away. stood for a moment on the edge of the paved cliff, barely thinking; Just breathing in the breath of the night, and the blackness that spreads out.

Inside, the floor of one of the foyers is made of sandy terrazzo with candle burn marks, and its beams and friezes are very beautiful. On another, even greater staircase, echoed the boots and chatters of Westerners, and the high-pitched conversations of young Western women, soft or shouting, were astonishing, for they had not been heard for months. Men and women in military uniforms, all Westerners, walked up and down: vibrant, but not very purposeful, not ready for peace. They hurriedly glanced at the newcomer on the staircase. The women noticed that it was an intriguing man.

Koukou

Koukou )

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