In the third year after the fall of Qingjiang, the operating table of the mission hospital. Before he died, the underground traffic officer stuffed a bloody scalpel and half a piece of code paper into Shen Hengdu's palm. The sound of leather boots sounded in the corridor - Japanese military policeman Jiro Yamamoto led a team into the outpatient hall, and agent No. 76 Fang Shiqin also surrounded him from the back door. The two groups of people collided, and the gun bolts were pulled at the same time. Shen Hengdu wiped his hands and lifted the white sheet: "Taijun, the deceased is suffering from plague. People who came into contact with him must be isolated and observed." He turned around and lowered his voice and said to Fang Shiqin, "Stationmaster Zhou asked me to ask you where the last batch of sulfa was hidden?" In three sentences, the two sides aimed their guns at each other. Yamamoto stopped the military policeman who was about to take action, and Fang Shiqin handed over the cigarette with a smile. Shen Hengdu lowered his head to write the medical record, and added an extra name to the file with the tip of his pen - the third "contact person" this week. A scalpel never kills. It just makes the enemy bite his own throat.
There are no lights in the night alley.
Lin Mu moved the medicine box from his left shoulder to his right shoulder, and the canvas strap made a shallow mark on the collar of the cotton robe.
The wind blew in from the alley, carrying the smell of rotting water plants in the ditch, and diesel smoke from the Japanese military police station in the distance.
He counted his steps.
Coming out of the back door of the mission hospital, we passed through three alleys, a stone bridge, and two roadblocks that required a good citizen certificate - now we have walked about 700 steps, and it's time to arrive.
The clinic Lao Zhou agreed on was hidden in a low shanty town in the old city. The clinic was sandwiched between a coffin shop and a paper shop, and it was also hung with gray cloth curtains during the day.
There is also a crooked paper man standing in front of the paper shop, with a red face painted on it, swaying in the wind.
Lin Mu turned into the last one
