Ying Jinghua, a modern anti-drug policewoman, received first-class merit three times, went undercover to carry out drug dens, and was finally sold by her own people and had her chest pierced.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying in a health center in 1962.
The comrade on the side said: "Comrade Zhang Liyuan, you were stabbed when you attacked the spy and you were unconscious for seven days."
Zhang Liyuan? The original owner was from the reconnaissance section of the city bureau and died while catching a hidden radio station.
No memory, that's okay.
Ying Jinghua touched the scar under his ribs and thought: I have tried drug dealers. Can a spy be tougher than a drug dealer?
There is no golden finger, no male protagonist, no child, no partner.
She relied on what she was good at: looking at footprints, listening to accents, deciphering codes, enduring interrogations, and working as an undercover agent.
Starting from searching for moldy pills in the alley, he took down the "quick in and quick out" dispatch team, followed the clues to find out the ghosts in the third-tier factory, and was named by the superiors to be transferred to the newly established national security preparatory team.
In his previous life, he was betrayed and died in the rain.
In this life, it is not certain who sells whom.
