Chapter 90: War Zone

The wealthy businessman Duan Weilan was targeting was named Kunsa, and he spoke Chinese.

After Kunsa and Duan Weilan returned to camp with the team, they slept for a full 20 hours before waking up.

There wasn’t any serious issue—just hunger and heatstroke.

After being brought back, they weren’t given too much food right away. The camp doctors gave them IV drips.

Reportedly, the first thing both of them did upon waking up was rush to the bathroom.

Qin Qing thought her mission was over and was just waiting for the helicopter to take her back.

She still wasn’t used to the rainforest’s humid heat.

Then she heard from Yang Anguo that after waking up, Kunsa refused to hand over the information they wanted.

On someone else’s turf, Kunsa didn’t openly reject them—he just kept making excuses and dodging questions.

Qin Qing frowned. “Doesn’t that mean Mr. Duan suffered for nothing?”

Yang Anguo pressed his lips together. “That’s the mission.”

Qin Qing asked, “Can I ask what kind of information it is?”

Yang Anguo replied, “There’s a drug lord in this region—he used to be Kunsa’s sworn brother. The two of them ran a company together and went into business, but the other guy got into drug trafficking. They had a falling out due to differing beliefs. Kunsa left and started anew, but he has important information on the drug lord and his organization.”

“So now what? Kunsa’s having second thoughts?”

“He’s hesitating. We can’t maintain a long-term presence here. Just as Kunsa knows his sworn brother, the drug lord knows him too. Once he removes the threat to his identity, it seems he doesn’t think we have enough to offer him in return.”

Qin Qing said, “Let me meet him.”

Qin Qing met the pudgy, pale-faced Kunsa along with other leaders.

When he saw her, Kunsa looked slightly confused about why there was a woman in camp, but didn’t show too much reaction.

Qin Qing watched him for a moment, then lowered her head to send a message on her phone—to the Commander who was negotiating with Kunsa.

A moment later, the Commander glanced at the message.

He said to Kunsa, “What if I can arrange a medical team to cure your daughter?”

Kunsa became angry, but Qin Qing didn’t understand what he was saying.

In his agitation, he dropped the accented Chinese and switched to the local language.

For someone as wealthy as Kunsa, it was rare that he remained faithful—after his wife passed away, he never remarried, and lived with the daughter she left behind.

Unfortunately, the girl had been kidnapped a few years ago.

That experience left her mentally unstable and irritable. On top of that, due to a leg injury, she’d been confined to a wheelchair.

Her health was Kunsa’s greatest worry.

He raised his voice, stood up, and judging by his tone, seemed to be shouting insults.

All Qin Qing could hear was a string of gibberish.

The Commander wasn’t fazed at all. After Kunsa finished, he calmly said, “This isn’t a joke. We’ve investigated you and your family. We know your daughter’s condition very well. And it just so happens—we have a doctor who can cure her.”

Kunsa locked eyes with the Commander for a long moment before switching back to Chinese: “I need to think about it.”

The Commander said, “Of course.”

Qin Qing left the tent with the others.

Someone translated what Kunsa had said earlier.

Basically, Kunsa had taken his daughter abroad multiple times to see top medical teams, and they had concluded that she’d never walk again.

He didn’t mind negotiating, but he didn’t want his daughter’s health used as a bargaining chip.

The Commander personally approached Qin Qing. “Are you confident?”

“Yes.”

Qin Qing estimated the merit points needed to cure Kunsa’s daughter—it wasn’t much.

But it was impossible to expect Kunsa to pay for it.

Fortunately, she’d recently earned plenty of experience and merit points through rescue efforts.

It wasn’t a big problem overall.

The Commander didn’t ask further. Qin Qing’s personal assurance was enough.

That evening, Yang Anguo found Qin Qing. “Kunsa agreed. The Commander’s plan is to bring in a doctor as a cover. You can’t be seen—you’ll assist from the shadows.”

Qin Qing had no objections.

Originally, Kunsa wanted the doctor brought into the city to treat her at his place. Of course, our side wouldn’t agree to that.

With the ball in our court, Kunsa had no choice but to bring his daughter over.

The girl was twenty, very thin, and highly aggressive toward those around her—especially after hearing her father had brought in another doctor. She reacted with strong resistance.

She didn’t want anyone to see her legs.

Qin Qing wouldn’t appear for the patient’s reassurance, nor would anyone from our side. Kunsa had to talk to his daughter himself.

Fortunately, the doctor posing as cover hadn’t arrived yet, so there was time to buffer.

What Qin Qing didn’t expect was that the “cover” doctor turned out to be someone she knew.

Inside a camp tent, she found herself staring speechlessly at Daoist Wuwang.

Who would’ve thought they’d meet like this in a foreign land?

“You?!”

Wuwang coughed twice. “Well, I know the routine. No one can coordinate with you better than me.”

Qin Qing said, “They didn’t have to send you so far, right? I doubt they forced you.”

“No, not at all.” Wuwang stroked his beard. “The Daoist Association informed me, sent someone up the mountain in plainclothes, and politely discussed it with me. They explained the situation and let me decide. I was the best option, but they wouldn’t have forced me if I’d refused.”

“Thank you,” Qin Qing said.

This trip wasn’t just a physical journey for Wuwang—it also exposed him and Baiyun Temple to more public attention.

Fame brings risk.

Wuwang said, “Ah, don’t worry about it. Since you have to stay hidden, the fewer who know, the better. Besides, it might not be a bad thing—I’ve now got some official recognition. Baiyun Temple might even get some protection when it really matters.”

Even though it had been Qin Qing who initially dragged him into this, Wuwang didn’t mind. But now that things had progressed this far, she still felt guilty.

This wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

Kunsa convinced his daughter to accept treatment.

He asked Duan Weilan, “When do we depart?”

“No departure needed. The doctor is already here—we’ll treat her on site.”

Kunsa said, “You’re joking, right? Here? Without any diagnostic equipment?”

Duan Weilan had been confused when he first heard this too, but he followed orders. However rushed this treatment plan seemed, there had to be a reason behind it.

“This doctor isn’t from modern medicine—he’s a top figure in our traditional practices.”

Kunsa said, “You mean Chinese medicine?”

“You could say that, but not exactly. This time, we brought a Daoist Doctor. Taoism is a traditional religion in our country, and this doctor is a practitioner within it.”

Honestly, if the higher-ups hadn’t told him this directly, Duan Weilan would’ve thought it was a poor excuse to trick Kunsa.

It sounded just like some scam from a wandering charlatan!

But he had to follow instructions and relay the message to Kunsa.

Still, he wasn’t confident himself—he’d seen the Daoist in full robes walking around camp, looking completely out of place.

Could this really work?

As it turned out—not only did it work, it worked even better than expected.

The treatment was simple: herbal baths and acupuncture.

After the first day, Kunsa’s daughter—whose legs had been effectively useless for years—started to regain sensation.

After the second day, she could feel persistent tingling and pain.

After the third day, she could move her legs an inch or two in the wheelchair.

On the fourth day…

With father and daughter both anxious and excited, the treatment stopped.

When asked, the immortal-like doctor stroked his beard and launched into a monologue about “yin within yang, yang within yin, the Dao of the Dao…”

Not only could Kunsa and his daughter not understand—no one else could either.

On the fifth day, there was no treatment.

On the sixth day, the Daoist was still preaching scripture.

Kunsa got the message. That night, he handed over the information and even answered follow-up questions.

On the seventh day, treatment resumed. Kunsa breathed a sigh of relief.

That day, everyone witnessed what felt like a miracle.

The paralyzed girl stood—on her own—by leaning against the wall for a few seconds.

On the tenth day, Wuwang declared the treatment complete and said he would return to China.

Kunsa was devastated. His daughter’s legs still weren’t fully healed.

He was already thinking about what more he could offer.

Money? Business connections?

Obviously, he didn’t care—so whose files still held value?

Daoist Wuwang didn’t give him time to ponder. Right in front of the Commander, he handed over a pouch of medicinal powder.

“The acupuncture is finished. From now on, just rely on herbal baths. Keep this medicine safe—use a small pinch daily. After forty-nine days, your daughter will recover. Maybe not fit to be an athlete, but walking normally won’t be a problem.”

Kunsa treated it like a priceless treasure, instructing his men to carefully secure it in a specially coded case. Eight burly guards surrounded the box in tight formation.

The grand display left Daoist Wuwang slightly baffled.

But he still said what needed to be said: “These are just ordinary herbs, but they’ve been refined using secret Daoist methods. A little caution is no harm.”

With nothing more to add, Daoist Wuwang prepared to leave.

Surprisingly, Kunsa—deeply impressed by Daoist mysticism over the past few days—proactively asked to learn more.

Daoist Wuwang smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepening.

Before leaving, he handed Kunsa two books: the Tao Te Ching and Zhuangzi.

Using the same tone he used to teach his young disciples, he said, “Our Daoist teachings are unfathomable and boundless. Do not underestimate the Tao Te Ching and Zhuangzi—though they appear simple, they contain the principles of the cosmos and the path of life. If you devote yourself to them and grasp their true essence, the benefits will be endless.”

He didn’t care whether Kunsa understood or not.

But judging by Kunsa’s expression—confused yet respectful—it was likely a case of not understanding but still feeling it was something profound.

He hadn’t expected things to develop this way.

In private, Daoist Wuwang told Qin Qing, “Didn’t think a short trip would let me pass on the teachings of our grandmaster—to a foreigner, no less.”

It was indeed unexpected.

Back home, everything returned to normal.

Qin Qing browsed the news but found no mention of the dozens of domestic miners who had been rescued.

This was probably not an isolated case.

Chances are, in places unknown to most, those admirable people quietly accomplished great deeds.

Qin Qing received a sizable bonus in her personal account, labeled as travel reimbursement.

Wuyong brought her food.

“You’ve been away for half a month, probably don’t have much at home. Senior brother’s preparing New Year’s goods—he had me bring some over for you to snack on.”

All made by Daoist Wu Tun.

Fried veggie balls, radish cakes, gray tofu… all easily reheated in an air fryer or microwave.

Paired with the secret chili powder from Officer Meng—it was perfect.

Wuyong watched her eat as Qin Qing shared some recent happenings from Baiyun Temple.

“They finally finalized a bus route up the mountain. It’s been talked about forever but never implemented. Now it’s set—one of the stops will be right outside the temple. There are many scenic spots and other residents on the mountain, but the route mainly serves the locals. Stops are mostly near residential areas—only a couple at scenic spots. Senior Brother Wuxiang is already bragging, saying visitor traffic at the temple is already hard to handle. With a bus stop at the gate, he wonders how crowded it’ll get.”

Qin Qing said, “If it gets too much, you could implement a reservation system—control how long people stay in the temple.”

Wuyong didn’t respond to that.

Instead, she added, “This morning we got word—the temple received two provincial awards: Advanced Unit for Social Welfare and Cultural Heritage Demonstration Site. Everyone’s stunned. Honors like this usually come with policy support and funding.”

She fell silent after that.

Qin Qing replied, “Either way, it’s a good thing for the temple.”

She understood the real reason Wuyong had come to share this with her.

Once the message was delivered, Wuyong left.

Having been away half a month, Qin Qing had a lot to catch up on.

First, she picked up Mumu from her parents’ place and spent time playing and comforting her.

It took a pile of treats to cheer her up.

Mumu put on a fake cry that looked truly pitiful.

But when Qin Qing hugged her, she clearly felt the little thing had become more solid—healthier.

Then she made rounds at the temple, the sub-bureau, Jinsheng International—just checking in. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Only the Bureau Chief asked to speak with her: “Just a few days after you left last week, someone from above came down. Your file was encrypted and transferred. I asked the archive office but couldn’t get anything—they said it was classified.”

Qin Qing wasn’t particularly surprised.

But the Bureau Chief sighed, “Who knows how many dangerous places you’ll be sent to in the future.”

“My abilities are limited—at most I can handle logistics. They’re not going to send me to the frontlines.”

“As long as you know your own limits.”

He didn’t push further, instead chatting about some internal personnel changes. Nothing major—except a new deputy chief would be transferred in after the New Year.

“I’ll introduce you when the time comes.”

The fact that he said this specifically meant the new deputy was probably his designated successor. Once that person arrived, the chief would likely step into semi-retirement.

Qin Qing checked in with Zhou Lin and his wife. Everything was normal, and the crystal orb she had left showed no color change.

No anomalies—good news. But it also meant no new clues.

As the year-end approached, Qin Qing attended multiple farewell banquets:

The studio, the sub-bureau, Jinsheng International, even her residential community had one.

Baiyun Temple didn’t do anything fancy—on the eve of Little New Year, everyone simply shared a meal.

Even Chaichai and the now-chubby Feifei each got a fragrant steamed fish cake.

The fish was snowy white and delicate. Before steaming, some unknown seasoning was added—so aromatic that even Qin Qing wanted half a piece.

She asked Wuyong, “You can cook cat food now?”

“Not really—Senior Brother Wu Tun was making fish balls at noon and used the leftovers to make them a portion.”

“You had fish balls and didn’t call me?”

“Uh… maybe there’ll be some tonight.”

But there weren’t. Still, the other dishes were tasty enough.

Halfway through dinner, Qin Qing got a phone call.

An unfamiliar number.

“Hello, Consultant Qin, my name is Zhang Yao—you may have heard of me.”

Zhang Yao?

The name rang a bell. She recalled—this was the incoming deputy chief mentioned for after the New Year.

Getting to know the staff before taking office?

“Deputy Chief Zhang?”

“Just call me Zhang Yao,” he said.

A bit too approachable, isn’t he?

Qin Qing suspected this call wasn’t going to be routine.

Sure enough, Zhang Yao got straight to the point: “We have an urgent situation and need your help.”

Qin Qing frowned. A task? Why would it be coming from someone not yet officially in position?

Zhang Yao seemed to misinterpret her silence: “The New Year is close—I understand no one wants to travel during this time. You’re free to decline. But if possible, I hope you’ll at least hear what this task involves.”

Qin Qing considered it. “Give me a location. I’m out having dinner. I’ll contact you once I’m done.”

“Alright. We’re just outside Baiyun Temple.”

“…”

They were practically at her doorstep—what dinner?

She explained the situation to the Old Celestial Master, who immediately dispatched two young Daoists to escort the guest.

She still ate—just quicker than usual.

A bit of a shame though. The caramelized sweet potatoes on the table were best eaten hot. By the time she finished the meeting and returned, they’d probably be too cold to pull any threads.

In a quiet reception room at the temple, Qin Qing met Zhang Yao.

On the phone, Zhang Yao had said “we,” but he arrived alone.

Crew cut, black jacket, ordinary appearance. Early thirties.

“Hello, Consultant Qin,” Zhang Yao greeted first and handed something over. “This may mean little to you, but I believe in following procedure. It’s an honor to meet you—my name is Zhang Yao. Here’s my ID.”

He carried himself humbly, and his words were carefully chosen.

The ID he handed her bore the national emblem—with two prominent characters beneath it: “State Security.”

Different system—an interdepartmental transfer?

Not what Qin Qing had guessed—she had thought Zhang Yao was the Bureau Chief’s successor.

But Zhang Yao’s title was “liaison,” and his current designated contact was Qin Qing.

She now had a good idea where her file had gone.

Zhang Yao’s ID only briefly stated his affiliated organization.

But the information on the System Panel was more detailed—his true origin was the “1112 Task Force” under the National Security Bureau.

Zhang Yao was merely a peripheral member of the task force; Qin Qing couldn’t access any core information about it through him.

Qin Qing was quite curious—her file had been transferred there, yet no one had spoken to her about any post or assignment. This time, Zhang Yao came, just like Yang Anguo and the others before him, to request her temporary reassignment from the Wuning sub-bureau.

That was interesting.

Clearly, these were questions Zhang Yao couldn’t answer.

But questions always have answers. She wasn’t in a rush.

Qin Qing sat down. “Tell me the situation.”

If national security was involved, it certainly wouldn’t be easier than last time’s jungle rescue.

And indeed, it wasn’t.

Zhang Yao got straight to the point: “The mission this time is in Port Safir.”

“Port Safir? A war zone?” Qin Qing recalled that heavy fighting had recently broken out between two armies there.

That area had never been stable, and lately, war had reignited.

The city was bombed, with no water or electricity. The borders were sealed. People lost their homes, their families, becoming refugees.

No one knew whether death or tomorrow would come first.

You might be walking down the street when a stray bullet from nowhere pierces your body.

Zhang Yao said, “Yes. A Chinese PhD in physics has been conducting research in the U.S. for years and recently made a major breakthrough. He now wants to return to China with his research. Naturally, the U.S. won’t let him go easily and may even fabricate charges to seize his work.”

“To avoid drawing attention, the doctor traveled abroad with a scientific delegation, planning to transfer elsewhere and fly back to China. We arranged personnel to receive him, but when the war broke out, flights were canceled, the airspace restricted, and communication severed.”

“We lost contact with our people and the doctor. The last information we received suggested he went to Port Safir. Our agents have been searching in the war zone for a week without success.”

“If this drags on, the consequences will be dire. We’re not the only ones looking for him—the U.S. is too. And we’ve learned that the order on their side is to capture him dead or alive.”

Qin Qing drew a sharp breath.

Zhang Yao continued, “Artillery doesn’t discriminate. The situation changes by the minute. For the doctor—and for us—time is critical. But for you, safety is just as important. So I ask you to think carefully.”

He was straightforward: “If you agree to go, frankly, we can’t bring a large armed team. At most, three to five support agents. And no firearms allowed.”

He paused, then added, “In a war zone, life is cheaper than you think. I can’t promise you’ll come out unscathed. All I can say is, if anyone dies, you and the doctor will be last.”

Those were words similar to what Yang Anguo’s team had once said.

Zhang Yao’s eyes were firm, his tone sincere.

Qin Qing smiled. “You’re pretending to give me a choice, but I feel like you’re guilt-tripping me.”

Zhang Yao was blunt. “Yes. My assignment is to persuade you. So this is my method—using national duty to make you feel guilty.”

“Tch. You really don’t hide anything. And your methods are crude.”

Zhang Yao chuckled. “Crude’s fine, as long as it works. Before I came, I studied your previous cases. I believe this approach works on you. Data modeling suggests there’s a 90% chance you’ll accept.”

Qin Qing was intrigued. “I haven’t even decided myself. How does the model know?”

Zhang Yao answered earnestly, “The model is complex. Simply put, based on your past behavior, you’re soft-hearted, have a sense of justice, and can be reckless at times… But behavioral simulation shows your altruism is purposeful. If this mission succeeds, it will benefit the nation and its people profoundly.”

Qin Qing’s expression didn’t change, but her hand on her leg clenched into a fist, her pinky trembling slightly.

She didn’t comment on Zhang Yao’s words. She only asked, “If there’s a 90% chance I’ll go, what’s the remaining 10%?”

“The remaining 10% of uncertainty comes from the unknown nature of your true intentions.”

————

Tao Te Ching: Short, poetic text by Laozi. Teaches harmony with the Dao (the Way), non-action (wu wei), humility, and simplicity. Often applied to life and rulership.

Zhuangzi: Philosophical stories and parables by Zhuang Zhou. Emphasizes freedom, relativity of values, spontaneity, and living lightly in harmony with the Dao. Playful and imaginative.