Five hours later, Song Heping finally closed the dossier in front of him, rubbed his sore and swollen eyes, and glanced at Mist, who was sound asleep, reclined in the chair next to him.
His information consisted of over thirty pages, while Mist's file was only a thin six pages.
This was because the role of Han Feizhao, which Song Heping was pretending to be, was quite important to the operation. The ISA intelligence personnel wished they could include every trivial detail, from the age he stopped wetting the bed to whether his first love preferred a lon-seed face or a round face.
They strived to ensure that Song Heping could safely imrse himself in the persona of Han Fei. Thom, who was responsible for cooking that evening and not participating in the operation, stayed behind to watch over Song Heping and Mist like a teacher supervising a student in detention.
Song Heping, having left school years ago, found Thom annoying, but the only benefit of having him here was that he could provide coffee at any ti to refresh himself.
Thom did nothing in the room but occasionally would press down on Song Heping's dossier and ask him a question from it to see if Song Heping could answer fluently.
After all, the Revolutionary Brigade had entrenched itself in Golden Star Moon for years, and their survival ant that their leader was definitely not a careless and stupid individual. In their line of work, caution was the secret to a long life.
Finally, after five hours of repeated reading and practice, Song Heping had "passed the test."
"This afternoon I'll take you to et Han Fei; you can talk to him," Thom said, "That way, it'll be easier for you to imitate his tone and movents."
What Thom was referring to was a kind of "role imrsion simulation" that agents would undergo before entering a mission. Although Song Heping had not received such professional training, he had heard of it.
Spies and special agents all received a fake identity when embarking on undercover or infiltration missions, and spies must completely imrse themselves in this false identity to ensure not even a single flaw is exposed.
During the Cold War, Arican and Soviet spies, in order to blend into different environnts, even had to simulate the living conditions of the enemy in a specific setting, undergoing a one-month acclimatization period to fully beco an "Arican" or "Soviet."
"Rember everything?"
Thom saw Song Heping closing the dossier and sat opposite him with his coffee.
Song Heping nodded tiredly, "Yes, I've rembered everything."
"Let test you," Thom said, glancing at the thick dossier, "You have two dogs in your mansion in Gilan, what breed are they, and what are their nas?"
"German Shepherds. One is called Red Wolf, and the other Black Wolf."
"When did you settle in Gilan?"
"Eight years ago."
"Are you a believer?"
"I am."
"Which denomination?"
"Sunni."
"What is your favorite verse from your holy book?"
"In arrogance man is like a dead beast."
...
"Good," Thom noted.
After more than ten minutes of questioning, Thom finally seed satisfied with Song Heping's answers.
"Wake up your friend and go back to rest. There's nothing for you here today. Grab so sleep, in a few hours I'll wake you and take you to et Han Fei."
Song Heping reached out to wake Mist beside him.
Waking with a start, Mist wiped the corner of his mouth and glanced around before asking Song Heping, "What's up?"
"Back to the tent to sleep."
Having said that, Song Heping picked up the coffee from the table, drank it in one go, and then stood up to leave the shack.
It was already 1 o'clock in the morning, and Song Heping looked up to see a sky full of stars.
It must be said that perhaps due to the highland, the stars here seed especially pure, and many stars invisible from Illiguo felt almost within reach.
Suddenly, a dark figure appeared among the stars, followed by two, then three, four...
The dull throbbing of helicopter rotors filled the air.
The steel beasts that abruptly intruded on the nightti landscape introduced an unsettling discordance to the otherwise peaceful scene.
The brisk air seed to beco less fresh, faintly carrying the scent of gunpowder.
Mist, who had unknowingly approached Song Heping, also stood there watching, and after a while, he said, "Looks like the action squad is returning. There are Apaches and Black Hawks. I wonder if they succeeded?"
The helicopters soon landed in the base, and not long after, the independent ISA camp beca bustling. Several Humvees drove in, and the first person to step out of the open door was Commander Niki, in combat uniform and carrying an MK18 assault rifle, standing at the door watching the other vehicles.
The doors of the rear vehicles opened, and seven or eight local people in civilian attire got out, old and young, male and female.
"Take them to the clearing in the camp, quick, don't linger here too long! Have the periter security on alert, don't let those itchy bastards take pictures with their phones! If I find out, I'll send them to a military court!"
Niki's voice was as solid as her fra.
You couldn't say that voice was unpleasant.
It just felt awkward coming from a woman; it was like putting Wang Zuxian's head on Schwarzenegger's body, utterly mismatched.
Ard soldiers escorted a row of civilians through the gates towards the ISA camp, passing in front of Song Heping, who took a closer look.
The leader was an elder with a long white beard, dressed in a white robe, a typical local outfit, cradling a girl of about one year old, who, oblivious, was biting her finger and looking around curiously.
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