Why do you have to be from the Empire?
Xu Le took a puff of his cigarette and replied with a smile, "Mr. Chief Editor, it doesn't matter if I want to or not. It's not that I want to, but I have to. Everyone can't choose their own birth."
Reporter Wood, who was dizzy due to airsickness, added a comment, "And you can't choose your own death."
"That's right." Xu Le looked at the two thin reporters, paused for a moment, and suddenly said, "About the story between the Empire and the Federation, can we talk about it in the future?"
…
…
Snowflakes slowly fell on the George Carlin Art Center. When the relevant military police department in charge of enforcing military discipline arrived, Da Vinci, who was sitting in a wheelchair, had already disappeared silently.
The people, who were still immersed in sadness and anger, intentionally or unintentionally obstructed the actions of the government. They even knocked the military police around in an extremely provocative manner. It was like an angry sea teasing a lonely fishing boat.
"Hand over Chief Editor Bob!"
"Hand over Reporter Wood!"
"Disband the Joint Investigation Department!"
"Restart the investigation of the Ancient Bell!"
"Investigate the conspiracy in the frontline!"
"Abolish the Patriot Act!"
"End the world ruled by the secret police!"
"President Pabre, step down!"
The female speaker with a red face on the stage used exaggerated and professional body language and a hoarse but sincere voice to loudly complain to the lead-gray sky. Tens of thousands of angry people under the stage waved their fists and made a loud response.
Parades and gatherings had always been an extremely long entertainment activity. Because it was too long, the enthusiasm of the people could easily be worn down by the cold weather and repetition. However, the almost perfect flow control of the Silent March Command, the excellent emotional stirring of the speakers, and the resolute response of the backbone members prevented this from happening.
About four hours after the twilight in Spring City faded, the Capital Special District ushered in the light gray evening. Shouts for the release of Bob Wood still echoed in the venue. From time to time, someone would read the famous special issue aloud.
At this moment, an ordinary military vehicle drove to the southeast corner of the venue. Two middle-aged men wearing black trench coats and hats slowly walked to the podium with the help of the staff of the silent military command.
The noise in front of the George Carlin Art Center quieted down. The people wearing scarves looked at the stage in confusion, trying to recognize who those people were.
The Capital Police Bureau, which was in charge of maintaining order at the scene, immediately knew the identities of the two middle-aged men because the two thin faces were so clear on their remote camera system.
"Chief Editor Bob! Reporter Wood! Why are they here? "
The people at the rally recognized the two middle-aged men, too. They turned around and told their companions in shock and excitement. Like the officers of the police headquarters, they had no idea why the two celebrities who had been arrested by the government in the name of the Patriot Act suddenly showed up at the rally.
Deafening cheers resounded in front of the art center.
At the outermost edge of the crowd, the director of the Capital Special Administrative Region Police Bureau looked at a senior official of the Joint Investigation Department, whose expression was even worse, and said angrily, "Are you crazy? You want us to arrest them now? "
"I know they are fugitives, but please open your eyes and take a look. There are tens of thousands of angry people at the scene. If we, the police, dare to walk into the crowd and read the arrest warrant, we may be torn to pieces in the next moment!"
The director of the General Administration, who was very experienced in dealing with mass incidents, knew very well what the two reporters who were talking about their tragic life in Black Prison on the podium meant to the Federation government and the President. But he also knew that if he provoked the anger of the people at the rally at this time, things would get even more out of hand.
So he refused the other party's order without hesitation. With a gloomy and cold smile, he said, "According to the Patriot Act, only you have the right to arrest these criminals, and in fact, they escaped from your hands."
The meaning of this sentence was clear. It was the Joint Investigation Department's trick to arrest the other party, and it was the Joint Investigation Department's mistake to let the other party escape and enter the rally. So, it was naturally the responsibility of the Joint Investigation Department to solve this matter.
The senior official glared at him fiercely, then turned to look at reporter Wood, who was speaking on the podium. His fists hanging on both sides of his trench coat couldn't help but tremble slightly.
If it were anyone else, they wouldn't have the guts to order the soldiers of the small-eyed special forces to shoot at tens of thousands of people who were cheering, so he could only watch and wait to be burned to ashes by the anger of the President and Chairman Li.
"Repeal the Patriot Act!"
"March to the Supreme Court!"
"Long live the Charter!"
"Long live the Seventh Group!"
Night slowly fell, and snowflakes fell desperately while the sun was at its dimmest. The temperature dropped a few degrees, but the atmosphere in front of the George Carlin Art Center had become extremely fanatical. The excited people surrounded Chief Editor Bob and reporter Wood, shouting slogans non-stop.
The silent march had reached the final stage of the battle. The good people who were trying to repeal the Patriot Act welcomed two of their most prestigious and most powerful comrades. However, night had already fallen, and marching to the Supreme Court could only be done tomorrow.
So, the people, full of fighting enthusiasm and optimism, began to dance and sing in front of the art center. They were ready to party all night, and no one was willing to leave to rest, because they knew that only with the bodies of tens of thousands of companions could they protect Bob and Wood in the middle.
A bright beam of light suddenly illuminated the podium. The people, who thought that it was the searchlight of the Federation military and police, were in an uproar, which quickly turned into even more fanatical cheers.
The national idol Jian Shui'er, who hadn't been seen for a long time, appeared in the bright beam of light. Wearing a simple and plain blue uniform, she waved to the tens of thousands of people with a smile and a microphone in her hand.
The same battle required different weapons, because the people who participated in the battle were always good at different things.
Some people would charge into the dangerous enemy camp with guns, such as the Seventh Group; some people would frown and keep copying on paper, such as Bob and Wood; some people seemed to be sitting silently and calmly in the command center, but in fact, they were thinking about all the strategies, such as Tai Zhiyuan. More ordinary people chose to vote with their feet and express their attitude with their bodies, such as the cheering crowd at the rally.
Jian Shui'er was no longer an actress, but a singer, so she didn't say too many enthusiastic words of encouragement, nor did she play the role of a goddess who summoned the people to fight. She just sang a song with a very serious attitude.
The first line of the song was, "When we discover the truth of life, but still love it as much as we did yesterday, we are heroes."
…
…
Outside the dense crowd, under an inconspicuous cold resistant redwood tree, Xu Le, wearing a sports windbreaker, slightly raised the brim of the hat on his forehead. Across the sea of thousands of people, he looked at the unforgettable beautiful face on the stage and smiled slightly.
Standing under the tree, he quietly listened to the woman's clear and charming voice, full of tranquility and determination. The feeling in his heart was indescribable, just like last year when he first heard the song written for him.
The song gradually faded away. Xu Le lowered the brim of his hat again, silently turned around, and walked toward the quiet street that contrasted with the lively crowd.
After sending Bob and Wood to Tai Zhiyuan, the Seventh Group disbanded and left, divided into three groups to carry out their respective tasks.
He believed that the thin guy who often coughed definitely had a way to keep Bob and Wood safe, so he left with peace of mind.
The cold wind gradually rose in the quiet street, and it was particularly piercing. Now, Xu Le naturally didn't have to worry about frostbite or catching a cold. He still subconsciously turned up his collar to cover his neck, then put his hands to his lips and exhaled a mouthful of hot air.
There were bright and warm houses in the buildings on both sides of the street, and there was the sound of children playing and the whimpering of cats fighting. There were also dark rooms. He didn't know where the owners of those rooms were now, or if they were in the crowd in front of the George Carlin Art Center.
There was an inconspicuous convenience store at the corner in front of him. There was a New Year's festive light hanging on the door. Because it had been hanging there for a while, it was covered with a thick layer of dust and looked a little old. The light in the store was dim.
Xu Le walked in, brushed past a burly man, took out some change from his pocket, put it on the counter, and said, "I want a blue box 37."
The man seemed to have finished buying the goods he needed, turned around and left. His extremely tall and burly figure made him have to lower his head when he passed by the old lamp.
The boss took the change, turned around and began to look for cigarettes. Xu Le's eyes fell on the glass shelf, and looked at the burly man walking out of the door with the reflection. He noticed that the moment the man lowered his head, a ferocious tattoo petals appeared on the back of his neck.
"Thank you."
After taking the cigarette, Xu Le bent down and picked up a heavy black long box at his feet. His movements were extremely casual, as if he had just brought it in himself.
He carried the long black box out of the convenience store and disappeared into the night of the Capital Special District.
Inside the long black box was not a violin, not a flute.
It was a gun, a big gun.
…
…
The ferocious tattoo petals on the back of the neck actually extended from the back to the waist. The branches and leaves were deep, and it was only part of a tattoo flower pattern.
The burly man with such a terrifying tattoo on his body had an extremely delicate name: Zhang Xiaohua.
This big shot of the underworld in South Kezhou had strength and dignity that could not be underestimated. A character like him, no matter what era or situation he was in, would have his own exclusive country and style.
However, since leaving the prison and entering Bermuda, and meeting a man of the same age named Lin Banshan, he was willing to become the other's assistant and arm. He was silent and quiet, and only strong and violent when the other needed.
In the 75th year of the Constitutional Era, Lin Banshan took all the elites from Bermuda back to the Federation. He wanted to fight against the government with the strength of the wild, and Zhang Xiaohua did not hesitate to follow.
In the capital of South Kezhou, he had turned his hand over to draw blood. He had fled thousands of miles in a frozen fish cart. He had shot through an armored car outside the forest garden. Tonight, he had given the gun to Xu Le.
…
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