red moscow

Chapter 3154

After Gulia left, Sokov sat alone on the spacious sofa, closing his eyes to rest. The room was quiet, save for the occasional birdsong from outside the window. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting warm dappled patterns on the carpet. A crucial question began to churn in his mind: since returning to this era, his ability to heal rapidly from injuries had inexplicably vanished, leaving him feeling lost and uneasy. Had his unexpected fluency in German also disappeared?
Thinking this, he slowly opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and gripped the sofa armrests to sit up. He walked unhurriedly towards the study, remembering a few German books on the shelf—left by the previous owner of the villa. He only needed to glance at them to verify whether he still retained that language talent, which was crucial to his upcoming plans.

Entering the study, Sokov carefully searched the oak bookshelves. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the spines of the books, and the air was filled with the faint scent of old paper and dust. Sure enough, in a corner of the shelf, he found several original German novels, their covers worn but the titles still clearly visible. Among them was Thomas Mann's *Buddenbrooks*, a book he remembered depicting the decline of four generations of a merchant family, hailed as "a spiritual history of the German bourgeoisie," and a key work that earned Thomas Mann the Nobel Prize in Literature. The set consisted of three volumes, the pages yellowed but well-preserved, as if quietly awaiting his turn.

Sokov casually picked up the first volume, gently opened the pages, and glanced at the familiar German letters. He could still recognize the words, and even read the first few paragraphs fluently from memory. The plot and character descriptions seemed to leap off the page, proving that his German proficiency was still intact. A weight lifted from his heart, and a relieved smile appeared on his lips, as if he had rediscovered a lost treasure. He took the book to his desk, sat down, adjusted his posture, and began to concentrate on reading.

Having read only a few pages, Sokov, engrossed in the story, was interrupted by soft footsteps. A guard passing by the door saw the general sitting in his study reading and quickly went to the door, stood at attention, saluted, and politely asked, "General, is there anything I can do for you? Please don't hesitate to ask."

Sokov looked up from his book, his gaze slightly unfocused, but quickly cleared. He thought for a moment and then instructed the other man, "Pour me a cup of coffee, strong, without sugar."

The guard nodded and replied respectfully, "Yes, Comrade General! I'll get it ready right away." Then he turned and quickly went to prepare coffee for Sokov, his footsteps fading into the distance.

A few minutes later, the guard returned to the study, carrying a steaming cup of coffee, its aroma filling the air. He carefully placed the coffee on the desk in front of Sokov, placing a white cloth under the coaster to prevent scalding the surface. After doing this, he did not leave immediately, but stood ramrod straight to the side, hands behind his back, displaying exceptional respect.

Sokov never liked having someone standing next to him when he was reading; it distracted him and made him feel awkward. He looked up at the guard and asked gently, "Is there anything else? If not, go ahead and do your work."

"Comrade General!" the guard asked cautiously, his voice filled with concern, "Your wheelchair is still in the living room. Would you like me to bring it in?"

“No need!” Sokov waved his hand at the other person. “My injuries are almost healed. As long as I’m at home, I try not to use a wheelchair. Moving around and stretching my muscles will actually help my recovery. There’s nothing for you here. You can go out now. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

The guard responded, saluted again, and then tiptoed out of the study, gently closing the door behind him to ensure he wouldn't disturb the general's reading. Sokov refocused on his book, took a sip of coffee—bitter yet fragrant—and let his thoughts drift into the world of Thomas Mann's writing, temporarily forgetting his injuries and loss of skills.

After some time, Sokov suddenly heard Asya calling from outside, her voice filled with obvious anxiety: "Misha, Misha! Where are you?" Sokov listened carefully and, confirming it was Asya calling him, quickly responded, his voice coming through the door: "Asia, I'm here!" Perhaps worried he hadn't explained clearly, he quickly added, his tone reassuring, "I'm in the study, it's alright."

The door was gently pushed open, and Asya hurried in, her face filled with worry. She went straight to Sokov. She looked him up and down and said urgently, "Misha, you went into the study to read, why did you leave your wheelchair in the living room? When I came back, I only saw the wheelchair and not you. I thought something had happened to you. My heart was in my throat."

Hearing Asya say this, Sokov chuckled dryly twice, trying to ease the tension: "Asya, I'm perfectly fine at home, what could possibly happen? Don't be so nervous."

“Misha, don’t hide it from me,” Asya said anxiously, her hands unconsciously clenching. “I heard from others that this afternoon, an NKVD car was attacked by unidentified people on the road. The attackers were killed by the soldiers in the car, and the driver was wounded. You’re not injured, are you? Let me see.” As she spoke, her eyes were fixed on Sokov, as if trying to find any trace of injury.

Hearing Asya's words, Sokov quipped, a wry smile playing on his lips, "What does the attack on the Ministry of Internal Affairs' vehicles have to do with me? Aren't you worrying unnecessarily? I stay home all day; what danger could I possibly be in?"

“When I first heard about it, I didn’t think much of it. After all, you’re not from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, so what does their vehicle attack have to do with you?” Asya said, as she began to carefully examine Sokov’s arms and shoulders, her movements gentle but firm. “But when I heard that one of the soldiers in the vehicle was a female lieutenant from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, I immediately thought of Gulia. You know, Gulia is in charge of your safety within the Internal Security Forces; wherever she is, you’re bound to be. That’s why I took leave to come back and check on you. What would I do if something really happened to you?”

Seeing that Asya had already guessed the truth, Sokov no longer concealed anything. He sighed, his tone becoming serious: "Asia, you guessed right. Gulia and I went to the Ministry of Internal Affairs today. On our way back, we were attacked by unidentified individuals. Gulia and another officer from the Ministry of Internal Affairs acted decisively and killed them. I'm unharmed, so don't worry. It happened so suddenly, but thankfully I'm alright."

Asya carefully examined Sokov and, seeing that he had no new injuries, her heart, which had been in her throat, settled back into her stomach. She breathed a sigh of relief, but her brows remained furrowed. However, she still spoke in a reproachful tone, her voice tinged with lingering fear: "Misha, you were injured, why didn't you stay home? What were you doing running off to the Ministry of Internal Affairs? Do you know how worried I was? I rushed back as soon as I heard the news."

“It’s naturally related to yesterday’s assassination attempt. I went to the Ministry of Internal Affairs to help them analyze the assassin’s identity based on the statements of those involved,” Sokov explained to Asya, his tone sincere. “Who would have thought that I would be attacked on the way back? Fortunately, Gulia and Captain Chekalov reacted quickly and killed the attacker in time, otherwise, I don’t know if I would have been in danger.” He reached out and gently patted the back of Asya’s hand, trying to reassure her.

As Asya listened, a complex emotion flashed in her eyes, a mixture of concern and helplessness. She nodded and said softly, "Okay, but next time you must tell me in advance, so I don't have to worry like this again."

(End of this chapter)