War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1928 The Lovely Mr. Hans

Just as Wei Ran was seemingly casually rubbing the throbbing area between his thumb and forefinger on his left hand, the old man who opened the door for them explained the purpose of their visit.

After introducing themselves, Wei Ran and Miguel learned that the old man in front of them, who was nearing the end of his life, was indeed Dr. Gerhard Schäfer's son—Hans Schäfer.

Like his father, this old gentleman served as a military doctor in the East German People's Army for a considerable period of time when he was young, until the reunification of East and West Germany.

During this period, he maintained frequent correspondence with Milos, who lived in Bucharest, and named his son, the one who opened the door, "Miloš Schäfer".

"How could such a thing have happened?"

After listening to Miguel recount the family tragedy on behalf of his wife and brother-in-law, the elderly gentleman, who still speaks fluent Serbian, sighed, “So many things happened in 90. That year the Berlin Wall fell, and my wife and I were busy helping her parents find their family in West Germany.”

I don't know if it was lucky or unlucky, but we found her family and moved to West Berlin.

After I finished my work, I realized that Uncle Milos hadn't written back to us in a long time.

In 92, I took my wife and my husband Milos to Bucharest.

But the house had changed owners, and the people living there told me that Constantine and his family were dead, along with Ceausescu.

"By then, Mr. Milos had already moved into the sewers with Antonia and Giuliano."

Miguel sighed bitterly, “It’s in the sewers near the garden, not far from their house.”

“I don’t believe that Uncle Milos and Brother Dragan’s family are dead. I thought they moved to Bosnia and Herzegovina.”

Hans let out the same bitter sigh, "But by then the Bosnian War had already begun. I waited until the war ended in 1995, and immediately took my children to Bosnia and Herzegovina, to the mill and the church that Uncle Milos and I had mentioned so often."

But I couldn't find Uncle Milos's family. The mill and church were long gone, and I even lived there for almost five years without seeing them.

I guess, I guess they might really have died in that turmoil.

My brother also died in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The older man accompanying him, also named Milos, took off his glasses and, while wiping the lenses with the corner of his clothes, said in German, "His name is Dragan, and he's a mercenary."

Seeing Wei Ran's bewildered expression, Mr. Milos, who has German ancestry, put his glasses back on and explained, "He used to be an East German soldier, an East German soldier who grew up listening to stories of our grandfathers and those Yugoslav partisans."

He was a sniper before he retired; he wanted to be a sniper since he was a child, just like the sniper my father named him.

"he"

“He joined Deyang in 1991. Do you know Deyang?” Milos asked.

"I know," Wei Ran nodded, "that infamous battlefield hospital."

"That's right, that infamous battlefield academy."

Milos sighed, "He joined Deyang with his partner because they spoke Serbian; they were transferred there after the start of the Bosnian War."

"And then?" Wei Ran asked.

"Then he and his partner discovered the dirty deeds Deyang was doing."

Milos said, "They defected from Deyang and began killing their former colleagues who had been involved in the forced sale of silver."

Upon hearing this, Wei Ran breathed a slight sigh of relief.

"They were killed before they could rescue any girls. It is said that they were bombarded with mortar fire at the place where they were hiding, and there were no bodies left."

Milos sighed, “After the Bosnian War ended in 95, we received letters from the girls he and his partner had rescued.”

We rushed there immediately. The girls, barely adults, brought me the belongings of my brother Dragan and his partner, as well as their remains.

"Feel sorry."

Wei Ran sighed. "They... I mean your brother, Mr. Dragan, and his partner, they are also internationalist fighters."

I'm honored that you said that.

The man before him, Milos, sighed, “But they still died, in a war that had nothing to do with them.”

"For your freedom and ours," Wei Ran couldn't help but say.

"what?"

"For your freedom and ours"

Wei Ran repeated, even raising his voice, "Dragan, whether it's Dragan in the 1940s or Dragan in the 1990s, they are all fighting for your and our freedom."

Our ideologies may differ, our upbringing and the times we lived in may differ, and our nationalities and the stances of the countries we are loyal to may differ.

But whether it was Yugoslavia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Romania, China, or Germany, their actions were noble.

“Mr. Victor, I am very grateful for your high praise of my son,” the elderly Mr. Hans sighed, “but he still died in the war.”

"I'm sorry," Wei Ran sighed.

The elderly Hans simply shook his head and switched back to Serbian, saying, "Mr. Miguel, please tell me about his family. They must have had a very hard time these past few years."

"Yes, they lived in the sewers for 15 years."

Miguel sighed like Wei Ran and began to recount the days his wife and brother-in-law spent in the sewers, as if reciting a familiar story.

When Miguel finished his story, Hans, who was sitting on the sofa, said, “Miloš, I’m too old to go to that church and mill in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Could you take them there for me and ask them if they would like to come to Germany?”

"Leave it to me to arrange."

Milos, who was also no longer young, agreed and then explained with a smile, "After the Bosnian War ended, we bought the church and the mill and arranged for the girls my brother rescued to live there. If you have time, come with me to Bosnia and Herzegovina."

“Let’s go take a look,” Wei Ran said. “But I don’t have a visa for Bosnia and Herzegovina.”

“I believe Mr. Hans outside will help us solve this small problem,” Miguel said confidently.

“Do you have any other companions?” Milos asked.

Upon hearing this, Wei Ran glanced out the window and then shook his head. "They have already left for the time being, Mr. Milos, Mr. Miguel. In that case, I shall also take my leave. Let's set off together after I have resolved my visa issues. I believe it won't take too long."

"Alright"

After hearing the translator's account, Miguel nodded and said with great gratitude, "Please convey my thanks to Mr. Hans for his help."

"I will pass it on."

As Wei Ran spoke, he stood up, bid farewell to the old man sitting on the sofa amidst the farewells of Milos, Miguel, and his translator, walked out of the detached building, and dialed Dima's number.

Shortly after, Ji Ma pulled over to the side of the road in a car and immediately stepped on the gas after Wei Ran got into the passenger seat.

"Where is Mr. Hans?" Wei Ran asked as he fastened his seatbelt.

“He went back first; after all, he’s not a young man anymore,” Jima said. “Where do we go next?”

"Go see Mr. Hans."

Wei Ran smiled and said, "I need to ask him to help me with my visa issue."

"I'm afraid that's not necessary."

"Mr. Hans anticipated that we might go to Bosnia and Herzegovina. He has already asked his assistant to urgently apply for flight routes for us, and he said that we don't need to worry about visa issues. We can go to the airport immediately," Dima said with a smile.

"That means we can set off sooner."

"Mr. Hans said he hoped we could finish the work as soon as possible before the birthday party, and he was willing to provide as much help as possible for that."

"That lovely old gentleman doesn't want anyone to be absent," Jima said with a smile.

"He is indeed a lovely old gentleman."

Wei Ran smiled and shook his head. "Let's turn around and pick up Miguel and Mr. Milos."

"Mr. Milos?"

“Besides another Mr. Hans, there was another Mr. Milos in that house,” Wei Ran explained, both amused and exasperated.

“What a lack of naming options,” Jima said, having already turned around.

"The Slavs aren't much better off."

Wei Ran jokingly remarked with amusement, "In all these years in Russia, I've met at least 20,000 Sashas."

“From now on, Maya and I will name our child either Victor or Aurora,” Dima said proudly. “Definitely not Sasha.”

"Couldn't we have replaced her with Karp or Dalia?" Wei Ran asked helplessly.

Of course not.

As Dima slammed on the brakes, he replied earnestly, "Greva has already decided that his future children will be named Kalp or Dalia, so we can't afford to crash."

"How could you say that we can't have the same name as each other?" Wei Ran said helplessly as he pushed open the car door again and walked back towards the building he had just left.

Two hours and 38 minutes after arriving in Berlin, Wei Ran, Dima, Miguel and his blond translator, along with Mr. Milos, returned to the airport, boarded Dima's private plane (which was nominally his), and after a short wait, followed the control tower's instructions to take off smoothly and leave Berlin.

"How does it feel?" Just as news of the private jet taking off and leaving the country reached Mr. Hans, who had come to pick them up, he raised his glass and clinked it lightly with his friend sitting in the living room.

"At least their work efficiency is very high."

In the reception room, another elderly man holding a glass spoke noncommittally.

“The success rate is also very high,” Mr. Hans added.

"This at most only shows that he is an excellent historian."

That's enough.

Hans, holding his wine glass, said, "His girlfriend has an amazing business sense, my friend. This might be an opportunity to get rid of those parasites."

"Give me some advice," the person sitting opposite said.

“Take out a sum of money, a large sum of money, and let your granddaughter join the Golden Fleece program, but don’t let her participate in the management.”

"that is it?"

That's enough.

Mr. Hans downed the last drop of wine in his glass, put it down, and said, "Although it's a bit of a shame that I couldn't let you meet Victor this time, you should trust my intuition."

Old friend, this investment won't cost you anything, but it will at least provide your child with a secure future.

"Like that French girl?" another elderly man, still holding his glass, asked worriedly. "I don't want my granddaughter to become that playboy's mistress like that French girl."

"Come on"

Mr. Hans sneered without holding back, "Even though your granddaughter has had so many plastic surgeries, do I need to remind you what she looks like now?"

"Don't make things difficult for that young Chinese man. He's only interested in pretty girls, and besides that Caucasian Shepherd, there's no one of black people around him."

“If someone else had said that, they would have been killed by now.”

“I am Hans the Vampire, not Hans the Good Guy. I can tell you bluntly that your mixed-race granddaughter is not good-looking, but you better be joking about what you just said.”

"I will have my granddaughter take some money and try to join the Golden Fleece."

The other person in the meeting room finally finished half a glass of red wine and said with a hint of helplessness, "I hope that the Golden Fleece organization won't be picky about the girls' appearance."

"Miss Aurora is not such a shallow and mean-spirited girl."

Hans said with a smile, "Besides, you can always have your granddaughter make more friends and investments."

"Mr. Hans, what exactly do you want to do?"

The old man, having put down his cup, asked in bewilderment, "Why are you supporting China?"

"This world belongs to the young."

Mr. Hans tapped the floor lightly with his silver-plated cane. “My friend, haven’t you noticed that Europe hasn’t been safe lately?”

"You mean with that China?"

"Your brain has become stupid."

Mr. Hans retorted sarcastically, “How could such a thing possibly have anything to do with a Chinese person?”

"makes sense"

"Precisely because there is no connection, this is an excellent investment opportunity, especially for our respective good-for-nothing children."

Hans said casually, "Including that illegitimate daughter you raised in France, how old is she?"

I wouldn't be surprised if you died of organ failure on the way back, but from what I understand, she seems to be only a young adult.

"I understand"

"This might be a good opportunity for you to get rid of those parasites."

Hans concluded by warning, "Who knows, maybe you'll be the next one to be kidnapped and shot?"

“I didn’t sponsor those hunting dogs,” the person sitting opposite was startled.

"So that's why you were invited here to have a drink with me."

Hans said with a smile, "Remember to have your brown-haired granddaughter prepare some decent gifts for that young historian."

"I will"

After the old man finished speaking, he got up and left the meeting room where he had failed to meet the historian.

"Dad, why are you helping Mr. Victor like this?"

Not long after the old man left, Mr. Hans' son came in and asked curiously.

"Prepare more cash for your daughter."

Mr. Hans, toying with his cane, said, "Have you seen that threatening video lately?"

"I saw it. It was extremely cruel and highly provocative."

"Someone has begun to declare war on the parasites and their hounds."

Hans said with great interest, "No, this is not a declaration of war, it's a hunt."

"so."

"Half a century ago, those fools came begging around this time."

Hans explained gently, “Although your grandmother almost drained the Zion beggars dry, they still managed to get enough money.”

You mean to say...

"What I mean is, although I inherited the vampire nickname from your grandmother, we live in a civilized society now. It's too undignified to drain all the blood from any beggar who dares to come to your door like your grandmother did."

Hans explained with a smile, "So why not drain our own blood? As long as we invest all our blood in a territory they can't reach before they come knocking, we can avoid a lot of trouble."

"Oh—!" Hans' son exclaimed suddenly, "I understand."

"Go do it."

Hans said gently, “As long as we bring enough friends who aren’t sucked dry, we’ll have gained enough friendships by the time the hunt is over.”

"But what if the investment fails?" Hans's son asked cautiously.

“A few days ago, Miss Aurora made a high-profile appearance in Ulan Bt in Mongolia.”

Hans patiently taught his already grown son, "and ostentatiously took over a copper mine."

Will the Golden Fleece invest in mining?

"Given that girl's background, is there any possibility of her investment failing in the mining industry, especially in Mongolia?"

Hans cautioned, "This in itself is a signal of waiting for investment; you should especially notice the logo on the car she was riding in in the news."

"Grapevines?"

"That's a more effective legal means than the law."

Hans sighed enviously, "I was wondering why that girl was so favored by Victor. I even suspected she might be that fat man's illegitimate daughter."

"You mean that gentleman?" Hans' son said, making a hammer-waving gesture.

"What do you think?" Hans asked. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'll start preparing right away!" Hans' son said before rushing out of the reception room.

"What an interesting change."

Mr. Hans glanced at the photo on the wall that Wei Ran had taken for his family years ago, and at the slightly immature Wei Ran in the photo, before finally leaning on his cane and walking out of the reception room in a cheerful mood.

He is Hans the vampire. In this society that pretends to be civilized, if he can't drink other people's blood, can't he at least drink his own blood dry?
On the same day, in distant but not so distant Hungary, another wealthy man and his lover riding on his back were kidnapped without anyone noticing—leaving behind only a small boat made of A4 paper.

On the same day, Miss Paige also received a reply from Charon.

The hunt has begun.

Miss Paige stretched and yawned. "We've stayed here long enough, it's time to leave."

"where are we going?"

"Let's go meet our old friends."

"I hate Chinese people, especially Chinese men," Miss Paige said irritably.

"You've fallen in love with that Chinese man?"

“No, but I’d love to die with him.” Paige said, already putting on a leather jacket.