War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1952 Brainless High-End Protein

When the white light faded, Wei Ran was sent back to the guest room that was temporarily his.

He glanced down at his bathrobe, then checked his phone for the time with some concern before finally letting out a sigh of relief. He then turned to look at the metal notebook on the table.

At this moment, the quill pen had already written lines of text:
蠢事
After the siege of Sarajevo ended, Thomas Sanson, a former journalist for the French newspaper Le Canard enchaîné (who faked his death and went by the pseudonym Lyon), along with Dragan Schäfer, a former mercenary from Deyang (who faked his death and went by the pseudonym Gerhard), and Dragan's brother Milos Schäfer, jointly established the Hercules Security Company.

Since 1996, the company has been dedicated to post-war refugee relief work, and has acquired many buildings in Sarajevo as well as mills and churches around Kozala Hill, and has used the names of operating hotels, schools, mills and vineyards to house post-war survivors.

Since 1997, the company has been involved in the relief of war orphans and targeted revenge work.

During the Kosovo War in 1999, Dragan and his partner, Ms. W, tragically died while helping refugees. Their remains were later moved to the Kozara Chapel and buried with Klaus Schröder.

He has a son, Mikhail, with his ex-wife, Nona Schäfer.

That same winter, Nona and her young son Mikhail traveled from Minsk to Sarajevo to join Hercules.

In 2002, Thomas was killed in an airstrike while helping refugees in Afghan. His remains were returned to the chapel cemetery for burial that winter.

Tomas and former Sarajevo shooting athlete Zorana have a daughter, Luna.

Since 2002, Hercules, led by Nona, has participated in numerous war orphan rescue operations.

In 2015, Nona stepped down and handed over Hercules to Zorana to continue the war orphan relief operation.

At this point, the metal quill pen started a new line and wrote down an email address, along with an address in Sarajevo.

Starting on a new line, the metal quill pen wrote another line of text:
I've done enough stupid things, so I don't mind doing some more.

As I wrote this, the pale yellow page turned to the other side, and beneath the large red vortex containing the G43 semi-automatic sniper rifle, a second red vortex appeared.

Just like the previous red vortex, the metal quill pen wrote the exact same words under the newly appeared red vortex: This gun is for shooting down magic-absorbing threads, for ending wars.

As Wei Ran smiled knowingly, a rare red and blue vortex appeared at the very bottom of this page.

Beneath this vortex, just like the last time this patterned vortex appeared (Chapter 750), the words "Mission Completed" were written.

Before he could even reach out to test if he could put his hand inside the vortex, the pale yellow pages fluttered without wind, automatically turning back to the page containing the camera case.

The vortex containing the camera case flickered, and the quill pen fell onto the paper with a thud.

Instead of rushing to take out the camera case, Wei Ran turned the page to the back of the latest page and tried to put his hand into the red and blue vortex, but sure enough, he couldn't put his hand in.

After trying to retrieve the contents of the metal notebook without success, Wei Ran then took out the item from the newly appeared red vortex.

This time, the father rewarded himself with an MP5SD6 silenced submachine gun and two magazines connected side by side.

"Give me a sniper rifle, though."

Wei Ran clicked his tongue. He was just venting his anger. He didn't lack weapons at all, even these kinds of silenced weapons.

After fiddling with it and putting it away, Wei Ran then took out the camera case and opened it.

He noticed at just one glance that there was an extra Nikon F3/T camera and a Polaroid instant camera in the box.

Of course, there were also plenty of instant photo paper to go with it. Even inside the box lid, there were several photos of him and them together.

With a soft sigh, Wei Ran packed away his photography case, lay down on the bed, took out his metal notebook, and retrieved a meager number of negatives from the paper bag next to the black and white photos drawn with a quill pen.

These negatives do contain photos he took, but they are all group photos.

Where did all the evidence of crimes that Thomas, Nicky, and Ronald collected go?
After only a moment's thought, Wei Ran roughly guessed the answer.

He was certain that those things were neither lost nor destroyed, but the reason they were not made public was undoubtedly for the safety of those who were still alive.

I promised to join, so I have to do something to help them.
Wei Ran carefully put away the negatives and the metal notebook, then covered himself with the blanket and pondered silently.

However, after tossing and turning, although he was extremely exhausted, he suffered from insomnia, which was rare for him.

He wanted to take another look, to see if there were any familiar faces among the people living here.

After thinking it over, he simply changed his clothes, got up and left the room, and once again walked towards the small church not far away.

As he passed the cemetery, Wei Ran stopped, took out a cigarette case from his metal notebook, opened it, took out a Marlboro, lit it, and took a deep drag.

After glancing once more at his friends from two generations in the cemetery, Wei Ran walked toward the small chapel, where lights were on in both the basement and above-ground sections.

There was no one guarding the place, and naturally, there were no symbols of God or Jesus cooking at the bottom of the oven.

The only thing placed at the very front that could barely be considered "worshipped" was the Zundap sidecar motorcycle painted bright red.

With a soft sigh, Wei Ran walked to the long table closest to the Zundap motorcycle and sat down. Staring blankly at the sidecar motorcycle, he tried to distinguish the two Dragans in his memory, only to find that the more he tried, the more the two Dragans seemed to merge into one.

With a silent sigh, Wei Ran took out his harmonica, put it to his lips, and began to play the Internationale, a song he had heard and played more than once in the trenches of Spain.

He was neither fortunate enough to fight alongside the first Dragan in Spain, nor was he fortunate enough to join the second Dragan in rescuing war orphans who were treated as commodities and objects of amusement on various battlefields after Sarajevo.

Fortunately, there are always enough naive people doing these "foolish things," even if they are not well-regarded, even if they are ridiculed, even if they pay with their lives or something more precious than life for these "foolish things."

As he finished playing the entire Internationale, a woman in a dark red nightgown appeared at the top of the stairs on the second floor of the church, holding a wine glass in one hand.

“Mr. Victor, come up and have a drink,” the woman said.

"Sorry, did I disturb you?"

It was only at this moment that Wei Ran realized that there seemed to be people living on the second floor of the church. "I didn't know that people lived on the second floor of this place."

"It's alright, please come up and have a seat."

The woman, who looked to be about the same age as Teacher Dalia, extended another invitation. Then, without waiting for Wei Ran's reply, she turned around and disappeared at the top of the stairs.

After a moment's hesitation, Wei Ran put away his harmonica and climbed the stairs to the second floor of the small church.

Compared to the church-like decor on the first floor, the second floor looks much warmer, and you could even say it looks more like a "home".

However, on the second-floor wall, there were many photos, the largest of which was a picture of a blonde woman in a wedding dress embracing a German man named Dragan Schäfer.

Next to this photo was a huge group photo in which he found the couple from the wedding photo, as well as all his friends who survived the war—a large group photo with a church in the background.

He also saw a framed picture on the wall containing a medal of Second Class Guerrilla Star.

Wei Ran glanced subconsciously at the woman pouring wine into the glass she had just taken out, and he had already guessed her identity.

At the same time, he also sensed from this woman a certain confident languor and indifference, similar to that of Teacher Dalia or Teacher Anna.

It seems they are the same kind of people, no, they are the same kind of people, but they are not exactly the same kind of people.

Even so, Wei Ran was already quite certain that this woman was Dragan Schäfer's ex-wife, the Soviet woman named Nona.

"Why isn't Mr. Victor resting?" the woman, who appeared to be named Nona, asked as she handed Wei Ran a wine glass.

"I'm having some trouble sleeping."

As Wei Ran took the wine glass, he feigned curiosity and asked, "May I ask how I should address you?"

"Nona"

The woman gently clinked glasses with Wei Ran, took a sip of red wine, and then casually pointed to the huge wedding photo on the wall. "I am Dragan's wife, Dragan Schäfer's wife."

"Hello"

Wei Ran took a sip of his drink. "I don't know if I should say this, but it's an honor to have the opportunity to meet you here."

“I’ve always been here,” Nona smiled calmly. “I’m here to take care of those children.”

I don't know what to say.

Wei Ran put down his wine glass and asked in a very formal manner, "Mrs. Schäfer, is there anything I can do for you?"

"There's nothing I need you to do for me," Nona smiled calmly. "Just have a drink with me."

"It's my honor," Wei Ran said, raising his glass and gently clinking it against the other person's.

"You're from Kazan?" Nona asked a new question.

"I am Chinese, but I am studying in Kazan," Wei Ran said as he poured the other person a drink.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Kazan,” Nona sighed.

Have you been to Kazan?

That happened a long time ago.

Nona picked up her glass and took a sip. "I was probably a little younger back then than you are now."

"The Soviet era?"

"Post-Soviet Era"

Nona smiled. "Back then, the Soviet Union had just collapsed, and everything had changed dramatically. Nobody knew whether the changes were for the better or for the worse."

"Yes." Wei Ran clinked glasses with the other person again. "Get some rest."

Nona put down her cup and said, "If you have time tomorrow, you can go to the monument on Mount Kozala. I heard you're a historian, so you should be interested in it."

"I do have this plan."

Wei Ran finished the rest of the wine in his glass, put it down, stood up, and said, "Well then, goodnight, Mrs. Schäfer."

"Good night, Mr. Victor." Nona stood up and watched Wei Ran turn and go downstairs until he left the church.

After taking one last look at the dim yet warm light on the second floor of the church, Wei Ran let out a long sigh, walked alone into the cemetery, lit another cigarette, took out his flask, and slowly poured the remaining liquor on the tombstones of his friends. Then he strode towards the wooden cabin where he was temporarily staying.

That evening, Anfia, who was still in Kazan, received an email from Wei Ran via an encrypted email address.

"What did the boss say?"

"I am asking in Italian while jogging in the gym inside the winery's annex building," Anfiza asked.

“Let’s do what we can to help that security company,” Anfia, already drenched in sweat, replied, switching the content on her tablet back to the interface she had been browsing.

"What level of help?" Anfisa asked as she got off the treadmill.

"First, we must ensure their cybersecurity and try our best to erase any traces of their leaks and any potential risks."

Anfia replied, "Secondly, we can provide some intelligence support; the boss has provided an email address."

In whose name?

Anfisa pressed on, saying that this was a very crucial question, as the level of importance would naturally differ depending on the pretext under which the other party made contact.

"Let's use the boss's guava blankets and our Austrian friends' ones on the surface. It seems they've both arranged some for their robes."

Anfia said, "The boss specifically requested that the contact be made in Charon's name."

"I see"

Anfisa nodded in agreement, "I'll take care of the public aspects."

"I'm responsible for cybersecurity, and that's part of what Charon does."

Anfia defined her own work scope, "In addition, the boss asked us to inform Mr. Ninell to set up a security company as soon as possible and to try to maintain a good relationship with Deyang."

“I told you the boss is still interested in everything American,” Anfisa said confidently.

“We don’t need to worry about that,” Anfia said after thinking for a moment. “I’m more curious about where the boss got the email address.”

"You didn't provide it?"

"What do you think?" Anfia's question made Anfisa wisely shut her mouth and not continue the discussion on this issue.

When the morning sun once again enveloped Sarajevo and the Kozara Mountains, thankfully, no war had broken out on this fragmented land, which brought Wei Ran, who had been having nightmares all night, a real sense of relief.

Led by German Milos, Wei Ran and Ji Ma, along with Spanish wrestler Miguel and his brother-in-law Giuliano and his family, arrived early at Mlakovica in Cozara National Park and saw the 33-meter-high concrete monument.

"Since the dissolution of Yugoslavia and the Bosnian War, maintenance work here has been suspended indefinitely."

German Milos Schäfer pointed to the tall monument standing in the weeds and bushes and said, "That war made the Bosnians selectively forget this place, even though the people commemorated by this monument once drove the French from this land."

So you see, although that war ended, the hatred between ethnic groups still exists, or perhaps we should put it another way.

"What do you mean?" Giuliano asked instinctively.

"After the collapse of the Soviet Union, NATO, led by the United States, was very successful in emasculating Europe and Yugoslavia in the heart of Europe."

Milos said calmly, "The fragmented remains of Yugoslavia still hate each other. If necessary, with just a little provocation, fighting will break out here again."

At this point, Milos chuckled, "You probably won't believe it, but while the Bosnians have selectively forgotten this monument, they still cherish the memory of the 14th Winter Olympics."

They were happy to talk to you about everything related to that Winter Olympics, even though Sarajevo was still part of Yugoslavia at the time.

They naively assumed it was the Winter Olympics in Sarajevo, not the Winter Olympics in Yugoslavia.

"What's your opinion on this?" Miguel suddenly asked.

"I?"

The German Milos shook his head, looked up at the monument illuminated by the rising sun but forgotten by the land, and sighed to himself, "There are people willing to do stupid things, and there is never a shortage of fools to do silly things."

"Mr. Victor, what is your opinion on this matter?"

Miguel seemed particularly interested in this question, patiently waiting for the translator to finish relaying the information before immediately asking the same question.

I have no opinion.

Wei Ran raised his large Pentax 67II camera and pressed the shutter on the monument illuminated by the rising sun. "If nothing unexpected happens, this will be the last time I come here. I just hope that when this place is once again shrouded in war, there will still be guerrillas to drive away the 'Fasi Silk'."

"What if there isn't one?" Milos, the German, asked with great interest.

"No?"

Wei Ran put down the camera he was holding and said with great nonchalance, "What does it have to do with me? I'm just a historian, not a savior. In particular, there has never been a savior in this world."

“I like your answer,” Milos said, speechless. “Where are you planning to go next? How about Sudeshka?”

"How about I go to Sarajevo with Dima alone?"

Wei Ran suggested first, "We'd like to visit Sarajevo, and then I'll head back."

“No problem, please let me arrange it.” The German, Milos, readily agreed, seemingly without any curiosity whatsoever.

The group left the abandoned monument. Wei Ran and Di Ma, who had rushed over just yesterday, bid farewell to Miguel and the others, and took a car arranged by Milos, heading back to Sarajevo without stopping.

Throughout the journey, both Wei Ran and Ji Ma tacitly took naps and did not have any effective communication at all.

It wasn't until the car returned to Sarajevo, until it dropped them off at the hotel, that Dima finally asked the question he'd held back the whole way: "Why didn't we..."

“Let’s not waste time there. Besides, I’ve heard there are still a lot of landmines in Bosnia and Herzegovina that haven’t been cleared. I don’t want to wander around in the middle of nowhere.”

Wei Ran casually made up an excuse, "Let's go, let's wander around this city, and leave tomorrow."

I'll follow your arrangements.

Jima couldn't have done that. He was now convinced that someone was trying to harm Wei Ran, and he didn't want to take any risks at this time.

After flagging down a car driven by Hela, Wei Ran got in and, before even settling in, said, "Drive straight ahead, let's just wander around."

"Ok"

Having met her just yesterday, Hela, codenamed "147," nodded and drove her car, taking Wei Ran and Ji Ma on a seemingly aimless stroll through the streets.

It was during this stroll that Wei Ran saw many familiar buildings and "accidentally" passed by that school.

Wei Ran took a picture of the unfamiliar building that appeared in the familiar location, put the lens cap on, and said with satisfaction, "That's enough for today. Let's go back to the hotel to rest and leave tomorrow. I miss home."

“I miss my Maya too,” Jima echoed like a fool, twirling his wedding ring.

"What do you think of Miguel's question today?" Wei Ran asked, looking out the window at the street scene that was both strange and familiar.

"I?"

Jima tossed Wei Ran a cigarette. "I've made so many war movies, and I've discovered something from them."

"What is it?" Wei Ran lit a cigarette and asked with interest.

"War can actually teach humanity a lot; at the very least, it can leave behind enough lessons."

Dima shrugged. "But unfortunately, none of those who learned those lessons survived until the end of the war, so in the end, the war always starts again."

But it doesn't matter, there will always be someone who learns the lesson again and chooses to give their life to end the war.

So you see, humans and salmon that migrate to reproduce are no different; they're both brainless, high-quality proteins.

"Jima, I'm amazed that you could say something so philosophical," Wei Ran exclaimed. "I swear, I'm serious."

"That's one of the advantages of being an actor in war movies."

"I can learn the lessons of war without actually dying in it, and I can also make a lot of money," Dima said smugly.

"I hope that people who watch the movie can also learn these lessons," Wei Ran sighed.

"Them? They can't learn that."

"They're lucky if they don't lose their movie tickets before they even get into the theater," Dima joked.

"High-end protein without a brain?"

"That's right, high-end protein that doesn't require brains."