Kingsman Agent in Film and Television

Kent, USA.

An old man gazed at the setting sun, and after a long while, whispered:
"I'm getting old, really old."

He's really old. In this era, there aren't many elderly people like him who have experienced World War II.

As the sun set, a motorhome slowly drove into the old manor.

The old man suddenly laughed:
"I take back what I just said."

"Compared to him, I am..."

"Younger."

The RV slowly came to a stop, and the capable bodyguards got out of the vehicle. Then, a thin, elderly man with an Asian face got out of the vehicle. The bodyguards tried to help him, but the old man pushed them away.

Then the Asian elderly man strode towards the white elderly man, and as he approached, he opened his arms and said loudly:

"Oh, dear Henry, it's so good to see you alive again."

The white elderly man who had been waiting greeted the Asian elderly man, and after embracing him, said with a look of envy:
"Zhang, you make me jealous."

The elderly Asian man laughed heartily: "Because I'm healthier than you?"

The elderly white man frankly said, "Yes—because you are a few years older than me! But now, I have heard God's call."

The elderly Asian man said sadly upon hearing this:

“I also want to hear God’s call, but now I understand that I am under the jurisdiction of Yama, the King of Hell, even if I go to hell! Henry, my dear Henry, do you understand what I mean?”

The white elderly man asked, "You Chinese often talk about 'returning to one's roots'?"

"Yes—it's been so long, so long that I've almost forgotten."

"But my body always wants to lie there."

The elderly white man sighed, "Zhang, your request is putting me in a difficult position! You know you're different from others!"

“Yes, I know this is difficult for you.” The elderly Asian man sighed as well: “But, although I don’t want to admit it, I really am old.”

“You heard God’s call, and I heard the King of Hell’s call as well. But he insists on taking me back before he will take care of me.”

"Henry, do you really want me, a homeless person, to end up not being able to find a home?"

"I just want to go back to lying there."

"It's been too long, really too long."

After a long silence, the white elderly man said in a daze, "It has indeed been too long. The last time you went back, it seems you were with me. We were the ones who helped break the ice, right?"

The elderly Asian man seemed to be reminiscing about the past; after a long while, he slowly said:

"Yes, because of that incident, I was resented for a very, very long time..."

The elderly white man looked at his old friend and gently grasped his aged hand with his own:
"As a friend, I should indeed help you."

"Although my damn politician's instincts tell me I shouldn't let you go back."

"After all, you have far too much knowledge."

"I'm old, and I've forgotten so many things," the elderly Asian woman said calmly. "Now, all I want is to go back, to return to my homeland."

The elderly white man pronounced the four Chinese characters haltingly:

"The soul returns to its homeland?"

"The soul, after all, needs a place to rest—Zhang, I promise you! I promise you!"

The Asian elderly man laughed:

"Thank you!"

"I can't wait to go back."

"Yes, I can't wait."

The elderly white man said disappointedly:
“That would be such a shame. I wanted you to see me off—I really did hear God’s call.”

The elderly Asian man shared the same disappointment: "But I, too, heard the call of the King of Hell."

"Then see you in heaven?"

“I won’t see him—” the elderly Asian man said frankly. “In our mythology, Yama, the King of Hell, has his Hall of Punishments, which has eighteen levels. I will definitely live on the lowest level.”

The elderly white man said apologetically, "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize. It's just the path I chose."

"Go ahead, go ahead. I really can't understand you Chinese people, knowing full well that it's the eighteenth level of hell, yet still choosing to go in."

The elderly Asian man said quietly:

"To be buried in the earth is to find peace; the earth here refers to one's homeland."

He then changed the subject: "Henry, dear Henry, you seem to know more about China than I thought."

The elderly white man said proudly, "That's natural."

The Asian elderly man stood up with a smile:

"Well then, dear Henry, we... will never meet again."

"Are you in such a hurry to leave?"

"Yes, I want to go back by boat," the old man said slowly. "A long, long time ago, I went there by boat. And a long, long time from now, I still want to go back by boat."

"Although I can't understand your obsession, I wish you... a safe journey."

"Yes, have a safe trip."

After watching the Asian elderly man leave, the white elderly man quietly called for the young housekeeper:

“Tell Washington that Zhang is dying, he's dying just like me, he wants to go home, so let him…”

"go home."

……

Los Angeles, Long Beach Harbor.

A huge cruise ship stood proudly in the harbor, like a monster.

This is a luxury cruise ship that will soon depart from Long Beach Port, maintaining a speed of approximately 40 kilometers per hour, heading towards Shanghai in the far east.

More than 5,000 tourists have boarded the ship one after another.

However, when the departure time arrived, the cruise ship still showed no signs of moving, which made many tourists urge it on.

Soon, the ship's crew informed them:

"A very distinguished guest is coming shortly."

The tourists muttered to themselves:
Damn capitalism—as long as you have money, and as long as you're an extremely distinguished guest, you can always easily waste other people's time!

A motorhome drove into the port, and the cruise ship's captain and a group of key personnel rushed to greet it—in front of countless tourists, an elderly Asian man stepped out of the motorhome.

The old man apologized to the captain and his group:

"I'm so sorry, a friend of mine went to heaven today—I didn't want to see him off, after all, he was a hundred years old, but I went anyway."

So I'm very sorry for taking up your time.

The captain quickly said, "As the ship owner, you are too kind."

The old man seemed to only then realize what was happening:

"I'm the shipowner—"

"How old is this ship?"

The captain replied, “Thirty years—in fact, she should have ended her ocean voyages ten years ago, but your generous maintenance, regardless of cost, has kept her capable of ocean voyages.”

"Thirty years..." the old man sighed. "I'm getting old and confused. I should have retired her earlier. All those years of maintenance were for nothing."

The captain said, "She will officially retire after this voyage."

The old man sighed with mixed feelings, "It's good, it's good, it's good!"

……

The cruise ship, heading east, glides proudly and swiftly across the sea.

However, the tourists were unaware of the ship's desire to return home; they were engrossed in the various activities on board, enjoying the pleasure that came with the exorbitantly priced tickets.

Perhaps they noticed a reclusive old man who always stood on the deck gazing eastward, but no one paid him any attention—the old man was too reclusive and eccentric, like a stubborn rock that did not belong to this era.

A helicopter brought a group of tourists who had joined midway.

The young people quickly blended into the lights of the cruise ship, except for one successful man in his forties who seemed to dislike the dazzling lights. He always held his ten-year-old son's hand and strolled around the deck.

But he ignored the strange old man and just kept lecturing his ten-year-old son.

His son was like a curious child full of "whys." At first, he asked why his father and his generation always thought the United States was so powerful. Later, for some reason, the little guy became fascinated with modern history and eventually plunged headlong into the treacherous and secretive front.

He began to explore his father's knowledge base by asking "why" questions one by one.

On deck, the little guy began to explore his father's knowledge base again:

“Dad, Dad, there’s one name in the memoir you gave me that I just can’t get around.”

"What name?"

"Zhang Anping!" the little guy exclaimed curiously.
"This name seems to be associated with the entire Military Intelligence Bureau and the Bureau of Investigation and Statistics. By the way, I've noticed that when you watch TV dramas, you often stare blankly at the actor who plays Zhang Anping."

"He is indeed a name that cannot be erased from the hidden front," the middle-aged man said slowly.

"In July 1936—at the age of eighteen, he returned to the United States..."

The middle-aged man recounts the life story of a man named Zhang Anping.

They talked for a very long time.

"This person was really amazing during the War of Resistance Against Japan." The little guy listened attentively from beginning to end, and after his father finished telling the story, the little guy commented:
"But by the time of the Liberation War, he was no better than the Kuomintang army."

The middle-aged man laughed and said, "Haha, you're right, it's no use anymore."

The little guy continued his commentary: "Although this person had a firm stance during the War of Resistance Against Japan, his actions did not make him a friend of the people."

The middle-aged man did not answer.

The little one asked curiously, "Daddy, is he dead? He must be dead, right?"

The middle-aged man said meaningfully:
"Some people are dead, but they live on; "

Some people are alive, but they are dead;
Some people live, and will live on forever, until people rediscover them.

The little guy couldn't understand, so he curiously asked about all sorts of interesting things related to the intelligence front.

Middle-aged people say:

"There are so many interesting stories like these! Let me tell you about them slowly..."

"The Soviets sent the American embassy a listening device without any electronic equipment, which used the principle of resonance to eavesdrop—isn't that a very clever method?"

"That's brilliant! So brilliant, the Americans will never find out!"

"The Americans didn't notice it at first, but as too much intelligence was leaked, they became suspicious—so they sent out a very, very capable advisor, who finally discovered the problem."

"But what's even more impressive is that he held back until the day when the Americans were being criticized by the Soviets, and then the Americans pulled out this thing."

The little guy exclaimed, "Wow, that was brilliant!"

"And there's more—the Americans developed a nuclear submarine, which was originally a highly classified project, but a very hardcore toy factory produced a toy of a nuclear submarine in real scale, based on its structure."

"This toy had an extremely important impact on our country's nuclear submarine program."

The little guy exclaimed in surprise, "Wow, there's such a thing!"

"Not only that—there was a really bad guy who betrayed us. He probably had some very, very important information, and as a result, he drowned in the bathtub while being protected by an intelligence agency."

The middle-aged man looked longingly at him: "There are many, many such stories. Dad will tell you about them slowly, and you must listen carefully."

The sea breeze kept blowing, carrying the conversation between the father and son far, far away.

Not far from the father and son, a reclusive and eccentric old man stood frozen in place, like a stone.

He would only get up and leave after the middle-aged man and his child had left.

Top floor suite.

Whenever the old man returned after listening to the story, he would open a locked cabinet and reveal a series of urns containing ashes.

Then, he would repeat it patiently:

"us……"

“It has never been forgotten.”

"We'll be going home soon."

……

The cruise ship passed the Ryukyu Islands and finally entered China's territorial waters.

Still on the deck, the middle-aged man who had been telling stories to the child was no longer with the adorable little boy. Instead, he went straight to the old man and looked at him solemnly:

Welcome home.

The old man sized up the middle-aged man and asked softly, "You... your surname is Zheng?"

"Correct."

The old man asked slowly, "Is your grandfather's name...?"

The middle-aged man shook his head, interrupting the old man:

"My name is Zheng Yingqi."

The old man froze on the spot.

The middle-aged man said something inexplicable: "He is me, but he is more than just me."

The old man smiled with relief. "We already have a system, why would we care about this?"

He smiled and said to the middle-aged man, "Thank you for your story."

That's not a story.

No—that's the story.

“You’re wrong, that’s not a story!” The old man laughed and pointed to himself: “I guess I’m getting old, lately… I like to laugh a lot.”

The middle-aged man said earnestly:
"A few years ago, one of my retired comrades wrote a sentence from a base into his story, which was eventually made into a TV series and became very popular."

The old man retorted, "Am I a special forces soldier?" Before the middle-aged man could answer, the old man began to complain:
"This IP address has a terrible history!"

The middle-aged man looked at the old man speechlessly. You really have a lot on your mind!

As if sensing the middle-aged man's thoughts, the old man replied:

"I'm getting old, and I have too much free time, so I'll look for ways to have fun."

"Your way of having fun is truly unique."

"You must learn to respect the elderly! If that's not possible, then respect your benefactors—don't forget how you caused me trouble in the first place!"

The middle-aged man thought of the time he went to Shanghai to "recognize fellow villagers" and couldn't help but laugh.

He pointed into the distance:
"We'll be in Shanghai soon."

The old man gazed into the distance, just as he had ninety years ago:
"Shanghai……"

……

That year, I returned to Shanghai.

"At that time, I wondered, when will I be able to see that confident Shanghai again!"

"Ninety years,"

"Ninety years! My wish has finally come true!"

The middle-aged man acting as the driver listened patiently to the old man's rambling, but he wasn't a good listener; for example, he would occasionally argue with the old man on purpose.

Just like now:

"I heard you own a lot of properties in Shanghai—how about I take you to the government office?"

"And then, I'll become Zhang Bancheng, a guy who collects rent every day?"

"Never mind what I said!" The middle-aged man admitted defeat in the argument.

New energy vehicles are constantly shuttling through the streets of Shanghai for three consecutive days.

The middle-aged man finally "complained":
"I can't take it anymore, how come you seem to be getting more and more energetic?"

"I can't get enough of looking at it!" The old man gazed longingly at the tall buildings outside.

In his distant memory, he once stood before towering buildings and could only marvel at the development of his motherland.

But in his twilight years, he could never get enough of looking at things.

At that moment, the middle-aged man's phone flashed. After glancing at it, he said seriously, "Shall I take you to a good place?"

The old man glared at him: "Hey—you really don't treat old people like old people?"

The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment before he realized what was happening:
"Holy crap! You! You! You! You!"

"What are you thinking?!" The old man rolled his eyes. "I mean, I'm tired—what are you thinking?! Pah!"

That spit didn't reveal any sign of fatigue.

The middle-aged man was furious. "I was transported to the War of Resistance against Japan and you 'dealt with' me. Now I'm young and strong, and you don't have much time left. How dare you bully me!"

So the middle-aged man stubbornly insisted:

"I absolutely insist that you go!"

Kunshan Road.

A group of people gathered here, and countless mobile phones were filming—the person being filmed was an old man who looked very old, even older than the energetic old man in the car who could still spit.

The old man, carrying a wreath, walked step by step to a corner, where he solemnly placed the wreath down and performed a standard Japanese bow.

Inside the car, the middle-aged man explained the situation:

"The old man's name was Matsumoto Jiro. He was just a kid when the Battle of Shanghai broke out. At that time, there was an armed man from our side lurking next to his house. The old man saw him and reported him to the Japanese armed civilian protection team. The armed man was killed."

He was shot to death!

"Look, he's come back now to repent for his mistakes, saying it's all the war's fault."

The elderly man, who had seemed lazy, suddenly became quite energetic. Despite being a centenarian, he moved with surprising agility. He pushed open the door and strode into the crowd, pushing his way to the front. A security guard tried to stop him, but upon seeing that he was an old man he didn't want to mess with, he quickly made way.

The old man walked to the wreath, pushed it over, and stepped on it. Then, staring at the astonished Japanese man, he asked:

"Little guy, you're Matsumoto Jiro? Your father's name is Matsumoto Masao, right?!"

"Yes! And who are you, sir?"

"Pah!" The old man spat directly: "Eighty-six years ago, I looked at your file, and after holding back for so long, I finally burned it!"

"I never expected that after 86 years, you would still hypocritically come here to repent?"

"My soldier, I'll make the decisions for him—it's just three words:"
"I won't forgive!"

Matsumoto Jiro's Chinese was excellent, and he didn't misunderstand the old man's meaning, but he still remained stunned for a long time, all because of three words:

My soldiers!
If he remembered correctly, that person... his superior's superior, was named...

Zhang Shih-hao?
Matsumoto Jiro exclaimed in disbelief, "You are... Zhang Shih-hao?!"

The old man didn't answer, but paused in his steps, turned around and gave Matsushiro a cold smile.

Matsumoto Jiro was terrified, breaking out in a cold sweat. That name was a source of deep fear for too many Japanese people of that era…

The name Zhang Shih-hao caused a stir in the crowd, but most people didn't realize what it meant until someone searched it on Baidu and exclaimed in surprise:
"Zhang Shih-hao is Zhang Anping! He's Zhang Anping from the Military Intelligence Bureau!!"

crazy!

The crowd went crazy, and they immediately released the footage they had taken.

The name that they often saw in spy dramas and movies suddenly appeared before their eyes!

It must be released!

then……

Then they received a bunch of violations...

Inside the car, the middle-aged man gave the elderly man a thumbs-up:
"Still going strong despite your age!"

The old man remained silent, his thoughts clearly drifting back to that distant era.

After a long while, he finally sighed, "It wasn't easy..."

"It really wasn't easy!"

Fourteen years of resistance against Japan, eight years of full-scale resistance against Japan – these are eleven words in total.

But this is the result that a nation fought for with countless lives!

The middle-aged man nodded emphatically. Having personally experienced that era, he knew that the word "easy" was never associated with that time.

Even the person in front of me provided more support for that period of time.

But it's too difficult!
That era was so difficult!

"One last place I'll take you—"

"Alright! I'd like to see how many surprises you can give me."

……

This is a house that looks like it has been through a long time.

"When that Chief Qian passed away, she kept calling out your name. She said that not being able to leave you behind was her biggest regret."

"She instructed my superior that you must be brought back."

The middle-aged man said quietly:
"Later, my commander passed away. He told me that he would definitely wait for my return."

Even if it is...

"A handful of ashes."

"Thankfully, I caught you."

"It's still alive."

The elderly man solemnly and respectfully followed the middle-aged man into a room, where he was greeted by a series of bright, colorful photographs, the people in which were lifelike.

They are laughing.

The old man stepped forward, and looking at the faces he had longed for day and night, he finally couldn't hold back his tears.
"Old Zheng!"

"Old Xu!"

"Old Cen!"

"Sister Chai!"

"Sister Qian!"

"Ming Lou!"

He read out each name one by one.

He greedily stroked the face in the photograph, but the only response he received was the unchanging smile.

After a long while, the middle-aged man said:

“We restored the photos they left behind using a computer—Old Zhang, take a look at this; this is something they specially left for you.”

A faded photograph was handed to the old man.

In the photo, there are two rows of people sitting and standing, but there is an empty seat in the middle.

This is……

They left it to him!

The old man gently stroked the photo and reached out his hand, asking, "Where's the restored version?"

The middle-aged man then took out three more photos.

The first picture is a "restored version" of this photo. The empty space is occupied by a young man with a cold face. Although his face is cold, you can see the passion in his eyes, which are burning like flames.

The second photo is a group photo of three people: two men and one woman, all dressed in New Fourth Army uniforms, with incredibly bright smiles. The background is a house.

The old man stroked the photo for a long time before asking:
"Is it a restored version? I remember... we burned the photos and negatives."

The middle-aged man replied, “When I was young, I visited Chief Zheng with our battalion commander. He told us in detail about the layout when the photo was taken and instructed us that if the technology were ever able to restore the photo, we must do so.”

He said the photos might not be shown to others, but they must be kept.

The old man silently and slowly put the photo away, treating it as a priceless treasure.

When the last photo was turned over, the old man was stunned.

The photo shows an officer wearing a Type 55 military dress uniform, who looks exactly like him when he was young.

And the stars on his military uniform are exactly the same as Li Yunlong's!
The old man was stunned: "This is..."

"The photo is a composite, but the content is real!"

The old man's eyes welled up with tears once again.

He stared at the photo, unwilling to look away for a long, long time.

He carefully put the photo into his pocket and solemnly told the middle-aged man:
"You must watch over me the whole time on the day I am cremated."

The middle-aged man fell silent, and he couldn't help but recall the words he hadn't uttered on the cruise ship:
Your names may be unknown, but your deeds will live on forever!
"Here, there is another gift."

The middle-aged man solemnly took out a small box, opened it, and inside lay an ID card quietly.

The old man's hands began to tremble at this moment.

He reached out and slowly picked up the ID card, examining it carefully.

Name: Zhang Anping.

Gender: Male.

Ethnicity: Han.

Born: May 28, 1916.

The photo shows him looking old.

After examining it for a long time, the old man couldn't help but kiss the document that proved his identity.

I am Chinese!
This is my identification!

The middle-aged man turned his head away and quietly wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes.

After a long while, seeing that the old man had calmed down, the middle-aged man said:
"And... one last gift."

"Is this the last one? Actually..." the old man said playfully, "I can have a few more. I can handle it."

The middle-aged man gave the old man a deep look, silently pressed a button, and explained:

"I called the doctor—the doctor will come right away if you can't hold on any longer!"

The old man roared, "Who do you think you are! Where are your things?!"

What hasn't he seen in the world?

Ok?
I was just excited to see a photo of my old comrade-in-arms—what gift could possibly make me lose my composure!
impossible!
“Here it is—” The middle-aged man, with an indescribable solemnity, slowly opened the box:

"It was left to you by Chief Qian."

Inside was a calligraphy scroll.

He slowly opened the characters, and a magnificent and powerful text unfolded.

The old man couldn't help but read it aloud:

"The wind and rain send spring away, and the flying snow welcomes spring."

Even on a cliff of ice a hundred feet high, a flower branch still blooms beautifully.

It is beautiful but does not vie for spring's favor; it simply announces spring's arrival.

When the mountain flowers are in full bloom, she smiles amidst them.

As he finished uttering the last word, tears welled up in his eyes. (End of Chapter)