Solving the case: Combining the police dog's olfactory genes at the beginning

Luo Fei glanced at the F35, then looked down at the live stream on his phone screen. The number of online viewers had already surpassed 70 million, and the scrolling comments were so fast that the content was completely illegible to the naked eye. The number of viewers was still growing at a rate of millions per minute.

He pressed the communication button.

"I heard it."

He only said two words.

Then he smiled at the camera in the live stream.

The smile was very light, as light as a ripple left on the surface of water by the wind.

But everyone watching the live stream saw that smile—on that scarred, angular, and utterly ordinary face, that smile was like a crack, allowing everyone to glimpse something deep within his heart that was so resolute it was moving.

Luo Fei stared at the frantically jumping numbers on his phone screen, momentarily at a loss for words.

Seventy-three million.

This number is still rising at a visible rate, increasing by hundreds of thousands every time it is refreshed.

He originally thought that he was just going to go live to make things clear and prevent the Dali Division from shooting him down before he flew out of the Great Xia's airspace. He never expected that so many people would watch.

What was even more unexpected was that after listening to him, these people not only didn't scold him, but instead sent him gifts.

The colorful special effects on the screen had completely obscured the bullet screen area. The battle for the top spot between Boss Xin and Boss Sun continued, with the Kunpeng Wanli special effects popping out one after another, like fireworks that never stopped.

Luo Fei frowned. He wasn't familiar with the gift-giving mechanisms of these live-streaming platforms, but he could still understand those strings of numbers—1.6 million, 2.4 million, 4.8 million, and 7.2 million.

This amount of money is more than an average person could earn in a lifetime, but these people just casually threw it in like they were throwing virtual currency in a game.

"Stop swiping."

Luo Fei said something to the camera, his tone carrying a hint of awkwardness.

The comments section erupted in laughter.

"Hahaha, Captain Luo, sorry!"

"This is the first time I've seen a streamer tell viewers not to send gifts."

"Captain Luo, why are you bothering with them? We're just watching the big shots fight."

"Boss Xin and General Manager Sun are really at odds, aren't they? Hilarious!"

Luo Fei looked at the comments and his lips twitched. He wanted to say something but didn't know how.

He's not the type of person who's good at interacting with strangers, especially when tens of millions of people are watching him at the same time, and every word he says will be screenshotted, forwarded, analyzed, and amplified.

He paused for two seconds, then decided to ignore the tips and just say what he had to say.

"I'm not doing this live stream to make money."

His voice was still the same calm tone, neither high nor low, neither hurried nor slow, "I just want to make things clear, so that those people from the Dali Division can't accuse me of treason."

My Luo family has three generations: my grandfather fought the Japanese, my parents sacrificed their lives fighting drugs, and in my generation, it's impossible for me to betray my country.

He paused here, glancing out the porthole. The two F-35s were still flying in formation on either side, so close that they could see the reflection on the other pilots' helmets.

The Japanese pilot was repeatedly calling out on the general channel. His voice came through the radio headset, and he spoke broken Chinese, but it was clearly reading from a script.

"B-7788, you have entered Japanese airspace. You have entered Japanese airspace. Change course immediately. Change course immediately. I repeat, you have entered Japanese airspace—"

Luo Fei turned the radio volume down, and the sound became a buzzing background noise in the headphones, like a fly buzzing in his ear.

Then he looked back at his phone screen, took a deep breath, and his expression suddenly softened. That softening came so suddenly, like a crack opening in a glacier, releasing warm water.

"Wife," he said to the camera, "are you watching?"

The live chat exploded instantly.

"?????"

"Holy crap, Captain Luo got married?!"

"Has a wife???"

"Ahhhhh, he's so gentle when he talks about his wife!"

"Captain Luo, when did you get married? Oh my god!"

Luo Fei ignored the comments; his gaze drifted, as if he were looking far, far away behind the camera. There, a woman might be holding her phone, perhaps crying, perhaps cursing him, perhaps both.

He knew he had wronged her; from the moment he decided to go to the land of cherry blossoms, he knew he had wronged her.

But he had to go.

“I know you’re probably scolding me,” Luo Fei’s voice lowered, carrying a sense of guilt that he only showed to his closest people. “You’re probably saying I’ve acted recklessly again, doing things without consulting you.”

But I really can't discuss this with you, because if I did, you definitely wouldn't let me go, and I have to go anyway.

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down once.

"I haven't told you that I can fly a plane. It's not that I deliberately kept it from you, but I felt there was no need to tell you."

I learned it when I was in the army. I've flown transport planes, helicopters, and fixed-wing aircraft. This is my first time flying the Gulfstream, but the principle is similar, and it's not difficult to fly.

Don't worry about me falling. I've been in the army since I was eighteen, and I've flown more planes than you've ridden buses."

The comments section erupted in laughter again, but the laughter was mixed with many words of sympathy.

"Is Captain Luo making his final arrangements with his wife?"

"Don't say that, I'm crying."

"Don't worry, sister-in-law, Captain Luo will definitely be back."

"What do you mean 'more than the buses you've ridden,' hahaha, Captain Luo, you're finished! You're going to be kneeling on a washboard when you get home!"

Luo Fei seemed to realize that what he said was a bit inappropriate, and the corners of his mouth unconsciously curved slightly, but that curve quickly disappeared, replaced by a deeper seriousness.

"I'm going to Japan to find someone. Once I find them and get to the bottom of things, I'll be back. It might take three to five days, or ten days to half a month. Don't worry, I'm not going to die. I haven't had enough time with you yet, I won't die."

He spoke with remarkable calmness, as if he were simply remarking on the pleasant weather. But it was precisely this calmness that evoked a profound sadness in everyone watching the live stream.

A man shouting to his wife in front of tens of millions of people, saying, "I will come back, I will not die"—this in itself shows that he is about to do something extremely dangerous, so dangerous that he himself is not 100% sure he will come back alive.

"So Captain Luo has a wife."

"And they sound like they have a very good relationship."

"Why can't the country handle such a dangerous task? Why does one person have to go alone?"

"Didn't you see what's ahead, upstairs? There's a mole in the Dali Division; he can't get back." "Captain Luo, how old is your child?"

"Asking the same question as the child"

When Luo Fei saw someone asking about children in the live chat, he instinctively replied, "Children? I don't have any children yet."

The live chat exploded again.

"No children yet?! How old is your wife then?"

"Captain Luo, do you think I'm suitable?"

"Wake up, upstairs! Captain Luo has a wife."

"Wishing Captain Luo a speedy arrival and the arrival of his healthy baby boy!"

Luo Fei was both amused and exasperated by the comments. He shook his head and said, "You guys are really something—where did you all hear the point I just made? I said I was going to Japan for revenge, and you're all concerned about whether I have children?"

The barrage of comments went even more enthusiastically.

"We can't help with revenge, we can only offer our concern for your personal lives."

"Captain Luo, you may not be the most handsome man, but your personal charm is incredible."

"I want to have Captain Luo's babies."

"Line up, line up, one at a time."

Luo Fei completely gave up on trying to reason with the comments. He looked up and glanced at the navigation screen.

The plane had already crossed the median line of the East China Sea, and the coastline of Japan's mainland was becoming increasingly clear. The terrain outline of southern Honshu Island was clearly drawn on the navigation screen—the Izu Peninsula, Sagami Bay, the Miura Peninsula, and further north was Tokyo Bay.

His destination was not Tokyo, but further west, across the Kanto Plain, over the Kofu Basin, and all the way to the foot of that iconic volcano in Nagashi Prefecture.

Fuji Mountain.

That volcano, which had been dormant for over three hundred years, was the destination of his flight.

Luo Fei took his phone off the stand, flipped the lens over, and pointed it at the view outside the windshield.

“Look for yourselves,” he said, “the land of cherry blossoms is just ahead.”

The live stream switched from showing Luo Fei's face to showing the scenery outside the cockpit.

From an altitude of 10,000 meters, the East China Sea gradually changed from deep blue to light green closer to the land. The distant coastline stretched across the sky like a thin gray line, becoming wider and clearer as the plane approached.

The mountain ranges of Honshu Island are faintly visible through the thin mist, with the snow-capped peak of Mount Fuji standing like a white thumbtack atop the mountains, reflecting a dazzling light under the sun.

On either side of this landscape, two F-35s, like two metallic blades, are pressed against the blue sky. The vortices at their wingtips leave two white trails in the air, extending parallel to the Gulfstream G650ER's flight path, like three railway tracks that will never intersect.

"See those two planes?" Luo Fei's voice came from off-screen. "The Japanese Air Self-Defense Force's F-35s took off from Hyakuri Air Base to intercept me. They've been hailing me, telling me to change course, saying I've entered Japanese airspace."

The discussion in the comments section immediately shifted from Luo Fei's private life to international law and military issues.

"Japan's airspace? That can't be right. According to international law, this area might not be Japan's airspace."

"Is there anyone knowledgeable in international law who can explain this to me?"

"On what right does Japan intercept a plane from Great Xia?"

"Wait, I remember there are special regulations regarding the airspace of Japan."

Soon, some more professional comments appeared in the live chat. A user with the ID "International Pharaoh Senior" posted a rather long comment, which was automatically split into several segments by the system due to its length.

"Let me explain something to everyone. According to the unconditional surrender signed by Japan in 1945 and a series of postwar international agreements, Japan's sovereign territory was strictly limited to the four main islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu, and Shikoku, as well as a few smaller islands designated by the Allied powers. This did not include the Ryukyu Islands in the East China Sea or any more distant islands. Furthermore, according to postwar regulations, Japan's airspace control was not entirely independent—"

The comment was immediately copied and shared by countless people, and the screen was instantly filled with information about the unconditional surrender document. More people began to add details.

"In other words, the Great Xia aircraft's flight over the East China Sea does not violate Japan's airspace at all."

"Japan's air defense identification zone is not the same as its territorial airspace. Air defense identification zones are unilaterally established and are not recognized under international law."

"Furthermore, many people are unaware that the airspace over Tokyo, the capital of Japan, is still under US jurisdiction, and Japanese aircraft need US approval to fly over Tokyo."

"Really? Tokyo's airspace is under US jurisdiction?"

"It's true, according to the post-war treaties, Japan still doesn't have complete airspace sovereignty."

"No wonder Captain Luo dared to fly there directly; he must know these things."

"How could Captain Luo, with his military background, not understand these things?"

"Even if Japan has no right to shoot it down, what happens after it flies over? Japan's ground-based air defense forces don't care about that."

Luo Fei watched the discussion in the live chat without saying a word. Although these netizens' analyses had some minor discrepancies, the general direction was correct.

According to the provisions of the postwar international legal system, Japan's airspace sovereignty is indeed strictly limited, especially in the vast airspace of the East China Sea. Japan's aircraft have a full legal basis to fly in international airspace, and Japan's air defense identification zone does not have the effect of international law.

The problem is that international law is international law, and reality is reality. When you fly a plane into a country's territory under its actual control, whether or not the other side talks about international law is a completely different matter.

The truth lies only within the range of cannons; this is not just a saying.

The number of viewers in the live stream surged again after Luo Fei turned the camera out the window.

New viewers who had just entered the live stream immediately realized that this was not a game screen or movie special effects, but a real and significant event, when they saw the real sea view outside the cockpit and the F-35 fighter jets on both sides.

"Holy crap, is this really flying?! I thought it was special effects!"

"Newcomer, don't doubt your eyes, this is really Luo Fei flying a plane towards Japan."

"The F-35 on the left is so close, I can even see the pilot's face."

"How many people are online? I just checked, it seems to be close to 93 million."

"It's already at 93 million and it's still rising."

"This number has broken the record for all live streaming platforms nationwide, guys!"

"From today onwards, Luo Fei will be the number one streamer on the entire internet. Who dares to disagree?"

"How much did you tip?"

"I just glanced at it, and Boss Xin and Boss Sun have already spent nearly 20 million together. Adding in the others, it's almost 30 million."

"Over thirty million??? Holy crap, I could never earn that much money in my entire life!"

"Captain Luo, you should just retire when you get back. This reward is enough for you to live on for a lifetime." (End of Chapter)