An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 289 Interview
The next day at noon, the sun was blazing, making the cement ground in front of the field hospital scorching hot. Meng Youyou, clutching the reception manual she had just received the day before, waited there early in the morning.

Her gaze remained fixed on the muddy road at the entrance, worn smooth by trucks.

Finally, a military green jeep drove in, kicking up clouds of dust.

After the vehicle came to a stop, the door opened with a "bang," and the first person to get out of the back seat was a foreign man with deep features, a head of fluffy light brown curly hair, blue eyes, and a high nose. These features are especially common among foreigners, and can even be described as somewhat stereotypical.

Following closely behind was a blond man who looked significantly younger, carrying a black tool bag over one shoulder. Apart from being taller, he had the same blue eyes and high nose that were easily confused with the previous man.

But Meng Youyou immediately recognized the "protagonist" among them—John Bart, who was walking in front. She had specifically looked up his information beforehand; he was a man of considerable importance, working for the well-known international mainstream newspaper, The New York Times.

Putting all that aside, he personally has won numerous international journalism awards, enjoys a prestigious reputation, and wields immense influence.

What further drew Meng Youyou's attention to him was a core accusation he published in the New York Times a month earlier, a rare instance of him daring to name names and offering sharp insights.

"Mr. Bart, hello, you must be tired from your journey." Meng Youyou suppressed her chaotic thoughts, quickly stepped forward, put on a polite smile, and steadily extended her right hand. "I am Meng Youyou, and I am here to accompany you on this hospital visit."

John Bart paused for half a second, not immediately returning the handshake. He first raised his hand to smooth the light brown curly hair on his head, then his fingertips gently pinched the brim of his khaki leather flat cap and pressed it down.

At the same time, a pair of blue eyes quickly swept across Meng Youyou's face, then down to her clothes, lingering briefly on the tips of her shoes, which were slightly dusty.

After completing this series of subtle movements, the man finally smiled, reached out to shake hands, and spoke in a melodious voice with the characteristic enthusiasm of the West: "My beautiful lady, your English is astonishingly fluent!"

"Mr. Bart, you flatter me." Meng Youyou withdrew her hand without batting an eye, the smile on her lips remaining unchanged, and her tone still steady.

“This place is much farther than I imagined; it took quite a bit of time to get here.” John Bart looked up and surveyed the dilapidated old building in front of him.

His gaze returned to Meng Youyou's face, and he continued, "Business is important, so please take me directly to the ward, Miss Meng."

As the brown-haired man spoke, he slung the camera hanging from his arm around his neck, the metal chain clinking softly against his chest.

He leaned forward slightly, a hint of urgency in his blue eyes. "I think the wounded who have returned from the battlefield can best reflect the true details and circumstances. I can't wait to see them and talk to them."

“Okay.” Meng Youyou turned to the side and gestured with her hand, “Please follow me.”

……

Meng Youyou led the two up the stairs to the third floor.

Prior to this, John Bart had visited several wards on the second floor, and the questions he asked were mostly routine and professional, even fair.

The third floor mainly houses patients with complex blast injuries. The interviewee selected for this ward is an engineering soldier.

Just a few minutes after entering the ward, John Bart's assistant suddenly clutched his stomach, looking pained.

Meng Youyou, standing to the side, happened to hear him report to John Bart in a moderately loud but restrained voice: "Mr. Bart, I... I feel a bit unwell. I think I ate something bad because of the change in environment. I need to go to the restroom first."

Upon hearing this, John Bart did not immediately respond to his assistant, but instead turned to look at Meng Youyou with a questioning look in his eyes.

When Meng Youyou met the gaze directed at her, she first nodded slightly, then gently reminded her assistant in a friendly tone, "Turn right after you go out, walk to the end, and the restroom is on your left."

After a minor, insignificant incident, the interview continued smoothly, and the process was largely completed, with the interview soon reaching the halfway point.

John Bart sat in a chair, holding a brown leather notebook in his left hand, resting it on his knee with the pages open, and a metal pen in his right hand, the cap on the end of the pen barrel.

The man occasionally lowered his head to write notes in his notebook, then looked up and continued asking questions methodically: "Before you were injured, did your mission scope include both mine clearance and mine laying operations?"

After Meng Youyou translated, the soldier replied, "Yes."

John Bart: "I have been to many war-torn countries and even been to the front lines myself. In my experience, engineers are among the most dangerous jobs in any combat unit. For example, even seemingly basic tasks like mine laying are risky."

As he recounted his past experiences, the brown-haired man silently moved the tape recorder forward a little, then asked, "Have you ever encountered a situation where you accidentally injured your own people during a Bray mission?"

Upon hearing the question, the soldier paused for a moment, then met Meng Youyou's gaze for two seconds. Seeing that she didn't react much, he honestly answered, "Yes, I have."

At first glance, this question seemed abrupt, and Meng Youyou's immediate reaction was actually very similar to that of the sapper. However, upon closer examination, it was difficult to find fault with it. Since it didn't involve military secrets or fall into the category of politically sensitive issues, Meng Youyou chose not to intervene and instead translated it as it was.

A few minutes later, the interview came to an end. Meng Youyou led John Bart to the next ward, and then the ward after that…

John Bart basically made the decisions about which ward to go to and which wounded soldier to interview, which was perfectly reasonable. As a seasoned journalist, he would have his own pre-planned topics and interview outlines.

But a strange, inexplicable feeling lingered in Meng Youyou's heart—was he talking to the engineers more deeply and in detail? Were the angles he used to ask some questions slightly tricky? Was he more focused and engaged? More interested?

However, compared to other military branches, it seems more like going through the motions, a performance of focus?
The differences are extremely subtle. When he spoke with each interviewee, the questions he asked were basically the same, and the interview time was also kept to a very consistent level.

It's hard to say, really hard to explain. This nonsensical conjecture has absolutely no reliable basis; it's purely Meng Youyou's intuition. It's more like a neurotic delusion she had while on high alert.

Meng Youyou couldn't figure out whether she was being too paranoid or should trust her instincts; this contradictory feeling kept pulling at her.

As Meng Youyou led her people into the newest ward, she seemed to see John Bart step across the threshold, his gaze quickly scanning the room, and his eyes suddenly brightening for a moment when they landed on one of the beds.

It was at this moment that the feeling of being manipulated and led by the nose surged up again for no reason, even more intensely.

Meng Youyou paused, then followed the man's gaze—a young soldier lay on the hospital bed, his torso and limbs tightly wrapped in thick gauze, like a plaster statue that had been broken and painstakingly pieced back together. Only the edges of the gauze and his face revealed small patches of skin, covered with hundreds of dark red, fine, dot-like wounds. These wounds were both independent and overlapping, so dense that there wasn't a single patch of intact skin.

One can only imagine what a shocking scene must have been hidden beneath the gauze.
She thought that after so many days of hardship, she had witnessed the most brutal side of war and seen all sorts of horrific scenes.

In the end, she discovered that what she had glimpsed was only the tip of the iceberg; there was much more extreme suffering she had never witnessed.

Meng Youyou was still reeling from the visual shock and emotional trauma. In less than two seconds, John Bart had already passed Meng Youyou and walked ahead, his steps slightly hurried, heading straight for the hospital bed. After taking a few steps, the man seemed to suddenly realize something, and his pace subtly slowed down, returning to its previous steady and composed manner.

Seeing this, Meng Youyou, who was walking behind, frowned slightly, as if an invisible finger had plucked a string in her heart.

Meng Youyou followed, and as usual, pulled up a chair and placed it by the bed, while she stood to the left and behind John Bart.

This is an infantryman who was wounded after stepping on a landmine.

Meng Youyou stood there, her lips pressed tightly together, and she couldn't muster the courage to look up at the person on the hospital bed.

Although her emotions were inevitably affected, Meng Youyou knew she had to stay calm and think clearly at all times. While ensuring she could translate in a timely and accurate manner, her brain was also working at high speed, as she had too many fragments of information to process.

The scene she had just caught by chance kept replaying in her mind—the fleeting surprise, even excitement, in John Bart's eyes as he entered the room; she was certain she hadn't seen wrong.

This... inexplicably reminded Meng Youyou of a classic scene from the movie "The Roman Diary" she had seen—at a press conference at the embassy, ​​after answering reporters' questions, Princess Anne suddenly stepped down from the stage and shook hands with each of the reporters present. When it was Joe's turn, she looked at him affectionately, her eyes swirling with emotion, but she only shook hands with him briefly and lightly before turning to shake hands with the next person, seemingly without anything special.

Meng Youyou referred to both of these looks as "giving away the secret".

Princess Anne's one glance made Meng Youyou understand the love she couldn't express. To hold one person's hand, Princess Anne held everyone's.

What about John Bart?

Through the layers of mist, Meng Youyou vaguely discerned a rough outline. What she could now be roughly certain of was that John Barth must have had a clever idea in his selection of interviewees.

He has specific target interviewees. And there must be some key element in these individuals that connects them.

But he clearly didn't want her to notice anything amiss, so he hid the target interviewees among today's group of interviewees, mixing them together in an attempt to deceive her.

However, what he most wanted to hide behind all this was his truest motive for this trip.

However, Meng Youyou had not yet figured out the mystery, so she dared not act rashly and could only pay closer attention to his every word and action to see if there was anything unusual.

The interview was proceeding as scheduled. John Bart, holding a notebook in his left hand and a pen in his right, leaned slightly forward and asked slowly and deliberately in a tone of inquiry and sympathy: “The landmine wounds on your body, both in appearance and severity, look extraordinary. I have been to many field hospitals around the world, and this type of injury is truly rare.”

He paused briefly, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over the wounds on the wounded soldier's exposed skin, before asking, "Could you tell me more specifically what that thing you came into contact with looked like?"

Landmines! More landmines!
A word suddenly popped into her mind, sending a jolt through her nerves, and alarm bells rang in Meng Youyou's heart. But she showed no outward sign of distress, seemingly oblivious to anything amiss, simply following his train of thought, translating in a steady, almost mechanical tone, devoid of any personal emotion. She diligently played the role of a low-profile but competent translator.

Seeing that his probing questions had gone smoothly and had not aroused the suspicion of the other party, the brown-haired man quietly dropped some of his pretense and became more direct in his question: "Can you tell me about the moment you stepped on the landmine? The environment at the scene, the way the explosion occurred, any detail could help outsiders understand this unique kind of damage."

Meng Youyou continued to comply.

After receiving the answer, the man immediately posed a vivid question: "What does it feel like when those high-speed projectiles hit you?"

During this time, the soldier on the hospital bed gave Meng Youyou a look that seemed to be asking for permission. Meng Youyou nodded slightly, indicating that he could speak.

At this stage of the development, Meng Youyou was basically certain that John Bart intended to make a fuss about "landmines".

But the fox's tail has not yet been fully revealed, so it would be premature to jump out and interfere at this moment.

The questioning he raised left ample room for debate; its controversial nature was negligible, and could be considered minor or major. In short, it lacked substance, making it difficult to conclude that the other party had ulterior motives.

If we forcefully interrupt at this point, we are very likely to be counter-attacked by the other party, who will accuse us of being overly sensitive and unfriendly, misinterpret their humanitarian concern, and leave us with nothing but the blame of "obstructing press freedom."

Therefore, she had to retreat strategically and wait for the right moment.

She waits, patiently and quietly hunting.

(End of this chapter)