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

Chapter 290 Grafting Story
From Meng Youyou's perspective, John Barth seemed mostly immersed in his carefully planned questioning rhythm. One question after another received the answers he expected, which revealed a hint of almost intoxicated self-satisfaction in his eyes and brows, a sense of pleasure that almost burst through his professional mask and overflowed.

But as a seasoned veteran of various international events, professional ethics cannot be easily abandoned. Towards the end, John Bart, his eyes filled with sorrow, concluded in a low but compelling tone: "Hearing this, I feel deeply pained. I think you, as a victim who has personally suffered harm, must wish that such inhumane weapons could disappear from the battlefield, right?"

After a moment's hesitation, Meng Youyou still chose to translate verbatim.

As her voice slowly unfolded, the man casually moved his chair closer to the bed, his posture naturally adjusting to create a small blind spot, so that Meng Youyou could no longer see his left hand from her position.

Upon seeing this, Meng Youyou's eyes darkened, and her neck almost reacted before her brain, instinctively wanting to stretch forward to investigate. Fortunately, reason prevailed in time, preventing her from losing her composure, and she continued speaking calmly and methodically.

At this hour, the sunlight outside was just right, streaming into the room and casting her shadow on the wall.

It could be said that her every move was under John Bart's watchful eye. Any immediate reaction she made to his actions would inevitably arouse his suspicion.

However, the man's left hand remained out of her monitoring range for an extended period, causing Meng Youyou great anxiety, which intensified over time.

Just as Meng Youyou was at her wit's end, a flying insect with green wings flew down from above, like a divine intervention, circling around her forehead. For the first time, Meng Youyou felt that the abundance of flying insects in this desolate wilderness was a good thing.

Meng Youyou immediately had a flash of inspiration. Using the motion of shooing away flying insects, she raised her hand above her head and tilted her head slightly. The movement was fluid and natural.

In a fleeting glance, Meng Youyou saw the man's right hand clenched into a fist, with a small section of a metal pen cap peeking out from the base of his thumb. Immediately, Meng Youyou returned to her previous posture, not daring to be too obvious.

Meng Youyou lowered her eyes, concealing the seriousness in them.

After a few seconds of contemplation, she discreetly raised her wrist, glanced at the watch face, and then looked up again. Seeing that John Bart showed no sign of stopping, Meng Youyou finally spoke up: "Mr. Bart, as you can see, our soldier's injuries are quite serious. He just spoke so much in one go, which has taken a toll on his body. I think if it's not absolutely necessary... perhaps we could let him rest?"

As she spoke, Meng Youyou leaned down slightly and asked the soldier on the hospital bed, "Do you need to rest now?" Her voice was gentle.

The soldier immediately understood. Due to his injuries, he nodded very slowly, his expression showing exhaustion, and said no more.

Meng Youyou immediately straightened up, turned to look at John Bart, her gaze fixed on him, her emotions hidden beneath the surface of the water.

John Bart also withdrew his gaze, the initial excitement on his face gradually fading, replaced by a faint melancholy. He did not answer immediately, but instead stared directly into Meng Youyou's eyes, his deep blue eyes revealing a cold scrutiny, as if trying to see through her calm exterior to her true thoughts.

The air slowly solidified in the silent standoff.

A few seconds later, he pursed his lips, shrugged his shoulders, and replied with a smile, "Of course, he needs to rest."

As he spoke, he closed his notebook and casually slipped the pen into his pocket. "I tend to lose track of time once I get into a working state, I'm so sorry. Thank you for reminding me, otherwise it would have been really inappropriate to disturb the patient's rest. After all, we all want him to get better as soon as possible, don't we?"

With a perfectly timed smile on her face, Meng Youyou nodded slightly, raised her right hand, palm facing the door, and gestured to lead the way: "I would be grateful if you could understand. Please follow me."

……

The two walked out of the ward one after the other. The corridor was still crowded with people. The wounded were resting on bed frames close to the wall, and nurses were pushing treatment carts through the room.

John Bart walked slowly, his blue eyes working like a scanner, his gaze lingering on each hospital bed and each wounded soldier before moving away.

Therefore, he did not notice that Meng Youyou took the opportunity to slip a few steps behind him. She reached out and grabbed a white-clad nurse who was passing by carrying a treatment tray, and quickly whispered a few words in her ear.

Having secretly finished all this, Meng Youyou didn't dare to delay and quickly began searching for the brown-haired man.

Soon, she saw John standing not far away, his eyes slightly narrowed as he stared intently at a hospital bed a few meters away, looking thoughtful. Meng Youyou glanced over and saw that, like the wounded soldier from before, he had dense dark red wounds all over his body, clearly caused by the same weapon.

Meng Youyou walked over quickly and reminded him, "Mr. Bart, the next ward is just ahead. Let's walk a little faster. The corridor is full of people and the passage is narrow. If we stand here, it will cause a blockage."

As she spoke, she subtly took a step forward, blocking the man's view.

Before he could answer, Meng Youyou turned around and led the way, not looking at John Bart's reaction again, her steps even and steady.

Only Meng Youyou herself knew that her heart was not as calm as it appeared. If she wasn't mistaken, the time John Bart had spent standing there in deep thought was when he was weighing the chances that suggesting she choose this person as the next or the one after that interview would arouse her suspicion. He was weighing the pros and cons and the risks.

However, Meng Youyou's appearance directly thwarted the feasibility of implementing that proposal, which had not yet been put forward.

In fact, by doing this, she shifted the risk of exposure to herself to some extent. It was a bit impetuous and not exactly safe. She was forced to step out of the comfort zone of being a silent and conservative observer.

He repeatedly thwarted the other party's plans, even using the most roundabout and indirect methods, always with seemingly reasonable excuses as cover. But once this happened too many times, even the most oblivious person would pick up on it, let alone someone as meticulous as John Barth.

The reason she was willing to take this risk and resort to this desperate measure was because Meng Youyou could vaguely sense that his plan seemed to be close to success, and that he had probably already gathered most of the materials he wanted to collect.
Meng Youyou realized that she couldn't gamble any longer.

……

In the ward, everything was as usual. John Bart sat in a chair conducting the interview, a metal pen between his fingers, while Meng Youyou stood quietly behind him.

During this time, Meng Youyou would occasionally turn her head slightly to look towards the door.

John Bart's voice drifted into his ears, his tone strange and stiff: "Do you want... to go home?" He was asking the wounded man in the hospital bed.

These words startled Meng Youyou. He was asking a question in broken Chinese all by himself, completely bypassing Meng Youyou.

The next second, the man continued in broken Chinese: "Do you yearn for peace? Do you hate war?"

Finally! The fox's tail could no longer be contained and was revealed in its entirety.

Meng Youyou couldn't help but sneer inwardly, as a chill crept up her spine inch by inch, penetrating her back.

John Bart's questions suddenly evolved to be naked and straightforward, without any preamble or subtlety. He almost abandoned all restraint, boldly bringing the conspiracy into the open.

This was far beyond Meng Youyou's expectations.

John Barthes's confidence stems from one simple possibility: the essential elements supporting the closed loop of his narrative logic are already in place. What he's striving for now is merely icing on the cake; its presence would be perfect, but its absence wouldn't prevent him from gracefully retiring.

This realization, without any deduction or doubt, was like a bucket of ice water poured over Meng Youyou's head, profoundly and thoroughly reminding her—you are now one step behind.

A slight difference is a thousand miles away.

What kind of vivid story can be woven together when these elements are gathered together: "internal casualties caused by improper operation during mine laying", "special mine wounds on wounded soldiers", and "war-weary soldiers"?
What kind of distorted and one-sided international image can it create?
How terrifying it is to think about!
How severe will its negative impact be?
Meng Youyou doesn't want to see this kind of plot unfold in reality tomorrow or the day after.

(End of this chapter)