You are ordered to support the War of Resistance against Japan; China enters Level 1 combat readines

"You're not planning to sell me out so you can get all the benefits yourself, are you?"

"No way!"

Gao Lan looked away a little guiltily, then playfully took her arm: "I'm your strategist, after all. If you really become successful, you won't forget me, will you?"

Upon hearing this, Lin Wanqing subconsciously glanced down at her best friend's long legs, which could charm most men, and felt inexplicably awkward. She then snorted.

Even if that day ever comes, she would never introduce her best friend to Shen Wang!

She's not that magnanimous!

Wait a minute... what am I thinking?!

Lin Wanqing shook her head violently, trying to clear her mind of these chaotic thoughts. She stood up and walked towards the bathroom, saying, "I'm not going to talk about this anymore. I'm going to take a shower; I stink."

Stepping into the bathroom and removing her smelly clothes, Lin Wanqing stood under the showerhead. The warm water flowed over her skin, but it couldn't wash away the chaotic thoughts in her mind.

She looked down at her body, and Gao Lan's words involuntarily came to mind.

"With your 36D, A4 waist, and peach-shaped butt, I don't believe any man wouldn't be attracted to you when you stand there."

"Maybe she really does have a crush on you?"

"Such a handsome guy, so many people would be willing to throw themselves at him but still wouldn't have a chance."

……

Lin Wanqing shook her wet hair, looked in the mirror at her face, which was flushed from the heat, and took a deep breath.

"Maybe... they just want me to apologize? After all, I really went too far that day."

She bit her lip, picked up her phone from the sink, opened her contacts, and found the number she had saved but never opened again.

She hesitated for a moment, but finally opened the text message. Her finger hovered over the screen for a while before she started typing, word by word.

"I am Lin Wanqing. I'm sorry, I said some harsh things at the coffee shop that day. I apologize. I hope you can forgive me."

Delete it.

It's too stiff.

"Hello Shen Wang, I'm Lin Wanqing, the one you went on a blind date with at the coffee shop that day. I've been regretting what happened that day. I was so rude. I'm really sorry."

Deleted again.

That's too wordy.

She took a deep breath and typed again:

"I am Lin Wanqing. I was wrong that day. I shouldn't have scolded you, and I shouldn't have walked away like that. I sincerely apologize to you. I'm sorry!"

My finger hovered over the send button for three seconds, then, with a determined effort, I pressed it.

The text message has been sent.

She felt like she had dropped a time bomb. She threw her phone on the sink, her heart pounding and her chest heaving.

One minute.

There was no movement.

She turned on the tap and pretended to wash her face.

three minutes.

Still nothing.

She picked up her phone, turned the screen brightness to maximum, and saw full signal strength, no outstanding bills, and no blocked notifications.

ten minutes.

She leaned against the sink, biting her lip, her eyes fixed on her phone screen.

half an hour.

The phone remained silent.

The apology text message seemed to sink without a trace, failing to cause even the slightest ripple.

Lin Wanqing's tears finally fell, mingling with the water droplets on her face, and rolled onto the phone screen.

"It's over... He won't even say a word of forgiveness."

"Will President Qin make me clean the men's restroom tomorrow?"

. . .

Jiaodong City, 1941.

The sea breeze from the harbor carried a salty, fishy smell, and in the distance, a 100,000-ton ocean-going giant was still unloading cargo.

"Oh, Mr. Shen, we finally meet again."

The German representative, von Richthofen, stood up warmly to greet him.

Even though he desperately wanted to tear this treacherous Chinese businessman to pieces, he had no choice but to put on a smiling face.

Shen Wang felt the same way; he wished he could kill the bastards of these powerful nations in front of him, but he had no choice but to give them a disgusting cheek kiss.

"Feng, long time no see!"

"All one hundred million field rations are here!"

Little Mustache had ordered 100 million rations, and under Qin Ran's pressure, they were all finally delivered.

This was a treasure worth a hundred tons of gold, and von Richthofen had to come and hand it over in person.

"Oh! That's wonderful!"

"Shen, you have no idea how bad the situation is at the front. The soldiers are eating hard, dark bread every day, and their complaints are piling up like mountains. If I don't bring back this batch of rations soon, those guys will probably throw them to feed the polar bears."

Shen Wang smiled and changed the subject: "Speaking of which, in addition to these 100 million rations, I also prepared some small gifts as a token of my appreciation for the soldiers on the front lines."

Upon hearing the word "gift," von Richthofen shuddered violently, as if pricked by a needle, and his smile froze.

Back then, it was this smiling Chinese businessman in front of me who used a few boxes of free food samples to pry open the empire's safe and extort 100 tons of gold.

Now he's talking about "gifts"?

Von Richthofen almost instinctively took a half-step back, waving his hands in front of his chest repeatedly: "No, no, no, Shen, I appreciate your kindness, but the gift is unnecessary! Really, it's not necessary!"

His voice even carried a hint of pleading.

God is my witness, he didn't come here to do business. He just wanted to safely transport those 100 million rations back to Berlin, then retreat to his estate in Munich and never hear the name "Shen Mingyuan" again in his life.

Shen Wang raised an eyebrow, a hint of regret on his face, and sighed, "Alright then, what a pity. Since you're not interested, I'll just give them all to Big Beard."

"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you, the bearded man has already taken the gifts."

"What?"

von Richthofen's expression changed instantly.

Did the Soviets accept Shen Wang's gift?

That damn bastard!

Didn't we agree that "the sugar-coated bullets of imperialism cannot penetrate the iron will of the Bolsheviks"?

"Shen, I was just joking."

von Richthofen took a deep breath, his face looking as if he had just swallowed a live fly.

"How could we refuse a gift from a friend? Friendship is the most valued thing in the German Empire."

Shen Wang laughed heartily and patted him heavily on the shoulder: "That's more like it! I knew Feng was a straightforward person! Come on, I'll show you around."

He turned and walked toward the other side of the dock, with von Richthofen following behind, his steps heavy as if filled with lead.

Several German adjutants exchanged bewildered glances and quickly followed, each with a tragic expression on their face, as if they were about to be slaughtered again.

A large warehouse on the north side of the dock was temporarily requisitioned. When the iron gate was opened, the scene inside stunned von Richthofen.

It wasn't the mountain of weapons he had imagined, but rows of neat shelves, categorized and displaying all sorts of things he had never seen before.

Shen Wang casually picked up a small silver cube, and with a "snap," a cluster of orange-red flames shot out from the top.

He fiddled with the lighter in his hand, speaking as casually as someone selling cabbages at a market: "Disposable lighters, waterproof and windproof, small in size, one can last a year."

"Think about it, in the trenches on the Eastern Front, the blizzards soaked all the matches, and your soldiers couldn't even light a cigarette. With this, no matter how strong the wind or how heavy the snow, it will light as soon as you hit it."