Chapter 33: Suspicions from Davari

Eliza’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

She stepped into the room and shut the door behind her, sealing off everything from the outside. The only light in the room came from a thin sliver of moonlight. She walked up to Xu Feng and looked down at him, her blue eyes glowing like two cold, ghostly flames in the darkness.

"Comrade?" She repeated the word in stiff, accented Chinese, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "You still remember that we are comrades?"

"Instructor Eliza, what is the meaning of this?" Xu Feng spread his hands, feigning innocence. "You drag me back from in front of the entire village as if I were a common criminal and lock me in a place like this. Why do I get the feeling that you suspect me?"

"It is not suspicion," Eliza corrected him coldly. "It is an interrogation. As the head of intelligence for the Shangba Town Military Control Committee, I have the authority to vet any suspicious individual within my jurisdiction."

She paused, as if organizing her thoughts or perhaps calming her emotions.

"Xu Feng. Chinese. Joined the No. 77 Special Training Camp in the Moscow suburbs in 1941. Skilled in hand-to-hand combat, explosives, and wilderness survival. Fluent in Russian, German, and Japanese."

"Training record: first in practical field exercises, but in theory... an absolute disaster."

She spoke as if reciting a dossier, each word striking a chord in Xu Feng’s heart.

"In 1942, you were sent to the Eastern Front and joined a special reconnaissance company under the 8th Guards Army. You fought with valor, earning two Orders of the Red Star and one Order of the Patriotic War within six months."

"Your name even appeared in a field dispatch in *Red Star* newspaper. You were the pride of us all."

At this point, her voice carried a trace of complex emotion—nostalgia and approval, yet underscored by a cold, sharp interrogation.

"But in the spring of 1944, after a mission deep behind enemy lines, you vanished. Your file was stamped 'M.I.A.'—Missing in Action. No body, no trace."

Eliza took a step forward, leaned down, and braced her hands against her knees, those sapphire eyes boring into him.

"Now, tell me. Why would a combat hero of the Soviet Army, an agent who has been missing for over a year, suddenly appear in a remote village in Northeast China, living as a 'crippled' hunter, and getting involved with a woman accused of being a Japanese spy?"

Her voice was low, yet filled with intensity. "Where have you been during this year that you went missing? Who have you been working for?"

Xu Feng remained silent.

He looked at the face inches from his own. Four years had passed; she had shed some of her youthful naivety, replaced by the cold, hardened demeanor of a soldier and the authority of a superior, yet the stubbornness and sharpness in her eyes remained unchanged.

His mind raced. Should he trust her?

The notebook in his coat felt like a red-hot iron, heavy and searing. The stakes were too high; if it were exposed, he and Lin Xue would be doomed.

Eliza was a Soviet officer. Would she go against the Americans for the sake of a Chinese secret? He dared not gamble. Yet, he knew this woman was no fool like Wang Erhu, nor was she a fair-weather opportunist like those in the village. It was impossible to fool her with a few glib words. The cost of lying might be even greater than telling a partial truth.

He remembered his fallen comrades, their unwavering resolve when they first set out to track the "Maruta" project. He also recalled their time at the training camp, where this blonde devil, despite her brutal training methods, would secretly slip salt water mixed with sugar into his canteen when he was burning with fever.

She was a pure Bolshevik, an extreme idealist.

Xu Feng made up his mind.

"My faith and my stance have never changed," he said, meeting Eliza’s gaze with clear, firm eyes. "In the past, now, and in the future, I remain a Bolshevik soldier."

"Then why hide your identity?" Eliza pressed.

"Hide my identity?" Xu Feng gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Eliza, how long have you been in the Northeast? Haven't you seen the situation here yet?"

He stood up and walked to the small window, looking out at the waning moon.

"The Japanese have surrendered, but this land has not seen true peace. The Soviet Army, the Nationalist forces, the Eighth Route Army, and all sorts of bandits and warlords—various factions are like a boiling pot of porridge, locked in a chaotic struggle. Everyone wants to profit and carve out a piece of turf."

His voice dropped. "I am with the Eighth Route Army. My comrades are still fighting to the death against the Nationalist forces inside the Great Wall. And now, according to the agreement, who is taking over the Northeast? The Nationalist government!"

"Tell me, what would happen if a veteran of the Eighth Route Army, a soldier trained in the Soviet Union, were to just walk out into the open?"

He turned to look at Eliza. "The best outcome would be for the Nationalist forces to arrest me as a 'spy,' torture me, and interrogate me about what I learned in the Soviet Union. The worst outcome would be triggering a diplomatic crisis between China and the Soviet Union."

"Your Soviet forces need a stable Far East right now, and the Nationalists need American aid. Neither side wants a small fry like me to cause complications."

"So, you just hide away like a coward?" There was a hint of disdain in Eliza’s tone.

"This isn't about being a coward," Xu Feng shook his head. "I just don't want to fight a civil war. When the Japanese came, I picked up a rifle to protect my country. Now, if you want me to turn my gun against the fellow countrymen who speak the same language as me, I cannot do it."

A flash of exhaustion and weariness crossed his eyes. "I am tired, Eliza. Can't I just live a quiet life for a while?"

These words were half-truth and half-deception. It was true that he did not want to fight a civil war and that he wanted a peaceful life, but he omitted the core of the matter—the notebook that held the secrets of countless souls.

However, this excuse was exactly what would strike at the soft spot of an idealist like Eliza.

Sure enough, the frost on her face melted slightly. She could understand the helplessness in his words. As an intelligence officer, she knew better than anyone how murky the waters in the Northeast had become.

She remained silent for a moment, seemingly digesting his words. The room fell into silence once more, with only the sound of their breathing audible.

After a long while, she spoke again, but her question was even sharper.

"I can understand what you've said. But that doesn't explain the year you vanished."

"After you left the Eastern Front, where exactly did you go?"

Eliza’s blue eyes were like searchlights, as if she intended to pierce through his skin and stare directly into his soul.

Xu Feng’s heart sank. He knew this was the true test. His rhetoric about the civil war could explain why he had changed his name, but it could not account for that blank period in his record.

Could he tell the truth? Could he tell her he had been sent back to China, joined a secret team to investigate a project code-named "Maruta," and that all his comrades had died, leaving him the sole survivor crawling out from a pile of corpses?