mtl008 Chapter 1165 sounded particularly jarring.
Chapter 1165 sounded particularly jarring.
Outside the window, the dim streetlights lit up one after another, their light as faint as a candle flickering in the wind, barely outlining the mottled streetscape on the bluestone pavement.
Occasionally, late-night pedestrians would hurry by, their necks hunched, the collars of their cotton coats standing up high as if trying to wrap themselves completely in the clothes, their steps as light as a cat's, as if afraid of disturbing something.
More commonly heard were the heavy footsteps of Japanese patrols, their leather boots clattering on the stone slabs, accompanied by a few harsh Japanese rebukes, and occasionally the crisp sound of rifle butts striking the walls, breaking the silence of the night before quickly dissipating into the empty streets and alleys, leaving only a thicker, unyielding sense of oppression, like the smog of winter in Beiping, weighing heavily on everyone's hearts.
Zhou Zhengqing took a short nap for about an hour. When he woke up, he sat quietly against the headboard for a while, gently pressing his fingertips against his brow. The skin under his fingertips felt slightly cool.
If Sakura were here, I'd wish she were here, serving tea and water, dressing me, giving me massages... I've really gotten used to her service...
Unfortunately, Reiko can't leave the smuggling business, and Huizi is clinging to Yingzi... Sigh...
Unexpectedly, after marrying a younger sister, this sister ended up taking over his own maid...
Just then, a soft knock came from outside the door, steady and without any impatience. It was Masaki Yagaya's knock, which Zhou Zhengqing was already familiar with.
"Come in," Zhou Zhengqing said, his voice returning to its usual cool tone.
The door was gently pushed open, and the hinges turned without making a sound, indicating that it had been carefully maintained.
Masaki Yamaya walked in with a bow, his hands hanging at his sides, fingertips pressed against the seams of his trousers, his head slightly lowered: "General, the welcoming banquet has been prepared in the banquet hall on the first floor. Commander Terauchi specially sent me to invite you to come."
When he spoke, his voice was very low, with a deliberate subservience, and his gaze remained fixed on the carpet on the floor, not daring to look away even slightly, as if looking at Zhou Zhengqing even once would be an overstepping of his bounds.
Masaki Yamaya is becoming more and more like a butler than an adjutant.
Zhou Zhengqing slowly stood up, without the slightest urgency.
He walked up to the full-length mirror, its gleaming surface clearly reflecting his figure. His build and appearance were ordinary... except that his eyes and brows held a sharper edge than before.
He reached out and picked up the military police commander's major general uniform hanging on the coat rack, slowly and solemnly putting it on.
The material is high-quality wool, smooth to the touch, and looks crisp and stylish when worn.
He carefully straightened his clothes, smoothed out the fine wrinkles at the hem, and then raised his hand to adjust his epaulets. The badge symbolizing the power of the military police gleamed coldly under the light, its sharp edges seeming capable of slicing through any disguise.
Finally, he picked up the military cap placed in front of the mirror, gently put it on his head, and his gaze under the brim became even more serious.
"Let's go." Zhou Zhengqing's voice remained calm, revealing no emotion.
Following Masaki Yamaya out of the suite, Qi, who had been leaning against the wall, followed.
Arrive at the floor where the banquet hall is located.
As soon as the door opened, a cacophony of voices, pungent smells of alcohol, greasy food, and a faint hint of perfume rushed out like a tide, creating a stark contrast to the tranquility of the corridor, as if they were two completely different worlds.
Zhou Zhengqing's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, but he quickly regained his composure.
A banquet filled with hypocrisy and scheming is about to begin.
He knew very well that this seemingly ordinary welcoming banquet was by no means a simple social gathering. It would become an important turning point in his trip to Beiping. The probing of various forces, the entanglement of interests, and the disputes between factions would all quietly unfold within this small space. Every word and every glance could contain hidden scheming.
The banquet hall was brightly lit to the point of being almost blinding.
A huge crystal chandelier, taller than a person, hangs in the center of the ceiling. Layers of crystal pendants refract dazzling light, illuminating the entire banquet hall as if it were daytime, making even the dust floating in the air clearly visible.
The long dining table was carefully arranged in an arc, surrounding the open space in the center of the banquet hall. The table was covered with a spotless white tablecloth, the fabric of which was delicate, and the tassels hanging down the edges swayed gently, rippling slightly with the breeze from the air conditioner.
Exquisite silver cutlery is neatly arranged, with knives, forks, plates, and wine glasses all present and set out meticulously, reflecting the light of the crystal chandelier and dazzling the eyes.
In the center of the table were various sumptuous dishes, steaming and fragrant. The Japanese sashimi was crystal clear and as thin as cicada wings, neatly arranged in an ice plate, with bright green wasabi and light brown soy sauce next to it.
The tempura is golden and crispy, with a paper-thin outer layer and a subtle oily aroma, served with a special dipping sauce.
The Chinese-style roast duck has crispy skin and tender meat, with a bright red color. It is served with thin pancakes, sweet bean sauce, scallions and cucumber strips, and a dedicated person stands by, ready to slice the duck for the guests at any time.
There's also braised pork belly with a bright red color, perfectly marbled with fat and lean meat, melting in your mouth with a rich and enticing aroma; and steamed sea bass with tender flesh, clear broth, and sprinkled with bright green scallions, making it look incredibly appetizing.
The beverages were plentiful, with sake, whiskey, and red wine filling the corners of the table, as well as Fenjiu from Shanxi, all available for everyone to help themselves.
In a corner of the banquet hall, a small band was playing. The sounds of violins, cellos, and pianos intertwined, playing a soothing European melody, but the melody sounded somewhat stiff, as if it had been forcibly distorted, and it was out of place with the atmosphere of the room.
Occasionally, laughter from guests would break the silence, loud but clearly deliberate, sounding particularly jarring.
The senior officers of the Japanese North China Area Army wore crisp military uniforms, the stars on their shoulder insignia gleaming under the lights. Some officers also wore various medals on their chests, highlighting their "achievements".
Most of them were short and stocky, with ruddy complexions and eyes that carried the sharpness and arrogance unique to soldiers. They gathered in twos and threes, talking in hushed tones, their topics revolving around the war at the front and the situation in North China, their tone filled with a desire to control the occupied territories.
The core members of the puppet regime wore all sorts of formal attire, including Western-style suits that were well-tailored and made of high-quality materials.
There are also Chinese-style long robes and mandarin jackets, made of silk fabric and embroidered with exquisite patterns.
They were all smiling, deliberately dressed up, with their hair slicked back and even their beards neatly trimmed.
Their faces wore formulaic smiles, and the wrinkles at the corners of their eyes were filled with flattery, yet they inadvertently glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes, testing each other, their eyes filled with jealousy and calculation.
They surrounded the Japanese general like a pack of groveling lapdogs, trying to find topics to talk about, attempting to curry favor with the powerful and secure more benefits for themselves.
A hypocritical and oppressive atmosphere permeated the air, and even the music seemed somewhat dull, as if it were being suffocated by the heavy scheming.
When Zhou Zhengqing appeared at the entrance of the banquet hall, all the conversations seemed to be paused, coming to an abrupt halt.