019 In the Name of the Father

For Li Changjiang, this was indeed a path to wealth.

The Libyan rebels were, in truth, ordinary people gathered by the organization—there were even farmers and local thugs, according to news reports. It was the support from Western countries, represented by the United States, for the organization’s armed forces that made it so, even as Gaddafi was painted as a great villain, he could not win a war fought by farmers and petty criminals.

Naturally, hiring these men to fight meant the organization was willing to spend generously, so nearly everyone carried hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars. That was no surprise.

What was surprising was that Li Changjiang managed to pull a gold watch from the pocket of one scoundrel—whether real or fake, he stashed it away without hesitation.

From a dozen rebels, he collected nearly ten thousand dollars—a handsome sum. Li Changjiang was not born with a silver spoon; he knew better than anyone the power money wielded.

Had he not scavenged those bills from corpses earlier, Liu Bo and Meng Yao might never have escaped.

“Are you finished? If so, we leave at once. This place is too dangerous to linger,” he said.

Yang Jianyong glanced at Li Changjiang but said nothing. Profiting from the dead was better than robbing the living. Still, Yang found himself reassessing Li Changjiang’s judgment.

They found three vehicles.

Liu Bo, Meng Yao, Li Changjiang, and two other reporters shared one car. As the engine revved, the smoke and chaos behind them faded into the distance, but anxiety gnawed at Li Changjiang.

A few hours later.

After passing several checkpoints and entering Tripoli’s city center, their faces slowly relaxed. The closer they drew to Tripoli, however, the more restless Li Changjiang became.

Had his father, Li Lin, escaped?

That was the question he cared about most.

It took tremendous effort to reach the Chinese embassy in Tripoli. When they arrived, the gates were tightly shut, but fortunately, an official named Wu remained with a small security team.

A group rushed inside.

Some drank water, others devoured food, eating with little decorum—no one cared. After two days with nothing to eat, only the will to survive had kept them from collapsing.

“Here, eat slowly,” he said, offering Meng Yao a small piece of bread. She blushed, but the affection in her eyes was unmistakable.

Li Changjiang seemed plain and unremarkable, but Meng Yao knew that not everyone was worthy of trust in life and death. Li Changjiang had passed that test.

No one understood his reliability better than she.

Inside an office on the embassy’s second floor.

The door was firmly closed, two guards standing outside with stern expressions.

Hao Bing drained a bottle of Nongfu Spring water, finally catching his breath, then tore off a few pieces of bread and stuffed them into his mouth.

“Hao, you finally made it back. There have been several calls from home.”

“Nearly didn’t make it. What’s the situation now?” Hao Bing spoke with his mouth full of dry French bread.

“In a word: chaos. All of Libya is in turmoil. Refugees are fleeing to the borders. Egypt and Tunisia have closed their borders. But internationally, the situation is clear: Western countries support the organization, establishing a military government centered in Benghazi to overthrow Gaddafi’s regime.

War is inevitable. The embassy began evacuating days ago; almost all Chinese nationals have left. We stayed behind to wait for you, and thankfully, you made it.”

“And what’s our stance? As far as I know, there are plenty of Chinese enterprises in Libya.”

Hao Bing frowned.

“You know the official position: this is Libya’s internal affair. We won’t interfere. As for the Chinese businesses, discussions will wait until the situation stabilizes. Did you complete your mission?”

He shouldn’t have asked that. Director Wu realized he had overstepped as soon as the words left his mouth.

“You don’t need to know. I’ll contact Colonel Lu Qian on the Jiangzhou warship and ask him to send someone for you.”

“All right, Wu, thank you. One more thing: do you have the list of Chinese nationals in Libya? I need you to check for someone—Li Lin, from Dongping City, Jiangnan Province. You must find out where he is now.”

“That urgent?”

Wu Bo knew Hao Bing’s character; seeing him so serious, he grew curious about this Li Lin.

“Don’t ask anything else. Just find him.”

Night fell.

Tripoli’s sky no longer shone; it deepened into darkness.

Gunshots echoed sporadically on the streets. Even though the opposition forces were far away, the fear of war drove many to flee the city.

Li Changjiang tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

He had realized since the afternoon, when embassy staff told him they couldn’t reach any Chinese nationals, that his father, Li Lin, was likely still in Benghazi.

Yang Jianyong, that scoundrel, was even avoiding him.

Bang!

He punched the wall, his knuckles aching.

“No, I must go back. I have to find my father, or how will I face my mother?”

He sprang from his bed, his expression twisted and fearsome in the night’s shadow.

He dressed quietly, gently opened the bedroom door, peeked out, then closed it again. Someone was on duty in the lounge; slipping out that way was impossible.

He paced the room several times.

His gaze flicked to the window. An idea sparked. He hurried over, examined it—the embassy’s wall lay just beyond. If he could jump onto it, escaping wouldn’t be difficult.

He quickly fished a multifunctional army knife from his bag and pried open a gap in the security bars. It was just wide enough for a person to slip through. He grinned.

He packed simply, emptied his bag, stuffed all the dollars inside, grabbed a watch and a map of Libya. He took only a few bars of chocolate and bottles of water, left a note, and tossed the bag down.

Moments after Li Changjiang vanished into the darkness, a fully armed figure stepped out from the embassy’s second-floor balcony, silently watching his departure.

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“Would it matter? You know better than I do—he’s the kind who won’t give up until he reaches the bitter end. Do you think we could deceive him? As long as Li Lin isn’t found, he won’t rest.”

Silence fell again.

Yang Jianyong understood better than anyone.

At this moment, Li Changjiang was like a wounded beast that could not be restrained.

For him, this battle was unavoidable.

If for nothing else, the name of his father was reason enough.

“Report!”

Behind them, Li Xiaomao’s voice suddenly rang out.

“Speak!”

“Captain, Captain Wu has arrived.”

“Wu Changshun is here? Wake everyone immediately; we evacuate now.”

“Yes!”

Footsteps echoed, shattering the calm.

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