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墨書 Inktalez
As Lin Feng stepped through the door of the Base of Resistance, supported by his comrade, he felt a slight easing of the tension that had gripped him. However, that relief was quickly overshadowed by a wave of excruciating pain that engulfed him like a tidal wave. His body bore not only the gunshot wounds sustained during his fight with the Agent but also numerous bruises, each mark telling the story of the harrowing life-and-death struggle he had just endured.
Members of the Medical Team quickly surrounded him, carefully placing Lin Feng onto a stretcher and transporting him to the makeshift infirmary at the back. The cramped room was filled with the scent of antiseptic, and the doctors wore furrowed brows as they focused intently on treating his wounds. A bullet had grazed his arm, leaving a deep gash that, while not damaging the bone, required meticulous cleaning and stitching. Lin Feng gritted his teeth as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, soaking the pillow beneath him, yet he remained silent. He knew that compared to the physical pain he was enduring, the intelligence he had brought back was what truly mattered for survival at this moment.
Once his wounds were treated and his condition stabilized somewhat, the Organization Leader hurried in to check on him. The atmosphere in the small infirmary was tense yet filled with anticipation; concern and eagerness for information shone in the eyes of the leaders present. Lin Feng struggled to sit up, but the leader quickly intervened, saying, "Comrade Lin Feng, just lie down. You’ve been through a lot this time!"
Lin Feng shook his head slightly, his gaze resolute. "Leader, these injuries are nothing. As long as the intelligence can be safely delivered, it’s all worth it." With that, he began to recount the details of his mission in the archives.
After receiving my assignment, I first leveraged connections established by the Underground Party to disguise myself as an ordinary applicant for an archives management position. Using skills honed from my time infiltrating enemy territory, I managed to blend into the Nationalist Party's confidential archives as a temporary assistant responsible for organizing daily documents. Lin Feng's voice was weak but clear; each word seemed to transport everyone back to that perilous scene.
Upon entering the archives, I immediately felt immense pressure; surveillance cameras were everywhere, and guards patrolled frequently with heightened vigilance. I could only pretend to be busy as I moved between filing cabinets while quietly observing personnel movements, monitoring ranges, and patrol patterns. After several days of observation, I finally identified a brief window during staff shift changes—approximately every four hours—when there would be about five minutes of downtime between shifts. This was my best opportunity to approach the safe.
The leaders listened intently, occasionally nodding their heads; some even took notes on key information.
On that fateful night during the shift change between day and evening shifts, I lingered inside until my colleagues gradually left before acting swiftly. First, I cut off the power supply lines to the pressure sensors installed around the safe to ensure I wouldn’t trigger any alarms upon approaching it. Then, drawing on my understanding of mechanics and previous experience with similar safes, I used specialized tools to open that state-of-the-art safe imported from America. The biggest challenge during this process was the combination lock; I closed my eyes and relied on my keen sense of touch and knowledge of its internal structure as I gently turned the dial while pressing my ear against it to listen closely for every subtle mechanical sound. Finally, just before surveillance resumed normal operation, I managed to unlock it and followed up by using a replica key to open the cabinet door.
At this point in his recounting, Lin Feng’s face broke into a faint smile—a reflection of pride after overcoming countless obstacles.
After locating that core military document, I intended to photograph each page with a miniature camera. Just as I was about to finish, however, the Duty Officer in the surveillance room noticed something amiss and prepared to investigate. I quickly hid inside a filing cabinet and held my breath; my heart raced as if it were about to leap out of my throat. It felt like being prey under the watchful gaze of a predator—any slight movement could lead to disaster. When the Duty Officer failed to discover me and danger passed, I seized my chance and stealthily made my escape with the film in hand.
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