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墨書 Inktalez
A girl left me a message, suggesting that the older man doesn't seem to like the armed police very much. Well, ladies, that's true; it's not that I have anything against them, it's just a personal preference, like some people simply dislike scallions or garlic. Don't take it personally; perhaps it relates to an experience of mine, which is also the topic of Episode Seven: Bravery and Combat. This piece isn't exactly strange, but I think everyone will enjoy reading it. Consider it a little insider scoop!
Those who have served in the military know that the forces back then were not like they are now; today's troops have almost lost their fighting spirit. In contrast, the old military was fierce, especially among units with honorary titles. The soldiers there were like tigers, whether on missions or in street fights. To put it nicely, we called it a strong martial spirit; to put it bluntly, some might say they had a bandit mentality. In fact, this was true for all military units back then, especially the armed police and the Army.
The unit I served in was one such place; it was one of the Heroic Units and the only wild Special Forces in the entire urban area. Since its establishment in 1940, this Heroic Unit has participated in nearly all battles of the People's Liberation Army and has received commendations from the Central Military Commission, earning the title of Heroic Unit. Our soldiers were polite to civilians but felt superior to other brother units! Coincidentally, we were right next to the Provincial Armed Police Corps! I don't know how things are elsewhere, but our two units shared a wall. Every time our Patrol or Mobile Sentinel went out, we would run into them without exchanging greetings; even during holidays, we never interacted—it always felt off.
During my brief month in the Medical Unit, I treated several injured soldiers who had gotten into fights. They came in with bruised faces and gritted teeth; their injuries weren't severe—just superficial wounds—but they came from all ranks, including officers and soldiers. I found it strange that our unit's leadership didn't intervene; surely the Regimental Leadership should have stepped in? Later, when I asked those injured soldiers about it, they casually admitted they had fought with the armed police next door. I couldn't believe it! I asked an Old Military Doctor if our unit's soldiers could just go out and fight without any consequences. He smiled slightly and said, "You don't understand; our Commander is very martial and protective of his own. You can get away with anything except fighting with soldiers from other units." Oh? So he wouldn't mind if you won? If you lost, you'd be grounded! I was speechless—what kind of logic was that? At that time, I had joined the army through local recruitment and couldn't imagine this was the atmosphere and style of a military unit.
It wasn't until much later that I realized this was how a unit's spirit should be—full of blood and wolf-like ferocity—with Honor! That's why every time there was Flood Control duty, our unit was always the first to respond; we were also first on call for emergency tasks!
But back then, I couldn't imagine what a brawl between two units would look like until one day when it happened. It was a weekend; after lunch, two Lifeguards and a guy from a Special Operations Unit (who was hospitalized in the Medical Unit) took leave to go to an internet café outside the base to play games. The most popular game at that time was "s," which those born in the '80s would remember as being more popular than today's Crossfire.
We entered and soon discovered there was an armed police officer inside. We four were in civilian clothes sitting together while he sat alone in a corner. At first, no one paid attention to anyone else until Zhou from the Special Operations Unit stood up to scan the room and muttered something before sitting back down again. The café was crowded with many people playing "s" on local area networks when suddenly that armed police officer joined our game. Oddly enough, he didn't choose to play as a cop but insisted on playing as a bandit against us.
As we played on, things got lively—everyone knows how loud internet cafés can get! Then there came a round where only that armed police officer remained on his side; he found himself cornered in a dog hole on the map while one Lifeguard walked by and got ambushed by him. The officer shouted loudly: "The armed police are in the dog hole! Go take him out!" We rushed forward excitedly and ended up overwhelming him while some even jumped on his character's corpse (back then it was popular to "kick" corpses).
Then suddenly something unexpected happened!
One Lifeguard (the one who got ambushed) was cheering loudly about how well we were doing when suddenly he got hit from behind by a plastic chair! He stumbled forward while I turned around to see who had such audacity—only to find that armed police officer charging at us! Zhou from the Special Operations Unit quickly dropped his mouse and confronted him directly; they immediately grappled with each other.
My fellow Lifeguards Li and Wang were both just 18 or 19 years old—they rushed forward without hesitation to help Zhou while I stood there dumbfounded watching them drag that armed police officer out! The other patrons seemed unfazed by this spectacle; aside from those nearby who quickly moved aside, everyone else continued as if nothing unusual was happening.
By the time I realized what was going on and prepared to leave, Zhou and his friends walked back in brushing off their clothes while Zhou muttered: "Just one guy dared to provoke us; let's teach him a lesson so he won't come back!" They looked at me standing there dumbfounded and shouted: "Squad Leader! Why are you still standing there? Hurry up and start another round!" (At that time I was still known as Red Card; all soldiers referred to me as Squad Leader.)
Their calmness influenced me; otherwise, I would have bolted right then and there—there wouldn't have been so many stories afterward. Unfortunately, emotions are contagious; seeing them fight without consequence made me feel emboldened too. It seemed they only kicked him a few times before scaring off those Brothers. Somehow compelled by fate, I found myself sitting back down to play again.
Before long, just as we were finishing another round, someone outside shouted loudly: "You guys inside! Come out!"
I knew trouble had arrived! Looking at my fellow Brothers beside me—thankfully they all seemed tough—we stood up silently and walked outside together; we couldn't let them see us cower.
Once outside, I saw quite a crowd gathered at the entrance of the café—more than a squad's worth of people blocking our escape! They were all in civilian clothes with stern expressions; leading them was a buzz-cut guy who looked sharp at about five foot seven inches tall with an ominous glare directed at us. Then I noticed that beaten armed police officer standing nearby without his shirt on—just camo pants and a tank top—shouting at me: "That's him! That's him! They all attacked me!"
What?! When did I ever hit you?! Not understanding better etiquette at that moment, I stepped forward boldly: "Brother armed police, I'm sorry; it's all a misunderstanding—we're just from the neighboring unit today. This incident is my fault for not keeping my brothers in check—I apologize."
As soon as I finished speaking, I noticed that buzz-cut leader smirked ominously at me: "Who do you think we are? Armed police?"
I turned around quickly realizing my mistake—the expressions on my brothers' faces changed dramatically as they looked at me—I instantly understood: Oh no! I've revealed our identity! How could I have been so foolish? No wonder they hadn't struck first—it was all part of their cunning plan!
That devious leader continued: "Since you're from the neighboring unit, we won't bully you either—we'll each send out four fighters for one-on-one matches. If you win, you can leave."
I thought to myself: What kind of situation is this? This isn't some street duel! Even if they wanted to fight me now—I couldn't do anything since I'd only trained for three months after joining through special recruitment—I barely knew any combat skills beyond basic military boxing!
Just as these thoughts crossed my mind, one of my brothers waved his hand signaling four others who stepped forward ready for action against us.
In an instant chaos erupted as we began fighting—before I could even assess my surroundings properly—I found myself facing off against a short but stocky guy who threw a punch straight at my chest! All I managed to do was sidestep slightly before feeling a heavy blow land on my head followed by another kick sending me crashing down!
Damn it! I've been taken down!! My anger surged as I hit the ground—I managed to twist around grabbing hold of his leg tightly pulling him down with me despite everything else happening around us…
The difference between amateurs and professionals lies in experience—no matter how skilled an amateur may be—they still fall short against seasoned fighters.
Unsurprisingly within moments of rolling around—I found myself pinned down with hands twisted behind my back looking up at my brothers—all except Zhou who still fought valiantly against his opponent while everyone else lay defeated like me.
Zhou noticed our predicament immediately shouting out: “Stop fighting! We’ve lost—let’s see what you want!”
I looked up at Insidious Face who crouched down mockingly saying: “You can’t even fight yet you dare bully others?” He gestured dismissively signaling us all be released.
He glanced at his watch before declaring: “You don’t need to do anything—just stand here.”
We stood there confused as they surrounded us without making any further moves—it felt like an impasse lasting several minutes until suddenly Insidious Face checked his watch again announcing: “Time’s up!”
In an instant they all scattered away leaving us bewildered behind!
What just happened? As I stood there dazed—a Lifeguard named Wang suddenly shouted: “We’ve been set up!”
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