Chapter 1: What Grudge, What Hatred? Why Send a Japanese Soldier to Me?
Bang bang bang—
The urgent knocking startled Xu Feng awake from his dreams.
He opened his eyes and stared at the shabby beam above his head, his mind still foggy. The light outside was dim, the faint glow of dawn—early morning.
“Fengzi! Fengzi, are you home?” came Old Li’s booming voice from beyond the door, tinged with urgency.
Xu Feng sat up, grabbed a tattered cotton jacket and draped it over his shoulders, then walked to the door and asked, “Uncle Li, what brings you here so early?”
“It’s good news! Hurry, open up!”
Xu Feng drew back the bolt, and there stood Old Li from the village, with another person behind him.
The second figure kept their head bowed, a tangled mass of black hair obscuring most of their face. Their clothes were so filthy their original color was lost, and they were so thin as to resemble a bamboo stalk.
“Fengzi, look—I’ve brought you something good,” Old Li grinned, “Want a wife?”
Xu Feng was stunned, his gaze lingering on the silent figure. Despite the dirt, the shape clearly belonged to a young woman.
“Uncle Li, what’s going on?”
“This girl’s deaf and mute. Found her a few days ago in the ravine, nearly starved to death.” Old Li patted her shoulder. “You live alone, not easy, and you could use someone to look after you.”
Xu Feng frowned, about to refuse, when a sudden, sharp pain erupted in his mind.
A flood of unfamiliar memories surged—comrades from the resistance lying in pools of blood, himself dragging a wounded body through snow, Japanese soldiers in pursuit, the final despair...
Xu Feng, twenty-six, joined the resistance in ’38, became a member of the Far East International Independent 88th Brigade in ’41, went to the Soviet Army for special training, fought at Gle, Kursk, and more.
Returned home in ’44, worked in intelligence in Harbin, exposed while investigating Unit 731, hunted by the Japanese, his group wiped out...
Miraculously, Xu Feng survived, rescued by villagers, and after recovery, lost all contact with his superiors, waiting—always waiting—until the war ended.
With victory, he no longer knew his place, so he returned to his hometown.
He hid his identity, telling others he’d ventured out for years but returned empty-handed.
“I... I’ve crossed over?” Xu Feng was shocked, but quickly calmed. Since he’d arrived, he’d have to adapt.
Suddenly, a mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
[Ding! Favorability system activated!]
[Detected bindable target: Kobayashi Yukiko]
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[Current favorability: -10 (Hostile)]
[System tip: The host can earn generous rewards by increasing the target’s favorability.]
Xu Feng was taken aback. What was this? A system? Favorability?
He scrutinized the filthy girl before him, muttering to himself: Kobayashi Yukiko… That’s a Japanese woman’s name!
Just then, the girl seemed to sense his gaze and lifted her head slowly.
Xu Feng drew in a sharp breath.
Her face was smeared with grime, but her eyes shone like stars in the night. Her features were delicate, almost doll-like, and even in such a wretched state, she was unmistakably beautiful.
More importantly, her eyes held a unique spirit—
Japanese eyes!
Xu Feng was instantly alert. As a resistance fighter, he knew the Japanese features all too well.
“Damn, she really is a Japanese woman!” he cursed inwardly.
Old Li, seeing Xu Feng’s hesitation, hurried to persuade him:
“Fengzi, this girl might be dirty now, but cleaned up she’s a real beauty. You’re a grown man; it’s good to have someone care for you.”
Xu Feng weighed the pros and cons.
It was 1945, just after Japan’s surrender. Japanese settlers left in the northeast faced dangerous times.
This woman was pretending to be deaf and mute, likely out of fear for her life.
She was clearly clever—not just anyone.
If she was a female spy or officer, he’d restrain her and hand her over to the military when he had the chance.
If she was an ordinary settler… he’d wait and see.
“All right, she can stay for now.” Xu Feng nodded.
Old Li broke into a wide grin.
“Now you’re talking! She may not speak, but she’s quick with her hands, sure to take good care of you.”
He pushed the girl gently.
“Go on, greet your husband.”
Head still lowered, she nodded timidly at Xu Feng, then stood rooted to the spot.
Old Li gave a few more instructions before leaving, satisfied.
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Now only Xu Feng and the Japanese woman stood in the yard.
Xu Feng observed her closely, noting her slender, fair fingers and neatly trimmed nails—clearly not from a poor family.
Her stance was peculiar: feet slightly apart, weight subtly lowered—was that… a basic kendo posture?
“What’s your name?” Xu Feng asked, his tone calm, betraying no emotion.
The girl kept her head bowed as if she hadn’t heard, her body quivering slightly, startled by the sudden question.
Xu Feng smirked inwardly—still pretending. He switched, asking in fluent Japanese, “What is your name?”
As an international agent trained by the Soviet Army, Xu Feng spoke Japanese, Russian, and even German fluently.
This time, the girl’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Though she quickly resumed her timid demeanor, Xu Feng was not easily fooled.
On the battlefield, even the slightest flaw could be fatal.
He caught that brief moment of tension.
“Quite the act,” Xu Feng thought, keeping his expression neutral.
This Japanese woman was determined to play deaf and mute.
That was fine—saved him the trouble of talking.
Her vigilance was impressive, not even a word of Japanese slipped out.
He pressed no further, turning toward the house: “Come in.”
Kobayashi Yukiko hesitated, then shuffled inside.
Xu Feng’s home was barren—a pair of mud-brick rooms joined to a small kitchen.
Inside, the light was dim, with only a tiny window letting in a sliver of daylight.
The furniture was pitiful: a broken wooden table propped with stones for a missing leg, two benches, and a chipped water jar in the corner.
Against the wall was a bed made from planks, covered with yellowed straw and a quilt whose original color was impossible to tell.
The whole house carried a faint must of mildew and smoke.
Kobayashi Yukiko stood at the threshold, taking in the scene. Her already bowed head dropped even lower, her fingers clutching her sleeve so tightly they turned pale.
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