Can we talk about Chapter 13?
The checkpoint was located at the entrance to an abandoned highway. Sandbag fortifications, rusty barbed wire, and several armed men lounging in the shade, smoking. The air was hot and dry, and vultures circled in the distance.
Song Zhiyi stepped out of a beat-up Toyota pickup truck. She wasn't wearing a bulletproof vest—that would have seemed too defensive. She was still wearing a white shirt, but now she wore a dark robe, a common garment for local women, over it, with a headscarf loosely covering her hair. This was Amir's suggestion, saying it would make her "look less like an outsider."
Abu Khalid was a short, stocky middle-aged man with a face full of scars and a hideous knife scar on his left cheek. He sat on a dilapidated sofa that had been moved from a house, with a submachine gun on the small table in front of him.
"A Chinese woman?" He sized up Song Zhiyi, his eyes filled with suspicion and contempt. "Is the UN out of people? Sending a woman instead?"
Song Zhiyi stopped in front of him, not sitting down—that would make her appear weak. She spoke in fluent Arabic with a Damascus accent, her voice steady: “I am not with the United Nations. I am a translator from the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, here on assignment to gather information. Mr. Abu Khalid, may we speak privately?”
The other person was taken aback, clearly not expecting her Arabic to be so good, and that she would use a respectful form of address.
"Say what you have to say here." He snorted, but his tone softened slightly.
“Okay.” Song Zhiyi nodded. “I heard that you detained a UN team on suspicion of carrying spy equipment. This is a serious accusation that, if true, would trigger a strong reaction from the international community—including sanctions against you and your tribe.”
Abu Khalid's face darkened.
“However,” Song Zhiyi changed the subject, “I understand your concerns. Trust is a luxury in this land. So I’d like to propose a solution: I will act as a neutral party and inspect all the team’s equipment and materials. If there are indeed problems, detaining people is reasonable. If there are no problems…”
She paused, observing the other person's expression: "Detaining humanitarian workers will affect how others perceive you and your tribe. Aren't you currently vying for a reconstruction contract with a Chinese company? That company values the international reputation of its partners."
Abu Khalid's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected this woman to know even about his private business dealings.
"What qualifications do you have to inspect?" he asked.
Song Zhiyi took out a document from her backpack—actually just ordinary identification—but she presented it with great seriousness: "I am a formal official of the Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and I have received professional training. Moreover, I promise that the inspection process will be completely transparent, and your people can be present to supervise. If any suspicious items are found, you can confiscate them immediately."
She added, "As a token of my sincerity, I brought some of the medicines the medical team could muster—antibiotics, painkillers, and suture kits. Regardless of the test results, these will be left for your tribe. I know you have wounded who need treatment."
Abu Khalid fell silent. He glanced at the gun on the table, then at Song Zhiyi's calm face, and finally his gaze fell on the box of medicine that Amir had carried down behind her.
"Twenty minutes," he finally spoke. "You're the only one allowed in. My deputy will be with you. If you try anything..."
"I wouldn't joke about my own life," Song Zhiyi said.
The four detained men were held in an abandoned shop. The two German observers were older and relatively calm; the Swede was a young man, pale-faced; the local translator, Leila, was a girl in her early twenties, with red and swollen eyes, but she tried to straighten her back.
When Leila saw Song Zhiyi come in, her eyes lit up for a moment, but quickly dimmed again.
Song Zhiyi quickly explained the situation to the observers in English and German, then began inspecting their equipment—satellite phones, cameras, measuring instruments, laptops. She checked everything carefully, picking each item up and examining it, while explaining to her deputy in Arabic what it was and what its usual purpose was.
During the conversation, she intentionally or unintentionally moved closer to Leila and spoke quickly in Arabic in a voice only the two of them could hear: "Don't be afraid. Cooperate with me. I've heard about your mother's situation. You are very brave."
Layla's tears welled up instantly, but she bit her lip tightly and didn't make a sound.
Upon inspecting the laptop, Song Zhiyi discovered some aerial maps—data used by observers to record the front lines and the extent of damage to civilian infrastructure. A thought struck her, but her expression remained unchanged.
“This is a publicly available satellite map that many NGOs (non-governmental organizations) use.” She showed it to her deputy. “Look, these markers are schools, hospitals, water sources—all places that need protection. It has nothing to do with the military.”
The deputy took a closer look and confirmed it was true.
The entire inspection was completed in eighteen minutes.
Song Zhiyi turned to her deputy: "All the equipment is standard humanitarian work gear, there is no espionage equipment. I can vouch for that as a Chinese diplomat."
The deputy went out to report. A few minutes later, Abu Khalid came in, his face still grim, but he waved his hand: "Leave the things, you can leave. Leave the medicine too."
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