My Amazing WeChat is Connected to the Three Realms - Chapter 52

Old Man Xiao tilted the gourd to his lips and took a deep swig.

“Grandpa, slow down!” Xiao Qian quickly stopped him, shooting Lin Hai a glare.

“Hah! Good liquor, damn good liquor!” The old man laughed, his face glowing. “In all my years, I’ve never tasted anything like this!”

A few sips in, he already felt rejuvenated—an indescribable warmth spreading through his body, as if the weight of Xiao Yi’s injury had been washed away.

“Xiao Wu, come here.” The attendant hurried over.

With great care, Old Man Xiao sealed the gourd and handed it to him.

“Guard this with your life. Not a drop goes missing. I’m savoring it slowly.”

—

At the old man’s insistence, Lin Hai stayed the night in Beijing.

When the car pulled into the courtyard of Xiao’s traditional siheyuan, Lin Hai’s senses prickled.

There was something here—a familiar energy, elusive yet unmistakable.

The night passed quietly. The next morning, as Lin Hai chatted with Old Man Xiao, Xiao Qian burst in, frantic.

“Grandpa! Something’s wrong!”

“What’s got you so worked up? You’ll embarrass yourself in front of Lin Hai,” the old man chided.

Lin Hai rubbed his nose. Embarrass who?

Wait a second—why was Old Man Xiao looking at him like that?

The old man’s eyes darted between him and Xiao Qian, eerily reminiscent of the way Zhao Fang had eyed him and Liu Xinyue.

Oh hell. Is this old man playing matchmaker?

Lin Hai stole a glance at Xiao Qian in her military uniform.

Not a bad deal, actually.

“Sit down and explain properly,” Old Man Xiao ordered, pointing to a stool.

“Grandpa, Brother Yi sneaked out of the hospital today—right after they removed the bullets yesterday! The doctors just called—”

“Enough. So he left. Big deal.” The old man waved her off.

“Back in my day, I took eight bullets and still fought for a day and night without retreating. What’s his excuse? As long as he’s not dead, let him do what he wants.”

“But—”

“No buts!” Xiao Qingshan cut her off. “Lin Hai’s rarely in Beijing. Take him out to see the city.”

Xiao Qian huffed but didn’t dare disobey.

She changed into casual clothes—a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a ponytail—transforming from a stern soldier into a vibrant city girl.

Lin Hai’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

—

The two strolled through the streets, Xiao Qian surprisingly warm toward Lin Hai, likely out of gratitude for saving her brother.

Then, up ahead—a crowd.

Soldiers arguing with someone.

“@#$%^&*!” A man’s voice, sharp and foreign.

What the hell is that? Lin Hai couldn’t understand a word.

“Baka yarou!”

That, he recognized.

Son of a bitch. Japanese.

“Let’s check it out,” he said, leading Xiao Qian forward.

In the center stood Xiao Yi and Zhao Shan, locked in a cold standoff with a group of Japanese tourists.

A shrill Chinese woman’s voice cut through:

“You filthy soldiers! These are honored guests from Japan! How dare you not yield to them?”

Every word dripped with venom.

“I accidentally stepped on his foot. I already apologized,” Xiao Yi said icily.

“Apologize? That’s it? Mr. Inokuchi’s shoes cost over $10,000! You think your peasant salaries can cover that?”

The Japanese man barked more gibberish.

The woman immediately bent into a servile bow, then turned back with a sneer.

“Mr. Inokuchi is magnanimous. Kneel and wipe his shoes clean with your uniform, and he’ll let this go.”

She looked down her nose, triumphant.

“No.”

“Go to hell!”

“Are you even Chinese?!”

The soldiers’ fists clenched.

A uniform wasn’t just cloth—it was a nation’s pride. Letting it touch a Japanese man’s shoe? That was an insult to all of China.

The crowd erupted.

“Fuck these invaders!”

“Get out of our country!”

“Brothers, don’t take this—fight back!”

“You traitorous bitch! Whose side are you on?!”

The woman paled, screeching, “Shut up! These are foreign guests! Disrupting international relations is a crime!”

The Japanese man muttered something.

She nodded furiously, then snapped at Xiao Yi:

“Fine! Mr. Inokuchi is merciful. Just squat and wipe his shoes with your hand!”

“Hurry up! His time is valuable!”

Xiao Yi’s knuckles whitened.

“Yi-ge, let’s just kill them and run!”

“Yeah! Break his legs!”

Xiao Yi stared at the smirking Japanese man, silent.

Then, the woman dropped the bomb:

“Mr. Inokuchi warns you—if you refuse, he’ll file a complaint with your Foreign Ministry and embassy. The diplomatic fallout will be on your heads!”

Xiao Yi’s stomach dropped.

As a special forces operative, he knew the political tensions at play. A scandal now could destabilize everything.

Gritting his teeth, he made his choice.

For China… I’ll endure.

“Tell him… I’ll do it.” His voice was ice.

The crowd roared.

“NO!”

“Don’t kneel to them!”

“We’ve got your backs—fight!”

Xiao Yi turned to the furious citizens, heart swelling.

Our people haven’t forgotten their pride. Traitors are few.

“Thank you… but I’m a soldier. For China, I’d give my life. A little humiliation means nothing.”

With that, the man who’d survived multiple gunshots—who’d just had bullets extracted yesterday—slowly began to kneel.

Zhao Shan turned away, fists shaking, tears in his eyes.

Then—

“Stop.”

A hand yanked Xiao Yi back to his feet.