125: Chapter 125 There's a Problem with the Salty Milk
The second-floor meeting room of the Fire Station.
Four people sat at an eight-person long table.
Cheng Songyan sat on the east side, his turnout gear jacket removed and draped over the back of his chair; the dark blue uniform underneath was soaked with a large patch of sweat. Li Li sat beside him, the tear in his left sleeve cuff wrapped twice with medical tape, serving as a makeshift dressing.
Opposite them were two plainclothes police officers from the Luohu Branch.
The man, surnamed Zhao, was in his early forties. The first thing he did upon entering was turn down the volume of his walkie-talkie, and the second was to ask for water, having rushed to three different scenes already.
The woman, surnamed Fang, was around thirty and wore gold-rimmed glasses. She placed a digital recorder on the table, its indicator light glowing steadily.
Officer Zhao finished recording Cheng Songyan's statement, closed his notebook, and rubbed his temples.
"Commander Cheng, regarding the fact that four fires occurred simultaneously, do you suspect they were man-made?"
Cheng Songyan propped both arms on the table.
"Within seven minutes, four ignition points drew all ten fire trucks from my station out. I've been in firefighting for nine years; even in the hottest year in Pengcheng, the Luohu district had at most two incidents in the same hour requiring full deployment."
He held up four fingers.
"Four incidents. Seven minutes. Less than eight minutes after the full team deployed, the building directly opposite the station exploded."
Officer Zhao's pen paused.
Officer Fang took over.
"So you believe the purpose of these four fires was to draw all the station's resources away?"
"It's not just what we believe." Cheng Songyan turned his head to glance at Li Li. "You tell them about the car."
Li Li leaned back in his chair.
"I was the first one to enter that white SUV after it crashed into the restaurant and exploded. The driver's seat was empty, the front passenger seat was empty, and the back row was empty."
"There were no human remains or bone fragments. Metal items like watches, zipper pulls, and belt buckles should survive high temperatures, but there was nothing."
Officer Zhao's pen came to a halt on the paper.
"There was no one in it from start to finish?"
"The front windshield shattered inward from the outside, the steering wheel was intact, and there were no signs of seatbelt use. This car crashed into the building in an unmanned state."
The meeting room fell silent for three seconds.
Officer Zhao and Officer Fang exchanged a look. Officer Zhao's hand rested on his walkie-talkie; he didn't press the button, but he didn't take his hand off either.
Cheng Songyan leaned back.
"I suspect someone precisely calculated our response time. They used four fires to pull the entire station out, then remotely controlled a car to crash into the residential building opposite. If the fire on the first floor hadn't been extinguished within ten minutes, it would have spread upward through the seven-story building."
He didn't finish the rest of the sentence.
There was no need to.
Officer Zhao looked down and drew a line in his notebook, connecting "four fires" and "unmanned SUV," ending with a question mark.
Officer Fang didn't look at Officer Zhao's notebook; her gaze turned to Li Li.
"Mr. Li."
"Yes."
"How many days have you been participating in this variety show as of today?"
"Twelve days."
Officer Fang pushed the digital recorder forward.
"Twelve days," she repeated. "But your performance at the fire scene today—entering a smoke-filled environment alone to search and rescue floor by floor, and directing non-professional personnel to coordinate firefighting efforts…"
She interjected.
"This is not something one can do after only twelve days of training."
The meeting room fell silent again.
Cheng Songyan turned to look at Li Li.
Officer Fang continued.
"Commander Cheng, how far along is your training progress?"
"Basic physical fitness, equipment familiarization, hose connection, water nozzle training, and basic rope work. We just started climbing last week," Cheng Songyan answered crisply.
"Have you conducted any actual combat firefighting? Simulated fire scenes? High-temperature search and rescue?"
"No."
After saying those two words, Cheng Songyan paused for a beat himself.
His perspective as he turned to look at Li Li had changed; it was no longer the look of a "captain looking at a guest," but a re-evaluation of someone he thought he had already figured out.
He was quick at everything during training, and Cheng Songyan had assumed it was talent. But today's performance was not something that could be explained by talent alone.
Officer Fang's next question was already on the tip of her tongue.
"Mr. Li, do you have any prior professional firefighting training experience?"
Li Li leaned back in his chair, his mind racing.
No wonder the system had inexplicably given him a certificate earlier; he had thought at the time, what kind of certificate would a variety show need?
So it was to prepare for today's situation.
System: Preparedness.jpg
Fine then.
"Officer Fang, you can access official websites on your phone, right?"
Officer Fang was taken aback, then nodded.
"Ministry of Emergency Management, Vocational Skill Appraisal Guidance Center, Certificate Inquiry." Li Li recited a string of ID numbers. "Enter it."
Officer Fang opened her phone, her fingers flying across the screen.
The page loaded.
The electronic certificate appeared.
Emergency Rescuer Vocational Skill Level Certificate, Level 4, Intermediate. Issuing Authority: Ministry of Emergency Management.
Officer Fang stared at the screen for three seconds, looked up at Li Li, then looked back down at the screen, verifying the name and ID number.
The information matched.
Officer Zhao leaned over from the side, his mouth agape, but he didn't make a sound. He looked at it again.
Cheng Songyan caught a glimpse of that "Level 4" from the side.
Level 4 Emergency Rescuer: Firefighting, structural search and rescue, rope rescue, basic water rescue, and first aid for the injured.
It was one level higher than the theoretical standard for most of the Level 3 firefighters at the station.
Cheng Songyan's Adam's apple bobbed.
"When did you pass the exam?"
"Before."
"How long before?"
"Just… before."
Li Li tucked his phone back into his pocket.
"Without professional work experience, you can't apply for a higher-level certification. Level 4 is the limit you can get through pure theory and practical exams."
He paused for a beat.
"I didn't mention it before because I felt that for a variety show guest to pull out a certificate, it would seem…"
He searched for the right words.
"It would seem pretentious."
Cheng Songyan stared at him.
After a long moment, he slowly leaned back in his chair.
"…Now it seems even more pretentious."
Officer Zhao lowered his head and coughed, his shoulders shaking slightly. Officer Fang wrote "Verified" in her notes; her fingers were gripping the pen tightly and trembling, but not from nervousness.
Cheng Songyan rubbed his face.
"Fine, you have the qualifications, and your actions today were compliant. Now, what about this?"
Li Li's phone in his pocket rang.
Everyone's gaze swept over.
Unknown number.
Location unknown.
Li Li showed the screen to Officer Fang. Officer Fang paused, then nodded. The digital recorder was still running.
He answered on speakerphone.
"Hello."
There was a second of silence on the other end.
Then, a voice seeped out of the receiver.
The accent was very heavy.
It wasn't a dialect; it was the sound of someone using an entirely different phonetic system for their tongue and vocal cords to force out Mandarin. The tones curved upward, and the gaps between the initials and finals were wide enough to stuff a whole piece of naan bread into.
Li Li froze in his chair.
That accent.
He had heard enough of it last time.
"Mr. Dedication."
It wasn't "Mr.", but "Dedication." The tone took three sharp turns.
"Li has given us another surprise."
Us.
"Did you see our operation?"
Operation?
What the hell?
Probably "operation."
No one in the meeting room made a sound.
Officer Zhao's hand was already pressed against the walkie-talkie on his belt. Officer Fang stared fixedly at the digital recorder's indicator light. Cheng Songyan propped himself up on the edge of the table, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.
The voice on the other end carried a smile, slow and leisurely—the kind of smugness that wasn't in a hurry and didn't care about being heard.
"Do you want to come chat?"
This sentence was easy to understand, after all, he had heard it before from that brother with the fungal urethral infection.
Do you want to come chat?
"Our milk is salty."
Li Li looked down at the glowing phone screen.
The buzzing static of the speakerphone filled the room.
The person on the other end was waiting for his answer.
"Go take a look. Maybe it's the salty milk that's causing the urethral infection, seriously."