Los Angeles defector

For you

Great North Manor is gradually expanding, with new buildings being added and a new playground taking shape from a pile of yellow soil. The work of the Independent Regiment is slowly getting on track. There is a serious shortage of political workers, and David Ding is good at shirking responsibilities, so Isabella is doing the work of multiple people alone—handling archives, reviews, ideological work, party work, intelligence work, development work in the surrounding areas, and even women's union work, among others. As a result, the regiment cleared out a room in the corner of the courtyard and set up a separate office for her, establishing the Political Work Department.

The political work office is not large, with one door and one window. Across from the door is an old desk, in front of which is a stool, and behind the desk is a chair. Behind the chair is a locked, old cabinet, simple and clean.

The personnel records and files of the independent regiment have just been organized neatly and stacked on the table. There are two incomplete files, one belonging to Robert Wealthy and the other to the infamous Jason. Isabella then sent a messenger to find these two individuals. At this moment, she sits leaning back in her chair, playing with the old pen on the desk, absentmindedly gazing out at the deep blue outside the window.

"Report!" Two individuals entered the room, stood at attention, and saluted.

Isabella furrowed her delicate brows slightly and said, "Did I ask you to come in? Stand outside!"

The two quickly turned around and left, but heard the cold voice behind them saying, "Robert Wealthy, I wasn't talking to you. Come back."

Ah! Before coming here, I heard from Martin and the young maid that these political officers are not easy to deal with. You have to be careful in handling them. And now, as soon as I walked in, it's already a show of authority? This is even more imposing than what the regimental commander does! Robert Wealthy felt a bit of sweat on his forehead, quickly turned around, and entered the room again, standing obediently at the doorway.

Isabella tried to relax her facial expression, letting that layer of frost disappear. She left the back of the chair and sat up straight, pointing to the stool in front of the desk, saying, "Please, have a seat."

Robert Wealthy waved his hands repeatedly, saying, "No need, no need, I'm fine standing."

"Don't be shy, if I ask you to sit, then please sit."

"Alright." Robert Wealthy hurriedly came to the desk, pulled over a stool, and sat down across from Isabella, separated by the desk.

"I called you here today to help you complete your file. Just answer my questions truthfully, there's no need to be nervous."

"Absolutely, Isabella. I, Robert, am an open person. Feel free to ask me anything, I won't hold back even if you ask me tough questions."

"Robert, do you have any family?"

"My father passed away when I was too young to remember, and my mother starved to death when I was fifteen. I am the only one left."

"I heard that you used to be a mountain bandit. How long did you do that for?"

"I worked at Black Wind Mountain for two years, but I never did anything morally wrong! Isabella, you can inquire around, my character, Robert Wealthy, speaks for itself. I have been eager to join our resistance army for a long time, but I just couldn't find our group. If you don't believe me, ask around..."

Isabella interrupted Robert calmly, "Alright, I understand. Now, I ask you, why did you join the resistance army?"

"Of course, it's for...," Robert Wealthy almost blurted out that it was to make a living, but then he suddenly remembered Emily's guidance before coming here and quickly changed his words, "Now you've got me asking. I, Robert, may be rough around the edges, but my thoughts are clear. I joined our group to help the poor rise up, to... to beat that... what was it?"

"Vampire?"

"Yes, yes, yes, I'm here for him."

"Even with my knee, I could guess who taught you that. The initial principles of the resistance army can still be applied today." Isabella thought to herself with a smile, but her expression remained unchanged. "Alright, you can go now. Just work on changing your habit of swearing in the future."

"Well, no doubt about it, I'll definitely change. So, can I go back now?"

Isabella nodded and then began to write in a graceful handwriting on Robert Wealthy's file form.

Robert Wealthy, male, born in 1918, from a humble background, spent two years in Black Wind Mountain with bandits, no confirmed wrongdoings, volunteered to join the Resistance Independent Regiment in 1938.

Isabella, with years of experience in underground work, understands the importance of records for an individual, so she strives to write objectively and simply. When it comes to records, adding content is easy, but if there is too much written, making edits later can be difficult and may potentially alter a person's future. In Isabella's eyes, Robert Wealthy has many flaws, but she doesn't believe he is a truly bad person, so she shows leniency in her writing.

Jason stood straight across the desk, focusing intently on the person opposite him. Isabella's expression turned frosty once again, not even lifting her head, she picked up her pen and opened Jason's file, preparing to make a record. Coldly, she asked, "Name?"

Robert Wealthy could sit, while Jason had to stand, but Jason didn't feel embarrassed. He believed in karma - what goes around comes around - and found it quite fitting. Both in tone and expression, Isabella was as cold as ice, which was normal; he had grown accustomed to it in Los Angeles. It was expected, so when she asked for his name right off the bat, he didn't find it absurd. This was her standard way of dealing with him. Her icy voice seemed to have a cooling effect on his ears, like a mint leaf. "Jason," he replied.

When Isabella wrote the name "Jason," she unconsciously exerted extra force, causing the pen tip to pierce through the paper, creating a hole at the end of the strokes.

"Age?"

"Born in 1914."

"Do you have any family?"

"None."

"If you don't even have any family, how are you still alive? Did you just pop out of a c***k in a rock?"

"I was raised by bandits." For some reason, Jason was very reluctant to mention his past in front of others, but with Isabella, there were no barriers; he spoke openly and without hesitation, holding nothing back.

"That's right! Good people can't raise a scoundrel like you." Isabella gritted her teeth as she said this to Jason, then she recorded in the file: "Born among bandits, raised among bandits, with a long history of misdeeds, committing all sorts of evils."

"Stop daydreaming, talk about your military experience!"

"In 1930 joined the Seventh Brigade of the government army, reorganized as the 67th Army in 1932, fled in 1937."

Isabella recorded in the file: "Spent eight years in the 67th Army of the government forces, indulging in various vices, participated in the encirclement and suppression battles in our border area. Fled from the California battlefield in 1937 due to cowardice and fear of death."

Isabella paused her pen, feeling that the current writing seemed too lenient. She pondered whether she should add a few more sentences. Inadvertently, she noticed Jason's narrow eyes glancing at the words on the paper. Could this traitor also know how to read? Regardless of whether he did or not, she decided to leave the sections on special skills and strengths blank. Quickly, she covered the file with her arm and coldly demanded, "What are you looking at? Now, tell me, how did you manage to infiltrate the resistance army?"

Jason, who learned to read from a bandit's den in his childhood, was taught by someone there. He later joined the military and attended military school after further education. Isabella had already written those details in her own file, and she had painted a damning picture of herself. Jason felt like Isabella had almost nailed it in her assessment of him. He wanted to laugh but dared not, striving to maintain a neutral expression. Suddenly, he found Isabella not only cold but also quite adorable. However, Jason couldn't reconcile the words "cold" and "adorable." This conflicting feeling left him puzzled. Was she "coldly adorable" or "adorably cold"? Lost in thought, he drifted off for a moment.

"Are you mute? Speak!"

"Oh, what did you say?" Jason finally realized, but he had no idea what the previous question was.

"I asked you why you infiltrated the resistance army?"

This question is simpler. Jason stared firmly at Isabella, and without hesitation, replied,

"For you!"

"Get lost!"

Jason's figure disappeared. Isabella rested her elbows on the table, pressing her temples with both hands. She remained silent for a long time, only to gradually recover from the sorrowful memories. Jason's file still lay before her, with one section regarding the purpose of joining the army still empty and needing to be filled in.

She picked up the pen again, holding it tightly in her hand, and with all her strength, she wrote the final line in elegant script: "Captured in 1938, joined the resistance army."