William relayed Wang Yan's choices to the foreigners. To spare the others their ignorant arrogance, he even thoughtfully gave them a rundown of Wang Yan's formidable exploits over the past less than half year.
It was nothing much, really: Wang Yan had led fewer than seven hundred men to an airfield, wiped out a Japanese battalion, then failed to cross the river with his troops, wandered through this area afterward, and expanded his force to nearly four thousand men.
Considering that Wang Yan had originally been nothing more than a second lieutenant and platoon commander, it was incredibly impressive. If they knew about everything else Wang Yan had done, their jaws would probably hit the floor.
The foreigners stirred restlessly for a while before two men stepped out and introduced themselves to Wang Yan.
One was John, a British infantry regimental commander. The other was Thompson, an Allied affairs officer sent by the United States.
Without question, the fact that these two had been chosen to speak with Wang Yan meant they held the highest status among these several hundred foreigners.
The two politely accepted the Japanese cigarettes Wang Yan offered them. Thompson took a deep drag, exhaled contentedly, and said, "Though I'm still quite comfortable at this very moment, I have to say, those Japanese monkeys make terrible cigarettes."
"I understand that you want to lighten the mood and close the distance between us, Thompson. But as far as I know, you also call us Chinese monkeys. What you said wasn't funny. Just tell me your choice."
"Sorry, Wang, but I need to clarify something. I have never called anyone Chinese monkeys." Thompson looked utterly serious.
"Really? I don't believe you."
Wang Yan shook his head. "But it doesn't really matter what's true and what isn't. I've always called