The black Hongqi sedan drove into a military airfield that, at that moment, did not exist on any map.
On the apron, a Gulfstream G700 with no airline livery, only a vivid red national flag on its tail, sat quietly like a sleeping behemoth.
This was the leadership's private plane.
Several crew members in air force uniforms, each wearing shoulder boards with two bars and three stars, had already lined up to wait. They stood straight, their gazes sharp, the best of the best selected from across the armed forces.
Yet when the Hongqi came to a stop, what happened next nearly made these ace pilots' eyes pop out of their sockets, despite all the grand occasions they had witnessed.
The car door opened.
Ye Wenjun, the Deputy Bureau Chief of the Guoan General Bureau, normally stern and known throughout the intelligence community as the "living lord of hell," actually jogged around to the rear seat like the most attentive doorman. He bowed slightly and held one hand against the doorframe, his manner utterly deferential.
"Mr. Chen, mind your head."
A foot in a casual sneaker stepped onto the red carpet.
Chen Lin climbed out, still carrying a half-finished bottle of water, looking as relaxed as if he were strolling through his own backyard.
"Come on, Ye, don't make such a fuss. I'm not used to it," Chen Lin said casually.
"Propriety must be observed." Ye Wenjun lowered his head, his voice filled with deep-seated awe. "This way, please."
The sight struck the crew members like a sledgehammer to the chest.
They exchanged looks, their minds reeling.
Who was this young man?
Even a provincial leader couldn't make Deputy Bureau Chief Ye humble himself to this extent!
Chen Lin ignored the shocked gazes around him and boarded the plane.
The