Subtitle of this chapter: Is Master Yuan going to be in vain?

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"Doctor, how is that Chinese?"

"Lieutenant General, the operation was very successful. Now that he is awake and still screams of hunger, we have to provide him with a breakfast."

The crew of "The Lonely Girl in the Famine" went to London to petition overnight, and our Master Yuan is still in Ireland.

Last night, the British immediately sent him to the garrison hospital for surgery and took out the bullets on his shoulder.

"Thank you, doctor. Please go out."

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant General. The Chinese man's physical condition is really good. Please allow me to check his body in detail..."

The military doctor who had the surgery was shocked by Master Yuan's physique because he found that the wound on Yuan Yanshu's body had begun to heal!

He had to re-cut the healing tissue to remove the bullet. Fortunately, our Master Yuan was in anesthesia, otherwise he would have to suffer to death.

The physique at 16 o'clock is like this (Shanghai language, meaning powerful).

After the operation, the military doctor immediately reported to his superiors and asked for a comprehensive "full physical examination" for the magical Chinese.

"Oh my God, doctor. Didn't I say that? Now isn't the time to talk about such things!"

Unfortunately, he was just a little military doctor, Lieutenant General McCredy, Churchill, of course, and "K" did not realize what this situation meant, and Yuan Yanshu avoided the misfortune of being sliced.

"But you don't understand, he..."

"Enough!" Lieutenant General McCredy said angrily, "Please leave now!"

Fortunately, they lacked some scientific literacy, otherwise the British would have discovered an "alien" in 1921 on this timeline.

When the doctor left awkwardly, the three big shots began to discuss.

The commander-in-chief of the British Army stationed in Aiying said: "His Excellency Churchill, since the doctor said that the Chinese man is in good health and has recovered well, why not send him back to Britain first."

He now knows that our Master Yuan is a hot potato, because since last night, Irish people have appeared in front of the British military camp to protest.

"Du, dumb, dumb."

Churchill was about to speak when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Your Excellency, London urgent electricity!"

A messenger came in from outside the door, and after he saluted, he handed over a telegram to the Minister of Colonial Affairs.

Fatty Qiu took it over and looked at it, and couldn't help but frown.

The telegram was photographed by Marquis Curzon for him, and what it said was naturally the "Whitehall Street petition incident". As for the telegram's implication, Churchill certainly understood it.

That is to ask him to come up with a result as soon as possible.

So after reading the telegram, he immediately said, "Lieutenant General, you cannot send that Chinese back to Britain. We will interrogate him here."

Churchill pretended not to see Lieutenant General McRedy's ugly face, but turned his head to ask "K" and said, "Sir Kyle, you have no problem here, right?"

"My Excellency Churchill, I have no problem here." The head of the MI5 nodded and hesitated, "But, how much do we need to do?"

What is the level? Isn’t this question just asking...

As soon as he heard this question, Lieutenant General McRedy immediately coughed and said, "His Excellency Churchill, Sir Kyle. I still have some military affairs here, so please allow me to sue for the first time."

As he said that, he nodded to the two of them, got up and left the office.

"Click!"

Winston Churchill lit the cigar, and the bright light of the flames shone on his face to form a shadow, which made his fat face look hideous and terrifying.

"Sir Kyle, please let it go." He took a breath of cigarette and said in a deep voice.

"His Excellency Churchill, this..." "K" asked carefully, "Are we going to ask Prime Minister Lloyd?"

Churchill waved his hand and said, "Sir Kyle, no need. Before coming to Ireland, I received full authorization from the Prime Minister. So I am responsible for this matter."

The head of the MI5 nodded again and said, "Okay Lord Churchill, then okay. I'll start now..."

"Then I'll go back to the telegram first." Churchill also stood up, but after taking two steps, he turned around and warned, "Sir Kyle, please be sure not to leave any handle on that Chinese. And be sure to..."

He pondered for a moment and said, "Seventy-two hours, I'll give you seventy-two hours!"

"My Excellency Churchill, I understand."

"This bacon is good, please give me another serving. Take another half dozen by the way... No, just a dozen eggs. By the way, I want to have a lot of soreness. Thank you."

Our Master Yuan had to hang one hand on his shoulder. However, while he was still enjoying breakfast happily, "K" took a few British agents into the ward.

"Good morning, Sir Kyle. Have you eaten?"

Yuan Yan was such a polite gentleman, and immediately said hello, "If you don't eat, eat some together. I didn't expect that the food in your British military camp was really good. It's really worthy..."

But people are not so polite. He said with a gloomy face: "Dr. Yuan, I'm glad to see you like this, this, this..."

"K" looked at a stack of plates on the side and said, "Recover so quickly. I think it's time for us to 'chew'."

"Um……"

Master Yuan thought to himself, I'm still done or not, I'm hurt, so why do I have to "flirt with"?

Isn’t it said that Westerners respect human rights the most, treat prisoners the most favorably, and are the most gentlemanly?

He frowned and said unhappily: "Sir Kyle, we have nothing to 'flirt'. If you must 'flirt', wait until I fully recover, and add my lawyer to 'flirt' together."

"K" said with a more gloomy face: "Dr. Yuan, I'm afraid you can't help it..."

"Take him away!" He turned around and ordered his subordinates.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Yuan."

Those British agents had seen his heroic deeds last night, so they were quite polite in their words, but their actions were not so gentle, and they carried him out of the ward very rudely.

"I protest!"

"Help!"

What a pity, now that he is calling him a "broken throat" and there is no "broken throat" to save him.

Although Yuan Yan had already had a little mental preparation to enter Baigongguan and Zhazidong, when he thought of some electric shock, tiger bench, chili water, soldering iron, whip, butter candle... SORRY, butter candles should not be "enjoyed".

In short, he is not an old man after all... That younger generation of proletarian revolutionary was still in a daze when he thought of these tortures.

I won’t say it if I don’t even say it if I can’t say it if I can’t say it. This is a problem.

"Clang!"
Chapter completed!