Chapter 305: Plan (Request Support)

By the time Qin Yun hung up the phone, over half an hour had passed—unthinkable for a leader burdened with countless daily duties.

Yet Guo Feiyan showed no sign of surprise; the authorities had taken this hostage incident extremely seriously, and after analysis, they concluded that although it clearly appeared to be a group of armed bandits kidnapping for money, the bus they hijacked just happened to carry Chinese citizens.

But some things in this world may involve coincidence, while others can never be mere coincidence.

Behind this, there is likely involvement from forces hostile to our country.

"Proceed with extreme caution, do not act rashly—your own safety comes first."

Guo Feiyan warned him; he himself found it hard to understand why such a critical mission was entrusted to a civilian.

Though Qin Yun had demonstrated abilities surpassing even special forces soldiers, a civilian was still a civilian—this was a matter of principle.

But since the authorities had already made their decision, Guo Feiyan naturally said nothing more.

"Relax, Ambassador Guo, I'm not ready to die yet."

Guo Feiyan smiled: "Shall I send a few armed police officers to assist you?"

Qin Yun waved off the offer; these armed police were assigned to guard the embassy—he had no right to use them. Besides, it wasn't that he looked down on them, but under current circumstances, any operation had to be covert, since the Kenyan police were officially handling the case.

Any overt interference would trigger a diplomatic incident.

"Alright, I'll take you to the garage."

Soon, Qin Yun drove away in a plain Toyota Corolla.

Watching the car depart, Guo Feiyan's aide looked worried: "This whole thing feels a bit farcical."

Guo Feiyan shook his head: "You don't understand—the higher-ups have already analyzed Qin Yun. His abilities are beyond ordinary people. This mission isn't about rescuing hostages—it's about having Qin Yun investigate something. The key right now is still here in Kenya. Help me connect to Ruto's phone."

"Understood."

The car exited the embassy's back gate, turned onto the main road, and Qin Yun followed the navigation toward Garissa.

The navigation showed that from his current location, the nearest gas station near Bour-Algi in Garissa was 367 kilometers away, with an estimated arrival time of five hours.

This car had been specially modified; a hollowed-out compartment inside held several modern weapons for Qin Yun's contingency use.

When he saw them, he was stunned.

Damn it, they're really treating me like a special forces operative—I'm just an ordinary civilian, what have I done to deserve this?

But then he remembered this was Kenya, this damn African place, and he relaxed.

Kenya isn't like Tanzania; Tanzania's politics are stable, but Kenya's territory is split evenly between chaos and order. Garissa happens to lie in the chaotic half—he checked, and that area regularly suffers violent robberies.

Even though the Kenyan police have cracked down hard, murders are nearly nonexistent, but robberies are still enough to give anyone nightmares.

The car soon entered the Thika Highway, which, rumor had it, was built with Chinese aid and was Kenya's only highway that even resembled a real one—though it was only a four-lane dual carriageway, no better than China's ring roads, and arguably worse.

After analysis by the leader and Ambassador Guo, Qin Yun understood this hostage incident wasn't merely a ransom kidnapping; the kidnappers might be real criminals demanding real money, but the puppeteers behind them surely had other motives—perhaps to strike at China, exact revenge, sever Kenya-China relations, or undermine Sino-Kenyan friendship.

There could be many reasons: Kenya is pro-China; both its military and government are reliable Chinese allies, capable of standing up to the West when needed. This is evident from China's infrastructure everywhere, and the locals are exceptionally friendly toward Chinese people.

Over the years, very few Chinese citizens in Kenya had ever been attacked or kidnapped.

Now this incident has occurred—not only is it an attack on China, but for Kenya, it's also a direct harm. So there was no need to explain further; the Kenyan police had already mobilized fully.

After exiting the highway onto National Road A3, Qin Yun drove for over half an hour and pulled over at a gas station.

He bought some food, refueled, then sat in the car, thinking about what to do next.

First—who was the owner of the phone that posted the comment: "Help, Garissa, Bour-Algi, help"? Was it the kidnapper or the hostage?

If he misjudged this, the entire plan would collapse.

If it were the kidnapper, the Chinese wording seemed odd—as if deliberately meant to attract his attention. But if it were truly the kidnapper, leaving just one message was too careless; after all, he was live-streaming, and the comment section was tiny, overwritten within a second.

There was no guarantee he'd even see it.

If it were the hostage, the message was too reckless? If they had time to open TikTok, why not call the police—or at least send a location? Yet all reports showed no such action had occurred.

After much thought, Qin Yun concluded only one possibility: the phone belonged to the kidnapper, but the message was sent by the hostage. As for exactly how…

Qin Yun checked his TikTok backend followers—the account that posted the comment was clearly listed, meaning this person was his fan.

Could it be that the kidnapper was his fan, happened to be watching his livestream, and—due to some accident—set the phone down and stepped away, allowing the hostage to seize the chance and leave a comment?

Only this scenario seemed highly plausible to him.

"Fan… fan…"

Qin Yun pondered, and a thought slowly formed in his mind.

He pulled out his phone, ready to call Ambassador Guo, when suddenly a large truck pulled up at this rest stop.

Through the rearview mirror, he saw two giraffes loaded inside; on the truck's front windshield was a permit clearly marked "Bour-Algi." His heart stirred—he tucked away his phone, opened the car door, and stepped out.

Pretending to be curious, he approached the truck.

The driver and another man jumped down, saw Qin Yun, paused in surprise, then nodded warmly: "Hello!"

Their awkward Mandarin clearly revealed their friendliness toward Chinese people.

Kenya's official languages are Swahili and English, with English even more widespread than in Tanzania, yet most ordinary citizens still couldn't speak English.

He tried replying in English: "Hello, where are these giraffes being transported to?"

As he spoke, he pulled a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes from his pocket and offered two.

The two men clearly recognized Chinese cigarettes—their eyes lit up, and they accepted without hesitation. One smiled in English: "We're taking them to the giraffe conservation area near Bour-Algi. Chinese friend, what's your name? I'm Jafari, this is Omar. Are you in Kenya for work or tourism?"

Qin Yun chuckled: "I'm a tourist—call me Qin. I'm just driving around for fun. A friend of mine works at a photovoltaic plant in Garissa—I'm planning to visit him."

"Photovoltaic plant?" Jafari lit his cigarette. "The Garissa solar power station?"

"Yes, yes, exactly." Qin nodded. "That's the one."

"I know that place—I have friends who work there. I heard the pay is excellent." Jafari looked envious.

"Haha, really? My friend is Kenyan—her name is Nima. Have you heard of her?"

Neither had.

After finishing one cigarette, the conversation wound down. Watching the two enter the convenience store, Qin Yun returned to his car.

Then he called Ambassador Guo.

"Hey, Ambassador Guo, I'd like to ask you for a favor."

"Go ahead."

"Here's the thing—I need a small software program to submit data, and it must have the following features…………"