Reporter?
Everyone below was montarily stunned.
Old Cao issued a soul-searching question.
"How could there be a reporter in this place? What are they doing up in the mountains, playing guerrilla warfare?"
Hao Chengbin glared and fiercely patted him:
"What guerrilla warfare? They’ve co to interview Fang Huai! I hurried down to notify you, they will be here any mont, it’s a CCTV reporter, don’t you go spouting nonsense!"
Fog Grass.
Everyone instinctively touched where their collar was.
There were no discipline buttons, so all they could do was to pull their zippers all the way up, then flip them down.
Fang Huai was even more confused.
"Why would a CCTV reporter co to interview ? My First Class rit hasn’t even been confird yet!"
Hao Chengbin, frustrated to the point of feeling like iron not turning into steel, pointed to the water’s surface:
"Flood! The reporter who was interviewing next door just now, those two elderly people you saved, they were just interviewed! They want to find you to understand the situation."
Only then did Fang Huai understand.
Darn it.
Whenever there’s a major event to be reported on, they always like to throw in so good deeds to boost the Ideological Education section.
There may be many heroes in our country, but most of them do their work quietly. To be honest, the real big heroes are mostly out of the dia’s reach.
Just like the words of that song: I don’t need you to recognize , I don’t long for you to know .
Just like those soldiers who will forever be part of the "incomplete statistics" in Sichuan.
Just like... the Tangjia Mountain incident, with at least hundreds of dia outlets wanting to interview him, even Reporter Huang from Hanwang had sent him multiple texts, saying colleagues in the dia wanted his contact information and asking if he could provide it.
But so far, no interviews had reached him asking for specific details, and he never saw Major General Jin’s interview appear on any reports.
But the Leadership above, they all knew.
In those days, public eyes were all focused on the official narrative; there wasn’t anything like personal dia yet. Control was very strict, and no dia dared to stir issues before the State’s stance on the matter was clear—this applied to all reporters.
Large dia certainly knew the direction from above, while small dia followed the lead of the big players.
Every era needs its heroes.
That’s also an issue Fang Huai considered on the bus: how could the State encourage people to move beyond their self-interested instincts?
Therefore, one could still see many heroes in daily life.
Today, he would no doubt beco one of them.
"I’m telling you, Instructor Cao, now that a reporter has co, should we change our rescue techniques?" Fang Huai proposed after so thought.
"What do you an?" Both Cao Yi and Hao Chengbin were puzzled.
Fang Huai revealed a lantern-like grin:
"Show off professionalism! Weren’t you fantasizing about this before we set off? Normally, if you want a CCTV reporter to film your training, you’d need a dad as a high-ranking officer. But today, this is an opportunity."
Once Cao Yi heard this, a cunning smile appeared on his face, and he leaned closer, "Do you have a trick?"
Fang Huai glanced over at the bored individuals trapped about ten ters away and took in the situation of the house, then nodded:
"Three lengths of rope, twenty ters each, belts, D-type hooks—get more, bring so food and drink, grab a few camouflage uniforms, and also one folding tent."
Imdiately, Cao Yi understood his intention: "Crossing over?"
Fang Huai nodded: "Crossing over."
Cao Yi scratched his head: "With this rush of water, and a two-to-three-ter cliff right here, how do we cross?"
Fang Huai shook his head: "Crossing isn’t accurate. It’s not interwoven with water, but rather, flying across."
Cao Yi fell into thought.
In those years, Firefighting traverse training had only started to pick up in the last couple of years and was still in its exploratory phase, devoid of various sophisticated crossing equipnt like rope rollers, rope tensioners, traverse harnesses, and other labor-saving devices.
One could say that Firefighting equipnt thinking had not yet opened up, remaining in the era of "a belt, a rope, putting on an empty call, and going to save people."
All their thods and thoughts were based on this concept.
Even so thods that had been invented couldn’t be widely adopted because they were particularly troubleso to set up and protect. Squadron-level units found it difficult to train with them, making it easy for accidents to occur. Mostly, it was only at the provincial level or above Martial Arts Competition that these thods were practiced.
Practice relied entirely on arm strength.
Many things were like this, providing everyone with a fulcrum, letting everyone rely on arm strength to soar.
As a result, the physical strength of firefighters at that ti was significant because much of their work was indeed done through sheer brute force.
"You also want to bring a tent kit that weighs thirty-sothing pounds? How do we get it across? And even if you can climb up, can the civilians make it?"
Cao Yi, who was clueless about this aspect, was thinking about a traverse that involved tying a safety hook to a belt and hanging it on a rope, with both feet hanging onto the rope and sliding down.
But going down was easy compared to the difficulty of coming back up.
With this incline, even the people in the Squadron would struggle to climb up the rope, let alone ordinary civilians.
With reporters watching, the last thing they wanted was to create an embarrassing scene that could be more trouble than it was worth.
Fang Huai frowned, looking at Cao Yi: "You’ve really never trained in it? Three-rope rescue, you know?"
"Three ropes?"
Fang Huai instantly felt like there wasn’t much to talk about with Old Cao, who hadn’t attended training in a long ti: "Call Assistant He over!"
...
Then the rumble of an engine revving filled the air as the diesel engine connected to the Light group powered up, suddenly illuminating the surroundings.
"Cover up the engine! Don’t let it get rained on!"
"Bring the ropes!"
"Unpack the tent, Assistant He and I will each carry a pole, one the covering!"
Fang Huai finished communicating with He Zhijun and began to make arrangents everywhere.
The cara crew next to the reporter had been holding their caras ready for a long ti, and the reporter tried to speak to him several tis but was interrupted each ti.
"Hello, we are..."
"We’re in the middle of a rescue right now, please wait a mont."
Fang Huai didn’t give her a chance to introduce herself. As soon as she started speaking, he would cut her off. Allowing her to announce her CCTV affiliation and then disregarding her would seem rather disrespectful.
The reporter felt sowhat embarrassed.
But seeing their complex preparations, she grew interested and began to signal the filming crew with her eyes.
The cara began to sweep back and forth, now capturing this side’s preparations, now that side.
During recording, the reporter didn’t need to speak; she just needed to ask so questions during the interview to lead the person being interviewed. The footage broadcast on TV didn’t necessarily include the process of the reporter asking questions, as that was explained by the host from the TV station.
Fang Huai’s team quickly got everything ready, and he whispered to He Zhijun again, "We need to be fast. Although it’s not very difficult, we must demonstrate our speed. This can’t just be a rescue—it has to be like a drill."
In real rescues, it’s impossible to achieve the speed of drills, which are tid down to the second. In actual combat, things are generally slower.
But the real essence of treating drills as actual combat is actually the reverse: to treat actual combat as training.
He Zhijun gave a confident smile and nodded, "Don’t worry, as long as you’re fast, I can’t be slow!"
Fang Huai smiled.
True to form as a regular in various competitions and concentrated training, their competitive spirit was instantly palpable.
Incorporating competition into daily life is also a quality.
The rescue began swiftly.
Fang Huai started off as the human projectile thrower.
He tied a large stone with a rope into a bundle.
A small stone wouldn’t work; it couldn’t overco strong wind resistance and wouldn’t hold the rope—it had to be about ten or so pounds and so big that it would be hard to grip if it weren’t irregular in shape.
Then, he flashed a flashlight towards the other side a few tis to catch their attention, showed them the stone he was holding, and then waved them aside.
Considering how so hand gestures can command a variety of animals in a circus, it seems sign language might be the ans to achieve the all-universe collective circle.
The people on the other side understood imdiately and stepped aside.
Fang Huai ensured the rope was neatly coiled on the ground to avoid tangling, then gripping the stone, he took a step forward and flung his arm with force.
"Go! You."
The large stone with the rope trailing behind it arced across over ten ters, mighty in its trajectory, and slamd into a patch of mud on the other side without any sound.
This simple throw was not sothing ordinary people could accomplish.
An average adult male throwing a five-kilogram shot put could achieve eight or nine ters as a very good result, and that required a significant run-up distance and throwing technique.
Here was a small platform only a couple of ters wide, with no such conditions.
Fang Huai only took one step, and his technique was not particularly professional, yet he sent the seven or eight-kilogram stone, with rope attached, flying over ten ters.
It was the kind of visible awesoness that catches the eye.
The cara captured this mont precisely.
This one scene alone, created by their interviewee, made the trip worthwhile.
After determining where the stone had landed, Fang Huai gestured towards the building on the other side and made two large circles with his hands.
The people opposite imdiately grabbed the stone and entered a house to find a place to secure the rope.
From the fact they chose not to untie the rope first but instead directly carried the stone away...
It seed they weren’t very intelligent.
So, when the rope bridge on both sides was finally set up, Fang Huai still pulled hard to ensure its sturdiness, then turned around and whispered to He Zhijun with so hesitation:
"Keep an eye on the rope later. If the other side isn’t tied properly and it snaps, I’ll have to climb back holding this end."
He Zhijun wanted to laugh but held back, nodding and putting on his ergency rescue gloves before grabbing the rope.
Fang Huai attached a two-way radio, shouldered a tent bag, and a large pack filled with rope, food, and water. He readied his footing, hooked a D-type hook to his waist buckle and the rope bridge.
Then... he raised a hand.
Zhang Yang’s miraculous moves by the cliffside were recreated.
Fang Huai even gave Zhang Yang up on the mountain a salute with his eyes, paying tribute to the "training as if it were real combat" spirit.
Of course, he didn’t shout "Good!"
Cao Yi and Hao Chengbin, standing nearby, turned around covering their faces, their backs spasming with suppressed laughter.
This conspicuous package was just too unserious.
However, He Zhijun was quite supportive and shouted, "Depart!"
At that shout, Fang Huai leapt into the air.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
What the heck flew past?
The sowhat inexperienced reporter at the side had her eyes wide open.
Before she could even catch her breath, was he already at the middle of the rope bridge?
What was going on today?
This kind of speed, even within professional firefighting rescue teams... he couldn’t just be an ordinary guy...
Could he?
Impossible, absolutely impossible. She had seen the People’s Ard Police’s rope training; if everyone had this level of skill, with just a rope in hand, what terrain could stop them?
Wouldn’t firefighting be considered a front-line combat unit then?
What was happening today?
This is CCTV’s "Morning News World," not Military Channel’s "Military Facts"!
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