Chapter 38: The Emotional Girl

  PS: Thank you for the rewards from friends "stealing life", "sometimes flowers bloom and fall", and "leaves without a fixed abode"! Thank you to all friends for your voting support! Thank you to all book friends for their love of this book! As for the female protagonist, Huadong Zhi Xiong can only say that everyone should continue reading, there are still mysteries later on.

  Muhammad clenched his fist and slowly turned around. He saw a middle-aged American standing there, holding a handgun.

  This is Pakistan, a country with rule of law, except for the military and police, ordinary people are not allowed to own guns, but this American actually has one here!

  The owner of the bar is not a Pakistani, but an American! And their relationship must be extraordinary! Muhammad looked at the gun pointing at himself, three meters away from him. At this distance, it was difficult for him to grab the gun, while the American could easily pull the trigger and kill him.

  Does this American dare shoot himself? This is Pakistan!

  Muhammad sneered and pointed at his own chest: "The heart is here, if you have the guts, shoot me right here!"

  Muhammad said as he walked forward.

  Sure, here is the translation:

  As expected, the boss took two steps back and kept a distance from Muhammad.

  "Fire! If you don't dare to fight the Soviets, then show off your prowess here!" Muhammad continued: "With this little trick of yours, you still want to fight with me? The number of Soviets I've killed is enough to form a reinforced company."

  Muhammad continued to walk forward a few steps, and the boss continued to back away until he backed into the bar counter, with nowhere else to retreat.

  Muhammad's chest was pressed against the muzzle of that gun, holding the barrel with his hand, saying: "Fire!"

  The American in front didn't move, so Muhammad snatched the gun away from him, separated the magazine and barrel, and threw them to the ground. His body was filled with a fierce aura.

  Muhammad turned around and left the bar with the girl.

  The girl clutched Muhammad's arm, her body still shaking slightly, until they left the bar, when she subconsciously wanted to let go, but the wine had made her unsteady on her feet.

  "Where is your home? I'll take you home," Muhammad said.

  "Over there." The girl pointed towards the street corner, where a mosque stood.

  "No, it's here." The girl turned her finger again and pointed to the guest house where Muhammad lived.

  So Muhamed knew that the girl was indeed drunk, and the beer had a strong aftereffect. Her eyes were so hazy that she really didn't know where her home was.

  If he didn't have the memories of his past life, Muhammad's best option would be to directly hand her over to the police, but now that he knew it wasn't a good idea, and besides, Muhammad didn't have many restraints when it came to relationships between men and women.

  He took the girl back to his place, put her on the bed, and sat down in a chair beside it. He had slept all day and still hadn't rested enough; now he lay down in the chair and soon fell asleep again.

  This sleep was very sweet, until he heard the sound of water coming from the bathroom, Muhammad woke up, he looked at his body, covered with a blanket, and the girl on the bed had gone to the bathroom.

  "Creak." Just then, the bathroom door opened and Muhammad turned his head, bleary-eyed, to see a naked body emerge from the bathroom.

  Not bad, it's stark naked, you can see the curves of the body are so convex and concave, you can see the two flesh balls on the chest are slightly drooping, and there are still water droplets sliding down from above.

  Her disheveled hair was scattered about, and when she saw Muhammad staring at her through the strands of hair, the girl felt a clear sense of shyness.

  At this moment, Muhammad felt something in him stirring, and he quickly suppressed the flames of desire in his heart, saying: "Are you awake?"

  "Ah, after taking a bath, I feel much more comfortable." Aisha said: "Thank you for helping me twice, I can repay you in any way."

  The girl's intention was evident, and Muhammad threw the blanket that covered him over to her: "Put it on first, be careful not to catch a chill."

  The quilt just covered the girl's chest, and she turned it over with one hand, skillfully wrapping the quilt around her body and tying it up.

  Her chest was high and proud, her buttocks were raised, and she seemed even more alluring than before.

  "How did you end up going into a bar run by Americans?" Muhammad asked, but in fact he was just asking casually and now the atmosphere is very awkward, he wants to change the subject.

  He has a high IQ, but his EQ is obviously not enough. In his previous life, Muhammad was introduced by a matchmaker and married to a female military officer. They were all married first and then fell in love. Moreover, he was either training or exercising, and spent too little time with his woman.

  As Muhammad spoke, tears flowed from Ayesha's enticing big eyes: "I am not Pakistani, I am from Afghanistan, my hometown is in Kandahar, my father had a factory, and my mother taught at a middle school in Kandahar. Later, the Soviets came, the factory was damaged in the war, and my father was injured. After that, he took me and my mother to escape here, just after arriving here, my father went to see the Lord, leaving only me and my mother behind. My mother got seriously ill because of missing my father, and she was hospitalized in a hospital here."

  Aisha has a unique temperament that is absolutely not possessed by ordinary illiterate Afghan civilians, wearing sexy and fashionable clothes, but being very proud in her bones, with elegance and elegance in her eyes that only the upper class possesses.

  If she were an ordinary Afghan girl, she would never have bathed here with Muhammad; Afghanistan is water-scarce, and some people go their whole lives without washing more than a few times.

  Of course, taking a bath here may have other purposes, such as tempting oneself.

  Aisha stood in front of Muhammad: "After coming here, I was lucky enough to find a job at Radio Peshawar and earn some salary. However, this salary is still not enough to cover my mother's hospital expenses. So, I had to do some part-time work. Through the introduction of colleagues at the radio station, I got to know these Americans. As long as I accompanied them for drinks, there would be tips. Who knew that these Americans also wanted me to accompany them to bed."

  Aisha's body trembled slightly, and the crystal-like tears fell one by one onto her bare feet. She continued to speak to Muhammad: "You said you killed Soviet people, you are a hero of our Afghan people. I admire heroes, I really like you."

  After finishing speaking, Aisha gently untied the blanket, and it slid to the ground, exposing her entire body once again in front of Muhammad.

  "At this moment, I am all yours, hold me tight, my love." Aisha said emotionally, her two arms hooked around Muhammad's neck, and her firm chest pressed against Muhammad's chest.

  Muhammad felt a surge of hot blood, all desires were released instantly.

  Two sturdy and powerful arms wrapped around Aisha, Aisha's soft body was lifted into the air and thrown onto the bed, Muhammad began to quickly undress himself.

  "Ding-dong, ding-dong." Just then, the phone on the table rang.

  Muhammad instantly regained consciousness. He picked up the phone and heard the voice of the Chief of Staff: "Muhammad, come to headquarters immediately."

  "Yes." Muhammad stood up straight and replied solemnly.

  Muhammad put down the phone and looked at Aisha on the bed, saying: "Aisha, it's already bright outside. You can rest for a while longer and then go to work."

  "No, I want to be with you, I want to go kill Soviets and avenge my father!" Aisha said.

  Muhammad shook his head and quickly left without waiting for Aisha to speak again.

  The cool morning breeze blew over Muhammad's head, his mind had become extremely clear. This Aisha, like a piece of chewing gum, stuck to her own body. Are Afghan girls so bold and proactive?

  In the headquarters, Muhammad met Musharraf again with a serious face.

  "Mahmud, your exploits in Afghanistan have caught the attention of our American friends. The head of the CIA in Peshawar wants to meet with you and discuss providing aid to the guerrillas. This is an opportunity," Mushahid said.

  Muhammad nodded and gave Musaaff a grateful look.

  A clever person doesn't need to say much. Asking the Americans for lethal weapons is almost an impossible request. Originally, Mohammed didn't have the opportunity to communicate face-to-face with the Americans, but now he has a chance and must seize it to persuade the Americans to provide him with such weapons!

  The weapons provided by the United States are all transferred through the CIA, and by getting on this bridge of the CIA, it represents that the leader's guerrilla team can obtain a constant supply of weapons in the future!

  Muhammad sat up straight and didn't dare look around until he heard footsteps coming from outside.

  "Bowle, welcome here." Musaaf stood up and came to the door.

  "It's too serious here, next time it would be better to chat in a more relaxed and pleasant place." Outside, Bao Er let out a hearty laugh: "Actually, my bar is not bad."

  As he spoke, Bohl walked in and saw Muhammad standing behind Musharraf.

  At the same time, Muhammad also saw Bao'er. Suddenly, Muhammad was shocked: "How is it you?"

  "Mr. Muhammad, do you know Mr. Bao?" Musa Af was also very strange.

  Muhammad felt a twinge of embarrassment, it was just last night that they met. At the time, this American in front of him had been holding a handgun, and he himself had used his chest to push against the opponent's gun, forcing them back to the bar counter, where he took away the gun, removed the magazine and threw it away before walking off with a flourish.

  The owner of this bar, who allows Americans to behave outrageously, how could he be the person in charge of the CIA in Peshawar?

  It's also true that only the head of the CIA would dare to carry a gun in Peshawar and even take it out, now Pakistan relies on the Americans backing them up to have the confidence to confront the Soviets.

  Looks like I've offended this guy, and now it's even harder to get him to hand over the weapons.