The instant Lin Luxiao’s hand reached for the walkie-talkie at his shoulder, a tremendous roar erupted behind him. He spun around. On the fifth floor, a tower of flame had blasted skyward; black smoke poured out in churning waves like a rolling curtain of darkness, and crimson fire lit up half the sky from top to bottom.

He wrenched the walkie-talkie free in one motion and shouted into it: “Groups One and Two — report your positions!!”

“Group One position: East Zone Three, coordinates, Dong-Three-One, Dong-Four-Five.”

“Group Two!”

From the walkie-talkie came nothing but the static crackle of electrical interference. Group Two had gone silent. Nobody spoke.

Xu Ya said: “Sounds like the oil tank from Group Two’s area exploded.”

Lin Luxiao felt something shift in his chest. His voice turned low and steady. “Standby — fall in!”

“Yes!” A cluster of standby soldiers, oxygen tanks already strapped on, snapped to sharp attention.

The director stepped forward to block them. “If they need rescuing they’ll call for it themselves — isn’t this a forced termination of their competition?”

Lin Luxiao didn’t spare him a glance. He lifted his chin at the standby soldiers: “Get in there and find them!”

After these past weeks together, the director understood Lin Luxiao’s temperament perfectly well — there was no getting through to him. All he could do was call out in a frantic rush: “Commander Lin! We’re filming a program here!”

The director was on the heavier and shorter side, and when he was agitated his fringe would flutter about — he looked, frankly, like a ridiculous overstuffed figure.

Lin Luxiao finally deigned to look at him, his arrogance fully on display: “If you don’t like it, file an appeal!”

The director nearly choked, his face turning red with fury. He still wanted to argue — but was rudely cut off.

“What if they’ve been knocked unconscious by the blast and can’t call for help? Do you know what a secondary explosion is after a fire blast? If they pass out inside, the heat from the secondary blast will burn them alive — do you understand?! You don’t know the first thing about this, so what exactly are you saying?!”

“If it were that serious they’d definitely be calling for rescue!” the director shot back, refusing to back down.

Lin Luxiao had his hands planted on his hips, not bothering to hide his impatience. He had absolutely no desire to discuss this matter with the person standing in front of him.

Then he turned — and two people were already coming down the stairs from the building.

Both wearing protective goggles, uniforms disheveled, covered head to toe in soot and mud. Their oxygen tanks hung loose at their backs. Their expressions were wild and shaken, still clearly rattled. One look at the two of them and the firefighters knew they’d been caught in the shockwave of the explosion.

“Out of the way!”

Lin Luxiao rehung the walkie-talkie on his shoulder and without ceremony shoved the short, stout director aside — the man must have weighed at least two hundred catties, yet Lin Luxiao moved him aside with an almost effortless pull. The director was somewhat indignant and was about to chase after him to argue properly, but then saw the man had already seized an oxygen tank and tool pack from one of the standby soldiers and was charging inside with several more at his heels.

……

Inside, the smoke rolled in thick churning waves. In two separate sections, bands of crimson fire burned on. Oil tanks lay overturned and scattered across the ground. The situation was grim.

Lin Luxiao raised a hand and pointed. “You two — go over that way. If you find anyone from Group One, bring them out with you. I’ll have our people come in to clear the area once we’re done.”

Then he turned himself and headed toward Group Two’s position. He pulled the walkie-talkie off his shoulder, switched it to Channel 2. “Nan Chu?”

From the other end came only the faint crackle of static. Fortunately, Lin Luxiao was a seasoned veteran — relying on his experience and the direction of airflow and temperature in the fire ground, he quickly located the ventilation point and from there pinpointed the site of the explosion. He called Nan Chu’s name into the walkie-talkie several times.

Still no response.

Lin Luxiao cursed under his breath and raked a hand through his hair. He was already planning exactly how thoroughly he was going to reprimand this reckless little girl once he found her — how do you even lose a walkie-talkie? But then his foot came down on something — a small black square object. He looked down, and even through the white haze of ash and smoke he could make it out: it was Nan Chu’s walkie-talkie, its small square screen still flickering with the frequency lines of Channel 2.

He crouched and scooped it up. In his peripheral vision, at the base of the wall to his left, he caught sight of a slight figure curled against the ground. Relief surged through him so sharply he forgot entirely the reprimand he’d been composing. In three strides he crossed to her, dragged her away from the wall, carried her to the adjacent, less smoke-filled second zone, and set her against the wall. He called her name twice, urgent and low: “Nan Chu?!”

In that wide, open space, his voice came back to him in brief, sharp echoes.

Nan Chu’s consciousness was dim and wavering. She could just barely hear someone calling her name, but her head was buried against her knees and she couldn’t lift it no matter how she tried.

Lin Luxiao crouched in front of her, cupped her face, and lifted it. Her protective goggles were coated in ash; the skin on her exposed face was all black and grey. Her small face swayed in his hands, unable to stay upright. Something inexplicably tugged at him inside. Without hesitation he pulled his own oxygen mask off his face and fitted it over hers. “Breathe. Nan Chu.”

In her dazed state, before she could breathe, she coughed.

Lin Luxiao’s urgency sharpened. He simply sat down on the ground, pulled her into his arms, cradled the back of her neck with one hand, and pressed on her philtrum with the other, coaxing her gently: “Open your eyes. Mm?”

Nan Chu forced them open with great effort. Then they fell shut again.

Lin Luxiao eased her flat onto the ground, unfastened her firefighting jacket, and pushed up the short-sleeve shirt beneath.

A black bra cupped a pair of full, snow-white breasts, with a deep valley between them. Truly… not small. He’d forgotten — she was no longer the little girl she’d once been.

Lin Luxiao came back to himself, knelt on the ground, and laced his hands over her chest. He pressed down several times in chest compressions, then pinched her nose, lowered his head, covered her lips with his, and breathed air into her lungs. He held on until her brows and lashes relaxed and she began breathing on her own again, then fitted the oxygen mask back over her face. Nan Chu drew two deep breaths; awareness gradually seeped back into her mind.

The first thing Nan Chu saw was Lin Luxiao’s handsome face, faintly distressed — she could hardly believe it. He wasn’t even wearing his firefighting jacket, just the oxygen tank on his back as he’d rushed in. She realized at once that she must have frightened him. The next second her chest felt full of something warm and aching — the kind of completeness that comes from being truly cared for. She couldn’t hold back. She threw herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Commander.”

Lin Luxiao let out a long breath of relief. He pulled her in and folded his arms around her, smoothing her hair at the back of her head a few times. “Got hit by the shockwave?”

Nan Chu rested her head against his shoulder, sniffled softly, and said with a small, half-joking tone: “Mm. I’d just dragged the mannequin out when it exploded. Didn’t time it right — my skills need work.”

“Where’s your teammate?”

“Gone.”

“You were knocked unconscious by an explosion and they ran?” Lin Luxiao gave a quiet, scoffing laugh. “Doesn’t that guy have feelings for you? That’s how he treats someone he likes?”

Nan Chu was unconcerned. “If he ran, he ran.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Not at all.”

“Why not?”

Nan Chu lifted her head from his shoulder, cupped his face in both hands, and looked into his eyes — still dark and bright, even in all the smoke. “Because you came, didn’t you?”

Lin Luxiao pinched her soot-covered cheeks and gave them a little twist. “Don’t tell me you were playing dead on purpose so I’d come in for you.”

Nan Chu gave a sweet smile and moved to kiss him. Then the walkie-talkie on the ground crackled: “Luxiao!”

Lin Luxiao glanced down at it, reached over and picked it up. He pressed his free hand over Nan Chu’s lips, his voice unhurried: “Mm?”

On the other end was Meng Guohong: “Have you found her?”

“Found her.”

“Hurry up and get out!”

He looked at Nan Chu, said with an easy drawl: “Mm. Cut off.”

Lin Luxiao gathered Nan Chu into his arms and carried her. “We need to get out. I’m taking you to find Auntie Shao — hold on for a bit.”

Nan Chu loved hearing Lin Luxiao say things like “Auntie Shao” and “Old Yang” in front of her. There was no distance in it — as though all those people were her elders too. Warm and close.

She nestled in his arms and gave a quiet, obedient nod.

Nan Chu was very thin — when held, she was nearly weightless. Lin Luxiao adjusted his hold. “Why are you so skinny?”

Nan Chu shifted to find a more comfortable position in his arms. “Being thin looks good on camera. I look heavy in flat shoots.”

Talk of flat shoots brought to mind the swimsuit photo the little girl had once sent him.

“Do you do a lot of that kind of shoot?”

“What kind?”

“Don’t play dumb. What did you send me that time — you’ve already forgotten?”

Nan Chu realized: “You mean the swimsuit photos?”

Lin Luxiao made a noncommittal sound.

“Sending those to you was actually on the tame side. I’ve done shoots with far more daring angles. Do you want to see?”

He said, his expression utterly blank: “No.”

“What a shame.” The little girl put on an expression of great regret.

Lin Luxiao gave a sardonic laugh, bent down to her ear, and said in a low voice: “Last warning — don’t push your luck.”

……

Lin Luxiao carried her to the medical room. Outside, the standby soldiers were still putting out the remaining fire; the production crew was gathering up their equipment. He’d barely set Nan Chu down when Yang Zhenggang walked in. “Luxiao, step out for a moment.”

Lin Luxiao ruffled Nan Chu’s hair, then turned to the military doctor: “Auntie Shao, keep an eye on her. This girl got hit by the shockwave — not sure if it rattled her brain or not.”

Auntie Shao waved a hand. “Internal injury I can’t handle. You’ll have to send her to Hospital Three.”

Lin Luxiao gave a nod. “Understood. Help her get her jacket off and check for external injuries. I’ll arrange to have someone take her to Hospital Three shortly.”

Auntie Shao beckoned to Nan Chu. “Little one — jacket off.”

Nan Chu looked at Lin Luxiao. Her hands were already going for the buttons of the military jacket. “Commander Lin, I’m taking my jacket off now~”

Lin Luxiao pressed a palm to her head, bent down, and murmured two words against her ear with a wicked smile. Nan Chu froze on the spot. By the time she’d worked out what he’d said, he was already sauntering out the door, hands in pockets.

Lin Luxiao leaned against the wall in the corridor, lit a cigarette, and said to Yang Zhenggang, who was standing there waiting: “What’s going on?”

Yang Zhenggang’s expression was solemn. “Chief Meng wants you to head to the brigade as soon as you’ve wrapped things up here.”

Lin Luxiao took a pull on the cigarette, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. “Got it.”

“Chief Meng treats you like a son. If there’s something going on, talk to him properly. Whatever you do, don’t make him angry — understood?”

“Old Yang, you really can’t help yourself, can you? Doesn’t all this worrying wear you out?” Lin Luxiao had a naturally easy-going temperament — nothing short of the sky falling would rattle him — unlike Yang Zhenggang with his tendency to fret and deliberate over everything. “All right. I know. Once things are cleared up here, I’ll head over.”

The words had barely left his mouth when a figure appeared around the corner. Lin Luxiao narrowed his eyes — it was Jiang Ge, two assistants trailing behind him.

He blocked his path immediately. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

Jiang Ge gave a warm smile — every inch the cultivated young gentleman. But who knew what schemes lay beneath that refined exterior? “Commander Lin, why does everything you say come out so confrontational? I’m here to see my girlfriend. Any problem with that?”

Lin Luxiao was no less skilled at deflecting than Jiang Ge — if you weren’t going to be serious, he could out-unreasonable you any day of the week. He wrinkled his brows and turned to Yang Zhenggang with a look of exaggerated difficulty: “Old Yang, I don’t remember Auntie Shao mentioning a boyfriend. Where did this one come from?”

Yang Zhenggang twitched the corner of his mouth. “Stop talking nonsense. How long has your Auntie Shao been on her own since the divorce?”

Lin Luxiao turned back to Jiang Ge, one brow cocked, all swagger: “There you have it. Heard that?”

Jiang Ge cleared his throat and composed himself. “I’m here for Nan Chu.”

“Not possible.”

Jiang Ge found himself at a complete loss — what a shameless man this soldier was! Whatever was left of his polished manners utterly collapsed. “What does it have to do with you who I see?! The papers all say we’re a couple! A couple!”

“Papers also print that lawless types look just like you — should I haul you in for questioning?”

Jiang Ge had well and truly met his match today. Not a soul in his life had ever dared speak to him like that. He was just opening his mouth to respond when the door to the medical room swung open. Auntie Shao, the military doctor, stood in the doorway and looked at Jiang Ge. “You’re the young man Jiang Ge?”

Jiang Ge nodded.

“The girl says you can come in and speak with her.”

Lin Luxiao remained at the door. He pressed his tongue tip against his teeth, his expression shifting and unreadable.

……

Jiang Ge came in, dragged a chair over, and set it across from Nan Chu. He let out a low whistle at the girl facing him.

Nan Chu had little patience for this. She furrowed her brows. “Say what you want to say.”

Jiang Ge clicked his tongue twice, his expression theatrical. “The more you look down on me, the more you spark my desire to conquer.”

Nan Chu gave him a smile. Even with her face still smudged with ash, her eyes held a gleam, her small features bright and charming. Jiang Ge scooted his chair forward. “Why not just be with me? I’ll make sure you blow up in this industry.”

“Get lost.”

Terse. To the point. One word, position made crystal clear.

Jiang Ge wasn’t the least bit put out — he just leaned back in his chair with an easy grin. “You know, I could have Han Beiyao deliver you straight to my bed. Easy as breathing.”

“Sure. And I could have you tied up, covered head to toe in drawings of turtles, and have it all posted to your Instagram inside of a minute. How long would the old master lock you away this time — another half a year?”

The little girl was sharp as a blade. Jiang Ge studied her for a long moment, then shifted tactics, adopting a more circuitous approach: “All right. Jokes aside. Hand over that person from last time, and we’ll call everything between us even.”

Nan Chu: “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Don’t know? Really? If you don’t know, I’m your grandson.”

“What do you want with him?”

Jiang Ge was the sort who always got even — that went without saying. The time that person and Nan Chu had made such a mess of things for him, there was no way he was going to let it slide. As for Nan Chu, he still held roughly the same thought as back in Milan — she was sharp and slippery, but he still wanted her.

A beauty like this — it would be a waste not to.

He stood, kicked his chair aside. “Never mind. Forget I asked. I’m also here to let you know — you don’t need to participate in the third leg.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Your agent will be notified once you’re back. I’ve lined up an audition for you. You’ll be going in a few days. If the director likes you, it’s a substantial part — big production. When you’re famous, don’t forget it was me who got you there. I spent a lot of goodwill on this.” Jiang Ge patted his own cheek, looking insufferably smug.

……

By the time Lin Luxiao had cleared the remaining fire from the scene and returned to the dormitory, he came across Yan Dai coming down the stairs with her luggage. He didn’t spare her a glance — he stepped straight past her as though she didn’t exist.

Yan Dai paused, then instinctively called out to him: “Commander Lin.”

Lin Luxiao kept walking.

Yan Dai dropped her luggage on the ground, turned around, and stepped in front of him to block his path. Only then did Lin Luxiao stop. He tucked both hands into his pockets and looked at her in silence, without expression.

Yan Dai said: “Do you really look down on me that much?”

Lin Luxiao said nothing. He dropped his gaze and looked over the girl in front of him with quiet, emotionless attention.

Yan Dai was actually a girl of real pride and backbone — she had a clear head about her own goals, and had always been that way. Even knowing she felt something for a man like Lin Luxiao, her ambitions lay beyond that, and she would never pursue something with no future in it.

But being ignored by Lin Luxiao still stung her deeply.

This kind of cold dismissal — being looked through — was a serious blow to her pride. She would almost have preferred him to jab a finger at her spine and call her what she was — a traitor who had abandoned a comrade. At least that would have felt like acknowledgment.

But he hadn’t done that. This cool indifference left her clawing at the air, bewildered, not knowing what to do — instinctively she just wanted to stop him, explain herself, tell him she wasn’t really as terrible as it seemed.

“Nan Chu and I have history. I do give her a hard time. But when the explosion happened, I was scared too. I thought about going back for her. But when I saw even Liu Xiao Han running for the exit, I lost my nerve — I came out to find all of you, to send someone back in for her. I may have my differences with her, but I wasn’t deliberately leaving her behind.”

“Mm.” Lin Luxiao nodded, completely unaffected by anything she’d said.

Yan Dai didn’t know what else there was to say. She was annoyed with herself for having stopped him in the first place — she should have just left, with dignity, as fitted her image. But she’d been afraid that without an explanation, she’d be leaving behind the impression of a person who abandons comrades, and that possibility she couldn’t bear.

Yet no matter what she said, Lin Luxiao simply did not care.

……

Nan Chu came out of the medical room, went back to the dormitory to pack her things. The car arranged by Shen Guanzong was already waiting downstairs.

She bundled up all her belongings. The phone on the bed had rung several times already. The dormitory was empty — Yan Dai and Xu Ya had already been picked up by their agents. She was the last one. Though she hadn’t been here quite a full month, the training throughout had been the real thing — not a single moment of slacking or performance — and she found herself feeling something about leaving.

Xu Ya and Yan Dai had both made the rounds too, saying goodbye one by one to all the soldiers before departing, as though they were actual veterans heading into retirement.

The phone rang again. Nan Chu declined the call and sat quietly on the bed.

A figure appeared in the doorway. She looked up with a hopeful lift — only to see a dark, square face. Lean, small-eyed. She deflated: “Captain Shao.”

Shao Yijiu was thick-skinned and missed the note of disappointment entirely. He rapped the door panel. “Everyone’s in the room next door — do you want to come say a word?”

Of the three women, Nan Chu had always been the quietest. Before she’d arrived, some of the soldiers had looked her up online and come across the gossip — initially no one had much liked her cool, aloof manner. But after spending time together, they’d come to see that she was actually quite a gentle person, stubborn and competitive in training — a lot like the commander in that way. Occasionally she’d have little-girl moments, but more often she’d let that distant detachment show — and somehow that only made her seem more in need of care. It was as though the loneliness and solitude had built themselves into a shield around her.

Nan Chu nodded and followed Captain Shao into the next dormitory. The male soldiers were all there — sitting, standing — filling the room, every face turned toward her with bright, steady eyes. Several of them were younger than she was; Xiao Jiu’er was only eighteen, and sometimes he’d trail after her calling her “older sister Nan Chu,” and when he smiled, there was this dopey openness to it, his two little pointed canine teeth showing.

She wasn’t good with words. She wasn’t the kind to put on an emotional scene. She couldn’t give the polished, pretty speech that Xu Ya and Yan Dai had managed. No one had ever taught her how to express gratitude. The only thing she could think to do was bow to them — thank them for the training they’d endured day and night, for protecting the country and its people.

A full, formal ninety-degree bow.

It brought the entire lively room to silence. Everyone exchanged glances. Xiao Jiu’er, being a sensitive soul — and having a particular fondness for Nan Chu, thinking her beautiful and otherworldly — was moved to tears by this. His eyes went red. He was the first to return a salute.

A proper military salute.

That set the rest off. Every soldier straightened up, snapped to attention, and — as one — gave her a clean, uniform military salute.

Nan Chu broke into a smile. Something about it felt like a moment of resolution.

Captain Shao patted her shoulder. “Little one, smile more. You look beautiful when you smile.”

Nan Chu returned the salute. “Yes, sir!”

After saying her goodbyes to the soldiers, Nan Chu went back to the dormitory and waited a while longer.

Her phone rang again.

She glanced at it and called out to Shao Yijiu: “Where has your commander gone?”

Shao Yijiu looked at her with suspicion. “Are you waiting for the commander?”

“Mm. I wanted to say goodbye.”

“The commander was called away by Chief Meng — it seemed urgent. He probably won’t be back for a while.”

Nan Chu picked up her bag and stood. She looked at Captain Shao and smiled. “Got it. I’m off then!”

She really was leaving.

Not a single look back. Decisively easy.