Lu Huaizheng didn’t return to the dormitory but sat on the lawn with a foxtail grass between his teeth, his gaze leisurely watching recruits drilling next door.

He recalled his first year in the army. It was around New Year, and the unit was making dumplings. The chief instructor made a bet with him, saying he could eat fifty dumplings in one go. Lu Huaizheng said he could eat seventy. So they made the bet, and the whole company gathered around to watch the excitement, cheering, and shouting. The chief instructor usually tormented them in various ways, so the soldiers unanimously sided against him, hoping Lu Huaizheng could take him down a notch.

By the time the chief instructor reached his sixty-eighth dumpling, he couldn’t swallow anymore. With his mouth full of dumplings, he stared in astonishment as the young man before he ate seventy-eight dumplings without changing expression.

“I concede,” he said with bulging eyes. “You must have a cow’s stomach, kid.”

Since childhood, Lu Huaizheng had been a good boy who could eat two bowls of rice. He especially loved the dumplings his mother made. Whenever his mother wrapped dumplings, he would bring a small stool and sit beside her, helping her wrap them.

After they finished, they would wait for his father to return, then throw the dumplings into the pot to boil. He could eat dozens of these boiled dumplings in one sitting.

His mother had followed the army before, learning her culinary skills from the mess hall chefs, so when he joined the army, it felt familiar.

By his second year, when he was admitted to military school, he never again tasted dumplings that good.

Later, when he was reassigned to the airborne troops, the airborne mess hall mostly prepared food according to his physique, and eating was no longer so carefree.

In all his years in the army, he had only thought about two women.

One was his mother.

The other was Yu Hao.

He rarely thought about Yu Hao. Most of the time, he thought about his mother.

The first time he thought of Yu Hao was near the end of his first year in the army.

He was on duty in the company, and the most painful duty was night sentry, especially the late-night shift in winter. It was snowing heavily then, with everything outside covered in white. Some veterans who were used to the night would grab a handful of snow from outside and stuff it down your collar while you were sound asleep, then run away. This method worked every time—you couldn’t help but wake up.

Those who were awakened would be furious, springing up from the bed like carp and chasing the culprit around the room.

Lu Huaizheng always woke up on time. He was rarely targeted and mostly just watched these scenes.

On such an ordinary night.

He got up for his night duty, squatting at the dormitory entrance with a cigarette between his lips, waiting for his fellow sentry from the same squad to finish teaching the prankster a lesson inside.

Smoking wasn’t allowed in the company, so he just held it unlit to satisfy his craving. He casually picked up a twig from the ground and, for some reason, began writing Yu Hao’s name. He wrote slowly, stroke by stroke, not paying attention as he wrote. But when he finished and tossed the twig aside to look…

The two characters “Yu Hao” pierced his eyes.

The handwriting was quite good, with forceful strokes, beautiful. He had learned small regular script from his grandfather as a child, but he lacked patience, practicing sporadically. Being mischievous by nature, his grandfather would chase him with a feather duster every day. When he finally developed a semblance of style, his grandfather refused to teach him further, saying that in calligraphy, once you’ve imitated enough to develop the form and structure, the rest depends on your innate talent.

Lu Huaizheng lacked talent, at best making his handwriting look decent. Even so, he felt his childhood had been too painful.

So when he later learned that Yu Hao could play so many musical instruments, while others were full of admiration, the first thought that came to his mind was—

How many beatings must she have endured as a child?

After that, for a period, he might have been going through puberty, often thinking of Yu Hao. Each time he thought of her, it wasn’t about anything good.

Later, it probably became a habit.

Every year when it snowed, he would write Yu Hao’s name on the ground, using various scripts he had learned as a child. After writing it so many times, Yu Hao’s name became more familiar to write than his own.

The last time he wrote her name seemed to be more than two years ago; he couldn’t remember clearly.

Thinking of this, Lu Huaizheng leaned back and lay flat on the grass, hands cushioning the back of his head, eyes slightly narrowed, feet raised, the foxtail grass between his teeth swaying as he chewed.

Suddenly, a hand reached out beside him and pulled the grass from his mouth. Lu Huaizheng looked over suspiciously, raising his eyebrows and creating several wrinkles on his forehead. After glancing at the newcomer, he lazily lowered his eyelids again.

The newcomer was a young man five years younger than Lu Huaizheng, also a soldier in their unit, Chen Rui. He smoothed the grass beside him and sat down next to him, one leg bent, the other hand resting on his knee, tilting his head to look at him, “Captain, what are you thinking about?!”

Lu Huaizheng ignored him, turning his head slightly to the side.

Chen Rui looked at him with a grin: “You’re not thinking about that woman from Stove Number Six, are you?”

“There’s a woman in Stove Number Six?”

Chen Rui gave him a suspicious look, “Stop pretending. I heard the squad leader say the leadership wants to match you with that woman… Hey, she’s really beautiful and refined and speaks so gently too. You’re still not interested?”

Lu Huaizheng didn’t respond, reclaiming the foxtail grass and putting it back between his teeth. This time, he simply crossed his arms behind his head and lay comfortably on the grass with his legs crossed.

After a while, seeing no response from him, Chen Rui thought he had fallen asleep.

Suddenly, he heard:

“Do you remember when we first learned to parachute?” he mumbled around the grass.

Chen Rui was confused as to why he suddenly brought this up.

“Yes, I remember.”

Lu Huaizheng narrowed his eyes, his voice quite calm: “The instructor said at the time, that a good paratrooper should only use the reserve parachute when the main parachute definitely won’t open—”

The instructor had repeated this at least ten times, and Chen Rui remembered it clearly. At that time, many people hadn’t overcome their fear of jumping, weren’t decisive in exiting the aircraft, and their body movements weren’t standard, leading them to not dare to open the main parachute. Every time they jumped out, they would immediately pull the reserve parachute. Chen Rui himself had done this.

“I remember,” Chen Rui said thoughtfully. “The instructor said if all of us had your courage, there wouldn’t be any failed parachute jumps each year.” After saying this, he still found it incredible, leaning on his elbow and leaning his face down further: “I’m curious, how did you manage to wait until your face was almost touching the ground before opening your parachute? The battalion commander was so angry his face turned blue. He said if you had been one second later, you would have died, and his unit’s many years of zero-error record would have been broken by you.”

Despite saying this, the battalion commander was particularly fond of him.

“Because the instructor said the opening rate of the main parachute is one thousand percent. No parachute won’t open, only paratroopers who don’t know how to jump.”

“Why do I feel like there’s something else behind your words?” Chen Rui looked at him vigilantly.

“There isn’t. I’m just wondering, can all the main parachutes in the world open? Are there main parachutes that truly won’t open? Maybe it’s not that my technique isn’t good enough, but that the parachute itself has a problem.”

Chen Rui said ominously: “Why do I feel like you’re cursing at me?”

Lu Huaizheng shook his head and smiled without speaking.

Chen Rui realized, “Trying to match you with that lady, and here you are bringing up irrelevant topics.”

“It won’t work. With her conditions, unless she’s lost her mind, she wouldn’t marry a soldier.” Lu Huaizheng gazed lazily elsewhere.

Chen Rui said: “Captain, you’re very unusual today.”

“Then you must be meeting me for the first time.”

“You always say that men shouldn’t belittle themselves, especially soldiers. Now who are you disparaging?”

But Lu Huaizheng suddenly sat up, resting his elbows on his bent knees, smiling lightly:

“When I was your age, honestly, my face was thicker than the city wall, and I was all talk. Don’t take those words to heart.”

“…”

…

After lunch, they rested for a moment.

There was another meeting at the military sub-district in the afternoon. Professor Han, Li Hongwen, and Lu Huaizheng all had to attend. It was about establishing a standard for Air Force psychological health examinations. Yu Hao went too.

The entire conference room was very quiet.

Li Hongwen was tilting his ear to assign work to Lu Huaizheng, who listened attentively with his arms crossed, casually scribbling important points on paper. His handwriting was messy and careless, which particularly irritated Li Hongwen.

Not minding the presence of outsiders at all, he scolded him: “Your handwriting is worse than my two-year-old son’s. Didn’t you learn calligraphy from your grandfather when you were young? Is this what you achieved?”

Lu Huaizheng rubbed his nose with an expression of being reprimanded.

He used to have the same expression when scolded by teachers, unconsciously rubbing his nose, neither humble nor defiant, and it was unclear whether he took it to heart. Anyway, he just looked at you frankly, as if he’d done something bad but wasn’t embarrassed at all.

Throughout the meeting, Lu Huaizheng didn’t look at Yu Hao. Even when she went on stage to analyze data, he only stared at the projector behind her.

“Professor Han has already applied to the institution. If you need it, we can provide psychological health evaluations for you at any time.”

“How often?” When Lu Huaizheng heard this, he finally slowly shifted his gaze to her, his eyes particularly mocking. “Once every six months? Once a year? Or once every ten years?”

He emphasized the word “ten.”

Hearing his tone was somewhat off, even Li Hongwen gave him a slightly reproachful look, “What’s wrong with you? Did you eat gunpowder?”

“No,” he coughed, pinching his neck, glancing elsewhere lightly, “My throat is uncomfortable.”

“Regular examinations once a year, and post-battle follow-ups. We can come over anytime. Of course, if your family members need help or consultation, they can also contact us anytime.” Yu Hao explained.

Li Hongwen had no objections, and even if Lu Huaizheng had any, it wasn’t his place to voice them. The matter was temporarily decided by Li Hongwen, with the final decision pending a meeting with several higher-level leaders.

The meeting ended, and Yu Hao went to the bathroom. When she returned, everyone had dispersed.

Professor Han and Li Hongwen had gone somewhere.

Lu Huaizheng was sitting with half his backside on the table, both hands in his pockets, his gaze idle and bored as it wandered around until she came in and he paused.

Yu Hao lowered her head the moment their eyes met, wiping her hands with a tissue, and asked without emotion: “Where’s Professor Han?”

Lu Huaizheng also looked away, not in a good mood: “Left.”

Yu Hao thought it impossible; he was probably just teasing her again on a whim. Ignoring him, she silently began gathering her notebooks spread on the table.

At dusk, without heavy clouds, the sky was clear, and the transparent evening sunlight fell in from the window, scattering a beam of pale yellow light dust in the air. With all the books and papers on the table, it felt like twelve years ago.

The two had already been in a cold war before transferring schools. When Yu Hao met him on the road, she would turn and leave. Lu Huaizheng was the same; he might be laughing and chatting with someone, but upon seeing her, his face would immediately turn cold, the temperature around him dropping by more than three degrees.

It was quite similar to now.

Although sunshine filled the entire conference room, making it look warm and cozy, the atmosphere between the two was as cold as ice. That beam of warm yellow light dust stood between them like an insurmountable chasm.

Yu Hao hugged her notebook to her chest, picked up her bag beside her, and prepared to leave.

The person behind her didn’t move, still in the same position with hands in pockets, lazily half-sitting on the desk, and spoke: “Do you know the way?”

“Can you show me?”

This was somewhat unexpected for Lu Huaizheng; he thought she wouldn’t speak.

He moved his backside off the table, hands still in his pockets, nodded, and generously offered: “Let’s go. I’ll see you at the military district gate.”

“Did Professor Han leave?”

Yu Hao, uncertain, asked again.

“I don’t know. My leader told me to send you back first,” he said truthfully. Just after Yu Hao left, Li Hongwen hurriedly left with Professor Han, telling Lu Huaizheng to arrange a car to send her back first.

If Yu Hao had just said, “Can you drive me?” he would have personally driven her.

He wasn’t that heartless; after all, she was a girl he had once genuinely liked.

Lu Huaizheng led her downstairs. His habit when going downstairs was to tiptoe and skip several steps at a time, especially at corners. Looking back, he saw her still slowly walking behind, so he put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall to wait a bit. When she was about two or three steps away, he would start moving again to the next flight of stairs.

After several repetitions, he showed no impatience, steadily leading her, and when they left the building, he held the door open for her. Because it was his territory, a place he walked through several times a day with his eyes closed, he knew every corner, attending to every detail to accommodate her.

Yu Hao felt like she had returned to high school. He seemed to know every corner of the school, knowing where the dog holes were and which walls could be climbed. He said he was observant, but it was probably just an excuse to skip classes.

Then the man’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Past the sentry box ahead is the exit. The car is waiting for you at the gate.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He did smile, hands in his pockets, lifting his chin at her, “Go ahead.”

However, when they passed the sentry box, there was a security check.

Outsiders entering and leaving the military district generally had to be checked, mainly to see if there were any weapons in their bags, and to prevent information leakage through devices like phones or recorders. In the morning, Yu Hao and Professor Han entered Li Hongwen’s car, and their belongings were handed directly to Li Hongwen’s secretary. Now, leaving, she was stopped and told that there was a black oddly-shaped object in her bag that hadn’t been registered in the morning, so she needed to show her bag.

The sentry responsible for checking was particularly thorough, even examining Yu Hao’s sanitary pad, taking it out, and inspecting it carefully, fearing it might hide a chip or something.

Under the gaze of everyone, with four or five pairs of eyes staring at a grown man examining her sanitary pad, Yu Hao’s face reddened to the base of her neck…

A few seconds later.

The sanitary pad in the sentry’s hand was snatched away. Several people looked up.

Lu Huaizheng had somehow come over, stuffed the woman’s things back into Yu Hao’s bag, grabbed the bag with one hand, and pulled Yu Hao with the other, gripping her shoulder and bringing her in front of him. He nodded to the people nearby and pointed to the door, and his voice came from above her head, like a series of melodious notes, lightly jumping onto her shoulder, like the slender, warm hands resting on her shoulder, reaching directly to her heart—

“Alright, I’m taking her with me. Open the door.”