The department was quiet, so quiet that only the rustling of leaves outside the window remained.

Zhao Dailin had never seen Yu Hao so angry before—it truly shocked her.

Yu Hao wasn’t one to argue with others; she’d never even raised her voice before. Zhao Dailin observed her now, gritting her teeth fiercely—truly a rare sight—her eyes so red they seemed about to drip blood. She was genuinely angry. Zhao Dailin looked at Yu Hao suspiciously, initially disbelieving. Di Yanni’s professional skills weren’t bad; she was the most famous among their cohort, partly because she enjoyed the spotlight, giving lectures all around the country.

“Is it really that exaggerated?”

As Zhao Dailin spoke, she reached for the file on the desk, opened it, and scanned a few lines. Her expression gradually grew serious. By the time she reached the last line, her brows were tightly knitted as she turned her face away and forcefully slapped the report on the table with a “smack!”

Zhao Dailin crossed her arms, fuming for three seconds, then offered a thought that made Yu Hao deeply uneasy:

“I think we should report this to the leadership.”

“Di Yanni must have been experimenting on Lu Huaizheng at that time,” Zhao Dailin said. “Do you remember, in January 2014, she published a paper on PTSD that discussed dissociative and non-dissociative types? In that paper, she overturned all previous scientific research on dissociative and non-dissociative types. She insisted that PTSD had only one type: dissociative. Professor Han even showed us that paper and asked you to write an analysis of PTSD types and treatments from your perspective. Di Yanni has always wanted her research to be recognized in academic circles. She’s always eager to overturn previous conclusions and pioneer a new research path. I don’t believe she couldn’t distinguish between dissociative and non-dissociative types. Using patients for experiments isn’t new for her. Lu Huaizheng is a soldier—if problems arise in the following years, who should be held responsible? If this is true, Di Yanni’s license must be suspended.”

……

Meanwhile, Lu Huaizheng and Li Hongwen had arrived in Hunan. Soldiers lined up to welcome them. Lu Huaizheng, wearing his regular uniform, got out of the car behind Li Hongwen. Some young soldiers in the formation craned their necks like geese to see Lu Huaizheng behind Li Hongwen, their eyes shining with excitement.

They met for military competitions every year, so Lu Huaizheng knew most of them. Standing beside Li Hongwen, he swept his gaze across the formation. Each face gleamed with eagerness, their expressions revealing their anticipation and barely contained excitement.

The squadron leader was named Xu Xu. When he saw Lu Huaizheng, he stepped forward and gave him a warm embrace. They had been classmates at military school. After graduation, one stayed in Beijing while the other went to Hunan.

Xu Xu was from Henan province, with a square build, dark and thin. His eyes were small and disappeared completely when he smiled.

Lu Huaizheng’s appearance was indeed rare among soldiers. Whenever Xu Xu saw him, he couldn’t help teasing, “How are you still so fair-skinned?”

He had darkened a lot, with three distinct shades on his arms. In high school, he had truly been fair, like a delicate young actor. Lu Huaizheng shook his head, tapped Xu Xu with his cap, and joked, “At least I’m not like you, dark as a lump of coal.”

Xu Xu grew anxious, his dialect breaking through, “This is what healthy looks like.”

Whenever Xu Xu got anxious, he would slip into his dialect. Back in school, roommates loved mimicking his dialect with various inflections. Lu Huaizheng, Sun Kai, and the other Beijing natives didn’t like mocking others’ speech. Xu Xu was honest, and Lu Huaizheng couldn’t stand seeing honest people bullied. Sometimes when someone bullied Xu Xu by mocking his dialect, they would swarm to his defense.

Although they occasionally teased each other as brothers do, Xu Xu could distinguish between good-natured and malicious intent and always treated Lu Huaizheng and Sun Kai like brothers.

“Where’s Sun Kai?” Xu Xu asked casually.

“In Yunnan.”

Lu Huaizheng answered distractedly.

Li Hongwen was still chatting idly with the political instructor. By now, darkness had completely fallen. The patrol lights flashed by, and Lu Huaizheng, squinting, scanned the surroundings before casually asking Xu Xu, “What time is it?”

“Now?” Xu Xu turned to ask someone beside him, then turned back to reply, “Seven o’clock.”

Lu Huaizheng calculated the time. Chen Rui should have arrived at Kunming Airport by now, and the item should be in her hands tonight.

That item was something he had specifically returned to his old home to retrieve during Qingming Festival.

If she had seen it earlier, she might have understood better and waited calmly for his return.

……

Early the next morning, at the first light of dawn.

Yu Hao was washing up as she passed the stairway entrance when she heard rhythmic, cheerful footsteps coming down the stairs—”thump, thump, thump.” With her towel casually draped over her shoulder, she glanced down and froze.

The towel slipped off and fell into the basin as she stared blankly at Chen Rui’s face.

Chen Rui smiled and greeted her, “Dr. Yu.”

Yu Hao responded with a sound of acknowledgment, clearly feeling her heart begin to race intensely. She asked, “Where is he?”

Chen Rui said, “He hasn’t returned yet.”

“…”

Then why did you come up here?

“Oh.” Yu Hao picked up her towel again and prepared to leave with her basin.

Chen Rui hurriedly rushed forward to stop her, not daring to get too close, automatically stepping back, then explained, “He went to Hunan with the leadership and might not be back for a few days—two days should do it.”

“Good, thank you for telling me.” Yu Hao was very polite.

Chen Rui found it puzzling. Why did Dr. Yu maintain such a standoffish demeanor with everyone? How did the captain end up with her? Truly miraculous.

Thinking this, he reached into his pocket and handed her something. “The captain asked me to give this to you.”

Yu Hao looked down.

In Chen Rui’s broad, thick palm lay an old black corduroy pouch, once used for storing puppets. It felt quite heavy when lifted, evidently from a bygone era—the label on it had been completely worn away.

Chen Rui, like a true messenger, delivered the item and left without lingering.

Yu Hao took the item back to her room, set down her basin, and placed the object on the table. She rested her chin on her hand, idly examining it from various angles. Seeing the thick layer of dust—just short of having spider webs—she estimated it was probably older than both their ages combined.

She carefully unwrapped it.

The bag was quite tight at the top. As Yu Hao untied the white silk cord at the opening, dust scattered all over the table.

Yu Hao became increasingly certain it belonged to his grandfather.

When she tilted the bag slightly, eager to tip out its contents, she was stunned.

Her first reaction—what is this?

Her second reaction—it looks somewhat familiar.

When she finally realized what it was, her nose tingled, and tears welled up and spilled out.

In high school, she created sand art and even participated in a city competition, using ordinary sand. Later, she complained to Lu Huaizheng that ordinary yellow sand looked too monotonous, saying it would be nice if the sand had colors.

It was just a casual comment.

At that time, the young man had confidently put his arm around her shoulder and said, “Just wait, I’ll give you a bag before the finals.”

Yu Hao had considered it just a joke at the time and hadn’t taken it to heart. When the finals came and he made no mention of it, she assumed he had forgotten and felt quite disappointed, but didn’t bring it up again.

Unexpectedly, she received this gift twelve years later—he had made it.

Yu Hao gently gathered a handful, watching the colorful fine sand slowly pass through her fingertips. It was colored.

……

In the morning’s blindfolded machine gun assembly competition, Lu Huaizheng broke the regiment’s historical record by loading 130 rounds in one minute. Each team had five people.

Lu Huaizheng, Xu Xu, and several veteran soldiers formed the first team, a powerhouse that recruits watched with great enthusiasm.

Lu Huaizheng remained calm throughout. Wearing a blindfold that covered half his face, he stood straight, the blindfold elongating his features, accentuating his clean, sharp facial structure.

His gun assembly technique was extremely skilled, flowing smoothly like a production line. His hand speed was so fast that even Li Hongwen stared in amazement.

After one minute:

Lu Huaizheng: 130 rounds. Xu Xu: 125 rounds. Other veterans: averaged 115 rounds.

The previous year’s record was 120 rounds.

Both Xu Xu and Lu Huaizheng had broken the record, serving as a wake-up call and inspiration for the troops.

……

Yunnan Military Region.

At lunch that day, Yu Hao was eating when she heard Instructor Tang on the phone. The conversation sounded like it involved that person, so she couldn’t help but prick up her ears to listen.

Good thing she wasn’t a rabbit or her pricked-up ears would have been too obvious as she eavesdropped.

Instructor Tang: “Let’s discuss the Myanmar situation when you return.”

“That works too.”

“Everyone’s doing well. When are you coming back?”

“Should we send someone down the mountain to pick you up?”

Perhaps because Yu Hao was listening too intently, her ears stretched closer and closer, nearly pressing against Instructor Tang’s phone. Instructor Tang, holding the phone, looked down at Yu Hao and called out, “Little Yu?”

Yu Hao was startled awake. She suddenly sat up straight, choking on half a mouthful of rice that was stuck in her throat, neither going up nor down. Her face turned red, and she nearly buried it in her bowl.

In the quiet cafeteria, the wind blew through a gap in the door, brushing against her warm face. Her breathing eased a bit, and she thought she heard Instructor Tang say:

“It’s Dr. Yu.”

Not Dr. Yu.

Yu Hao picked up her tray, intending to slip away.

But Instructor Tang suddenly held out the phone, smiling in a particularly meaningful and ambiguous way: “Here, Captain Lu wants to speak with you.”

You old rascal!