Cheng Feng had gone to bed early. After getting up, she habitually opened her optical computer to scroll through her messages, only to be greeted by an avalanche of condolences, encouragement, and battle invitations from students across the various military academies. Between unread messages and friend requests, there were several hundred notifications waiting for her, enough to make her jump.
She’d been so low-key yesterday. She hadn’t said a single thing!
Shen Dan had sent her a neat little summary:
In some unknown corner of spacetime, you’ve already crushed the finest students in the entire league, shattered multiple league records, graduated with all nine MVP honors, and are now on your way to join the Expeditionary Force as the brightest rising star of the next generation.
Cheng Feng: “…”
If someone was going to brag like that, why couldn’t they have left the opportunity for her?
She scrolled down until she found Mr. Kong’s name.
Mr. Kong: Cheng Feng, have you been online yet? These netizens just love stirring up trouble. Don’t respond to anything. It’s really not a big deal – let them entertain themselves.
Half an hour later, another message arrived.
Mr. Kong: If you still haven’t looked, then don’t. It’ll affect your mindset. The school will issue an official statement for you.
Another half hour passed.
Mr. Kong: Hahaha! I am so happy! If you’re staying on campus for the Lunar New Year this year, come have dinner at my place! My wife has been dying to meet you! Whatever you want to eat, she’ll make it!
Then, around midnight –
Mr. Kong: I’ve been teaching for decades, and you’re the very first student to bring home the Gold Cup for manual-operated mecha! Back then, my greatest wish was just to see manual mecha make it into the league finals. Winning the Gold Cup? I only dared dream about that. If I’d ever said it out loud, those old geezers from the sensor-mecha department next door would’ve laughed themselves silly and told me to watch my tongue before I sprained it.
Mr. Kong: To hell with them! From now on I’m printing a hundred photos of that Gold Cup and shoving every single one in their faces!
Mr. Kong: Had a little too much to drink. Heh heh.
Cheng Feng replied with an [Owl Bowing Respectfully] sticker, then kept scrolling until she found a message from Mr. Luo.
Mr. Luo: Congratulations, Cheng Feng! [Applause]
Mr. Luo: This year, the Command Department has added an extra assessment during the holiday for students who want to compete in the League’s Grand Battlefield event. Several instructors from different departments spent the whole night discussing it, and we’ve decided that you should be the core around whom we build the command team. You’re highly respected among the infantry candidates now, and Xiang Yunjian is your teammate – he can also help keep the team united. The two of you working together would be the ideal arrangement.
Mr. Luo: We’ll need your opinion before making the final selection, so we’d like you to stay on campus during the holiday if possible.
After all, university students had limited experience. To minimize friction, it was best to choose a commander whose style suited them from the start.
Mr. Luo: This year’s League wasn’t just a complete victory for manual-operated mecha – it was also a complete victory for data analysts. Your successful ambushes at the start of the tournament and your route selection in the later stages both produced outstanding results with minimal effort. I won’t analyze every detail here, but the knowledge involved is honestly beyond the undergraduate curriculum. The Grand Battlefield is the Command Department’s most important stage. Get some proper rest and perform as you normally do. I believe you can usher in a new era of glory for Class B commanders.
Mr. Luo: I heard Mr. Kong has applied for quite a few material rewards on your behalf. Our Command Department will have something for you as well. We’ve already contacted San Yao, and once they’ve finished organizing everything, we’ll send it over. I hope you’ll like it.
Cheng Feng replied with the same [Owl Bowing Respectfully] sticker.
Perched on the bedside table, the little owl caught sight of the image on her screen and looked distinctly displeased.
A combat robot should never bow so casually. It would only ever bow to its own master.
So it said, “Withdraw it.”
Cheng Feng refused without emotion. “No.”
…Its status in the household really had fallen lower and lower. Once upon a time, it had been the unquestioned head of the family.
The little owl huffily turned around, presenting her with its back.
Cheng Feng rolled up her sleeves and tied her hair back.
Scrolling further down, she found that many of the remaining messages were from unfamiliar IDs. Tapping on their profiles, she realized they were students from the manual-mecha program.
She had probably added them while organizing department events or holding Q&A sessions. Under normal circumstances, they almost never contacted her.
At first, Cheng Feng wasn’t planning to read them. There were simply too many.
But after casually opening the first one, she found herself reading it through.
“Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to tell you this: I’ve been studying manual-operated mecha for years, but I never really had a clear understanding of it until now. Thank you. From now on, I can finally believe that if I can’t do it, it’s because I’m not good enough – not because manual mecha aren’t good enough. I’m still a long way from the ceiling of what’s possible. I gave up far too early.”
“It wasn’t until today that I realized where I’d gone wrong. The path forward for manual-operated mecha isn’t about clinging to old methods – it’s about breaking the old to establish the new. You fought brilliantly. Congratulations. UFU is lucky to have you.”
“Hello, Senior! People have always mocked the manual-mecha program, saying it should be kicked out of the Infantry Department because manual-mecha students aren’t as physically tough as the monsters next door. I used to think, ‘Everyone has their own strengths,’ but after watching your team match today, I realized that isn’t the right way to think. The most important quality of a military student is refusing to admit defeat. You have to keep discovering your own strengths before you can keep improving. I’m only a freshman, so it’s not too late. I’ve decided to start studying data analysis too. From now on, I’ll follow the path you’ve carved out!”
“Nothing special to say – I’m just following the crowd and dropping by to thank you. Today finally cleared away two long-standing injustices: that manual-operated mecha are inherently inferior, and that manual-mecha pilots are inherently inferior. From now on, our field can move forward with a completely new image. I’ve already graduated, so I missed this pivotal moment, but I’m still incredibly inspired. Well done.”
“The future of manual-operated mecha is nothing but open roads ahead!!”
“Last year, UFU made its greatest contribution to manual-operated mecha by discovering you on the post-war planet – and having the vision to admit you as an exceptional case.”
At first, Cheng Feng had thought that winning a single championship was no great accomplishment.
But after reading those messages, she found herself deeply moved.
Perhaps victories had been so rare for students in the manual-mecha program that having even a single successful role model meant everything. It was an invisible kind of strength – one that bound everyone together while inspiring every one of them to keep going.
More than anyone else, they wanted Cheng Feng to win the Gold Cup.
Because engraved upon that trophy would never be just the characters “Ye Guicheng.”
Alongside them would be three even more important words: “Manual-Operated Mecha.”
Around noon, UFU’s official account also published a post, reflecting on the spirit displayed by its manual-mecha students:
A true pioneer is someone who inspires those who walk beside them. For the first time, I truly believe the revival of manual-operated mecha is no longer far away.
Before long, the official accounts of the other major military universities all shared the post in turn.
Their captions were nearly identical:
“We eagerly await that day!”
The netizens had spent the entire night yesterday trying to sow discord – pitting infantry students against each other, stirring up conflict between the infantry and command departments.
The only group that remained unusually united was the manual-mecha program.
Even students who weren’t from UFU continued to say: “Cheng Feng is invincible. May she achieve even greater victories!”
Netizens joked: “I don’t know whether Cheng Feng can truly dominate the entire Alliance, but she might not be far from uniting all manual-operated mecha users under one banner.”
Regardless of what her final results would be, her name would inevitably have a place in the history of manual-operated mecha development.
It was an achievement that the vast majority of students could never even imagine.
The netizens discussed it for half a day, yet the person at the center of the storm never appeared to respond. They found it strangely out of character.
After all, Cheng Feng had always been exceptionally skilled at attracting enemies and stirring up controversy.
A wave of netizens began calling out: “Where’s Cheng Feng? Did she go home for the holiday to have fun, or is she at uni enjoying being worshipped by her alumni? Come out already – count me in!”
Meanwhile, Cheng Feng was sitting in a vehicle heading toward a cemetery on the outskirts of the city.
She was holding a white bag, one she had specially bought to match the little owl’s feathers.
The little owl stood on top of the bag, its claws hooked around the handle strap, eyes closed as it entered standby mode.
Cheng Feng looked out the window. She hadn’t been staring into space for long before she noticed someone in front of her mentioning her name.
“Is that Cheng Feng? She looks even skinnier in person than she does in the San Yao broadcasts.”
“Seems like it. But she only looks skinny. I bet she could still knock you flying with one punch.”
“Her hair has grown out. Her eyes are so big and cute. Is she really not even 1.6 meters tall?”
Following the voices, Cheng Feng turned to look. The people on both sides smiled awkwardly.
Cheng Feng said, “I’m 1.65 meters.”
A middle-aged man beside her immediately blurted out, “Don’t make a clarification that sounds like a rumor!”
Cheng Feng’s expression darkened, and everyone in the carriage burst into laughter.
In truth, quite a few people had already recognized her. San Yao’s publicity campaign had simply been too extensive – Cheng Feng’s face could be seen on almost every major website.
With the atmosphere warmed up, everyone started chatting with her.
“Where are you headed?”
Cheng Feng paused for a moment before answering, “Just going to visit someone.”
“Oh, then have fun. I watched your matches – you were incredible! You’re so young and already this outstanding. Those two boys couldn’t even compare to you!”
Cheng Feng replied modestly, “No, not really. I was mostly just lucky.”
The man patted her shoulder. When she looked over, he gave her a thumbs-up. “You’re definitely going to win! My daughter is your fan!”
Cheng Feng smiled.
The vehicle slowed down, and the reminder Cheng Feng had set suddenly rang out: “Arrived! Arrived!”
She immediately grabbed her bag, nodded goodbye to everyone, and got off through the back door.
This area was rather desolate. When the location had originally been chosen, the only consideration had been the price. Cheng Feng believed Ye Jing would not have minded.
She hadn’t had the heart to place Ye Jing’s badge and military uniform inside the grave, so all it contained were his letters and a few old components. Calling it a grave was perhaps a little too grand – it was really just Cheng Feng’s way of leaving his name behind in the Alliance.
Even though he had never been a member of the Alliance.
The winter wind was sharp, and even the sunlight seemed soft and listless.
With nothing else to do – and the next bus not arriving for another hour – Cheng Feng simply squatted down, picked up a few stones, and began stacking them for fun.
When Ye Jing had nothing to do in the past, he liked doing the same thing. Being completely focused on something small and simple helped him become calm. The only problem was that Cheng Feng loved causing trouble. Whenever she saw him sitting alone in an open space, she would charge over energetically, then run away screaming and making ghost noises.
It had been too long ago. The images in her memory had turned yellowed and blurry, to the point that Cheng Feng sometimes wondered whether they were nothing more than something she had imagined.
She was a little afraid that she would forget someone like Ye Jing, even though she had never truly understood him completely. Ye Jing had always kept many secrets.
Perhaps Cheng Feng simply wasn’t good at such delicate little games. She could only stack the stones into a crude little triangle.
Just as she was trying to balance the oddly shaped stone on top, her optical computer vibrated.
The sound was especially clear in the empty, bleak cemetery.
Cheng Feng’s fingers were stiff from the cold. After struggling for a while, she finally managed to reach into her pocket and pull out her optical computer.
The contact was one of San Yao’s technical staff.
“Cheng Feng, congratulations on getting MVP!”
Cheng Feng sent back a voice message: “Thank you!”
The technician quickly replied, “It’s like this, dear. Following Professor Luo’s suggestion from your university, San Yao and UFU went through the materials your father left behind together. Because of the passage of time, some of the data had already been overwritten, but we still managed to recover some valuable video records. San Yao also contacted the relevant departments on the postwar planet. After some communication, they agreed to provide part of the less important video footage from the equipment Mr. Ye Jing used while he was alive. However, it’s best that these materials are not shared publicly.”
“We’ve sorted through and edited them into a video, and we’d like to give it to you as a reward for your team’s victory in the team competition. If you’d like it, I can send it over right now.”
Cheng Feng was stunned. She lost her balance for a moment and naturally ended up sitting cross-legged on the ground.
Ye Guicheng: [Owl Bowing Respectfully] Thank you! I want it!
The file transfer was fairly quick.
A few minutes later, Cheng Feng clicked play.
A face that was both familiar and unfamiliar appeared before her eyes. It struck her heart like a drumbeat, hitting with sudden force.
At the beginning of the video, Ye Jing was still young and inexperienced. He smiled awkwardly at the camera, his clothes hanging loosely on his frame, softening all the sharpness and fierceness that would later define him.
Even his hair was soft and slightly yellowish, just like Cheng Feng’s when she had first arrived at UFU.
Cheng Feng thought to herself: Isn’t this proof he’s really my biological father?
The person conducting the interview was probably one of Ye Jing’s friends. His tone was familiar and teasing as he asked with a laugh, “Come on, what’s the goal?”
Ye Jing tried to dodge the question but failed, so he could only answer, “The goal… is to make it to the finals.”
The other person raised his voice and pressed further: “Make it to the finals, and then what?”
Ye Jing thought for a moment, then smiled. “Win.”
“Win, and then what?”
The young man suddenly leaned closer and asked loudly, “What are you winning for?!”
Ye Jing turned around and walked out of the classroom, causing the entire image to brighten.
The young Ye Jing was reserved and gentle. He didn’t look like a military academy student at all. Even his build seemed a little smaller and slimmer than his classmates.
This was where he differed from Cheng Feng – he had never possessed her talent for boasting.
It was supposed to be the kind of moment where someone declared a bold ambition, but in the end, all he could do was offer a harmless, almost non-threatening line. “Then… maybe more people will remember me?”
The two of them started fooling around.
Ye Jing really loved to smile.
He was completely different from the person he would become later.
The next segment seemed to be an interview by San Yao.
When the reporter spoke to him, even the reporter’s voice became gentler. “Are you satisfied with your results?”
Ye Jing answered seriously, “I can continue improving.”
“The impression netizens have of you is quite memorable. They say you don’t seem much like a military student. They asked me to find out – your classmates haven’t been bullying you, have they?”
Ye Jing smiled and shook his head. “Everyone in the Alliance is very kind.”
He had studied in the Alliance for a very long time. Almost as far back as he could remember, he had already been there.
He attended middle school, high school, and university there.
Although he had been specially admitted from the postwar planet and received support from his own homeland, he actually understood the Alliance better and had a deeper emotional connection to it.
Later, war broke out, and Ye Jing was called back to his home country to provide aid.
His friends held a farewell dinner for him.
During the meal, one of the boys asked quietly, “You’re really leaving?”
Ye Jing nodded. “Yeah.”
His friend fell silent.
Several people lowered their heads and ate the food on the table, not knowing what else to say.
After a long silence, Ye Jing opened a can of beer and took a sip, frowning at the taste.
The person sitting across from him asked, “When are you coming back?”
Ye Jing said, “I hope it’ll be soon.”
“That place… it’s so dangerous. From the news, it looks like they’re fighting with their lives on the line. The military equipment is far too outdated, and the discipline is terrible.” His friend lowered his voice. “Actually… you don’t have to go, do you?”
Ye Jing answered calmly, “I don’t think I can avoid it.”
“Why?!”
Ye Jing turned his face slightly. A streak of white light was reflected in his dark pupils, making them look as though they held flickering stars.
“Because there are many people who need me. That is my homeland.”
The smell of alcohol in the air seemed almost strong enough to drift out of the screen.
“Remember me,” Ye Jing said. “Then it won’t have been a wasted journey.”
For some reason, Cheng Feng felt like crying. She wiped away her tears with her sleeve.
The footage lasted for more than ten seconds. Several people stood at the boarding gate with their bags on their backs, waving goodbye. Then they turned and walked away.
It felt like such a long stretch of time, yet a farewell like that was far too brief.
After that, he never came back.
A life spanning more than twenty years was frozen forever on a broken clock, only to be slowly erased by time more than twenty years later.
After that, the footage seemed to break apart, like missing sections in a timeline. Much of it had been filmed by Ye Jing himself.
He filmed abandoned buildings, refugees after the war, fallen trees.
The footage was fragmented by all kinds of factors, and the entire process was shown in a very simplified way.
The voices in the background were both chaotic and faint.
“No survivors found.”
“The evacuation should be complete.”
Most of the time, Ye Jing only gave one brief response, “Mm.”
Just like the person in Cheng Feng’s memories.
The camera shook violently.
Several dark-skinned young men sat atop the ruins. Sand and dust swept past with the wind, whistling mournfully. They kept their heads lowered, silent. Occasionally, they reached out and exchanged weapons from one another’s hands.
Hearing footsteps, one of them turned around and asked, “Where are they?”
Ye Jing said, “Gone.”
He held out his hand. Inside was a medal. “Who should have it?”
The young man who had spoken earlier answered, “Give it to me.”
The young man took the medal. Its sharp edges dug into his palm as he gripped it tightly. He stared at it for several seconds, then put it into his pocket. After letting out a heavy breath, he forced a smile.
“I hope I’m not the last one to leave. Otherwise, I won’t even know who I’m supposed to entrust these things to.”
Ye Jing did not reply.
The group sat down separately, staring blankly into the distance in silence. Then they saw a scattered squad of new recruits running along the road ahead.
The group moved in disorder, their formation completely broken. It was obvious they had not received long-term training. Their rifles hung across their chests, and even their uniforms did not fit properly. They looked awkward and out of place.
The young man asked, “New recruits? How old are they?”
Ye Jing said, “I don’t know.”
Only after the figures disappeared – after no one knew which road those young soldiers had gone down to patrol – did a cold voice break the silence. “What a joke. Are they just being sent over there to be fed bullets?”
Someone stood up and left. Soon after, the others followed him to continue training, leaving only Ye Jing and the person who had spoken behind. “A lot of people will die. Because they can’t retreat.”
The voice carried a distant, lingering quality. It was impossible to tell whether he was speaking to himself or to someone else. “Because they will always be willing to sacrifice themselves for peace.”
The young man sitting opposite them turned his back and muttered something muffled, his voice catching with emotion. “If only this place were the Alliance…”
But soon after, he added, “This place is clearly such a mess, yet I still don’t want to leave… When will things finally get better?”
Cheng Feng even saw herself in the footage.
She was climbing.
For some reason, she had loved climbing when she was little. Chairs, beds, tables – she climbed everything. With those tiny little legs, she wanted to push herself up anywhere and everywhere. If no one was paying attention for even a moment, she would disappear completely.
In the background, a rough voice laughed and said, “Was this kid a koala in her past life or something?”
Someone else burst out laughing. “Leave her alone for three days and she’ll be tearing the roof apart.”
Ye Jing laughed too. Cheng Feng felt like it had been a very long time since she had heard his laughter.
He lifted Cheng Feng down and placed her on the floor, letting the combat robot help watch over her.
But Cheng Feng was restless. She chewed on the robot’s head, then took a pen and scribbled all over its body.
Ye Jing reached over from behind and gently patted her head. In his deep voice, he said, “Be good.”
A young man walked over from behind and took the recording device from Ye Jing. “You’re leaving tomorrow. Let me say a few words to Cheng Feng. Those are the only two words you’ve got, huh?”
Ye Jing stepped aside and smiled. “Go ahead.”
The young man pointed the camera at Cheng Feng, moving in close. He took the object from her hands and placed it on the ground. Only after watching her crawl over to pick it back up did he begin speaking, “Be a little braver, little one.”
“If you can’t find us anymore, don’t come looking for us. Make more friends. But people are complicated – remember to learn how to tell them apart.”
“Goodbye. Try to grow up a little more, and become a gentle person.”
“That’s good. This child will probably forget about us very soon.”
Ye Jing laughed.
Cheng Feng suddenly remembered a line from one of Ye Jing’s letters. He had written that only places with peace could have freedom.
In their world, perhaps the only thing that was truly unrestricted was the wind.
Even if it drifted endlessly with no destination, it could still go anywhere without carrying any burdens. Every road it had traveled left traces behind, and every place it passed through was changed by its movement.
For Ye Jing, his homeland was the postwar planet, but the place he felt the deepest attachment to was the Alliance.
The postwar planet buried him.
And the Alliance, in the end, left nothing behind.
In a daze, Cheng Feng murmured, “His return… it shouldn’t have been to the Alliance, right?”
It should have been to peace.
Something he was finally able to have in the end.
The video had reached its final segment. Only fifteen seconds remained.
Cheng Feng watched with utmost care.
Ordinary soldiers stood on both sides of the road, raising their hands in salute as they passed.
Ye Jing and the others, dressed in the uniforms of manual-mecha pilots, marched through the middle of the crowd in formation.
Blinding light shone from ahead, illuminating every person at the front of the line.
The group strode forward with steady, confident steps. They put on their helmets, grabbed the tether lines, and boarded their mecha.
Before the cabin doors closed, they turned back for one last glance and raised their hands in salute.
And then there was nothing more.
The postwar planet had very little information it could provide.
Cheng Feng dragged the progress bar back and watched it again.
After she finished rewatching it, she realized that the next bus had already left. She would have to wait another hour.
So Cheng Feng simply sat where she was and repeatedly replayed the beginning of the video.
Humans had weaknesses.
Cheng Feng disliked those weaknesses.
Machines would not feel hurt because of mockery. They would not retreat because of fear. They would not throw away their brief lives because of regret. They would not waste their limited time thinking over a question filled with contradictions.
Human warmth inherently contained mistakes. Humans could not always pursue a better life with perfect rationality.
Yet within those mistakes, there shone faith and resilience.
No matter how afraid they were, no matter how terrified they became, even when the future they longed for never arrived, they still had to face the wind and snow, carrying their wounds, and continue moving forward.
Ye Jing and the others had never once thought about escaping from such mistakes.
Perhaps that was the thing they had the greatest right to be proud of – as human beings.
Cheng Feng opened her San Yao account.
Her profile description had originally read: A ** person.
She deleted those words and typed in Ye Jing’s name instead.
The netizens were already circling around her account, and they quickly noticed the change.
“Sorry, but I still really want to know what those two characters were that you censored.”
“You finally don’t want to pretend to be a mysterious person anymore?”
“Cheng Feng has grown up. No more middle-school-chuunibyou behavior. Is this the transformation brought by winning the Gold Cup?”
“What are you doing? Having a father is something worth being proud of? I have one too, okay?”
Cheng Feng put away her wrist terminal, walked once around the small path in the cemetery, then arrived at the station by the entrance and waited for the bus back to school.
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