Cheng Feng received quite a lot of New Year gifts this year. Aside from the lipstick Jiang Linxia gave her – which she’d basically never use – there were also a bunch of toys she had no use for either.
She didn’t really understand the nature of friendship between men, but she could clearly feel their desire to share their happiness with their “little brother.” For that, they were even willing to dig into their long-hoarded personal stashes.
But Cheng Feng’s real happiness didn’t arrive until Chu Xuan bought her two new outfits for the New Year.
Chu Xuan usually preferred cool tones, so she picked out a light grey woolen short coat and a loose black-and-white patchwork sweater for Cheng Feng. Then, on Xiang Yunjian’s suggestion, she also bought her a few extra hats.
Cheng Feng’s wardrobe was gradually filling up, which brought some comfort to her perpetually empty wallet.
Even better, under Chu Xuan’s sarcastic remarks, Xiang Yunjian and Yan Shen voluntarily put away their model guns and instead gave Cheng Feng a straightforward red envelope.
Cheng Feng accepted it in the group chat and very politely replied, “Thank you, Brother Shen!”
Just moments ago, she had still been secretly complaining about them being unlucky, and now this little “robot” had already learned to call someone “brother.” Xiang Yunjian was amused by this “advanced programming” of hers and teased, “So whoever feeds you milk is your mom now?”
Cheng Feng didn’t mind and generously sent them a red envelope in return.
Everyone eagerly opened it. The total amount was “88.88,” which seemed fine – but split evenly among four people, each person received exactly “22.22.” [1]
Jiang Linxia: “…”
There was no way they could convince themselves this wasn’t deliberate.
“I’m out of money,” Cheng Feng said, both perfunctory and sincere at the same time. “I’ll make it up next time, definitely next time. I’ll have the little owl keep track of what I owe you.”
Just before this group was about to fall apart due to irreconcilable differences in values, the Spring Festival finally arrived.
For New Year’s Eve, Jiang Linxia and Xin Kuang already had their own plans, so the group usually celebrated a day early.
Chu Xuan stated that she had no interest in joining this straight-male alliance and, expressing some sympathy for Cheng Feng, grabbed her small bag and hurried off.
Xiang Yunjian ordered takeout, while Xin Kuang brought over a case of fruit wine. Once the group had gathered, they kicked off the day’s activities.
Cheng Feng got to witness firsthand how straight men celebrate holidays.
Playing games in co-op mode, playing games in single-player mode, playing games in team-deathmatch mode.
…She had to admit, she absolutely loved it.
The little owl became very quiet while watching her play, quietly observing and evaluating her skills.
However, some of the game mechanics were a bit novel and not in its database. Sometimes, it would spend a long time just trying to figure out the rules.
Cheng Feng played for a while, then went to the dining table to eat.
The wine Xin Kuang brought was sweet and, mixed with a bit of sparkling water, suited Cheng Feng’s taste perfectly. When she was about half-full, she put down her chopsticks and started replying to the various random messages on her optical computer.
Floating at the top of the chat box was a concise message.
The Most Beautiful When Silent: [Web link]
Cheng Feng stared at the nickname for a long time, trying to recall who it was, but couldn’t remember. She clicked into the profile, only to find that all the information still seemed unfamiliar.
The person’s bio read: “Red envelopes, fine. Free chat, no. Tutoring, fine. Free, no. Gaming together, fine. Noobs, no.”
Bossy, but reasonable.
She scrolled through the photo album and sure enough, it was Shen Dan.
Cheng Feng casually clicked the link, which jumped to a video interface.
The video was featured on the front page of San Yao. It had been posted for less than half a day and already had tens of millions of views. Judging by the activity in the comments section, netizens were quite engaged.
But it was just a bunch of unfamiliar faces congratulating the new year on screen. Cheng Feng fast-forwarded through the whole thing, didn’t find anything particularly impressive, and didn’t recognize anyone, so she boredly closed it.
The Most Beautiful When Silent: I’ll definitely appear on this next year. [Clenched fist]
Ye Guicheng: What is this? Why do you want to be on it?
The Most Beautiful When Silent: It’s for outstanding graduates of past years and the big shots of the expeditionary forces. Plus, top-ranking students from various military universities also get a chance. Pretty much a celebrity list put together by San Yao.
The Most Beautiful When Silent: They asked me why I wasn’t on it this year. Are they kidding? [Shrugs hands]
That sounds pretty impressive.
Ye Guicheng: Are there past editions too?
The Most Beautiful When Silent: Yeah, every year. There’s a list at the bottom.
Cheng Feng clicked into the list and started searching through the videos by year.
To be honest, Cheng Feng didn’t know which year her father attended university. He had passed away too early, and she was still young at the time. Besides, he tended to avoid talking about his past, never bringing it up proactively in front of her. It was only by chance that she saw the badges he had collected, and that was how she learned he had lived in the Alliance for a long time.
During the few years they lived together, they moved many times. Most of the furniture wasn’t worth keeping, but that old leather suitcase was something he always carried with him. Yet, despite how important it was, he rarely opened it, always keeping it tucked away in a corner of the house. On sleepless nights when the air was cold and dim, he would stare blankly in its direction, lost in thought.
Although he was from the Post-War Star, perhaps the easiest and most carefree days of his life were spent in the Alliance.
Cheng Feng didn’t really understand this before. She had never experienced such extreme contrasts in life. But after her father passed away, she began to grasp it a little.
Emotional attachments are always tinged with confusion about the future and oneself.
It’s best not to see them. Because once you do, you realize how deeply stuck you are, how powerless you feel, and you can no longer numb your own pain.
That was his country, and there was nothing he could do about it. He had wanted a better life too, but he never got the chance.
Relying on fragmented memories and an approximate guess of her father’s age, Cheng Feng searched through several videos around those years, but didn’t find him in any of them.
However, in the recommended links at the bottom of the page, she came across a directory of outstanding students recommended by various military universities each year.
Cheng Feng looked up to get a drink of water. Just as her hand touched the glass bottle, a slender, bony hand reached over and pressed firmly down on it.
Xiang Yunjian had sat down beside her at some point and was mischievously holding the bottle in place.
Cheng Feng shot him a suspicious glance, but he seemed completely unaware, chatting lazily with the person across from him.
She patted his arm to signal him. Xiang Yunjian moved his index finger outward slightly but didn’t let go. Cheng Feng had no choice but to pry his fingers off one by one and pull the bottle out.
After pouring herself some water, she shot him a bewildered glare, just as Xiang Yunjian looked down and met her eyes.
He furrowed his brow slightly, glanced between her face and the cup, then looked away indifferently, giving up on trying to control this rebellious daughter.
Cheng Feng continued with her own business.
In the directory of outstanding students from UFU, she found her father’s name.
A one-inch ID photo, beneath it a signature with bold, strong strokes – Ye Jing.
His hair was cropped short against his scalp, and he wore a shy smile. Among a group of military academy students, he stood out as gentle and soft in temperament – completely different from the iron-blooded and gloomy man he would later become. He looked just like an ordinary person.
Cheng Feng stared at the face in the photo for a long time. The increasingly blurry image in her memory grew clear again, only to be quickly replaced by this youthful figure before her, stripped of the wrinkles and weariness carved by time.
She never expected to learn about her father’s life in this way, over a decade later.
The evaluation beneath Ye Jing’s photo read: “Resilient character, exceptional observational skills – an outstanding scout.” That, too, was different from the impression Cheng Feng had of him.
She took a screenshot to keep as a memento, then went on to browse through San Yao’s interview videos, hoping to find other records.
Unfortunately, even after searching through every corner of San Yao, she didn’t find much else.
A person can leave behind many traces on the internet, but after the passage of time, only the names remain few.
Ye Guicheng: Anything else?
The Most Beautiful When Silent: Anything else what?
Ye Guicheng: That thing?
The Most Beautiful When Silent: What are you talking about?
Cheng Feng’s mind felt a bit foggy, like her thoughts had tangled into a messy knot after three or four days without sleep. Forcing herself to stay alert and focus on forming her words, she suddenly heard someone across from her bellow like a thunderclap. “Listen up!”
Startled, Cheng Feng looked up to see Jiang Linxia with one foot on a chair, one hand on Xin Kuang’s shoulder, swinging his other arm as he prepared to give an impassioned speech.
“Write this down, all of you! Don’t take my words for granted – every single one of them is the truth!”
Cheng Feng obediently pulled up the recording function, steadied her shaky hands as best she could, raised her optical computer, and aimed it at the person in the center of the screen.
Later on, Jiang Linxia started toasting, then began singing. In his most impassioned moments, he threw his arms around his brothers beside him, running through every accolade from the league championship to the internal competition MVP of the expeditionary forces.
The greatest mecha vanguard and diplomatic ambassador in history was born right here tonight!
Cheng Feng used the last of her lucidity to applaud this great man, then promptly passed out.
When she finally woke up again, it was already the next day. The quiet, empty room carried a faint scent of jasmine. The heavy curtains blocked out the golden, gentle sunlight, creating a drowsy, languid atmosphere. Cheng Feng had been left on the sofa, sleeping with drool running down her chin.
She wiped her mouth, sat up, and stretched her limbs.
The screen of her optical computer was still open to a chat with Shen Dan, who had sent her half a dozen question marks.
Cheng Feng closed her eyes and reviewed the events of the previous night. Lifting her heavy hand, she opened her photo album.
The latest video was exactly what she expected – Jiang Linxia, jacket off, singing a military anthem duet with Xin Kuang. Yan Shen was pinned down on the table by him, his face a tragicomic expression of “I’m calling the police.”
Cheng Feng listened through it once and felt the lingering drowsiness from the alcohol completely vanish, replaced by a single overwhelming thought: grab the nearest stick, rush to Jiang Linxia, and bring it down hard on his forehead.
This kind of singing had a miraculous effect – like it could cure chronic illnesses in one go.
Cheng Feng couldn’t handle it. She sent the video to the group chat.
Although Jiang Linxia had drunk a lot the day before, years of routine meant he woke up early anyway. But just as he opened his eyes, ready to embrace a beautiful new day, that video instantly cut him off at the knees.
The most painful thing in the world is probably having someone help you remember the next day after you’ve been drunk – and on top of that, they’ve actually recorded a video.
What’s Good About Summer: ??
What’s Good About Summer: Who told you to record that? Why is there a traitor like you in our group?!
What’s Good About Summer: You’re insulting my glorious image!
Ye Guicheng: …You insulted my optical computer’s database.
What’s Good About Summer: Delete it immediately! Right now! [Pulls out gun]
Ye Guicheng: Already deleted it. Just saved a copy in the group chat.
What’s Good About Summer: Let’s disband the group. Where’s the admin? @Xiang Yunjian!!
Translator’s Notes:
[1] In Chinese, 8 is considered lucky because it sounds like “fa,” as in “getting rich.” In online slang, 2 can sometimes be used playfully to mean someone is a bit silly or foolish.
