Mr. Luo’s vision went dark for a moment – he felt like cutting all ties with Cheng Feng, father and daughter no more.
How could any child be so utterly clueless?
He had barely managed to smooth things over with the guy, and then out of nowhere, this kid had to go and stab him in the back. Even setting your own house on fire isn’t that enthusiastic.
Mr. Zhou came rushing over, roughly shoving his way through the crowd. “Move aside! Let me see!”
The impenetrable ring of people parted just enough to reveal the scene inside.
Tao Rui and Cheng Feng had both been pulled apart by others, the surrounding voices a jumble of indistinct chatter.
Mr. Zhou first swept his eyes over Tao Rui’s face – thankfully, no visible injuries.
“He’s clean!” Mr. Luo burst out before he could stop himself, then fumbled, “No, no -what I mean is, he’s safe. Cheng Feng didn’t hit anyone, did she?”
He grabbed Cheng Feng by the arm and yanked her behind him.
Mr. Zhou’s face darkened. “Was there a fight?”
A student from UFU quickly put on an ingratiating smile and said, “Of course not. Think about it – why would anyone pick a fight while carrying such a heavy military backpack?”
Only then did Cheng Feng realize she was still lugging around that massive debuff. No wonder she hadn’t been able to catch up earlier.
The UFU senior students gathered around Tao Rui, cheerfully massaging his shoulders and laughing it off. “She’s still young, just kidding around. Don’t take it to heart, alright?”
Tao Rui was fuming, breathing heavily. He shot a glare at Cheng Feng but didn’t say anything.
Mr. Zhou turned to her and snapped, “What exactly are you trying to do?”
Cheng Feng replied calmly, “I’m leaving soon. I just came to say goodbye. I didn’t do anything.”
Mr. Zhou felt a tightness in his chest at her response.
He looked at Cheng Feng, took a deep breath, and tried hard to keep his composure as he said, “Cheng Feng, don’t make me lose respect for you. Military discipline does not allow anyone to break the rules again and again. You’re here, so you have to follow the rules. I can overlook this and give you one chance because you’re still a student, but there will absolutely not be a second time.”
Cheng Feng said, “I’m not trying to break military discipline. Besides, weren’t you about to kick me out anyway?”
Mr. Luo raised his hand, covered Cheng Feng’s mouth, and whispered in her ear, “Nothing’s been decided yet – why are you running your mouth? The base hasn’t made any announcement.”
Mr. Zhou’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, each word landing with force. “In the military, you can’t expect everyone to see things your way. If you want the authority to command and to implement your own strategy within a unit, the only way is to become the strongest – not to convince others to agree with you! You earn the position to decide others’ fates through strength, not through brute stubbornness! Otherwise, to put it bluntly, what you’re doing is nothing but impotent rage.”
Cheng Feng’s lips parted slightly. A fire seemed to be burning in her veins, coursing through her blood and making her whole body ache. Yet, for all that, she couldn’t find a single word of rebuttal in her head. All she could do was clench her hands tighter and tighter by her sides.
Mr. Zhou’s voice dropped low, disappointment seeping through. “On your first day here, I thought for sure you’d be the one to make it to the end. You had the talent, the drive, the resilience – even an understanding of what war truly means. But as a commander, if you can’t control your emotions, I don’t think you have what it takes. You think commanders shouldn’t be too cold – that’s not for me to judge. But what I can say with certainty is that a commander needs absolute calm. Can you do that? Are you strong enough already that you can afford to throw a tantrum, pack your bag, and just walk away?”
By the end, Mr. Zhou couldn’t help but let his anger show.
In terms of a commander’s mindset, Cheng Feng – because of her unique past – was indeed more mature than the other students. That maturity was an extremely rare quality, one that had given her a rough shape already honed by experience.
Before the fight broke out, he’d privately believed Cheng Feng was the most promising student in this cohort.
She just lacked an opportunity to access cutting-edge knowledge. As long as she kept learning, she would quickly become a sharp blade.
A commander with both heart and lethal capability – that was probably the kind of figure most individual soldiers would want to follow. Someone who could not only point the way to victory but also stand as their solid support.
But – but that alone wasn’t enough.
Her resolute departure the night before had suddenly made him realize: she was still just a nineteen-year-old girl.
Bottling up a fire and saying, “I’m done serving this shit” – that wasn’t hot-blooded heroism in the military.
Every commander he’d ever known who made it to the top could be overbearing and ruthless when dealing with the outside world, but when it came to their own growth, they had no sense of pride at all.
As long as it made them stronger, they would kneel, crawl, collapse like exhausted dogs – but they’d still cling to this base, grinning as they swallowed blood like water.
Many people mistakenly think a commander’s position is safe and leisurely – that one order, one string of data, could send countless souls to their deaths. What they don’t see is the way commanders have to break off their own edges, carve away their painful weaknesses, just to be able to bear the weight of command.
Cheng Feng lowered her head. After a moment, she took off the backpack behind her, stood at attention, and raised her hand in a salute.
Mr. Zhou said coldly, “Today’s student training quota – if you can complete five times their share, I’ll let bygones be bygones and let you stay. But in the training that follows, if you fail to meet our standards even once, the base will send you packing immediately. I will no longer accept any mistakes from you. Can you do that? Then start now. If not, pack up and roll back to your cradle with your teacher.”
Cheng Feng broke into a run.
Mr. Zhou shouted, “Weighted gear! Get your rifle!”
Cheng Feng turned and headed to the equipment point at the entrance to draw her weapon.
Mr. Zhou looked around and saw the students still standing there, gawking. He barked, “What are you looking at? Got nothing better to do?! Want to join her in extra training?”
The crowd fell into terrified silence, scattering in a second to resume their own drills.
Tao Rui ran for a stretch, but the storm of emotions pounding in his chest was too much to hold back. He turned back, came straight to Mr. Zhou, and asked bluntly, “Do you think she’s better than me?”
Mr. Zhou withdrew his gaze from the distance and said flatly, “I’m just your physical training instructor. We might work together in the future, but we’ll be in different roles. My job is to train you, not to judge you.”
Tao Rui’s face flushed deep red. He held it in for a long while, then gave a hard blink, forcing back the sheen of moisture in his eyes. “I’ll prove it to you,” he said.
Mr. Zhou nodded. “I look forward to it.”
Mr. Luo stood beside him, silently watching the trainees. The chaotic sound of running footsteps mingled with the thud of sweat hitting the ground. He sighed again with emotion. “Ah, the young.”
There were countless roads leading to the future. Without a few good knocks along the way, you’d never find the right one.
Mr. Luo said, “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going now.”
Mr. Zhou turned his head slightly. “Not going to stay a little longer? Maybe later, when she realizes she can’t finish, she’ll regret it, and I’ll have to call you back again.”
Mr. Luo took off his glasses to wipe them, then let out a quiet chuckle. “You can make fun of her for other things, but not her perseverance. Weren’t you the one who just said she’s as stubborn as an ox?”
Mr. Zhou replied, “And weren’t you the one who said she’s like an owl?”
“Exactly. Owls are great – they’re at the top of the food chain. And when night falls, that’s her home turf.” Mr. Luo put his glasses back on, picked up Cheng Feng’s backpack from the ground, and said, “I’m off. Hope I don’t hear from you again before training ends.”
Mr. Zhou waved a hand. “Take care. I won’t see you out.”
…
This morning’s physical training consisted of a combination of multiple tasks: shooting, mixed obstacle running, and straight sprints. After completing one round, there was also the base’s signature integration of physical and mental challenges.
The more physically capable students finished their drills around 10:30, headed to the infirmary to loosen up their muscles, then went to the cafeteria to eat. After a short rest, they were pulled by the instructors to the back field in the afternoon to train basic skills – specifically, crawling in various positions.
What Shen Dan feared most was the crawling drills. She was tall and big-framed, not particularly agile, and her movements through the course were awkward enough to stand out. Mr. Zhou couldn’t tolerate it. He kept a close eye on her, tapping her back repeatedly with a wooden stick to remind her to keep her center of gravity low.
If she weren’t a girl, Mr. Zhou probably would have already kicked her. For the first time, Shen Dan felt immense pressure.
Crawling through the mud pit section, she was even forced to swallow several mouthfuls of muddy water. Just a few hundred meters – yet it felt impossibly grueling to her.
Shen Dan’s thoughts drifted randomly. Cheng Feng would definitely excel at this drill. With her monkey-like agility, she’d probably zip right through like “whoosh whoosh” and be done.
In the end, Shen Dan indeed couldn’t finish the afternoon’s tasks and was left behind by a cursing Mr. Zhou for extra training.
His mood today was visibly foul. No one dared to cross him – even their breathing was measured and cautious, lest they give him an excuse to yell.
When the batch of students stuck in extra training finally completed the tasks to his standard and slunk off to the cafeteria, the cafeteria had already closed.
Shen Dan bought a few rice balls and returned to the activity hall, only to find that Cheng Feng was still inside training.
Mr. Xue was watching the room, lounging in a chair by the entrance with his legs crossed, playing on his optical computer. The game’s background music was blasting loud, pounding in Shen Dan’s head and giving her a headache.
She grimaced as she sat down nearby, hunching over to eat her rice ball. Mr. Xue glanced at her briefly and said with utter disgust, “Tsk. Could you at least go take a shower first? You’re dirtying up our whole space.”
Shen Dan pointed at Cheng Feng. “What about her? She’s the same.”
Cheng Feng’s hair looked like it had been drenched – sweat kept dripping down from it. The cleaning robot, which had started its shift on time, kept trailing behind her, wiping the floor.
Seeing how utterly lacking this person was in self-awareness, Mr. Xue voluntarily moved his chair a bit farther away from her.
Cheng Feng finished the last shooting drill on the east side of the hall. Her vision had already gone blurry. She closed her eyes to rest for a moment, then walked toward Shen Dan with her rifle in hand.
She took off her hat, revealing a face drained of all color beneath. When she walked, her arms didn’t even swing – she looked like a ghost, held together by nothing but sheer willpower. When she reached Shen Dan, she didn’t dare sit down. She bent over, took a rice ball from Shen Dan’s hand, and stood there eating it.
Watching her wolf down the food, Mr. Xue felt a little hungry himself. He nudged Shen Dan’s shoulder and said, “Give me one. Do you have any braised beef flavor?”
“No.” Shen Dan grabbed one at random and tossed it to him. The three of them furtively ate their dinner inside the activity hall.
Just as they were halfway through their meal, Tao Rui walked in through the entrance. He tilted his head slightly, said, “Good evening, Sir,” rolled up his sleeves, and began running along the edge of the hall.
Cheng Feng lifted her eyelids and stared at him without blinking, as if using his figure as a side dish to go with her meal.
Mr. Xue laughed. “Now that’s the kind of self-motivated student I like.” He shot a pointed glance at Shen Dan as he spoke.
The mud and water on Shen Dan’s body had half dried, and every time she moved, grit kept falling off. She pretended not to notice, balled up her rice ball wrapper, stuffed it into her pocket, and started on her second, mumbling vaguely, “How much of your quota do you have left?”
Cheng Feng didn’t feel like talking. She wobbled unsteadily and held up one finger.
Shen Dan said in shock, “Only one round left? That fast? Are your feet on fire or something?”
Mr. Xue roared with laughter. “Dream on! She’s saying she’s only halfway done! The later part is the hardest. By the time she finishes, it’ll probably be nearly dawn – and then the next day’s training will be here. Are you scared yet, Cheng Feng?”
Cheng Feng didn’t respond to his teasing. She watched Tao Rui doing his extra training, quietly finished what was in her hand, wiped her face hard, then stood up and headed for the door.
Mr. Xue called out loudly, “Where do you think you’re going? Not training anymore?”
“To shower. I’ll come back later.”
Cheng Feng turned her head. Her face was expressionless – as calm as a still lake at midnight. If you glimpsed any trace of emotion, it was only the faintest ripple.
It was hard to say exactly where, but something was definitely different – she wasn’t the same as when she first arrived.
The detached, onlooking indifference that said “none of my business” had transformed into a brooding stillness – the kind before a storm, restrained and held in check.
Mr. Xue gave her a long, deep look. The corners of his mouth twitched involuntarily. Then he turned his head and glanced at Shen Dan, who was already on her third rice ball. With a look of utter exasperation, he said, “Learn from her, why don’t you.”
Shen Dan’s gaze went blank. She patted her butt and stood up. “I’m going back to shower too.”
