Carrying her uniform, Cheng Feng returned home.
A faint chill lingered in the empty apartment. As she pushed open the front door, the evening breeze surged in through the windows she had left open.
The sunset at dusk blazed a brilliant orange, painting the sky and the wisps of lingering clouds in warm hues that gave no hint of the biting cold in the air.
Barefoot, Cheng Feng walked to the window and summoned the control panel, closing every window before carrying the uniform into her bedroom. She crouched down and began carefully rummaging through the storage drawer beneath her bed.
In no time at all, she had spread its contents all over the floor.
The little owl flew in from the living room and settled on the bedside table. Without even looking up, Cheng Feng asked, “My friend, do you know where I’ve put all my badges?”
Cheng Feng was due to report to the Expeditionary Force for her trial assignment in her senior year. Once she’d submitted the paperwork, she would be leaving before the Lunar New Year.
Before her departure, UFU asked her to record a New Year’s greeting for the entire faculty and student body. They even had a new uniform tailored for her, specifically instructing her to pin on every medal and badge she’d won in the league competitions. That way, while promoting the video, the university could casually bring up her illustrious achievements to reporters – and, by extension, highlight UFU’s excellence and open-mindedness.
The president of UFU was truly a man of remarkable ingenuity.
When she’d moved, her classmates had helped pack her things. Cheng Feng had been consumed with training at the time and hadn’t paid much attention, so everything had been stuffed away rather haphazardly. Apart from the trinkets small enough to hang on the little owl, she had no idea where any of the badges had ended up.
A green light flickered in the little owl’s eyes. “Searching records.”
Cheng Feng stopped what she was doing and waited for its answer.
Five minutes later, the glow faded. The little owl turned its head and said stiffly, “No relevant records found.”
Cheng Feng opened her mouth as if to say something, then simply nodded. “All right.”
The combat robot’s database really wasn’t suited to housekeeping.
Or perhaps it wasn’t just her imagination – the system seemed to have gotten dumber somehow.
For an intelligent robot, being unable to locate something inside its own home was perhaps a humiliation. Without waiting for Cheng Feng to give an order, the little owl automatically activated its infrared scanner and began searching the apartment alongside her.
Ten minutes later, the little owl stood proudly atop a shelf in the study. Raising one wing with unmistakable self-satisfaction, it pointed downward.
“Nicely done, Owly!”
Following its indication, Cheng Feng pulled out San Yao’s custom-made leather case. Beneath it, she spotted a storage box wedged underneath. The sight of the long-forgotten container made her pause. She opened it, and sure enough, inside lay the voice synthesizers she had retired years ago.
There were two of them.
One was an old relic she’d brought back from the postwar star system. The other was the newer model Xiang Yunjian had given her.
Unfortunately, once she’d learned to speak on her own, both devices had been quietly relegated to a forgotten corner.
Cheng Feng picked up the old unit, the one that had served her faithfully for more than a decade, and fiddled with it. To her surprise, it still had power.
She fastened it to her throat and tentatively tested it.
“Hello.”
The room was so empty that her voice echoed back to her.
Lowering her head, Cheng Feng adjusted the volume.
Just then, she heard the front door open and close.
A moment later, the lights in the living room flicked on, a beam of light spilling through the crack beneath the study door.
Whoever had come home made no attempt to hide their footsteps. They wandered around the living room before finally stopping in the kitchen.
Finding nothing suitable to use as a weapon in the study, Cheng Feng searched for a moment before picking up a model firearm. Gripping it tightly, she stepped outside.
A figure stood by the dining table, head lowered as he unpacked the groceries from a cloth shopping bag.
At some point, the sky had turned completely dark. The deep, ink-black night seemed to have sealed the house away from the rest of the world.
The light cast a soft white halo over him, illuminating his youthful, handsome features.
Cheng Feng froze.
The strength drained from her hand, and the model gun slowly dropped to her side.
Hearing her, Ye Jing turned to look over. His refined brows knit together slightly as he frowned. “What are you doing with that?” he asked in mild annoyance. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
For a fleeting instant, a thousand absurd possibilities flashed through Cheng Feng’s mind.
She replayed every word he’d spoken, comparing his voice against the one preserved in her memories. In the end, she decided this had to be a dream.
Only… her consciousness felt unnervingly clear, so vivid that it seemed completely real.
And she realized something else.
She could no longer remember Ye Jing’s voice all that well.
The man in front of her asked again, “Have you eaten dinner?”
His face was exactly as she remembered it, but there was something more – life. His expressions were vivid, and when he spoke, his eyes sparkled with warmth. They weren’t like the hollow eyes of the man who had sat sleepless at the bedside night after night.
This dream was full of glaring inconsistencies, flaws obvious enough that she knew she shouldn’t believe it. Yet it was as though she were bewitched.
The moment her reason brushed against the truth, it immediately broke ranks and fled in the opposite direction, abandoning every defense and leaving behind only the faint, desperate hope of deceiving herself.
It was the same feeling she’d had just after Ye Jing left – when she would lean against the window, gazing into the distance, waiting for him to come home.
It was a painfully undignified hope.
Receiving no answer, the man opposite her seemed to lose his patience. He strode over, stopped directly in front of her, and stared into her eyes.
Enunciating each word slowly, he asked, “Have. You. Eaten. Dinner?”
His warm breath seemed as though it might brush against her face.
Cheng Feng felt utterly adrift. She slowly shook her head.
“Honestly… you child.”
Ye Jing reached out, caught hold of her arm, took the object from her hand and tossed it aside, then led her to the dining table.
On the table sat a takeaway bowl of noodles. Springy noodles lay immersed in a bright red broth, crowned with a perfectly golden fried egg.
The last meal Ye Jing had ever made for her before he left… had also been a bowl of tomato noodle soup.
That day, he’d gone out of his way to fry an egg for her.
Drawn by the delicious aroma, Cheng Feng had dragged over a little stool and stood beside the stove, watching him cook.
Cooking smoke drifted through the air, curling lazily around the small home in gentle spirals.
Standing on tiptoe, Cheng Feng listened to the cheerful sizzle of oil in the pan. Smiling happily, she tilted her head up and stole a glance at Ye Jing’s face.
His eyelashes were lowered, his expression unreadable.
In his eyes lingered a sorrow Cheng Feng had never been able to understand.
A moment later, he wiped his hands clean and sat quietly beside the table, watching her finish every last bite.
Only then did he say, “I’m leaving. You have to live well.”
The hand holding her chopsticks trembled slightly. Her left hand cupped the steaming bowl, but where her fingers touched the porcelain, it felt strangely cold.
Ye Jing picked up her uniform and carried it into the living room. He hung it neatly on the coat rack, pinned the medals onto it one by one, then stepped back to admire it for a while.
Turning around, he asked, “What time do you start school tomorrow?”
Cheng Feng stiffly turned her head.
She couldn’t hear her own voice, but she still answered, “Eight.”
“Oh.” Ye Jing acknowledged it with a nod and walked over to sit across from her. “I’ll take you there tomorrow morning.”
Cheng Feng thought…
If Ye Jing were still alive, this was probably what it would be like.
He would straighten her clothes.
Cook meals for her.
Keep her company while she ate, chatting with her, answering all the questions she didn’t understand – or worrying through life’s troubles together with her.
But in truth…
The Ye Jing who had survived the war had never been someone so warm and approachable.
Wearing that face that was both achingly familiar and strangely distant, he reached out to smooth down the collar she had accidentally turned up.
In a gentle voice, he asked, “How have things been at Alliance? Have you settled in?”
“…Mm.” Cheng Feng hesitated before continuing. “I’m almost graduating.”
She looked at him and quietly added, “I’m pretty popular now. I’ve made quite a lot of friends.”
Ye Jing smiled and nodded.
Resting both hands on the table, he listened patiently as she told him everything.
The scene was so warm and tender that Cheng Feng couldn’t help but continue pouring out her feelings.
She didn’t even realize that her words had become somewhat disjointed and jumbled.
“In my second year, I formed a really strong team. But all my teammates have graduated now. They went for trial training with the Expeditionary Force, and they haven’t contacted me in a long time. We only had a phone call during the holiday two months ago. I don’t know if they’ll get time off for the Spring Festival.”
“I came here from the postwar star system with them. Sometimes they can be pretty stupid, but most of the time, they’re quite reliable.”
Cheng Feng told him about everything that had happened at UFU, as well as some of the competitions she had participated in. Whenever she thought of something else, she would add it on.
By the time her mouth had gone dry from talking, the noodles in the bowl were still giving off heat.
The white mist grew thicker and thicker, heavy with moisture, drifting between the two of them until it gradually blurred Ye Jing’s face.
Cheng Feng stopped speaking.
After thinking for a long time, she carefully asked, “Have you been doing well over there?”
Ye Jing smiled and nodded.
Cheng Feng paused, then asked again, “You’re not alone anymore, right?”
“Mm.” Ye Jing looked at her and said in the gentlest voice, with the calmest heart, “My friends are all here.”
Cheng Feng didn’t know what else she could ask. She lifted her sleeve and wiped at her eyes.
“You’ve grown up.” There was a hint of relief in Ye Jing’s voice, a hint of emotion, and the rest was pride and comfort. “You’ve gotten this big already.”
Cheng Feng’s tears kept falling. She could no longer see the person sitting across from her clearly.
“I missed you very much.”
“I’m sorry, Cheng Feng… for leaving you alone.”
Cheng Feng held back her sobs and shook her head firmly.
“I am leaving…”
At that moment, the world became clearer than it had ever been before.
So did the scenes buried in her memories.
Ye Jing held her hand, putting aside all the sharpness and coldness he had carried. His brows relaxed as he smiled gently.
“You have to live well from now on.”
The hanging light flickered for a moment, its glare stinging Cheng Feng’s eyes open.
The optical computer beside her hand kept vibrating, dozens of messages popping up one after another.
Cheng Feng sat up.
She looked around the room in a daze, her mind completely blank, yet her emotions continued to churn restlessly.
The little owl turned its head. Its feathers puffed outward as it stretched a wing over and brushed against her cheek.
Amid the slow, steady rhythm of her breathing, Cheng Feng adjusted her position, leaning her back against the wall, then lit up the screen.
Xiang Yunjian: We’re on holiday. We’re at the beach.
He uploaded a photo.
The four of them were sitting on smooth rocks, with a deep blue ocean stretching out behind them.
Sitting in the spot facing the wind, their noses had turned red from the cold, and their smiles looked a little painfully strained. Their facial features hadn’t changed much, but their temperaments had grown steadier and more mature.
Someone had drawn an outline with a red line in the empty space between them, saying it was the spot reserved for her.
What’s Good About Summer: @Ye Guicheng, I heard you’re about to leave school? Hurry up and report in. Maybe we’ll end up being your instructors.
My Family’s Got a Mine: Wasn’t saying that supposed to scare her away?
A Little More Reckless: The instructors would probably want to teach her personally. They won’t give you the chance to mislead the next generation.
My Family’s Got a Mine: If Cheng Feng comes for trial training, will she be there as a commander or as an infantry?
What’s Good About Summer: Why does this question feel strangely familiar?
Xiang Yunjian: Happy New Year.
Ye Guicheng: Happy New Year.
Translator’s Words:
One more extra!
