Beyond the Zenith

Mira could speak excellent Mandarin, but she lacked sufficient understanding of certain nuances to comprehend the double meaning in the slang she used. How could that thing she “drew” possibly be described as flatbread?

When she said those words, she still wore nothing but that little vest. The parts of her that ordinarily saw no sun were white, full, and bulging, with a distinct valley in between.

That was clearly no flatbread.

It took a while for Dormitory 11 to come back to life from their earlier silence. Dry-mouthed, they exchanged glances with one another.

“Don’t hide it. You definitely want to look.” Wen Jifei pointed at the grave-robbing guy. “You grave robbers always want to see what is hidden under mounds.”

Without waiting for the guy to open his mouth and deny it, he turned to Han Qingyu. “And you, don’t act innocent. You’re the best at acting when it comes to this stuff. Back then, when I slipped you those glamor photo books, you said you weren’t interested, but later, every page corner I’d secretly folded in my books was gone.”

Han Qingyu opened his mouth to argue, but finding no rebuttal, finally just laughed and said nothing.

The group gradually succumbed to depraved laughter. Even they had to admit that they were being a little sleazy.

A blonde bombshell in uniform, and a superior at that.

There was no denying it. The sight of Mira standing in the sunlight with a head of wet hair was enchanting. She only became more captivating in army trousers and a little vest, focused on drying her hair. When she walked past carrying that jet-black, gleaming autocannon, the violent jolt of that bewitching disparity could send the blood rushing straight to any young man’s head.

As for why she chose Dormitory 11, perhaps it was because her custom autocannon happened to be called the Mira 11. Or maybe she had heard that someone here had rapped Zhang Dao’an on the head. They couldn’t figure out the reason, so they didn’t bother pondering over it too hard.

In fact, when the recruits entered formal training that afternoon, they all discovered that every recruit team had been assigned a direct instructor.

These were all veterans. Some were there with future promotion in mind, taking on small assignments during their leave to enrich their days, having a bit of fun along the way while exercising their management skills.

Among them, of course, were some female soldiers. Pretty ones included.

Even so, Mira was special, and not just because of her blonde hair and Caucasian features, but also because she had served in four platoons as deputy platoon leader and held the rank of second lieutenant. She was crushingly superior in both grade and strength alike.

The veterans all understood perfectly well why she had lowered herself to the recruit camps. Even when the occasional prankster came up to her and called her “Platoon Leader Mira,” she never seemed to mind. She always responded happily, enthusiastically even.

“Have you guys noticed? Our Mira seems to be a bit of a simpleton,” Wen Jifei commented, sitting on the ground during the post-training rest period.

This was the conclusion he had reached after half a day of observation. Everyone fell silent, apparently more or less in agreement.

Han Qingyu thought it over and said kindly, “You can’t really put it that way. She probably just isn’t versed in our countrymen’s ways of thinking and social conventions, that’s all.”

It was true. Customarily, if one of their countrymen was about to be promoted, they would certainly stay careful and low-key until the matter was settled, never speaking of it themselves, much less letting others mention it.

After mulling this over, Wen Jifei agreed, “That’s true. Whatever. As long as she’s good-looking, that’s enough.”

Everyone in Dormitory 11 glared at him the moment these words left his mouth.

Perhaps his words would’ve gone over better if Plague Chicken hadn’t gotten caught trying to roast his raw beef during a training break earlier. Dormitory 11, already dead last in the overall competition, was now behind the second-to-last place group by double digits.

“I must have dug up your family’s ancestral graves, you Plague Chicken,” cursed the grave-robbing guy, Lai Shitou.

Having already been through hardship together, Dormitory 11 had grown familiar fast, and there wasn’t much restraint left between them.

Everyone laughed.

Under the forked branches of a tree not far away, a cluster of veterans squatted and beckoned loudly, “Hey, rookie punks, come here! Don’t hide. Yes, you. And you.”

They pointed at Han Qingyu and Wen Jifei.

There was no avoiding it. Wen Jifei stood up, saluted, and asked with a smile, “What is it, Team Leader?”

This habit of addressing any veteran one met as team leader had, as it happened, been passed down from the regular army.

“Got money? Go buy your team leader a pack of cigarettes.” The veteran tossed over a shoulder mark.

By whatever logic, the camp store would not sell to recruits unless one could prove they were buying on a veteran’s behalf. The purchases all had to be registered as well.

“Go on. What are you standing there for?” the veteran asked Wen Jifei, tossing him some money.

Then they turned to Han Qingyu, sized him up carefully for a while, and said, “Hey, you. Let’s play a game. We’ll take wooden sticks and try to hit each other over the head. What do you think?”

Han Qingyu said nothing. Deep down, he wanted to play, but he feared he would suffer whether he won or lost.

The army seemed to be indulging the veterans in being unreasonable and bullying recruits as long as they stayed within certain limits. That much was basically certain. It could be seen in the way the Head Instructor was permitted to hit, curse, humiliate, and provoke them. Even the old man in the mess hall was arrogant and rude enough to make them miserable.

This brutal, oppressive atmosphere was like coarse gravel, repeatedly grinding over the recruits’ nerves and leaving them feeling on the verge of collapse.

“Hey, are you two mute?” The veterans were growing impatient.

Han Qingyu and Wen Jifei exchanged looks. Why not simply have an outright fight? Word was that the army turned a blind eye to recruits fighting back, as long as nothing serious happened. If you could beat a veteran...

They were just getting ready, waiting for the other side to make the first move, when Mira walked over in full uniform.

“What game? Why not play with me instead?” Mira asked, spinning a dagger in her right palm. “Hitting each other over the head, right? What do you think about this? You hit me, and he hits you.”

At the end, she turned and pointed at Han Qingyu.

Han Qingyu thought this proposal was quite excellent.

Unfortunately, the veterans chose not to play in the end. With mutters of “no fun,” they rose and departed the training ground.

“See? As far as platoon leaders go, I treat you pretty well, don’t I? You won’t lose out by being in my platoon.” Mira’s psychological steering was a little obvious, but with that, she turned around, clapped her hands, and said warmly, “Come on, let’s continue training.”

Continue training? Training just ended... Wen Jifei rubbed his aching, exhausted body and pretended not to hear.

Mira glanced at him, the corner of her mouth curling. “You don’t want to train? Then how about a game? How about the two of us hit each other over the head?”

“You can play that game with Little Qing,” Wen Jifei suggested. “Why don’t you play with him instead?”

Mira blinked, her gaze earnest and pitiable, as she turned to look at Han Qingyu. “Because Little Qing is willing to train.”

In truth, she knew her reaction time could not possibly exceed Zhang Dao’an’s, and the odds of getting hit were not small. Although she wanted to give it a try, that would have to wait for a more private occasion.

An instructor’s dignity had to be kept, no matter what.

“Little Qing, are you willing?” Wen Jifei asked.

Little Qing was like a brother to him, so Wen Jifei was confident in his answer.

“I’m willing,” Han Qingyu said, and he truly was.

Mira’s private lessons consisted of close-combat techniques, which were something the main training program had not yet come anywhere close to. These were all the practical techniques she had drawn from real battles. Nothing flashy, but useful.

This was exactly the area that Han Qingyu wanted to improve.

“Fuck,” Wen Jifei cursed indignantly, “Did you just mistake me for a wedding officiant? Little Qing, I’m not a priest. Sober the hell up.”

This teasing remark left Han Qingyu thoroughly embarrassed.

Mira, on the other hand, had no reservations. Finding it amusing, she even laughed with them.

She really did seem like a simpleton.

***

Training continued day after day. The army’s tempering of the recruits’ nerves and stress tolerance nearly outweighed physical conditioning itself. The high volume of training in the beginning was also largely meant to forge the recruits’ willpower.

As the program deepened, training in agility and reaction speed under all kinds of conditions gradually took the leading role.

Han Qingyu could accept many things with greater ease and composure than the others. The high-volume training, for instance, or the brutish unreasonableness of the instructors, veterans, head cook, and the rest, along with the absolutely high-pressure mental torment.

The combination of the source energy altering his body and the experience of witnessing a battle firsthand meant he could endure and understand many seemingly unreasonable things.

The only thing that he, too, found hard to bear was the craving for a hot, cooked meal. For over ten days now, they had been served only raw vegetables, raw meat, raw melons, and fruit. Apart from the sweat that ran scalding into his mouth during training, they had not drunk so much as one sip of hot water.

Everything was raw and cold.

This feeling was hard to imagine for those who hadn’t experienced it. Han Qingyu’s body had gone nineteen years with set dietary habits and was thus rebelling against this sudden change. He craved a mouthful of warm rice, a piece of cooked meat, or even just one boiled vegetable leaf. Even a cup of hot tea would make him happy enough to cry.

Everyone was the same as him, or worse.

Dormitory 11 was filled with low whispers in the middle of the night.

“Did you hear? Someone suddenly launched themselves across the hall like a madman today because he wanted a sip of the leftover noodle soup from a veteran’s beef noodles.”

“I heard. It’s a pity he didn’t even get a sip in the end.”

“Hah, stop talking about it. It’s normal. The other day, behind the mess hall, I saw fresh slop just poured into the slop bucket and nearly drooled. That white steam rising off it... It had to still be hot.”

“Exactly. Even slop is beyond us. They watch everything too strictly. Even if you don’t fear losing points, you’d never get it into your mouth in time.”

They had stopped caring about minor things like point deductions ages ago. Their score was truly beyond saving, and the dream of seeing more had long been shattered.

“What’s that smell?” Liu Shiheng, over by the other window, sniffed a few times, then sat bolt upright. “It’s... beef. Braised.”

Everyone smelled it. They all sat up, heads spinning in the darkness, mumbling dazedly as if in their sleep.

“A big pot... Braised beef...”

“Mm, they’ve definitely put in lots of spices. Star anise, cassia bark...”

“Braised together with big bones. The sauce must be rich.”

“Have you guys ever tried pulling cooked meat off the bone? It comes off so easily. One pull and you get a whole big strip.”

Suddenly, a soft knocking came at the door.

“Open the door, brothers. Relax, the instructors aren’t around,” a voice outside said quietly.

The grave robber asked around for the others’ opinions, then opened the door a crack and asked, “What is it?”

The people outside pushed their way in. “We’re from the fifth floor. Let us pass through to get downstairs. Relax, if anything happens, we won’t say we came down through your room.”

Dormitory 11 was on the second floor.

The intruders didn’t wait for consent. They hurried straight to the balcony, swung themselves over the edge, and dropped down. Counting heads, this was an entire dormitory moving out together.

Finally coming around, Wen Jifei grabbed the last one before they could get away and asked, “Brother, what are you all doing?”

“Nothing,” the man said.

“If you don’t talk, we won’t let you go.” Han Qingyu put a hand on him and tightened his grip to emphasize his point.

Behind them, Dormitory 11 nodded as one.

“Fine. You guys had better not tell anyone...” Adam’s apple bobbing once, the man finally relented, “The kitchen is braising beef. A dozen or so big iron pots, all simmering at once. We saw it clear as day from upstairs. Old Geng put in the seasonings and left. Two junior cooks watched the fire for a while, but they went off to doze in the room next door. Get it?”

Han Qingyu and Wen Jifei let go numbly. “Got it.”

“We plan to grab a mouthful and go. Nothing will go wrong.” With that, the man slipped nimbly down from the balcony.

Apart from the soft sound of the man’s departure, Dormitory 11 was as silent as a tomb.

Han Qingyu and Wen Jifei each lowered their heads in silence for a moment, then turned around, and nearly jumped out of their skin.

Behind them, six pairs of glowing wolf-like eyes were fixed on the two of them.