Counterfeit Hero

Chapter 1228: Chapter 3-28: Joy

The Jiepeng Army slowly gathered together and withdrew back to the base.

In the basin shrouded in smoke, only craters, wreckage, and corpses were left all over the ground, along with those blazing clusters of fire, still telling of the battle’s brutality.

Hundreds, even thousands of Chuckna Soldiers stood on the scorched black position, not a sound among them.

Sunlight spilled onto these men who walked the edge of life and death, who threaded their way through bullets and shells, lighting up their bodies, their guns, their Mecha—bright and clear.

The early winter wind blew through the endless fumes. In the valley, it was as if the echoes of the artillery still rolled. At the tip of the nose, it was as if one could still smell the burnt stench in the thick smoke. But the battle was already over.

Everyone just quietly watched the scene in front of them.

In the sky the wind drove the clouds in rolling waves, changing endlessly. A red-and-blue Chuckna battle flag snapped and fluttered over the position. Under the flag, a woman cried in the firm, broad chest of a man.

The man was crying too. Tears and snot ran down his face in rivers.

”Baby, have a heart... quit pinching my waist.”

————————

”What?! You let Little Pi hold back an entire Armored Camp all by himself?!”

In a room that had been temporarily cleared out in the command bunker behind the line, Boswell was jumping up and down in rage. He searched everywhere for a stick and, finding none, grabbed a rifle leaning against the wall.

Fatty’s soul nearly flew out of his body. He hopped around anxiously, waving his hands in a panic, ”Teacher, don’t be impulsive.”

Boswell lowered his head and fiddled with the gun, lifting his brows.

”Just think about it, his body was handcrafted by you,” seeing the old man’s eyes turn dangerous, Fatty plastered on a fawning smile, ”With all the stuff you loaded into him, how many people in this world can even hurt him? Besides, he already has an electronic system. If he wants to come back, wants to get out of these mountains, he just dives into Jiepeng’s SkyNet System—who’s gonna spot him?”

As he spoke, Fatty poked Milan, who was covering her mouth and quivering with laughter off to the side. ”Junior sister, right?!”

On the outside Milan was lively and cheerful, and her temper was fiery, but deep down she was actually incredibly gentle.

To her, Fatty was her entire world. Seeing him standing there obediently, eyelids drooping, looking at her all pitiful like a stray dog, she found it both funny and heart-wrenching. She stepped forward and gently took Boswell’s arm, acting cute as she said, ”Teacher, he really had no choice, it’s so dangerous behind enemy lines...”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Milan’s eyes suddenly reddened without warning.

Every time she worried herself sick over Fatty—who knew how much longer they’d have to live like this. If something really happened to him, she’d have no reason to go on living either.

”Spineless. You really are ’marry the chicken, follow the chicken...’” In his life Boswell’s first love had always been Milan. Seeing her like this, he couldn’t help but glare at Fatty, who was practically wagging his tail off to the side. ”Marry the pig, follow the pig!”

Fatty kept a smile on his face, but inside he was a bit unconvinced.

All this shit, it all had to be put on that little kid’s tab. Next time he saw him putting on that wide-eyed innocent act, spouting sweet talk and playing the good boy, he’d beat him first and talk later! Look how he’s got the old man wrapped around his little finger...

To the old man, it was a priceless treasure; to Master Fatty, it was just a little bastard! Cooped up in the mountains for over four thousand years and it actually cultivated into a freaking spirit!

Whenever he pictured that little kid being all pure and innocent in front of Boswell, calling ”Grandpa, Grandpa” and making the old man beam from ear to ear, sometimes even pinching his face, tugging his ears, and acting spoiled, Fatty felt goosebumps popping up all over his body.

”Hurry up and get some rest... I’ll tell you the serious stuff when you wake up.” Boswell, after all, ranked Fatty third in his heart. He felt bad for him, but kept his face stern. He spoke as he walked toward the bunker entrance, ”I’m going to wait for Little Pi to come back.”

Boswell went out and casually closed the blast cover. In the dim room, only Fatty and Milan were left.

”Baby...” Fatty squeaked in a dolphin pitch.

Milan couldn’t help it and burst out laughing, then threw herself into his arms, pretending to be angry, ”Fatty, if you keep sounding that disgusting, I...”

”You what?” Fatty wrapped his arms around Milan, who was wriggling nonstop in his embrace and couldn’t sit still for a second, feeling nothing but peace and joy.

”I...” Milan’s big, watery eyes cast him a sultry look. Her hand slid down, a sudden blush flaring across her cheeks as she gritted her teeth, ”I’ll castrate you...”

————————

In the end he was just too exhausted. Before Fatty had time to properly get his hands on Milan, he had already fallen fast asleep. In a daze, with no idea how long he’d slept, Fatty suddenly started awake from a dream and opened his eyes.

When he woke, he realized his head was pillowed on Milan’s thighs, and a pair of soft hands were gently combing through his hair.

His wildly pounding heart gradually calmed. His body felt lazy and heavy; he didn’t want to move at all. Fatty felt like the hard shell congealed by War Fire and blood had, in this moment, been entirely peeled away. It was as if he’d gone back to how he used to be, back to that peaceful era as a cowardly fat guy with no ambitions who did nothing but eat and wait to die.

How long had it been since he’d felt like this? It seemed this was the real him.

”You’re awake?”

Milan’s hand gently stroked his face. Her slender, delicate fingers left a trail of tingling numbness on his skin.

”Yeah.”

Fatty liked this kind of totally pointless conversation; it made his heart feel tranquil and empty. No war, no racking his brains just to survive, no blood or killing—just life...

”How long was I out?”

”Two hours.” Milan bent down, holding his head, and with her fingers gently smoothed the furrow that wouldn’t leave his brow.

Fatty smacked his lips, sighed, and sat up.

He looked around at the narrow underground modular bunker, listened to the phone ringing over and over, the footsteps, the voices coming and going in the outer command hall, the soundproofing not doing much... Reality quietly filtered back in, strand by strand, wrapping itself around him.