Late-night conversation between father and son
Over the next two weeks, the competition among the four teams intensified.
Shooting, cross-country running, obstacle courses, hand-to-hand combat... a variety of assessment items were presented one after another.
After an initial setback, Qin Feng's Dragon Team quickly recovered. Qin Feng himself seemed like a changed man; he no longer acted unilaterally, began to listen to his teammates' opinions, and even took the initiative to protect them during training. The Dragon Team's strong individual skills, coupled with their gradually developing team synergy, led them to consecutive victories in the following competitions, quickly overtaking the others in points and taking first place.
While Lu Chen's Wolves team wasn't strong in individual events, their brilliant tactical arrangements and seamless teamwork allowed them to consistently pull ahead in team events. Their points remained firmly in second place, closely trailing the Dragon team.
The two teams, one like an invincible army of tigers and wolves, the other like a well-coordinated pack of wolves, became the most eye-catching focus in the entire recruit camp.
Lu Chen and Qin Feng, two teenagers who were initially at odds, gradually transformed from rivals into a special relationship of both competition and friendship through repeated contests. They would fight tooth and nail on the training field, but they would also sit together during breaks to discuss tactical gains and losses.
That evening, after the regular training session, Lu Chen did not return to his dormitory, but instead went to the shooting range alone.
He was practicing an extremely difficult shooting technique—quick-scoping.
It means shooting the moment the target appears, without precise aiming, relying on muscle memory and intuition.
This skill is extremely useful in actual combat, especially in skirmishes, where a fraction of a second of reaction time can determine life or death.
But his father taught him that the accuracy of quick-scoping is extremely low and it is very difficult to master. It requires thousands of repetitive practices to form true muscle memory.
"Bang!"
Lu Chen raised his hand and fired a shot, but the bullet hit the edge of the target and missed.
He frowned, put down his gun, closed his eyes, and replayed every movement he had just made in his mind.
The angle of the raised arm, the force with which the trigger is pulled, the rhythm of breathing...
What exactly went wrong?
He repeated this process over and over again.
Raise the gun, fire, miss the target.
Put it down, think it over, and try again.
On the shooting range, he was left all alone, accompanied only by the monotonous and tedious sound of gunfire.
After some time, I heard footsteps behind me.
Lu Chen didn't turn around; he assumed it was an instructor checking up on the troops.
"Still practicing?"
A familiar voice rang out.
Lu Chen's body stiffened for a moment before he turned around.
It's Lu Zhanting.
He was dressed in casual clothes and carrying a thermos. He had completely lost the fierce aura he had on the training field and looked more like an ordinary father.
"Dad," Lu Chen called out instinctively, then corrected himself, "Reporting to the instructor."
Lu Zhanting ignored his form of address, walked straight to his side, and placed the thermos on the table.
"How's the training going?"
"Report... it's not quite right yet." Lu Chen said somewhat embarrassedly.
"Quick-scoping isn't something you can master just by practicing a lot." Lu Zhanting picked up his gun and weighed it in his hand. "It's all about feeling."
He didn't make any aiming motion; he simply raised his hand casually, pointed at the target in the distance, and pulled the trigger.
"Bang!"
A gunshot rang out.
The target indicator displays: 10 rings.
Lu Chen's eyes widened instantly.
His dad didn't even look at the target!
"It feels like your gun has become a part of your body. You can make the bullet go wherever you want it to." Lu Zhanting handed the gun back to him. "This feeling can't be learned through practice alone."
"Then what do we need to rely on?" Lu Chen pressed.
“Rely on killing intent.” Lu Zhanting’s eyes suddenly became deep. “When you are truly facing an enemy that you must kill, your body and your gun will tell you what to do.”
murderous look?
Lu Chen was stunned. This word was too distant for him.
Lu Zhanting opened the thermos, and the aroma of chicken soup instantly filled the air.
"Your mom asked me to bring this." He ladled out a bowl and handed it to Lu Chen. "Drink this to warm yourself up."
Lu Chen took the bowl of steaming chicken soup, his heart filled with mixed feelings.
This was the first time since he joined the army that he and his father had spent so peacefully together outside of training.
There were no scoldings, no orders, just a bowl of chicken soup and a few words of advice.
"Dad," Lu Chen took a sip of soup, hesitated for a moment, and finally asked the question that had been on his mind all along, "What did you feel when you first went to the battlefield?"
Lu Zhanting paused for a moment.
He walked to the firing position, looked at the dark night sky in the distance, and remained silent for a long time.
Lu Chen thought he wouldn't answer anymore.
“It’s fear,” Lu Zhanting finally spoke, his voice very soft, “Very fearful.”
Lu Chen was somewhat surprised. In his mind, his father was a war god, an omnipotent hero, so why would he be afraid?
“The first time I went to the battlefield, I was two years younger than you are now, thirteen years old.” Lu Zhanting’s voice carried a hint of distant reminiscence. “It was on the border, during a counter-terrorism operation. Our squad, twelve people, went to wipe out a terrorist hideout in a mountain cave.”
"My squad leader at the time was a veteran who was very kind to me and always called me 'little devil.' Before the mission, he even gave me a piece of candy and said that if I ate the candy, I wouldn't be afraid."
"The battle started very suddenly. We had just reached the entrance of the cave when we were ambushed. Grenades, machine guns... bullets rained down on us. I was stunned. I lay on the ground, too afraid to move, my mind completely blank."
“I saw my comrades fall one by one around me. Blood, blood everywhere. I saw my squad leader, to cover me, be hit by three bullets at the same time and fall right in front of me. He looked at me, his mouth was still moving, as if he wanted to say something, but he only managed to utter one word…”
Lu Zhanting's voice was a little hoarse.
He said, 'Live.'
"Live on."
Lu Chen's hand holding the bowl was trembling slightly.
He could almost see that scene: a thirteen-year-old boy, amidst a hail of bullets, watching his comrade-in-arms, his squad leader, die before his eyes.
The impact must have been immense.
“At that moment, I suddenly stopped being afraid.” Lu Zhanting turned around and looked at Lu Chen. “I only had one thought in my mind: I wanted to live, and I wanted to avenge them.”
"I picked up the squad leader's gun and rushed out. I don't know how I fired, or who I hit. When I came to my senses, the battle was over. In the cave, there was no one alive except me. Neither the enemy nor my comrades."
"Our squad had twelve people, and I was the only one who survived."
Lu Zhantian spoke calmly, as if she were telling someone else's story.
But Lu Chen could sense the immense grief and trauma hidden beneath that calm.
He finally understood why his father was so strict with training and why he valued the lives of his team and comrades so much.
Because he had personally experienced the pain of losing everything.
He didn't want his son to repeat his mistakes.
“Dad…” Lu Chen’s throat was a little dry.
"Have some soup, it's getting cold." Lu Zhanting interrupted him, his usual cold and hard expression returning.
He walked to the door, then stopped.
"Lu Chen".
"exist."
“Remember, the gun in your hand is not a toy to show off your skills.” Lu Zhanting turned around, his gaze sharp as a knife. “It is a weapon you use to protect your comrades and defend your country. When you pick it up, you must be prepared to give your life for it at any time.”
After saying that, he opened the door and went out.
Lu Chen stood there, motionless for a long time.
He looked at the bowl of steaming chicken soup in his hand, then at the cold rifle beside him.
He suddenly felt that the burden on his shoulders had become much heavier.
It's not just about winning or losing a game, or about personal honor or disgrace.
That's a kind of inheritance.
A weighty mission of loyalty, passion, and sacrifice passed down from his father's generation of soldiers.
He lowered his head and drank the chicken soup in the bowl in one gulp.
Then, he picked up the gun again.
This time, when he raised the gun again, he felt as if a completely new connection had been established between him and the gun.
"Bang!"
Another gunshot rang out.
Ten rings.
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