Zhang San's furious roar echoed across the empty training ground, appearing particularly comical.
He saw none of the terror, pleas for mercy, or anger he had hoped to see. That guy named Xiao Shisan was like an emotionless puppet from beginning to end; the only amazing thing he did was to perform an impossibly beautiful iron bridge.
This made him feel like a fool who was desperately punching cotton, not only failing to hurt the other party but also exhausting himself and losing face.
"Useless!" He could only mutter louder curses to mask his guilt and defeat. "Go back to the barracks! I hate looking at you!"
Xiao Che didn't even bother to glance at him again, and turned to leave. To everyone else, his retreating figure didn't appear as one of being punished and dejected, but rather exuded an indescribable air of nonchalance.
As night fell, the cold wind grew even more biting.
In the communal sleeping area, Xiao Che lay alone on the bed board in the far corner, covered only by a thin, old quilt. He had been punished by not being allowed to eat, and his stomach was empty, with waves of cold seeping into his limbs.
This feeling of being both cold and hungry was a completely new experience for him. In the past twenty years, he had never imagined that the human body could endure such discomfort.
However, the chill in his heart was far greater than the coldness in his body.
The torn cotton-padded coat, the sand in the bowl, and Zhang San's undisguised murderous intent replayed in his mind during the day.
Is this the army under his command? Is this the life of the soldiers who defend their country?
A cold rage slowly burned in his chest, suppressing the feelings of hunger and cold.
The other recruits in the dormitory had already finished their equally unpalatable dinner and were now wrapped tightly in their blankets, trying to ward off the long night. The barracks were quiet, with only the occasional suppressed cough.
Xiao Che closed his eyes and listened quietly. His powerful senses allowed him to easily detect every subtle movement in the barracks.
He heard someone turn over in the darkness, and then a rustling sound approached him.
The footsteps were very light, with deliberate caution, as if afraid of disturbing anyone.
Xiao Che did not move, maintaining steady breathing as if he were already fast asleep.
A dark figure crept up to his bedside, hesitated for a moment, then quickly stuffed a hard object into his blanket, before retreating just as swiftly as a startled rabbit.
The whole process was so fast it felt like an illusion.
Xiao Che slowly opened his eyes, a glimmer of light flashing in his deep pupils in the darkness. He lifted a corner of the blanket and, by the faint moonlight filtering in from the window, saw the thing clearly.
It was a dark, rock-hard steamed bun.
He looked up and saw several new recruits on their bunks peeking at him in the darkness, their eyes filled with clumsy kindness and pity. When their eyes met his, they hurriedly turned away, pretending nothing had happened.
It was them. Those recruits who had been intimidated by him scrubbing toilets during the day and then witnessed him being openly bullied.
They dared not openly defy Zhang San, but expressed their stance in this most simple way.
Looking at the black steamed bun in his hand, which was equally unpalatable and possibly even contained sand, Xiao Che felt a sudden warmth gently stir the cold anger in his heart.
He didn't eat it; he simply put the steamed bun silently into his pocket.
Night deepened, the wind howled like ghosts wailing. The snores from the communal sleeping quarters rose and fell, weaving together a rough symphony.
Xiao Che was wide awake. He was immersing himself in a state of tranquility, sorting through all the information he had gathered over the past two days and planning his next move.
Just then, a very suppressed, faint sob broke the rhythm of his snoring and entered his ears.
The sobbing was soft, strained with restraint, as if the weeping person were tightly covering their head with a blanket, afraid of letting out a single sound. But the immense grief contained within that sound was like the sharpest icicle, piercing through all obstacles.
Xiao Che's brows furrowed slightly.
He looked towards the source of the sound and saw it was from the bed next door.
Lying on it was a veteran who looked a bit older. Xiao Che remembered him; during daytime training, this veteran always "slacked off" in the ranks, his movements were lazy, his eyes were empty, and he had a carefree attitude. He was clearly a "veteran" who had been in the military for many years.
But at this moment, the body of this "old hand" was trembling violently under the blanket, and the suppressed sobs were coming from him.
Xiao Che listened quietly for a while.
He could tell that it wasn't from physical pain, nor from the grievance of being bullied, but rather a... desperate wail.
He rose slowly, his movements as light as a cat at night, without making a sound. He was silent.
He walked slowly to the old soldier's bedside and looked down at the outline of the body that was constantly moving under the covers.
Perhaps sensing the presence of another person beside her, the crying abruptly stopped. The body under the covers also instantly stiffened.
"Who is it?" A hoarse, wary voice came muffledly from under the covers.
Xiao Che did not answer, but just stood there quietly.
The blanket was slowly lifted a crack, and a pair of bloodshot eyes, filled with fear and sorrow, looked at him in the darkness.
When the old soldier recognized the visitor as "Xiao Shisan," he was clearly stunned. He seemed to have never expected that this "connected person," who had endured all the humiliation during the day and appeared cold, aloof, and unapproachable, would stand by his bedside in the middle of the night.
"What...what are you doing?" The veteran's voice was full of wariness.
Xiao Che didn't say anything. He just took out the black steamed bun from his pocket, broke it in half, and handed it over.
The old soldier looked at the half-eaten steamed bun, then at Xiao Che's face, which appeared somewhat blurry in the moonlight. The wariness in his eyes slowly faded, replaced by a deeper sorrow.
He didn't take the steamed bun, but slowly sat up and wiped his face hard with the back of his rough hand, as if trying to wipe away all his weakness.
"I...I'm fine," he said in a hoarse voice, trying to revert to his numb, jaded self.
Xiao Che kept his hand raised and did not retract it.
The two faced off in the darkness, silence hanging in the air.
Finally, the veteran's feigned strength crumbled completely under Xiao Che's all-seeing gaze.
He snatched the half-eaten bun, not to eat it, but to clutch it tightly in his hand, his knuckles turning white from the force. His body began to tremble again, this time not silently, but with suppressed sobs squeezed from his throat, like the mournful cry of a wounded beast.
"Waaaaah..."
He bit his lip hard to stop himself from crying out, but tears streamed down his face like a broken string of pearls.
Xiao Che quietly sat down beside him and patted him on the shoulder.
This simple action seemed to be the last straw that broke the camel's back.
The veteran could no longer hold back. He clutched his head, buried his face in his knees, and wept bitterly, his voice filled with despair and anguish.
"My son... is gone..."
"My son... died in battle last month..."
His voice was broken and filled with tears: "He was only seventeen years old... When he enlisted, he bragged to me that he would earn military merits and build me a big house when he came back..."
"A few days ago, the official document for the fallen soldier arrived... First-class merit... The imperial court's compensation is a full fifty taels of silver... Fifty taels..."
As the old soldier finished speaking, he suddenly raised his head, and a boundless hatred burst forth in his cloudy eyes, his face contorted with extreme anger:
"But...but those beasts, Qian Canjun and Zhang San! They...they withheld my pension!"
His voice became shrill with excitement, like a poisoned dagger:
“They said…they said my son was a ‘deserter’! That he deserted on the battlefield and was killed by the supervising officers!”
"A deserter... Hahaha... How could my son, Li Daniu's son, be a deserter! He had seven knife wounds, all on the front! He died protecting his comrades! He's a hero!"
“But those damned beasts! Not only did they swallow my son's hard-earned money, they also tried to smear him! They won't even let him rest in peace in his death! When I went to confront them, they... they almost beat me to death…”
“I’m useless… I’m such a useless father…”
The veteran's lament, every word dripping with blood, struck Xiao Che's heart like a heavy hammer.
This is no longer corruption; this is squandering the last vestiges of dignity of a martyr who sacrificed his life for the country!
This was far more impactful than the withheld letter from home he had seen during the day! That letter had enraged him; but the old soldier's tearful accusation before him made his blood run cold, and an unprecedented, almost irrational, murderous intent roared wildly within him!
Xiao Che clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms, bringing a sharp stinging pain.
He knew that the "catch-up" three days later would not be enough.
Any methodical plan to deal with hyenas that dare to devour even the flesh and blood of martyrs would be an insult to both the dead and the living.
He wants...
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