Beyond the ceremony of receiving medals and posing for photographs, as “combat heroes,” they were also required to provide interview material and personal introductions.
Following the order of the commendations, Yang Xi was called for his interview first, leaving Lin Yu alone to await their return.
Faintly, she could discern words like “Emperor,” “Motherland,” and “Loyalty” drifting over, confirming that the idiot remained an idiot.
Then again, that wasn’t quite right; in such circumstances, even without any affection for His Majesty, one would be compelled to recite a short, eloquent piece expressing gratitude.
Perhaps the extent of that fellow’s idiocy had already diminished, merely awaiting the opportune moment to reveal itself.
‘Tsk… why do I even care if he’s an idiot or not…’
Making her way to a pile of miscellaneous items, Lin Yu discovered a small folding stool, which she promptly unfolded and sat upon.
The photographer, busily tinkering with his camera, poured several bottles of strangely colored liquid onto photographic paper, while the interviewer relentlessly questioned Yang Xi, jotting down notes with each successive query.
Then, Major Liu Kaiqi of the Propaganda Department began to approach her.
Being short, and the stool even shorter, Lin Yu felt barely elevated from the ground.
The Major, a towering figure, moved before her like a mountain, his rank and imposing stature radiating an overwhelming pressure.
“Is—is there something you need…?”
The Major remained silent, merely extending his hand towards her.
“Whoa…”
Her cap was lifted, dislodging her voluminous hair and leaving her resembling a disheveled banshee.
By the time she had smoothed her tangled locks, Major Liu Kaiqi had already replaced his stiff-brimmed military cap upon his head. “You may keep this new uniform, but the cap cannot be yours.”
‘Who would want your cap? Don’t flatter yourself.’
Ultimately, those words remained unspoken.
She merely moved her lips, squeezing out a few syllables through the narrow gap. “I understand.”
Confronted by someone whose rank far outstripped her own, Lin Yu invariably lost the courage to speak loudly or to defy them.
Unless he harbored inappropriate intentions toward her, as Commander Yang once had, Lin Yu dared not disobey any of his words or decisions.
The adage ‘a single rank higher can crush a man’ rang true, and the difference between a Major and a Private Second Class was… one, two, three… almost uncountable.
In reality, a full fifteen ranks separated them—an insurmountable chasm that many career soldiers could never hope to bridge in a lifetime.
Perhaps only in dreams could she, with a higher rank, issue orders to a field officer.
After retrieving his cap, Major Liu Kaiqi departed, standing at a distance to await the conclusion of the reporters’ interviews, while Lin Yu remained perched on the stool she had brought, anticipating the journalist’s approach.
It was a full ten minutes later when the interviewer finally approached, notebook in hand, and pulled out another folding stool to sit opposite Lin Yu.
“As is customary for interviews, would you mind answering a few questions first?”
“I can.”
“Excellent. May I ask which province you are from?”
“Shan’nei Province, Yuelian County. My home is in Linjia’ao, a small mountain village near the border.”
“And how old are you now?”
“Fifteen years old, my birthday was just two months ago.”
“Wow, a true young hero indeed…”
As the journalist scribbled away in his notebook, Lin Yu couldn’t help but feel perplexed. “Didn’t Major Liu Kaiqi inform you of these details? Why are you asking me again?”
“Oh, come now, we are merely reporters from the Tianjing City Post, common folk.
A distinguished Major like him wouldn’t necessarily liaise with us in advance.
We had to ask about your friend’s information piece by piece as well.”
“Oh, I see…”
The journalist continued to ask a series of basic questions, which Lin Yu answered from memory, one by one, until several minutes later, he finally posed his first formal inquiry.
“What was the initial impetus that led you to join the military? Someone of your age, in many parts of our nation, might even be referred to as a ‘girl,’ and we are immensely curious as to why you conceived the idea of enlisting as a battlefield medic.”
‘Oh, that question is simple.’
‘Originally, I just wanted to sneak onto the military train to sell steamed buns.
I planned to get off after selling a basket, but the company commander stopped me, slapped a military cap on my head, and just like that, I became part of the Diacla Army.’
‘After that, purely to eat my fill and survive, I chose to hide away in a rear medical station as a medic, incidentally earning some military pay to supplement the household.’
‘As for things like a benevolent physician’s heart, loyalty to the emperor and love for the country, serving Diacla… all of it is false!’
‘I absolutely despise this humorous, abstract old army that presses men into service, draws salaries for non-existent soldiers, and drinks the blood of its troops!
Especially my immediate superior, who’s a flat-chest fetishist!
Shamelessly, he kept four medics as concubines and even tried to get me too!’
‘Disgusting! Ptui! Disgusting!’
‘Let whoever wants to be this kind of soldier be it!
Whoever wants to sacrifice themselves can go sacrifice themselves!
The moment this battle ends, I’m putting in my resignation!’
This lengthy internal monologue, however, never escaped her lips.
Lin Yu maintained the same smile she had worn for the photographs, uttering words that were far from her true feelings.
“Ever since I was a child, I harbored the ambition of becoming a heroine like ‘Liu Yulan’ (TL Note: A historical figure often depicted as a brave and loyal female warrior).
Finding an opportunity, I snuck onto a train heading to the front lines, blended in among the soldiers, and became a glorious Private Second Class.”
“However, my female identity was soon discovered, and a kind lieutenant advised me to take up logistical work in the rear, where I served as a medic for over a month.”
“Those days remain a cherished memory even now.
From the moment I awoke until I closed my eyes, my thoughts were dedicated to healing others, enabling our warriors to return to the front lines more swiftly and continue serving the nation.”
“Later, perhaps due to my exceptional performance, I was dispatched to the very front lines as a battlefield medic.
While it meant facing enemy fire directly, it also allowed me to treat the wounded more rapidly.”
“Each time I consider how my small actions accumulate into contributions for the nation, I am filled with immense pride and honor.”
‘I want to vomit.’
‘I really want to vomit.’
‘Despite despising that lofty emperor, despite loathing this wretched war, why am I speaking like this?
Why am I waving flags and cheering for His Majesty and this conflict?’
‘Is it because I’m facing these journalists, poised to launch military propaganda, and this Major from the military propaganda department, ready to turn me into a recruitment poster, that I can’t even utter a single unpatriotic word?’
‘How weak I am.’
Forcing herself to suppress the urge to vomit, Lin Yu continued to humor the journalist’s questions, molding herself into a loyal, patriotic, and humorously right-leaning figure.
She had already begun to anticipate the day a revolution would erupt within Diacla.
Ideally, it would be like the German Empire (TL Note: “德二” or ‘De Er’ refers to the German Empire, specifically the Second Reich, which collapsed after WWI) in her previous life: the emperor abdicates, a parliament rises to power, and even losing this war would be inconsequential.
As the interview drew to a close, the journalist posed one final question before concluding: “Lastly, regarding your future, what aspirations do you hold?”
“Aspirations? Hmm…”
Lin Yu tilted her head back in thought, pondering for perhaps half a minute. “To continue serving Diacla, to continue pledging allegiance to His Imperial Majesty, and if possible… well, I’d like to replicate this achievement once more, and earn another medal for valor in combat, hahaha…”
As she spoke, she did not meet the journalist’s gaze, instead maintaining her upward-tilted posture.
Consequently, she couldn’t discern his expression, nor could she gauge whether he was satisfied with her pronouncement.
Lin Yu’s eyes followed a bird, one she had likely encountered only four times before, envying its nimble form and admiring its beautiful plumage.
‘I wish I could fly as freely as that, without a care for emperors or wars, or duties.
To ride the wind and drink the dew, to drift across the four seas, like a small boat, like a grain of sand in the vast ocean.’
Alas, in Diacla, any transcendent, soaring thought would inevitably plummet to earth, much like Lieutenant Xia’s friend, and the words Nangong had once spoken to her.
‘This world… it’s ultimately a world ruled by the few, isn’t it?
It’s truly dreadful.
Is there any way to save it?’
Lowering her head, she smoothed away the stiff smile that had settled on her lips, silently dismissing her own question within her heart.
‘No, it can’t be saved.
Not now, at least.’
The journalist packed away his notebook, intending to take it back and compile it into a formal manuscript, while the other photographer, having finished tinkering with his camera, produced several identical prints and displayed them before the Major.
Before long, Lin Yu was handed one herself: an A4-sized, entirely black-and-white print, depicting two figures standing side-by-side like a memorial photograph—herself and Yang Xi.
“Ugh, when will we finally have color photographs…?”
Having witnessed the vibrant photography of her previous life, Lin Yu felt a distinct dissatisfaction with these monochrome images.
Even with the photographer’s exquisitely skilled technique, rendering the subjects as sharp as a blade and the background melting like cream, it still fell short.
Comparing it to the distant riverbank scenery, she silently folded the photograph once and tucked it into the inner pocket of her new military uniform.
“…”
Then, narrowing her eyes, she gazed intently at an abnormally colored patch on the left bank of the Mang River, appearing smaller than an ant.
While strange-colored grass along the riverbank was normal, why did these patches so closely resemble the uniforms of Lanforthian soldiers?
“Major Liu Kaiqi,” she turned directly and ran back to ask the Major from the Propaganda Department, “Do you have binoculars?”
“Oh? Yes, I do, but they’re in the car.”
“Could you please take a look at those khaki-colored things on the left bank and tell me what’s happening?”
“What’s happening?”
The Major, half-skeptical, returned to the car, retrieved the binoculars from the front seat’s storage compartment, and carefully observed the left bank.
Then, lowering the binoculars, he cried out in alarm, “Quickly, notify headquarters! The foreign devils are forcing a crossing of the Mang River!”