A fleeting moment, when compared to eternity, is but a single drop in the vast ocean.
“Why did you want to speak with me?”
Ke Yiyi stepped onto the fractured expanse of what was known as ‘The Last Line of Defense Bridge.’ This half-demolished structure bore witness to the World War, a time when the forces of Xuanji Star had advanced to within five kilometers of the coastline, their furthest push reaching this very point. Back then, it had been known by a different name: Short Sword Bridge. Ultimately, after a bloody and arduous struggle, the Vega forces succeeded in expelling Xuanji Star from Nine O’Clock City. To commemorate this pivotal event, the bridge was subsequently renamed ‘The Last Line of Defense Bridge.’ A new bridge was later constructed nearby, reclaiming the original moniker of ‘Short Sword Bridge.’
“I’m not sure,” he mused, “perhaps it’s simply that I hold Officer Ke in rather high regard.”
Li Yuyi halted, his gaze falling upon the distant warning sign. Though the broken bridge still lay some distance ahead, he understood there was no point in pressing on; a road that led nowhere would yield no destination, no matter how far one traveled. He looked towards the setting sun in the distance, knowing that its descent marked the direction of the Xuanji Star Academy of Sciences.
Ke Yiyi followed Li Yuyi’s line of sight, her gaze sweeping from the horizon where the sun dipped, all the way to the southern port. Though Xuanji Star had formally signed a ceasefire treaty with Vega, the cities of ‘Sixty-One Workers,’ ‘Golden Fish Hook,’ and ‘World Affairs,’ along with their surrounding territories, remained firmly under Xuanji Star’s dominion. They had christened this contested zone ‘The Eastern Advance Gate.’ With crucial western peninsula ports seized by Xuanji Star, Vega had been compelled after the war to relocate its other vital harbors—particularly its military installations—to the southern reaches of the peninsula.
“I once harbored a strong desire to become a police officer, much like yourself, Officer Ke,” he confessed, “but alas, the opportunity never truly presented itself.”
“Why is that?” Ke Yiyi inquired, turning her head.
“Perhaps it’s simply my nature to be content with the present state of affairs,” he replied.
Li Yuyi bent down, retrieved a small pebble, and readied himself to skip it across the water’s surface.
“Don’t throw that!”
Ke Yiyi’s warning came too late.
Li Yuyi merely tilted his head, then opened his hand. The pebble lay nestled calmly in his palm.
“As you wished.”
Ke Yiyi regarded Li Yuyi, uncertain if he was merely toying with her. Yet, it was of little consequence; the important thing was that the pebble remained unthrown.
“That’s quite dangerous. What if it had struck someone?”
“Which is precisely why I didn’t throw it.”
A faint irritation stirred within Ke Yiyi, convinced that Li Yuyi was deliberately provoking her. But a moment later, she reconsidered: as long as the pebble remained unthrown and no one was harmed, why should she feel anger?
Her gaze fell upon Li Yuyi’s face, obscured by a jet-black mask. Adorning the mask was a cartoonish rendition of a mouth, wide and grinning, revealing stark white teeth.
“Why do you always wear that mask?”
“An old injury on my face,” he replied.
Though Li Yuyi’s words were casual, Ke Yiyi suspected the injury was far from trivial.
“Are you very curious about this?” Li Yuyi asked, pointing to his mask. He knew everyone harbored curiosity, and police officers were no exception.
“I’ve simply never seen your face,” she admitted.
“Do police officers tend to pay particular attention to individuals who intentionally conceal their faces?”
“We do, yes,” Ke Yiyi confirmed, “but it’s not an ‘active scrutiny’ stemming from the ‘potential for criminality in those who conceal their appearance.’ Rather, it falls under ‘passive observation.'”
“In other words, it’s a ‘limited attention’ devoid of ‘aggressiveness.’ While our professional duties may have differed in the past, there are striking commonalities in how we approach and resolve many issues.”
Li Yuyi mused, then slowly reached for his mask.
“Before a Vega officer, I find no need to conceal anything.”
Ke Yiyi remained silent, observing as Li Yuyi slowly removed his mask. She finally beheld the face she had never seen before—a face that, even in all the photographic records she had accessed, had always been obscured. This was her first glimpse of the true visage beneath the mask of the only member of The Robin Club who had consistently kept their identity hidden.
****
That evening, Ke Yiyi, Li Qiwei, and Gan Lan were meticulously cleaning their weapons in their room. As Li Qiwei disassembled her pistol, she posed a question.
“So, what does Li Yuyi’s face actually look like? Did you finally get a glimpse? Could it be that he’s incredibly handsome?”
Ke Yiyi fell silent, unsure how to articulate it. Li Yuyi’s true face was an uncanny replica of the bared, white-toothed grin depicted on his mask, merely stripped of its comic-book stylization. The face was certainly not handsome, yet it couldn’t be described as ugly either. It might have made some uncomfortable, but Ke Yiyi held no strong notions of beauty or ugliness. To her, the face simply felt profoundly real, no different from that of any ordinary person she might encounter on the street.
“I saw it,” Ke Yiyi finally replied. “It’s just a very ordinary face, indistinguishable from any other regular person.”
Upon hearing Ke Yiyi’s response, Li Qiwei glanced up, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.
“But why did he ask *you* out alone?”
Li Qiwei slapped her forehead, a sudden realization dawning on her.
“Ah! Could it be that he’s taken a fancy to you, Sister Ke!”
Ke Yiyi froze for a moment, then, catching sight of Li Qiwei’s teasing grin, instantly understood it was merely a jest.
“How could that possibly be?”
“Who knows!” Li Qiwei retorted. “After all, he’s never shown his face to any of us. Even his personal file is filled with photos of him wearing that mask, and large sections are ‘redacted.’ Oh, speaking of which, Sister Ke, do *you* have someone you like?”
Ke Yiyi’s heart gave a sudden jolt, and her hands, in the midst of disassembling her pistol, instantly stilled. A familiar silhouette materialized in her mind’s eye. She couldn’t say if it was love, only that the presence of that person brought a profound sense of security, allowing her to face any task without a single worry. But… she would never see them again.
“Aha! I guessed correctly!”
Li Qiwei giggled like a child, swiftly completing the disassembly of her pistol. She then placed it on the table, propped her chin in her hands, and gazed at Ke Yiyi.
“Was he a very handsome boy? Do you have a picture?”
Ke Yiyi slowly shook her head, a shadow of sadness dimming her features.
“No,” she whispered.
Noticing the subtle shift in Ke Yiyi’s demeanor, Li Qiwei promptly dropped the subject. She sensed there was an unspoken pain, something Ke Yiyi wished to keep buried, and thus, the topic needed to be diverted immediately.
“Hmm… well then, Gan Lan,” she quickly pivoted, “do *you* have someone you like?”
Li Qiwei’s swift change of topic, however, proved to be an instant failure. Gan Lan’s expression upon hearing the question was one of profound dejection, akin to a child who had lost a cherished toy. Gan Lan continued disassembling her weapon in silence. Ke Yiyi and Li Qiwei exchanged an awkward glance, and the room was instantly enveloped in a palpable tension. None of the three knew what to say.
****
Meanwhile, in the grand hall, Fletcher was lost in thought, his gaze fixed upon a map. The region of Yingzhou, once a proud territory of Vega, was now painted in the crimson hues of Xuanji Star. The entirety of the land north of the Xuejiang River had fallen under Xuanji Star’s dominion. Within this vast red ocean, only a lone sail struggled to remain afloat: Yuansu.
Prior to the World War, an alliance comprising Luoyan Star, Hegou Star, Xuliang Star, Canshang Star, Yaoguang Star, and Vega had been forged to counter the Canghai-Xinghe Axis, which united Xuanji Star and Polaris. The covenant stipulated that an attack on any signatory academy would be deemed an act of war against the entire alliance. Yet, when the ‘East Continent Security Convention’ was truly called upon, it proved to be nothing more than a hollow document, lacking the steadfastness of the ‘Xuanji Star-Polaris Alliance Agreement.’ Consequently, the unified alliance was systematically dismantled by the interconnected Axis powers. Although the Vega forces had attempted to mitigate their losses by deploying troops to secure Yuansu on Yaoguang Star, thereby thwarting Xuanji Star’s ambitions to seize control of Yaoguang Star’s Eastern Fleet, this decisive action had not garnered the unanimous approval of the three major councils…
Fletcher understood, perhaps more acutely than anyone else, the profound implications of an army acting without explicit authorization, for he himself had been among the troops dispatched to Yuansu. Since his departure from military service, Fletcher had shed his identity as a soldier. Logically, there was no longer any need for him to concern himself with the affairs of the army, yet he found himself unable to simply let go. He was a son of Vega, and he felt an unyielding duty to defend her at all costs… just as he always had.
Pursuant to the ceasefire agreement, Vega and Xuanji Star had ceased hostilities from the date of its signing, with their respective territories to be determined by the actual lands each controlled at the time of the armistice. Vega had forfeited all territory north of the Xuejiang River, save for Yuansu, as well as the ‘Great Promontory’ on the western Yunshan Peninsula—a region Xuanji Star had audaciously renamed ‘The Eastern Advance Gate.’ The losses were staggering: shrunken borders, decimated populations, and widespread ruins. The price of peace had been exorbitant, and the specter of the next war loomed, its arrival date unknown.
Given the persistent threat posed by the Great Promontory and the perennial standoff north of the Xuejiang River, Vega’s remaining industrial capacity on the Yunshan Peninsula had been forcibly relocated to the Xifeng Four Islands. The peninsula’s reconstruction remained an arduous, uphill battle. Should hostilities reignite, Xuanji Star would undoubtedly launch a swift, unhindered advance from the Great Promontory. Coupled with an offensive from north of the Xuejiang River, the entire Yunshan Peninsula would inevitably fall.
He redirected his attention to Yuansu, the East Continent’s natural ice-free port. While Xuanji Star had indeed seized Qingke, further north along the eastern coast, to establish a new fleet, Yuansu’s strategic geographical position was undeniably superior. For Xuanji Star’s navy to launch an assault on the Xifeng Four Islands, they would be forced to sail south through the Dongfeng Sea. In contrast, the Vega navy could swiftly sortie from Yuansu to engage them in the Wangxiang Sea. But this advantage was purely naval. Yuansu itself was encircled on three sides by Xuanji Star territory. Should Xuanji Star launch a land offensive against Yuansu, Vega’s chances of holding the port would become exceedingly slim. Though it had been successfully defended once during the World War, a single success did not guarantee a hundred.
“Still looking at the map?”
Lan Xifang’s voice echoed beside him. Fletcher had noticed her approach some time ago but had chosen not to acknowledge her. His initial enthusiasm for Lan Xifang had rapidly waned once he learned she was unmarried, which, in some respects, was not a positive development.
“This isn’t a classified map.”
“I didn’t say it was classified. I merely observe how often you consult it. Don’t you ever grow tired of it?”
“I do.”
Fletcher picked up the map, pointing to the red-colored regions now under Xuanji Star’s control.
“I want to completely eradicate these red stains from this land.”
Though a smile played on his lips, his words carried a grave weight. In his heart, the regime that had painted this land red was a cancer upon the earth, their crimes against the people of Vega too numerous to ever fully document.
Lan Xifang leaned in to examine the map, responding to Fletcher with a faint smile.
“The latest map does, indeed, grant part of your wish. Some of the red has been erased.”
“What?”
Fletcher’s expression shifted, as if he had just heard an impossible tale.
“Don’t be so agitated. Everything in this world comes at a price.”
Lan Xifang’s gaze settled on Yuansu on the map as she spoke. “The cost of one part of the red fading is that another part will become stained with red.”