Military medics were notorious for their ‘veterinary’ approach, often performing CPR bare-handed, even going so far as to reach into a patient’s chest cavity to manually massage their heart.
Compared to such drastic measures, Lin Yu’s methods were already considered remarkably gentle and considerate within the military medical community.
Indeed, she was a gentle and considerate medic, at least until a patient unwittingly touched her sore spot.
As long as one didn’t casually provoke her, as Yang Xi often did, she was quite willing to show everyone her pleasant side.
Imagine a perpetually smiling medic, beautiful, singing sweetly, and even helping you write and read letters, all right there in your trench! What could she be but an angel?
As for the demon, the grim reaper… that side was reserved solely for the enemy.
Beware, never make an enemy of her, or else, in her wrath, she would truly unleash her fury.
Ha, what combat prowess could a fifteen-year-old girl possibly possess? She merely fought alongside Yang Xi, achieving an unbelievable record of 87-0.
The remaining healing spell was then directed at Yang Xi’s other wounds, staunching all bleeding and ultimately preventing the idiot from succumbing to excessive blood loss.
Lin Yu helped him to his feet, and together they leaned against the back wall, gazing up at the night sky, at the moon, and at the illuminating flares arcing overhead.
“Detonation… device…”
“The foreign devils couldn’t get their hands on it; I blew them all away with a single grenade.”
“The mission…”
“Forget the mission for now. Just rest. We’ve shed enough blood for Diacla already.”
“Go quickly and get…”
“Alright then.”
Rising with difficulty, Lin Yu walked towards a row of severely wounded soldiers and corpses on the other side, where a military policeman, shouting, [I found it!], was among them.
The military policeman’s eyes clearly held resentment, but how could the strength of a dying man contend with hers? Lin Yu snatched the device directly from his grasp and returned to Yang Xi’s side.
The detonator was still connected to its wires.
Although its casing had been marred by grenade shrapnel, the indicator light, showing it was operational, remained intact.
This meant that with a simple press of the trigger, the bridge behind them would be engulfed in flames and reduced to ashes.
The plan hadn’t failed after all.
Cradling the detonator, Lin Yu reached for the microphone hanging from Yang Xi’s back, wiped the blood from it, and brought it to her ear.
“Commander, can you hear me?”
Flipping the small switch on the communicator, she was met only with piercing static from the microphone, causing her to frown and move it far from her ear.
“Commander? Commander Mo? Hello? Hello?”
As Lin Yu spoke, she tapped the instrument’s casing, only for the entire shell to fall away, revealing a complex, etched magical array within.
A shard, clearly not part of the original device, was firmly embedded in the very center of the array, indicating the instrument was completely damaged.
“Well… we’ve lost contact with command.”
Lowering the microphone, she and Yang Xi once again looked up at the sky. “What now? Go back? Can you even walk?”
“According to… the plan…”
“Alright, I’ll follow your lead.”
According to the plan, if communication with the command post was severed, headquarters would contact them using signal flares.
When four red flares simultaneously ascended into the sky, that would be their cue to detonate the bridge.
Unfortunately, they were destined not to receive this signal, for the scales of victory had already tipped in Diacla’s favor, rendering the bridge’s demolition unnecessary.
Lin Yu waited with Yang Xi for the signal flares, unaware that victory was already theirs.
As they waited, she found herself almost drifting off to sleep.
It was already the dead of night, and the day’s exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders.
The after-effects of severe blood loss and magic depletion struck her simultaneously, leaving her feeling drowsy, her hands and feet growing cold.
She felt intensely cold.
Having previously fallen into the river and nearly drowned, she was thoroughly soaked.
Now, drenched in blood, her clothes clung to her, sticky and icy.
Only where her shoulder pressed against Yang Xi’s did she feel a faint warmth.
“Hey, Yang Xi… are you cold…?”
“Cold…”
“I’m cold too.”
“Mhm…”
She slightly averted her gaze from the night sky. “Tell me… if it stays this cold, will we freeze to death out here?”
“…No, we won’t.”
“Ho… Hiss… I hope so.”
The movement of speaking tugged at her wounds, making Lin Yu wince in pain, yet surprisingly, the icy sensation in her body receded slightly.
“Perhaps we could move around to warm up… no, wait,” Lin Yu immediately dismissed her own suggestion. “That would tear open the wounds that have just barely begun to heal.”
Beyond simply lighting a bonfire, what other ways were there to find warmth?
Yang Xi seemed to find a solution. “Why don’t you sing…? I’ve heard your singing is beautiful.”
Her reputation for beautiful singing had long spread throughout the trenches guarded by the 224th Territorial Defense Brigade.
Having spent day and night by her side, Yang Xi had undoubtedly been influenced by what he constantly heard and seen, becoming aware of her talents.
“W-well, of course. I used to be called the Sun Ba Nightingale (TL Note: A reference to a popular Chinese internet forum, ‘Sun Ba,’ where users often give themselves humorous titles or personas.), you know… *cough cough*, anyway, it’s really good.”
She had almost brought another meme from her previous life into this alternate world.
Lin Yu suddenly felt a bit surreal.
“So, sing one then?” Yang Xi urged. “Just don’t sing anything I can’t understand.”
Instead of agreeing directly, she countered with two questions. “Leaving aside whether the Lanforthians might discover us again, what about you? If I get warm, what will you do? Freeze?”
“Freeze,” Yang Xi replied simply.
For the third time, Lin Yu uttered the same phrase. “Alright then.”
Since the Lanforthians hadn’t returned after all this time, they must have abandoned their mission to seize the detonator.
Therefore, even if they made a little noise in this blood-soaked trench… they wouldn’t be discovered.
So, what should she sing…?
He wanted something understandable, so all the foreign songs were immediately out.
It was quite disheartening to feel her song repertoire instantly cut by more than half.
As for popular songs, they might not fit the aesthetic of this era, so it was probably best not to consider them.
Were only folk songs left then…?
Hmph.
Shifting slightly to find a comfortable position, Lin Yu cleared her throat twice, preparing to sing.
“The sun sets, but tomorrow it will climb up again~♩”
“Flowers wither, but tomorrow they will bloom just the same~♪”
“A beautiful little bird flies away without a trace~♫”
“My youth, like a little bird, will never return~♬”
“My youth, like a little bird, will never return—♬”
Accompanied by her clear, slightly mournful, yet melodious voice, she sang a folk song a cappella.
Her not-so-loud singing was swallowed by the surrounding trenches.
Her voice drifted on the wind, making her involuntarily wonder how many more times artillery shells would soar through the air before they were finally silenced forever.
Fortunately, no shells fell from the late-night sky.
The answer, it seemed, was blowing in the wind.
“…My youth, like a little bird, will never return.”
Her youth had undoubtedly been poured out onto this battlefield, transforming into released magic, into falling tears, into flowing blood.
A burden she should not have had to bear pressed down on her shoulders, exhausting her to the point of near collapse, yet she stoically endured.
It was certainly not for the Emperor, nor was it to serve Diacla.
She had persevered until now because of her friends: Nangong, the senior medics, even Lieutenant Xia, the Commander, and everyone else she had met in the trenches.
And, of course, that big idiot, Yang Xi.
Her fortune, her joy, her tears, her entire being—all were entrusted to these people.
The two months since she had enlisted felt as significant as her entire life before them.
“…So, how was it? Good, right? They weren’t exaggerating…”
Yang Xi, beside her, remained silent.
She quickly turned to look at his face, then reached out to check for his breath.
“…What the… he just fell asleep.”
He had merely drifted off, but it had given her quite a fright.
Heh, how could someone like Yang Xi just die so easily? His life was far too resilient.
Besides, how did the saying go? Two hundred grams of explosives couldn’t kill a 250-gram soul (TL Note: ‘250’ is Chinese slang for an idiot or a fool, implying that an idiot’s soul is too ‘heavy’ or stubborn to be easily killed.).
Telling a little joke was one of the few pastimes in the trenches, a way to find joy amidst the suffering.
He probably wouldn’t mind, would he?
Together, they waited for the signal, and for the dawn.