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Lin Yu’s deposition concluded here.
The man opposite her had gleaned no useful information from the initial interrogation, as Lin Yu’s answers often conflicted with the evidence he held. Consequently, he decided to temporarily set aside some of his questions.
Lin Yu, for her part, felt deeply grateful that he hadn’t resorted to a ‘Great Memory Restoration Technique’ (TL Note: A humorous term referring to forceful interrogation tactics, often involving physical persuasion to extract ‘decisive evidence’), unlike a certain ‘goddess detective.’
It was truly fortunate not to have been beaten black and blue… Now that she thought about it, she seemed to recall a novel where the protagonist, also disguised as a military doctor, frequently endured beatings.
Yet, her interrogator showed no intention of letting her off so easily. Skirting around certain inconsistencies, he pressed on with the questioning: “…Your claims are unsubstantiated. You must find witnesses to corroborate them.”
In the narrative Lin Yu presented, she was merely a pitiful village girl who sold steamed buns, having arrived by sheer coincidence on the war-torn front lines because she hadn’t managed to disembark in time, and the platoon leader’s eyesight had been poor.
Such a one-sided account, however, could not be directly incorporated into the investigation; her testimony required multifaceted corroboration.
“Find that platoon leader.”
“If we could find him, I wouldn’t need to be questioning you here. In fact…” The man retrieved a stack of papers from his briefcase and spread them across the table, “…these are all the individuals mentioned in the depositions who are connected to you.”
Each sheet comprised a military service record; some bore photographs, while others contained only textual entries.
The man divided them into two distinct piles: one marked solely with basic army stamps, the other additionally embossed with a red seal.
The files bearing the red seal constituted the vast majority.
Lin Yu recognized the traditional Chinese characters on the red seals: either ‘Killed in Action’ or ‘Missing in Action.’ ‘Killed in Action’ predominated among those with the red seal.
The man pointed to a file stamped ‘Killed in Action.’ “This individual,” he stated, “the platoon leader you encountered when you boarded that train, died in a shelling attack a month ago.”
He then indicated another file. “And this one,” he continued, “the wounded soldier who returned with you to the medical tent, succumbed to a wound infection two days later.”
“Everyone connected to you,” he reiterated, pressing both hands onto the table, “and I mean everyone—has either been killed in action, gone missing, or died in an accident on their way home after discharge. The only exceptions are a few medical orderlies closest to you and your direct superior.”
“How do you explain this anomalous phenomenon that seems to follow you?”
Confronted by the man’s sharp questioning, Lin Yu could only register astonishment. “What?”
All dead? Why? What happened?
She lowered her gaze, searching among the files on the table.
Though placed face down, she could still discern the characters.
Each name, each face, was almost instantly recognizable to Lin Yu.
She had committed them to memory while reviewing their medical records.
The vast majority of the files laid out on the table belonged to wounded soldiers she had personally treated in the medical tent.
Many were individuals she had watched recover before sending them out of the tent or back to the rear.
But…
“All… all dead?”
“Only a few individuals with whom you had a closer relationship remain. Therefore, we have reason to suspect you of complicity.”
Why…
She had, against all odds, saved them through surgery; she had, with immense effort, nursed them back to health; she had poured so much time and energy into their care; she had received their gratitude, their smiles, and their acknowledgment.
Treating others in the medical tent had been the most meaningful undertaking of her past month, extending beyond merely fulfilling the quota of recoveries mandated by her superiors.
She had never inquired about the whereabouts of the soldiers once they recovered, and thus, had never known their ultimate fates.
She had envisioned some might be wounded again, perhaps even dying in the trenches from injuries too severe for timely treatment, yet statistically, the probability of a common soldier sustaining a second injury was exceedingly low.
Why, then, had every single person who left her tent perished?
This transcended the issue of witness testimony; it directly impinged upon the very purpose of her continuing as a medical orderly.
Before her arrival, such a phenomenon had never occurred among the wounded soldiers Nangong had single-handedly treated.
“I… I don’t know why.”
Lin Yu did not know why, nor could she explain how her dedicated efforts to heal and save lives could lead to such a bizarre outcome.
“This is one of the things we need to ascertain about you.”
Having delivered this bombshell, he resumed his interrogation, now focusing on a meticulous cross-examination of various details concerning Lin Yu.
****
“We have also learned that you possess a remarkable talent for Lanfossian, not only speaking it fluently but also writing it proficiently.
We have collected a considerable amount of written material penned by you.”
This time, her interrogator produced the anti-war leaflets Lin Yu had copied not long ago.
“Furthermore, their content is exceedingly defeatist, seemingly aimed at halting the war and eroding the soldiers’ morale. How do you explain this?”
Lin Yu lowered her head, replying softly, “Because these were written for the Lanfossian people, to make them stop the war and diminish their will to fight…”
“Such words could just as easily influence our own soldiers! Coupled with your actions at the medical post, this behavior could very well impact our army’s morale—”
Before he could finish, Lin Yu retorted, “How many people in the Diacla Army do you think can actually read Lanfossian…”
Though her voice remained quiet, it was enough to leave her interrogator speechless.
She was entirely correct; the vast majority of soldiers couldn’t decipher those letters, let alone comprehend and act upon the slogans.
This particular accusation was clearly just for show.
“However, you still cannot explain your proficiency in both speaking and writing it, as your background does not support your acquisition of such knowledge.”
The interrogator, refusing to follow Lin Yu’s line of reasoning, shifted his attack. “Unless, of course, you are a spy.”
‘A spy again. How is being literate not proof of being a spy?’
“You can return to the mountain village where I was born and interview them.
Ask if I am a native-born Diacla citizen or a spy dispatched here midway through my life.
My entire life’s trajectory is fully traceable.”
“We’ve already investigated.”
“Then why still suspect me?”
“Precisely why we suspect you.”
“Truly… *sigh*.”
Even without physical torture, this line of questioning profoundly vexed Lin Yu.
Unable to reveal her past life—a life where she had even passed the CET-4 and CET-6 exams (TL Note: College English Test, a standardized English proficiency exam in mainland China)—what other explanation could possibly account for this phenomenon?
Lin Yu worried over how to convince her interrogators, finding that the arguments she had prepared beforehand in the solitary confinement cell were proving largely ineffective.
Moreover, the revelation that all the wounded soldiers she had treated had tragically perished was still too devastating.
Sorrow engulfed her, drowning the efforts of her blood-stained hands and the wails that filled her ears, obliterating the meaning of her nights spent poring over medical texts by lamplight.
If every soldier treated by her was destined to meet an untimely end as if cursed, then her healing ministrations were no different from providing no treatment at all.
Worse still, due to the scarcity of painkillers, she had inadvertently inflicted additional suffering upon the wounded.
‘Is it my fault? Could it be… that I carry some kind of pathogen?’
‘It shouldn’t be like this.’
From the investigators’ mouths, she learned an unbearable truth, plunging her into profound self-reproach and doubt.
She found herself inextricably caught, awaiting an insidious, leading interrogation that would leave behind ‘evidence’ she could only overturn by recanting her statements.
‘It seems my gratitude towards that man was premature.
Even if he doesn’t resort to physical violence, he’s adept at weaving traps into his words.’
“No, this is entrapment.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’? You just explicitly admitted—”
Suddenly, the man who had been acting as a mere backdrop—whom Lin Yu had mistakenly assumed was the interrogator’s bodyguard—interjected into the questioning.
“*Smack*—”
‘That hurts…’
‘So the ‘good cop, bad cop’ routine is prevalent even in this other world?’
“Don’t push your luck. You are currently a suspect in treason and assassination, not some innocent young girl awaiting release!”
The prelude to the Great Memory Restoration Technique had begun.
Lin Yu needed to consider the optimal moment to employ her healing abilities.
Her brown eyes fixated on her interrogator, her gaze resolute despite the unshed tears.
She had never betrayed Diacla, even though Diacla had only ever brought her poverty and hunger since childhood.
She had never betrayed that Emperor, even though that Emperor had only ever bestowed upon her the arduous duties of a medical orderly.
She would not bear the burden of crimes that were not hers, not even in death.