A tranquil night settled over them.
Lin Yu huddled on the unyielding bed, her gaze fixed on the fabric curtain before her.
Perhaps engrossed in preparing hotpot with Nangong, the seniors had not brought her dinner today.
The others, who had eagerly awaited a shared meal, accepted the rations handed to them by the mess hall soldiers with initial disappointment, only to then erupt in unbridled joy at the prospect of meat, even without the communal hotpot.
In stark contrast to their elation, Lin Yu’s mood remained somber, having learned of the impending attack scheduled for tomorrow night; she had retreated behind her curtain to lie down immediately upon her return.
The idiot who had accompanied her on her earlier outing was no different, now silently wrapped in a blanket, curled up in another corner.
While her own deteriorating mood and silence might partly stem from Commander Yang’s previous words and actions, his disposition, well… it had always been precisely that.
“Lin Yu? Could you step out for a moment?”
Someone outside called her name, causing her to bolt upright.
“I’m here.”
Throwing off her blanket, then pushing aside the curtain, she peered out, a small head emerging from the gloom.
The night had fallen completely, and with no lights lit inside the dugout, only a faint silhouette was discernible at the entrance.
“These are the newly issued uniforms. See if they fit. The two of you didn’t receive them earlier because you were bathing, so I’ve brought them now.”
“W-we absolutely did not bathe together! We just happened to leave at the same time!” The Staff Sergeant’s ill-chosen words immediately ruffled her feathers, and she scrambled off the bed, hopping on her booted feet to stand before him, eager to clarify.
“I never said you bathed together, did I? Anyway, the clothes are here; you handle it. Everyone else has already changed into their new uniforms. You can ask them to step outside while you try them on, and I’ll guard the entrance. No one will see anything.”
The Staff Sergeant tucked a complete uniform into Lin Yu’s arms, then entered the dugout to usher out the soldiers who were either half-asleep or roused by Lin Yu’s outburst.
As they passed her, their gazes varied: some were bleary-eyed with sleep, others appeared lost in thought, and, of course, there was the idiot’s characteristic expression—utterly devoid of any self-awareness regarding his role as the instigator.
Only when the Staff Sergeant also thrust a uniform into his hands did he finally grasp what was about to transpire.
“Don’t I already have a uniform?”
“Why wear old clothes when you have new ones? You should change too. As a grown man, there’s no need for you to hide.”
Most of the troops lacked proper uniforms, wearing only steel helmets to identify themselves.
However, ever since the conclusion of the Crown Prince’s farewell ceremony, all ground forces on the battlefields beyond the mountains had uniformly switched to white shirts and trousers.
Presumably, the high command quickly realized that white attire was as conspicuous as a lightbulb on the battlefield, so orders were swiftly issued to revert to the original uniforms; even those ‘trench fodder’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘tián xià n bÇŽo bÇŽo men,’ referring to soldiers used as expendable troops on the front lines.) who lacked proper military garb changed back into their own clothing.
Consequently, Lin Yu had grown accustomed to the motley sight of soldiers in various civilian clothes.
Yet, it seemed that recently… uniforms were being issued once more?
Clutching the uniform, which still carried a faint damp scent, Lin Yu returned inside, slipping into the small space partitioned by her curtain.
She picked up the portable magic-powered lamp from her bedside and switched it on.
The uniform was a dark green, its overall design unremarkable, with no insignia adorning the collar or shoulders.
It looked, in essence, no different from a heavy, ordinary jacket.
She turned to ensure the curtain was fully closed, then peered through a firing port to check if anyone was outside.
Only after ascertaining that she would not be seen did Lin Yu unfasten the buttons of her medic’s uniform.
The sensation of her skin exposed to the air sent a slight shiver through her.
‘To wear the same clothes as everyone else…’
‘Donning Diacla’s military uniform, filling trenches on the front lines beyond the mountains, experiencing the life of a battlefield medic.’
A sudden surge of playful words in her throat momentarily lifted her spirits, and shaking her head, she completely stripped off her medic’s uniform and folded it neatly.
Just as she was about to don the military uniform, Lin Yu suddenly noticed what appeared to be a tag on the back collar.
In this lifetime, with no developed clothing industry, military uniforms would certainly not be designed with a tag that would irritatingly chafe the back of one’s neck, unlike in her previous life.
She lifted her small night lamp to illuminate it, quickly discerning what was embroidered on the tag: a name.
She also swiftly understood the significance of a name embroidered there.
Her hands fumbled over the uniform, and Lin Yu discovered a hidden patch on the inner lining, beneath which she could faintly feel uneven fabric.
She immediately concluded: ‘This is a military uniform imbued with a soul ring’ (TL Note: A term from Chinese web novels, ‘hún huán,’ often referring to a spiritual or soul-bound item, or a ring formed from a soul.).
Goosebumps erupted across her exposed skin, as if something unclean were whispering in her ear.
‘Surely not… it’s just a uniform. Why would they reclaim it…’
Her whispered self-query found its answer within seconds: her comrades belonged to a ragtag unit, unable to utilize advanced, superior, or brand-new equipment.
As a clumsy medic among the ‘trench fodder’, the uniform Lin Yu received was naturally not of high quality; in other words, simply having a formal uniform to wear was already a privilege—what more could she ask for?
Or did it mean that even while crouching in a trench on the front lines, she was expected to wear this medic’s uniform, which would conspicuously glow from a hundred meters away, practically inviting a bullet?
She should not be a medic receiving special treatment from Commander Yang; she ought to be treated equally, just like these ordinary privates.
Her pretty face hidden beneath a steel helmet, her emotions buried deep within her heart, she should only present herself as a medic, solely focused on how to treat the wounded.
She had already received more than enough special care; any more, and, with nothing else to offer in return, she would be left with no choice but to pledge herself to him.
This was certainly not an outcome she wished to see, nor was it the happy ending she sought in this second life.
‘I hope this world has no ghosts.’
In a world where even magic existed, “souls” surely did too, meaning this soldier named Xu Ke would likely linger on this uniform for a full forty-nine days.
‘If there are, I hope you’ll consider the agony of death and spare me this particular torment.’
She prayed thus, hoping the uniform’s former owner would become a benevolent spirit to protect her, rather than a malevolent one to harm her.
She wondered if her plea would be heard, and if heard, whether it would be granted.
After several deep breaths, Lin Yu finally mustered the resolve to put on the uniform.
She firmly tore off the small tag from the back of the neck, draped the garment over herself, and slowly buttoned it.
Next, she shed her medic’s trousers, casually patting off the dust that had clung to them from where she had sat beside the bunker earlier, before pulling on the military uniform trousers.
She fastened the belt.
Only after completing all of this did she push aside the curtain, put on her old boots properly, and take a couple of steps in place inside the dugout.
After a few slight movements, Lin Yu discovered that the uniform was, unexpectedly, quite a good fit.
…which, in turn, implied that a small, young soldier, whose build was similar to her own, had died a tragic death on the battlefield from a bullet wound to the chest and abdomen.
Her spirits suddenly plummeted once more.
Returning outside, she informed the Staff Sergeant that the uniform fit well.
The others, who had been half-asleep, were then permitted to return to the dugout and resume their slumber.
She, however, was kept behind by the Staff Sergeant.
“Why aren’t you wearing your helmet?”
“I left it behind at the rear and didn’t retrieve it. May I request leave tomorrow morning to go back and get it?”
“Oh, I would have brought one back for you if I’d known. Here, these are the missing pieces of your equipment: an entrenching tool, a bayonet, and a set of webbing with ammunition pouches.”
An entrenching tool and a bayonet were tightly bound together by layers of webbing, with a small pouch for storing ammunition placed atop the trio.
Lin Yu dumbfoundedly accepted the equipment, which was clearly infantry-issue, and looked at the Staff Sergeant with confusion.
“Is this something a medic needs?”
“A medic doesn’t, but a field medic does. You wouldn’t want to be on the battlefield, trying to save the wounded, and find yourself without the proper tools, would you?”
‘That’s true… Wait! Why am I saving the wounded on the battlefield? They said a medic only needed to save people at the rear!’
Lin Yu recalled the future Nangong had initially promised her, a future that certainly did not involve wielding an entrenching tool and charging at the enemy.
“Understood.”
Bowing her head, she accepted the set of equipment.
Mimicking the Staff Sergeant’s attire, she hung the ammunition pouch and bayonet on her left, donned the webbing, and attached the entrenching tool to her right hip.
With a steel helmet donned, she would truly look like a soldier, no longer the slender, white crane she had been before.
The Staff Sergeant gave a few more instructions before dismissing her.
The clatter and jingle of her new equipment once again drew the attention of the others.
Removing all the gear once more, she tossed it onto the foot of her bed behind the curtain, then settled back onto her small cot.
She lay down fully clothed, without even removing her shoes, plagued by the vexing question of why she had to go to the front lines.
‘Commander Yang’s promise should still hold true, shouldn’t it? During tomorrow night’s attack, I shouldn’t be pushed onto a ladder, charging forward as I did on my first day on the battlefield.’
As she drifted into sleep, someone suddenly pulled back her curtain and poked their head in, the rush of air and the intrusion jarring her awake.
Meeting someone’s gaze in the darkness, and recognizing the idiot’s face, Lin Yu immediately snatched up the novel beside her and swung it at his head.
He caught her raised hand, then posed a question to Lin Yu: “You didn’t misremember the attack time, did you?”
“What?”
“Before you came back, you mentioned the attack was tomorrow night. You didn’t get the date wrong, did you?”
“What about getting it wrong?”
He uttered a sentence that nearly stopped Lin Yu’s heart: “I’ve felt the vibrations of artillery fire.”