Having finished a reasonably satisfying dinner, Lin Yu, feeling pleasantly full, joined Nangong for a post-meal stroll.
“Going back in this state, what if the smell of disinfectant makes you sick to your stomach, and you end up wasting this rare, satisfying meal?” Nangong offered.
With this excuse, Nangong pulled her in the opposite direction of the medical tent.
Lin Yu’s actual reason for agreeing to be led away was not the pity of wasting the meal, but the fear of vomiting onto a wounded soldier on the operating table.
While she considered herself fully accustomed to the scent of blood and disinfectant, there was always that slight possibility.
Her solo mission to escape duties had thus transformed into a duo, as they walked one after the other beneath the night sky of another logistics area.
As always, Nangong led the way, with Lin Yu trailing behind.
This time, however, their conversation was far more sparse.
More often than not, they maintained a comfortable distance between them, a silent understanding filling the long stretches of quiet, vast expanses of unspoken thoughts.
After a prolonged silence, Nangong abruptly brought up a new topic.
“By the way, Lin Yu, why don’t you tell me what actually happened yesterday?”
“I’ve already heard numerous, increasingly outlandish versions of the story about you two retreating from the front lines from the wounded soldiers.”
Lin Yu, however, was reluctant to discuss it.
“Wh-why do you have to know…?”
“Just a little gossip,” Nangong said, turning to face her.
She walked backward as she reasoned, “Didn’t I tell you that love story of Emperor Rolman before? Today it’s your turn to tell me something. Gossip is only fun when it’s shared.”
“But I’ve long forgotten the story you told me,” Lin Yu replied.
“I drank wine that night, and when I woke up the next day, I couldn’t remember anything.”
Lin Yu vividly recalled that morning’s experience.
Having consumed alcohol during a dinner and card game the previous evening, she had forgotten many things, including a certain emperor’s legendary love triangle.
Regrettably, she hadn’t managed to forget the awful memory of that idiot snatching her water bottle and forcing her to drink directly from it.
“Then you’ve missed out on a fantastic topic for after-dinner conversation, what a pity, what a pity indeed,” Nangong lamented.
Walking backward indefinitely was unsustainable.
Nangong didn’t maintain her previous posture for long, soon turning back to walk normally, and the distance between the two, which had been closing, now stretched out once more.
Lin Yu jogged a couple of steps to catch up with Nangong.
“So, will you tell me the story again?”
Nangong ruffled Lin Yu’s hair, which had suddenly appeared beside her.
“Have you forgotten the advice everyone gave you when we played Mahjong (TL Note: A traditional Chinese tile-based game, often involving gambling.)?”
“Of course not!” Lin Yu exclaimed, bending to dodge the caress.
She darted two steps forward, running ahead.
“I won’t play cards with strangers outside, nor will I gamble.”
“Good, then,” Nangong affirmed.
“Mahjong, you see, can really wear down one’s will, and playing too much isn’t good for your wallet either… Ah, look at us, where has this conversation veered off to? Quickly, tell me how you escaped from all those foreigners.”
They stopped in unison, standing two meters apart on the grass, gazing into each other’s eyes.
“Can’t you tell me the emperor’s love story first?”
“You tell your story first, then it’ll be my turn.”
“Alright,” Lin Yu conceded, their playful dispute ending in Nangong’s victory.
“But it’s only the first half, because for the latter half, I was unconscious, lying flat on the railcar the entire time.”
“If you want the details, you’ll have to ask Yang Xi himself.”
“Even half is fine, hurry and tell me.”
They resumed their stroll, one after the other, beneath the twilight.
The petite girl recounted her vivid experiences to the tall woman.
Lin Yu embellished parts of the narrative with her own flair, deliberately prolonging certain crucial moments as if she possessed the power to stop time.
****
“So… you actually went with him to blow up those shells, fully prepared to die?”
“Mm, it didn’t feel like much at the time,” Lin Yu admitted.
“Now, looking back, I feel a slight shiver of dread.”
“If the Lanforthians’ shells had instantaneous fuses, I might have met my predecessors on the spot.”
To summarize in one sentence: thankfully, there are more good delayed fuses in the world.
After hearing Lin Yu’s account, Nangong reached out and flicked her forehead sharply again.
“Always put your own life first. Only by surviving can you treat more wounded soldiers and achieve greater value.”
This particular flick was serious, causing Lin Yu to cry out, clutching her forehead.
With a half-sob, she protested, “Didn’t I say that if we didn’t destroy the ammunition, those shells would explode over other people’s heads?”
“When did you become so selfless, Lin Yu?” Nangong retorted.
“Just half an hour ago, you were still afraid of not growing tall and refused to become a healing mage, chugging potions.”
“I… how did I become…”
What kind of despair had she harbored, what resolve had she made, to convince herself to agree to such a perilous plan?
The shells had exploded right behind them; if the Lanforthians had used impact fuses, Lin Yu would have been vaporized into tiny raindrops in the sky, alongside that idiot.
Honestly, Lin Yu was undoubtedly a selfish person, one who wished not to perish in a war she deemed meaningless.
She couldn’t fathom why her past self had acted that way, much like waking up after an all-nighter and desperately wanting to slap her previous self.
That slap couldn’t reach her past self; it could only serve as a reminder for her current self not to commit similar foolish acts again.
Nangong’s flick could only achieve the same effect.
Lin Yu searched through her mental reserves, only able to offer this counter-argument:
“Everyone is, to some extent, considered important by others.”
“Even an unknown private’s sacrifice would be mourned and wept over by someone – his parents, his wife, his children.”
“My life is no more noble than anyone else’s.”
“If sacrificing one medic could spare all the soldiers on the entire front line from bombardment – I think it’s worth it.”
“And,” she added, gathering her thoughts and forcing a sly smile, “wasn’t this adventure a great success?”
“As long as you don’t fail, there’s no danger.”
“It sounds like you want to go blow something up again,” Nangong said, exasperated by her statement.
“That whole sentence gives me the distinct impression… that next time you’ll be carrying a satchel charge to demolish a bunker.”
Simply flicking her forehead wouldn’t curb such soaring, reckless thoughts.
“You need to understand what a medic should and shouldn’t do. Don’t do this again next time.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Listen carefully… Oh, never mind, do as you please,” Nangong sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead.
“Mm-hm,” Lin Yu hummed, already walking ahead of Nangong.
She stopped and tugged at Nangong’s sleeve.
“Haven’t you forgotten something~?”
Seeing no escape from Lin Yu’s persistence, Nangong resigned herself to calmly recounting the legendary love story to Lin Yu.
“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you… Once upon a time—”
“Forty years ago isn’t ‘once upon a time’; the Great Collapse had already happened back then!” Lin Yu protested, tugging Nangong’s sleeve back and forth.
“And don’t tell it like a bedtime story; I’m not a child.”
At fifteen, a girl was indeed considered an adult in Diacla (TL Note: A fictional location or civilization within the story’s setting.).
Adding her twenty-four years from a previous life, it was truly a bit much to still treat her as a child.
“Then, not so long ago,” Nangong amended.
“Not so long ago, there was a young and handsome prince about to inherit the throne from the deceased old king.”
“And the young prince did not know that his sword was fragile, and countless hands within the kingdom eyed his seemingly stable, yet in truth tottering, throne.”
‘As Nangong Yun recounted the unofficial history of the Rolman Empire to the young medic before her, she also pondered another matter: the man named Yang Xi, who frequently encountered Lin Yu.’
‘Little Lin Yu’s reason for deciding to die probably had something to do with him, hehe… The man who had forged a bond of life and death with little Lin Yu, indeed…’
The tall medic suddenly recalled certain past events.
Once, she too had someone similar by her side.