‘Could they truly lose?’
‘Would the 104th Reserve Regiment, their rear assailed, crumble at the front and surrender the railway bridge?’
‘No.’
Though designated as the “Reserve” 104th Regiment, their fighting prowess far outstripped that of typical regional forces.
Indeed, they were significantly more formidable than the “filler babies” who had earned the title “Homeland Defense Brigade.”
In truth, the “Reserve” in their official designation didn’t signify a status as ‘reservists,’ but rather their role as a ‘reserve unit.’
A unit specifically summoned by the General Staff to quell a crisis was, by nature, far from subpar; even wounded and utterly exhausted, they steadfastly maintained their fire, repelling the Lanforthian onslaught.
Utilizing every conceivable piece of cover, they immediately returned fire, even resorting to the flimsy protection of tents.
Recognizing the peril at their rear, soldiers from the right bank positions swiftly abandoned their posts, clutching their rifles as they either scaled the mountain in pursuit of the Lanforthians or circled the base to flank them.
The Lanforthian forces had committed only this single, small detachment as a suicide squad, surging headlong into the Diacla army’s rear, utterly disregarding all other objectives.
Within Lin Yu’s line of sight, the exchange of fire rapidly intensified; with rotating soldiers blocking the Lanforthians’ advance and right bank forces pressing from behind, they were steadily enveloped, their cohesion unraveling into a rout.
Figures in military green and khaki intertwined, while the blue glow of magic tools blossomed in the distance.
Lin Yu and Yang Xi stood afar, together witnessing the tableau of war unfurl before their very eyes.
They observed the battlefield’s shifting dynamics with the detached air of a commanding officer.
“Hey, look over there,” Lin Yu exclaimed, “they’re climbing the mountain too!”
Lin Yu gestured toward the distant peak, then offered her binoculars to Yang Xi.
“On the mountaintop,” she clarified, “those are reinforcements arriving from the right bank position!”
Not only did she breathe a sigh of relief for the 104th Regiment’s command post, but also for Nangong, who was stationed at the medical aid station; unarmed medics, if captured by the foreign devils, would likely face brutal treatment.
Still, she recalled that Nangong seemed proficient with a rifle; perhaps, at this very moment, she was aiming her weapon at the foreign devils, retaliating with all her might.
“I see it,” the man beside her affirmed, lowering his binoculars.
“Our forces are now completing their encirclement of the enemy; the battle’s outcome has been decided.”
The khaki figures, engulfed by the military green tide, heralded the decisive turn of the battle, signifying the utter failure of this river-crossing assault.
Having crossed the river, they had, in essence, purchased a one-way ticket to hell, destined never to return to their point of origin.
“Excellent, we’ve routed them completely… Shall we head back now?” Lin Yu suggested.
“There’s neither village nor inn in sight out here, and certainly nowhere to cook a meal.”
“Mm.”
Having observed the entire spectacle from a distance, the medic and the assault soldier walked side-by-side toward the hill, fortunate enough to return to their original starting point.
Unlike the Lanforthians, who would never make the journey back.
“That major truly is detestable,” Lin Yu grumbled.
“He dragged us all the way out here for an interview, only to abandon us and flee at the first sign of trouble, leaving us with this long trek back.”
“Mm.”
‘If Major Liu’s vehicle were to collide with the disciplinary squad, he would surely have to argue his way out of it.’
‘Or perhaps… the opportunistic black-uniformed soldiers would simply wave them through upon seeing the major’s insignia?’
With several kilometers of walking stretching out before her, Lin Yu found herself with ample time for contemplation, her mind wandering from matters entirely unrelated to her to those deeply personal, from joyful recollections to sorrowful ones.
The sole reason she chose to indulge in these private musings was the man beside her; every attempt at conversation met with an infuriating, nonsensical “Mm,” driving her to distraction.
‘Tsk… I’ll try speaking to him one last time.
If he dares to respond with another “Mm,” I’ll simply ignore him forever.’
Having walked another few dozen meters, Lin Yu carefully formulated her words, making a final attempt to broach a topic.
“What did you think of the interview?” she asked.
“Mm.”
‘My fists are clenching.’
‘I yearn to leap up and smash my fist into that idiotic head, currently devoid of its steel helmet… Oh, he isn’t wearing one, which means it would hurt even more.’
‘How wonderful.’
Just as Lin Yu envisioned herself violently striking his idiotic head, he offered a response that extended beyond a simple interjection.
“I found it excellent,” he declared.
“I hope my story can inspire more passionate Diacla youths, compelling them to dedicate themselves to the battlefields beyond the mountains, to shed their blood for the nation, and to pledge their ultimate loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor.”
The mere mention of His Majesty the Emperor would set him off on an endless monologue, chattering incessantly like an old woman haranguing her own children.
“Didn’t the Major say he would make us both symbols for recruitment propaganda?” he continued.
“To inspire and encourage more young people to join the army and contribute their modest strength to the war?”
“If his propaganda proves effective,” he stated, striding along the path with his head held high, “then even dying on the battlefield would be a worthy end.”
He then turned to Lin Yu, asking, “What do you think?”
Having unilaterally championed the war, tirelessly attempting to persuade more young people to sacrifice their precious lives in what she perceived as a meaningless meat grinder, he then turned to Lin Yu, seeking her opinion on the matter.
‘Should I attempt to correct this man’s humorously right-wing ideology, or simply continue to offer insincere platitudes, much as I did when answering the reporter’s questions?’
“I think… that’s fine too.”
‘Hmph, who cares.
If he wants to die, then let him die.
Not a single word of what I told him that day, while I lay in bed receiving a blood transfusion, seemed to have penetrated that thick skull.
This idiotic, dead, ungrateful bastard…’
Lin Yu finally resolved to don the mask of loyalty and patriotism in his presence.
“I, too, hope to become a symbol for young people enlisting,” she declared, “inspiring more individuals to dedicate themselves to this sacred war.”
“Oh, ‘sacred war’—that’s a good phrase.”
“More than just a good phrase, I could even compose a song for it,” Lin Yu mused.
“Rise up, oh great nation, unto a desperate struggle…”
Their conversation abruptly ceased, halted by the slightly off-key lines Lin Yu had spontaneously sung.
Lin Yu’s silence stemmed from her conviction that such a historically significant song was ill-suited for this particular moment; Yang Xi’s reason for quietude, however, remained unclear to her.
‘Was it because he disliked the song? Or because her singing was simply dreadful?’
The once-flowing conversation now stalled, a lamentable, thick barrier seemingly erected between them.
“Why did you stop singing? I thought your voice was quite pleasant.”
Yang Xi, uncharacteristically, initiated conversation with Lin Yu, but this time, she was unwilling to pursue the topic further.
“I believe my amateurish songwriting skills are insufficient to tackle such a grand subject,” she replied, “so it’s best not to continue singing.”
“That’s a pity.”
The tale of Lin Yu singing for the wounded, spread by that… that soldier whose thigh had been pierced by a bayonet, had long since become common knowledge throughout the trenches.
As a comrade who had shared the grim confines of a trench with her, he ought to have been well aware of Lin Yu’s musical talents.
Especially the records Commander Yang had produced; besides the “Lanforthian songs” they couldn’t comprehend, there were several unplanned recordings of Diacla pop tunes, which everyone who heard them lauded as delightful.
“There’s no ‘pity’ about it; if it doesn’t fit, it simply doesn’t fit,” Lin Yu asserted, shaking off her silence.
“Mm.”
“For a ‘sacred’ war such as this,” she declared, biting down on the adjective ‘sacred’ with particular emphasis, “there must be an equally sacred song to truly match its stature.
I, for one, am incapable of composing such a magnificent piece.”
Yang Xi, as usual, failed to detect the sarcasm in her words, simply nodding and continuing his stride forward.
远远望向前方的指挥部，林雨又想再提起一个话题，“既然你这么认同这场战争，你觉得你可以写出一首歌来歌颂它吗？”
He offered a direct and unequivocal negative.
“I cannot sing, nor can I write lyrics, let alone compose music.”
“Hmph, so you’re just an idiot whose mind is entirely consumed by His Majesty the Emperor, aren’t you?” Lin Yu retorted.
“If you’d just divert even a fraction of the energy you spend praising the Emperor, you might actually achieve something beyond mere combat.”
A flicker of displeasure crossed Yang Xi’s face.
“…You promised me you wouldn’t call me an idiot again.”
“I’ll call you an idiot, an idiot, an idiot, a super-duper idiot!” Lin Yu declared defiantly, her gaze stubbornly fixed elsewhere, completely oblivious to his reaction as she continued to violate their prior agreement.
“The biggest idiot in the entire universe!”
“…Quack.”
“Huh? What did you just call me?”
“A quack.
A quack who can’t save the wounded.”
“Idiot.”
“Quack.”
“Idiot.”
Engaging in such childish verbal sparring, Lin Yu found herself on the verge of laughter at her own foolishness, eventually bursting into giggles amidst her insults.
Yang Xi, however, remained expressionless, continuing to walk with his head bowed.
They had, it seemed, acquired epithets beyond their given names.
‘Tsk, it’s rather annoying, yet why does it feel… quite pleasant?’
She couldn’t quite fathom it.