“Ahem, I…”
The sudden tremor in her eyes and her involuntary words successfully aroused the other party’s suspicion. “Please present your identification so I may verify your identity.”
“Right, I’ll get it now.”
With a darkened expression, Lin Yu rummaged frantically through her inner lining, eventually producing an officer’s ID, which she handed over with a slight tremor.
‘This is it, this is it, I’m done for. I haven’t caused enough of a stir.’
Glancing back, she saw a cluster of figures stirring in the direction she had come from, only now beginning to move beneath the bridge, taking advantage of the darkness between flares.
Yet, she was on the verge of exposure.
“However… our regiment doesn’t seem to have a second lieutenant as young as you, does it?”
The military policeman had intended to say ‘short,’ but, mindful of her dignity, he changed it to ‘young.’
To be fair, Lin Yu was indeed youthful.
Unfortunately, she had no spare thoughts to dwell on such matters; she was facing the imminent revelation of her ‘spy identity.’
While merely being exposed might have been manageable, a simple death, the true problem was that she hadn’t bought enough time. The commotion caused by her outburst at the commander had subsided, and the heavy encirclement around the bridge was about to close in again; this approach was clearly unsustainable.
The military policeman, reviewing the officer’s ID, paused, his eyes fixed on the photograph within the document—anyone with sight could plainly discern that the ‘second lieutenant’ standing before him for inspection was unequivocally not the man in the picture.
“Sir, there’s quite a discrepancy between your photograph and your actual appearance. Would it be convenient for me to ask you a few more questions and conduct a further inspection?”
“Inconvenient.”
“Please just… what did you say?”
“I said—” Lin Yu switched the latter half of her sentence to Diacla’s tongue, shouting at the astonished military policeman, “Inconvenient!”
Her body had already moved, taking a step to the military policeman’s side. She drew the pistol from her waist, raised it high, pointing it at his temple, all while attempting to control his hands as best she could.
Then, reverting to Lanforthian, she yelled loudly at her surroundings, “Don’t come any closer! If anyone moves again, I’ll shoot them dead!”
This was her last resort to sow chaos: taking a hostage.
Had she not preemptively taken this military policeman hostage, she would have found herself staring down a barrel, destined either to be taken away for legal disposal, shot dead on the spot, or subjected to something far worse.
In any case, her mission to attract attention would utterly fail, and she would undoubtedly perish in vain.
Unwilling to sacrifice her life for nothing, Lin Yu had to exert her initiative to the fullest, leveraging every available condition to prolong this stalemate.
For instance, by suddenly drawing a pistol and pointing it directly at the military policeman’s head.
With their comrade suddenly taken hostage, the other military policemen would surely freeze for a moment, hesitant to fire, their eyes locked onto Lin Yu, meticulously observing her next move.
This afforded the rest of her squad the opportunity to infiltrate beneath the bridge and plant the explosives.
Of course, the drawbacks were equally evident: a single misfire could see Lin Yu riddled with bullets and killed instantly.
She had already placed her head on the chopping block, her life hanging precariously between the Lanforthians’ triggers.
Perhaps this was the last act she could perform for the Diacla Empire; in other words, this was her ‘final ripple’ (TL Note: A phrase referring to one’s final effort or last stand, often used dramatically).
‘Now… what were they all doing?’
‘Would Nangong have already received her next orders, assigned to a new unit to continue her duties as a medic?’
‘Would Lieutenant Xia have received proper treatment, now actively recovering in a hospital bed?’
‘Would the senior medics have escaped the barrage, accompanying Commander Yang as he fled the army? Just like Major Liu, who hadn’t even taken his binoculars earlier?’
Everyone Lin Yu had come to know during her two months of service was likely living their lives as usual, continuing the bloody routine of war, ceaselessly engaging in pointless battles with the Lanforthians.
And those Lanforthians—those she’d seen in the no-man’s-land, in the logistics area, along the way—they, too, were surely going about their own affairs.
Drinking, smoking, talking about women. Truly, no matter the country, men were indeed all the same, indulging in every vice.
Slowly, she scanned her surroundings: the wary, hateful gazes, the muzzles of dozens of rifles all aimed at her, and the unexpected expression on Yang Xi’s face.
Facing the muzzles of dozens of rifles, what recourse did she have for a safe retreat? Perhaps… only a miracle.
Silently, she awaited the other military policemen’s response, Lin Yu quietly hoping for a miracle.
But no miracle occurred; in fact, things worsened—when she had resolved to act, she had completely failed to realize that, as a fifteen-year-old girl, her stature and strength were utterly insufficient to hold hostage a tall, sturdy Lanforthian strongman weighing over two hundred catties.
Confronted by the diminutive ‘second lieutenant’ who had drawn a beautiful revolver and pointed it at his head, he simply gave a forceful shove, pushing away Lin Yu’s gun-wielding hand. With a clatter, the pistol fell to the ground.
‘It was certainly too late to bend down and retrieve it now, wasn’t it?’
The hostage situation was instantly shattered, and Lin Yu’s expression grew considerably grimmer.
Her large, brown eyes, which had dared to take the risk of holding the military policeman hostage, were now brimming with sorrow.
‘Ah… goodbye… Mama, Papa… goodbye, Nangong. Goodbye, Mr. Idiot.’
‘Goodbye, everyone.’
Before her eyes, a fleeting vision once again appeared, a carousel of images: herself, returning home in triumph, her chest adorned with medals.
The entire village had come out to greet her. Her Mama and Papa embraced her in turn, then patted her back, remarking on how much she had changed.
She had grown more beautiful, more mature, no longer as short or as thin. Her figure, though still slender, was no longer a washboard (TL Note: A Chinese slang term referring to a woman with a flat chest).
The transformed girl returned to her unchanging family, pouring out all the experiences of her years in the military, spilling both joy and sorrow. She spoke for half a day, yet still had so much left unsaid.
The vision faded, replaced by the cold muzzle of a gun. Another person had raised their weapon, pointing it at her.
However, an additional muzzle now pointed at her enemies as well.
It was Yang Xi, who, true to their agreement, had arrived to divert enemy fire as the skirmish began.
‘Haha… what good is one extra person, one extra gun? You fool, you’d be better off slipping away before you’re discovered. One death is always better than two.’
Having teetered on the brink of death countless times, Lin Yu’s perception of ‘death’ itself had grown considerably numb, having walked through the gates of hell far too often.
Just as bullets were poised to tear from their chambers and claim the girl’s life, rain—a single drop—fell upon the land beyond the mountain.
Lin Yu gazed up at the ‘raindrops’ descending from mid-air, silently lamenting the fickle nature of the weather.
‘Is the girl named Rain destined to perish in the rain? This time, it’s actual rain, not a rain of shells. That’s… nice.’
Ignoring the fact that the moon had shone brightly mere minutes ago, she calmly accepted her failed fate.
Before she realized that the ‘raindrops’ were, in fact, splashes of water kicked up by shells falling into the river.
“Damn it! It’s artillery fire! Find cover, quick!”
Short-ranged and somewhat imprecise artillery shells landed near the bridgehead. Five plunged into the river, two detonated near the military police formation, and one even veered off target, striking a bridge pillar directly.
Fortunately, the bridge’s steel structure proved resilient enough not to collapse with a single hit, unlike wooden or stone bridges.
Lin Yu stood amidst the rain of shells, her figure swaying. Before she could utterly fall, a pair of strong hands gripped her left wrist, pulling her away from the epicenter of the bombardment.
“The vibrations are coming from behind us; it’s our own artillery fire.”
Yang Xi’s voice was firm and resonant, a stark contrast to Lin Yu’s, which trembled with lingering fear.
“Is… is that so…”
The squad leader had ultimately called for artillery support, disrupting the Lanforthians at the most crucial moment, allowing them to retreat safely and rendezvous with the others who had taken cover beneath the bridge deck amidst the chaos.