Beyond the Zenith

On a winding mountain road after the rain, four off-road jeeps in a convoy churned through mud as they traveled through the darkness of the night.

Lao Jian had since shed the metal case from his back and was sitting in one of the vehicles along with the wounded, the spoils of battle, and part of his platoon. They were making for the nearest aid station in the area, which also served as a resource collection point and supply depot.

The mood inside the vehicle was subdued, weighed down by the shock of the battle they had just fought, and more so by the brothers they had lost.

Those things were showing up more and more frequently. There had once been a time when Platoon 752’s patrol district saw at most one or two engagements in a full year. Yet, in just the past eight months of this year, they had already gone out on four missions and lost eleven comrades.

This wasn’t just limited to District 752 either. Word was that the same trend was occurring in many other areas as well.

It seemed to be a foreboding omen, like the old saying, “Before the mountain rain arrives, the wind fills every tower.” Until word came down from above, however, all they could do was fulfill their duty as required.

“Platoon Leader,” someone in the vehicle said with a grin, seemingly making a deliberate effort to break the heavy silence. “That kid was pretty interesting, wasn’t he? When he started talking about advanced payment, I thought he was going for a hundred, maybe a thousand. Then he suddenly said ten thousand. He’s ambitious.”

Everyone in the vehicle shared a knowing laugh, Lao Jian included.

“A country kid asking for ten thousand yuan. That’s a serious sum. He almost lost his life, but he still had the nerve to make this request. He wants money more than he values his life. You have to respect his practicality.”

“True enough. I can’t help but wonder, what leverage was he counting on to negotiate with our Platoon Leader like that?”

“Nothing.” Lao Jian’s voice cut in through the murmuring. “It’s precisely because he had stared death in the face that he mustered his last bits of courage to try and secure some kind of support for his family. It’s possible his family only has him to depend on for the future. He considered what would happen if he died before he even thought of surviving. That’s a good kid.”

Lao Jian had no way of knowing, of course, that this good kid had earlier entertained the thought of strangling him to death while he lay unconscious.

The platoon leader liked the boy, even admired him. Everyone in the vehicle could hear it.

“So, Platoon Leader, are you really going to help him apply for that special enlistment bonus?” The driver turned his head back, curious. “The Coalition doesn’t actually have a rule like that, does it?”

The Azure Coalition was, in a certain sense, global in nature, unified in its objectives and mission, coordinated in its operations, and mutually supportive in economic and material terms.

Among its members, the Oriental Republic had long received ample allocation and assistance from the Coalition’s central administrative body due to its large population and its responsibility in defending a large area of land.

Money was no issue for the Coalition. The problem was that no such special enlistment bonus existed.

“We’ll see. I mentioned it to Da Ke in passing when I told him to submit the report requesting the enlistment arrangements.” Lao Jian smiled slightly. “Even if the application doesn’t go through, I’ve got a bit set aside myself. I’m on my own anyway; I’ve got no one to spend the money on.”

The Coalition did pay wages, or a stipend of sorts, and Lao Jian’s allowance as a combat platoon leader was not low. As he had no family left, most of his money these past years had actually gone into supplementing those among his brethren who needed it more.

The vehicle fell briefly quiet as the conversation touched on a sore topic. Still, the most urgent and troubling matter before them was not any of this, but the source energy core that had vanished without a trace.

The source energy core was the most important of their spoils from every engagement. The higher-ups tracked it with the obsessive fixation of a dog after a bone. It was supposed to drop from the spindle-shaped aircraft. Large or small—it didn’t matter as long as it was there. This time, however, not so much as a crumb could be found.

“It’s not without precedent. I’ve heard of this happening overseas before. The final determination in those cases was that the source energy core had simply been fully depleted.”

“Exactly. And it’s not as if anyone here would have taken it. It’s not something we can use directly anyway, and turning it in for processing even nets us a little back as a reward. Who would be crazy enough to pocket it?”

“The problem isn’t us. It’s whether the top brass will believe it. It’s too much of a coincidence... Not even a trace was left behind.”

Overlapping murmurs of concerned and tense anxiety filled the vehicle.

“It’ll be fine. We know our consciences are clear.” Lao Jian comforted the group. “Worst case, I’ll go answer their questions myself and write a few more incident reports. At most, we’ll be under investigation for a few days.”

Despite the lighthearted manner with which he said those words, in truth, they did not portray the true weight of the phrase “under investigation.”

***

Han Qingyu didn’t sleep a wink the whole night, instead lying in his room, mentally combing over the entire encounter.

As he went through all the unbelievable things he had witnessed, he recalled a peculiar detail, Oh yeah, that thing—the thing they called the source energy core. I wonder what happened to it?

He had clearly seen it. It had even struck him on the head.

Logically, it should have fallen into the ditch after hitting him, but they had searched the ditch many times over and found nothing. It couldn’t actually still be on him, could it? Could it have been caught in his belt?

He swung himself off the bed at once to go through his belt, shirt, and pants. Finally, he just stripped everything off completely, held up each item, and shook them out hard.

Nothing. The thing was still nowhere to be found.

What he did find, once he was undressed, was a mark on the skin over his heart. The edges were faintly reddened, the center pitch-black, like a smear of coal dust. It was roughly the shape and size of a leech.

He rubbed at it with the pad of his thumb, but it wouldn’t come off, as though embedded in the skin itself.

Could the metal piece have burned him? It hadn’t felt hot to the touch, but maybe it still caused damage? Except there was no pain. Not the slightest sensation. That made no sense.

If anything, it was more plausible to say he had bruised himself on the ground earlier and hadn’t noticed the pain due to the adrenaline rush. That seemed more likely.

His mind had been in chaos all night, and Han Qingyu was not in a state to make head or tail of anything.

A faint series of banging and clattering drifted in from outside. It was the familiar sound of a water vat lid being shifted, a tin ladle swaying and tapping against it—sounds Han Qingyu had known all his life.

The sky outside the window was still a flat gray, but his parents were already up, hauling water, making breakfast, and feeding the pigs before heading up the mountain or out to the fields. This was an ordinary life, passing year after year, day after day.

“I just peeked in. Little Qing’s light is on.”

“Mm. He was probably up all night because he was hurting inside.”

“Yeah, if only we knew what to say to him.”

“Ah... It hurts to see him like this.”

Han Qingyu’s parents kept their voices low, barely audible. As Han Qingyu lay still and listened, he found his mind turning. He could almost picture certain scenarios that could one day unfold: He imagined news of his death being delivered without warning to this plain family home. His graying parents left with nobody at their side.

Since coming home last night, Han Qingyu had remained tight-lipped, not daring to reveal anything to his parents. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have known how to explain it.

But that didn’t change the fact that he only had one day left until he was forced to leave.

Although he had already made up his mind to do everything in his power to survive, striving for a future in which he could return home and be a proper son, he still had to consider the reality of the situation first. There was always the possibility that he could die before ever returning and end up leaving his parents behind all by themselves.

As he thought about what he should and could do with this last stretch of time, Han Qingyu got dressed, opened his door, and walked to the kitchen to stand before his parents. He met their concerned looks with a dopey little smile.

“How come you’re up so early, Little Qing?” his mother asked, hiding her worry behind her care.

“I... Dad, Mom, I want to head out early to go into town.”

“What for?”

“I...” Han Qingyu had worked this out in advance, and the words came out smoothly. “It only just came back to me last night. Wen Jifei once mentioned that his family has connections in the military. I want to go ask him to make some inquiries and see if there’s any way to find a path in. Dad, Mom, I’ve thought it over. I still want to enlist.”

“Really?!” His straightforward parents leaped at the news.

Wen Jifei, his best friend through four years of high school, was someone both Han Youshan and Zhang Jiexia knew well. Thus, they did not suspect Han Qingyu’s words and were moved to excitement at once.

“Yeah, he mentioned something like that. I wanted to head out early to ask around. The way he talked about it, there’s a real chance it could actually work out.”

Since the matter was already settled, Han Qingyu had no reason not to inject some certainty in his words.

Watching the light of surprised joy bloom in his parents’ eyes brought a brief warmth to his heart. Regardless of the truth, he had finally found something that could at least temporarily give his parents a moment of relief, happiness, and pride.

He was genuinely planning to go find Wen Jifei. Not to pull strings, though, but to entrust something to the best friend of his life. He had already worked out what he would say when they met.

“I’m going to enlist. They say it’s a posting on the frontier, so there’ll be some risks involved. I’m probably just overthinking it, but on the off chance that things do one day go wrong and something happens to me—if it ever comes to that—when you’ve got the time and the means, please take care of my family for me.”