Beyond the Zenith

430 recruits, men and women alike, stood before the dining tables.

The white porcelain bowls and the large, bloody slabs of raw beef formed a stark visual contrast. Some people’s stomachs churned, their gag reflexes stirring, brows knitting tightly.

Most countrymen of this era were unaccustomed to eating meat raw, so the bloody sight before them was truly an unappetizing one.

“Actually, beef can be eaten raw. If it’s been treated at a low temperature, it’s quite safe too. I’ve eaten it a few times before. It doesn’t taste bad,” muttered Liu Shiheng from Harbor City, quietly frowning at the pair of daggers laid out on either side of the white porcelain bowl. It would probably look more proper if they were swapped for a Western knife and fork.

“Then I think it’d be better to boil it and make beef noodles, or beef vermicelli...” Wen Jifei said.

Afraid his friend would start ordering dishes on the spot, Han Qingyu hurriedly elbowed him, signaling him to keep quiet.

The recruit camp was taking a high-pressure policy toward people like them. Han Qingyu had already thought about it late last night. It made sense. If they couldn’t even withstand this pressure, they would never be able to stand before the Sharpies.

The psychological oppression and brutality of a massacre were simply too immense and horrifying.

“How is anyone supposed to eat this?! Even dogs don’t eat raw stuff, right?” loudly complained a recruit from a few rows away, likely the type to have been pampered in his everyday life.

The recruits around him harbored the same resentment and immediately nodded in agreement.

Just as the chatter was about to rise, an old man, looking about sixty, came charging out the kitchen door. He wore an army cook’s uniform and had a white-haired crew cut.

“Don’t fucking eat then,” he shouted, walking with quick urgency despite his right leg being lame.

With a furious bearing, the old man stormed up to that recruit, grabbed the meat from his bowl, and bit off a chunk. Chewing it fiercely in his mouth, he swallowed. Finally, lifting the bowl, he drained the blood at the bottom in one glug.

After that, the old man shouted out the door, “34473.”

A yellow mongrel came running in, barking.

The old man tossed the remaining beef in his hand at the dog.

34473 caught it in its mouth with a gleeful wag of its tail and let out a few barks before turning to leave.

“Feeding you bunch of good-for-nothings is worse than feeding a dog,” the old man muttered as he limped back.

Halfway there, he suddenly raised his head, flung out an arm, and shouted, “Eat it if you want. If you won’t, then scram!”

No one in the enormous dining hall dared to make a sound.

Only the veterans watching from outside the dining hall were murmuring among themselves.

“It’s their first meal of the day, no wonder. This’ll be fun.”

“Grandpa Geng is as hateable as ever, haha.”

“Yeah, I remember I used to hate him too.”

“34473 again. Ah, the black dog has become a yellow one. I heard Grandpa Geng has kept three dogs, and all three were given this same strange number for a name.”

“Shh.” A person elbowed the previous speaker. “Watch what you say. Can’t you tell? It’s a serial number. Do you know whose it is?”

The group turned their heads to look at the man with curious eyes.

That man cautiously glanced left and right, then explained, “Someone from our intake happened to see it. This string of digits is actually Instructor Zhang Dao’an’s official serial number from back when he enlisted and first donned armor. Didn’t expect that, huh? Also, don’t be fooled by the sizable age gap between Grandpa Geng and Instructor Zhang. Back in the day, the two of them served in the same platoon.”

The veterans actually had their own mess hall, but some still loved to hang around the recruits’ hall whenever they had nothing to do. Probably because they were truly bored stiff, and coming here was their way of finding some fun. Or perhaps, the sight of the new recruits helped them reminisce about the years past and the people they had lost along the road since.

The veterans squeezed in through the door in a jostling crowd, grinning widely. They passed the recruits’ ranks and walked up to the lame old man.

“Grandpa Geng! Grandpa Geng. Wait up.”

“Grandpa Geng, is there any beef left? Make me a bowl of beef soup.”

“Grandpa Geng, I’m craving your beef noodles.”

“Me too, Grandpa Geng.”

They were like a pack of rowdy grandsons who had grown up and left home, but were back for a visit. They surrounded the old man, hooting, clamoring, willfully making their requests.

“Go drink your mothers’ milk, you bunch of rotten bastards.” The old man’s cursing temper was out at full might, but as he turned around, he said, “Wait here.”

With that, the old man went into the kitchen.

The veterans sat down, still laughing and joking among each other.

“This would never happen in a regular army unit. The old geezer slaves over the veterans but acts so tough with us,” someone in a row behind muttered with discontent, sounding as though they were on the verge of bursting into aggrieved tears. “None of them treats us as human.”

Wen Jifei still kind of wanted to order dishes. As he turned his head to commiserate with Han Qingyu, he realized that his friend had already sat down, a dagger in each hand as he cut off a piece of raw beef and placed it into his mouth with the tip of the blade.

After chewing a few times earnestly, Han Qingyu looked up and said, “It’s not too bad. Eat, or you won’t have strength for training.”

With that, Han Qingyu lowered his head and went on with his meal. Methodically cutting the meat into pieces, he put them into his mouth to chew and swallow like any other meal. His movements were neither hurried nor slow, just repeating the same motions over and over.

“Doesn’t it gross you out, Little Qing?” Wen Jifei asked after trying a piece.

The sounds of dry heaving and genuine vomiting filled the dining hall, especially from the female soldiers. They simply weren’t used to it, after all. Someone requested some hot water, but no one paid them any mind.

“A little,” Han Qingyu answered, then immediately clamped his mouth shut.

“I can’t eat this.”

“You have to.”

In truth, raw meat mixed with blood really was quite sickening, but at the very least, Han Qingyu believed the army had its reasons for doing this. They were just refusing to explain to torment the recruits.

A fair number of people did end up giving this breakfast a try by the end, and quite a few, like Han Qingyu and Wen Jifei, ate the entire slab of raw beef.

Of course, those who didn’t eat, or only ate a little, or ate it and threw it back up, were still the majority. They figured they would tough it out and wait for lunch. This morning’s training notice wasn’t for the training ground but for the unit’s assembly hall, so they were optimistic that there wouldn’t be much physical exertion.

On the way to the assembly hall, Wen Jifei suddenly leaned in close and motioned for Han Qingyu to pat his pocket.

Han Qingyu immediately guessed what it was upon doing so. It was half a slab of beef.

So Wen Jifei hadn’t finished it after all. He had secretly cut off a large piece and hidden it in his pocket.

Somewhat bewildered, Han Qingyu asked, “What’s this for?”

“It’s August, the sun’s strong. In a bit, I’ll find a spot and roast it on a rock,” Wen Jifei explained.

The army didn’t allow recruits to have fire. Yesterday, after they finished the welcome noodles, they were warned repeatedly about this. Everything that could be used to light a fire had been confiscated.

If they had a nicotine craving and wanted to smoke, they were told to go borrow a light from a veteran.

***

“Borrow my ass.” In the assembly hall, Wen Jifei pinched his cigarette pack and said, “I just saw two guys go to borrow a light only for the veterans to toy with them like dogs. Forget it, I’m not smoking. It’s not like I’m really addicted anyway.”

The assembly hall of 430 people was full of laughter and conversation.

Then, a person walked in, and the entire hall fell into pin-drop silence.

The burly Zhang Dao’an sat in the first row, protruding from the rest of the people like a giant stone egg.

On the stage was a young officer of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight.