Beyond the Zenith

Regiment 425 used its oldest, most rundown building as the recruits’ barracks. Tradition dictated it, supposedly, and whether Platoon Leader Wang Liuzheng had lived here as a recruit was anyone’s guess.

The Ninth Army, also called the Erasers, had been around for close to fifty years. In that time, there was no record of them ever producing an S-rank, or if there had been, nobody knew about it.

“Saying they’re trying to persuade me to quit is probably generous,” Wen Jifei said on the way upstairs, running his hand along the old scratch marks on the wall. “I guess I’m something of a rare species too.”

“Yeah...” Han Qingyu tried to hold it in, but a laugh escaped. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

“Why are you laughing? I’m a fucking Dice, and one that flips faces too.” Plague Chicken laughed too. “I know you’re probably pretty happy about this.”

“Yeah,” Han Qingyu admitted. “Honestly, this is better than you getting E-rank and suiting up for the front lines.”

“There are E-rank soldiers on the front lines of the Witnesses right now, though.”

“True, but with your personality, you’d never be able to play it safe and stick to E-rank duties.”

“That’s fair,” Wen Jifei conceded, falling silent for a moment before reaching out to pat Han Qingyu on the back. “Little Qing.”

“Hm?”

“I had it all planned out, actually. And I’d come all this way too. Anyway, take care of yourself from here on out. I probably won’t be able to have your back anymore.”

Back at the dorm, as Han Qingyu climbed up to his bunk, he paused midway and stared at his locker for a few seconds.

“Did someone touch it?” Wen Jifei whispered, tense.

Han Qingyu shook his head. “No.”

***

The integration test results for the rest of the recruits were released by noon the next day. They weren’t posted publicly, but once people saw their own results, they naturally told each other.

Among the rest of Dormitory 11, Liu Shiheng came back with a D+ despite his daily prayers that he wouldn’t have to suit up, while Yang Qingbai walked away with the F-rank of his dreams. The rest were a mix of Ds and Es.

There was also an unexpected C-rank, belonging to none other than Grave Robber, Lai Shitou. That first night, he had meekly admitted to being useless in front of Zhang Dao’an and had always been a little timid and slow. He showed no excitement at the result. Only fear. After all, all he wanted was to hide in the back row.

Source energy integration was like that. It didn’t care about merit or effort and answered to no one. It was completely random.

Regardless, Li Wangqiang and the rest of the regiment’s leadership were in excellent spirits. The 425th had not only produced the A-rank Han Qingyu this cycle, but also another pleasant surprise—a B+. In any previous year, the latter result alone would have been reason enough for the commander to break out the drinks.

The B+ in question was He Tangtang.

“Hey, what’s this kid’s story?” Regiment Commander Li asked his staff, not having paid the kid much attention prior to this.

“He’s a big guy, overslept on Tradition Night and missed it. Then later, in front of twenty-some veterans, he tried to bluff his way into stealing a piece anyway,” a staff officer described the scene from that night in animated detail, laughing the whole time. “Long story short, he almost pulled it off.”

“That’s...” Regiment Commander Li burst out laughing, then abruptly stopped, pressing a hand to his forehead in deep thought. “The 425th seems to be getting better and better.”

His officers nodded eagerly. “It really seems so.”

“It’s also getting weirder and weirder.”

Silence.

“All sorts of oddballs are appearing,” Regiment Commander Li said with mixed emotions. “Platoon Leader Wang Liuzheng’s generation was proper soldiers. You could tell at a glance that they were well-disciplined and upright. Even on Tradition Night, they marched up and challenged the veterans fair and square.”

***

As one of the aforementioned oddballs, Wen Jifei’s special situation was to be kept confidential. When people asked, he simply told them he probably couldn’t suit up.

“So, have you decided where you’re going next?” Yang Qingbai asked.

He felt neither excited nor upset with his F-rank results and had already chosen to join the Seventh Army, part of the Order Legion. As he drove well, he’d probably start behind the wheel. If things went well down the line, they said he could try his hand at flying.

Wen Jifei shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Then why not just come to the Seventh Army with me? We’d have each other.” Yang Qingbai invited sincerely, laughter in his voice. “Think about it. Your nickname is Plague Chicken, and chickens are meant to fly. It’s destiny.”

Wen Jifei cracked a smile, seeming tempted. “Let me think about it.”

Then, a knock came at the open door. Mira stood in the doorway.

“Platoon Leader Mira.”

Since returning from her mission, she had rarely visited Dormitory 11, probably because she no longer needed to deliver medicine or borrow their bathroom for showers. She set down a bag of fruit, stood by the door, and chatted for a bit, looking around at everyone.

“Wen Jifei,” she suddenly called. “Come out for a moment.”

The average person wouldn’t know about Plague Chicken’s special test result, but Mira, as an instructor, naturally had access to it.

After they left, the rest of Dormitory 11 turned on Han Qingyu and cornered him against the wall.

“Little Qing, something’s off. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

“Yeah, why does Platoon Leader Mira look at you like that now? Like she’s hurt?”

“Did you do something rotten? Did you bully our Miss Mira?”

“You’re pulling a Chen Shimei on her, aren’t you?”[1]

Yang Qingbai sat on his bunk, peeling a mandarin. “These mandarins are all sour. The ones Platoon Leader Mira used to toss up to us tasted way better.”

Mira had always liked buying fruit for Dormitory 11. Sometimes she’d stand at the window of the instructors’ building overlooking the training ground, ask for their fruit requests, then toss it down with a giggle. Other times, she’d pass below the barracks and, asking the same question, lob the fruit up with a laugh.

Those moments were Dormitory 11’s proudest, most treasured memories.

***

By the training ground, Mira asked Wen Jifei, “Have you decided where you want to go?”

“Not yet,” he said.

“I know you want to go to the front lines of the Witnesses. You want it badly. I’m not sure if that’s because you want to fight alongside your best friend, but I can see that you’re truly devastated.” Mira paused, then pointed at herself. “For me, it was because of my older brother.”

“Yeah.” Wen Jifei nodded. He already knew about that and didn’t press further.

“Do you want to know why I’ve never been promoted to platoon leader after all these years?” Mira asked.

Wen Jifei turned to stare at her in shock. “Don’t tell me you’re a Dice too.”

“No, I’m not nearly that impressive.” Mira laughed openly, though there was a touch of resignation in her smile. “My integration level is E. E-rank platoon leaders are extremely rare across the entire army. Lots of platoons in the Ninth Army have welcomed me to join, but not as their platoon leader. On top of that, back when I first enlisted, maneuvering devices were even scarcer than they are now. E-rank women were sometimes persuaded to leave service. But I earned my place with my gun.”

Wen Jifei blinked. “Gun?”

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about your special situation, and I believe the core issue is this: your teammates can’t rely on you during combat. Not even a little. That means you’d have to be someone who’s allowed to exist on a probability basis, helping when no one expects it. Like betting your life on one strike when a battle goes south or when a Sharpie breaks through the perimeter, and gambling that the swing comes out A or B. Or... using a gun.”

It had been a long speech. As a foreigner, complex explanations in Mandarin were still a little difficult for her, but Wen Jifei understood her meaning regardless. His choice was between planes and guns.

“Of course, this is really just a tiny, tiny possibility,” Mira said, preemptively pouring cold water on the idea while he was hesitating. “Plenty of people have some talent for marksmanship. The real challenge is having enough talent to actually use them on the front lines of the Witnesses, and for the Coalition to acknowledge it and commission a custom firearm for you. That’s incredibly, incredibly difficult, because Sharpies are just too fast. Way too fast.

“So I’m only asking this because I feel for you, but... would you like to try? That way, maybe there’d be one more person hoping for the same thing as me.” Mira smiled, a look of longing in her eyes.

“Hoping? You mean... for a gun made of dead iron that can channel source energy?” Wen Jifei asked.

“Mhm, it’s just a dream of mine,” Mira said, looking a little embarrassed. “I know it’s nearly impossible. In theory, not even dead iron can withstand the instantaneous burst of source energy. We don’t even know how to trigger a source energy burst through an external medium yet, so it would also be terribly wasteful. I think the research institute has already shelved that line of study. It’ll probably never happen, but... It’s just a dream.”

Thus, the conversation ended without a firm decision. Wen Jifei still had a little over a day to mull it over.

As they were parting, Wen Jifei abruptly called out from behind her, “Oh, wait.”

When Mira turned around, he gave her a shameless, self-satisfied grin.

“Platoon Leader Mira,” he said, a smug grin still firmly on his face. “I’m not sure you remember this, but, well... Dormitory 11 placed first overall.”

“Huh?!” Mira panicked.

“Seriously. Go check the board by the Three-Sided Building if you don’t believe me.” Wen Jifei pointed toward the bulletin board.

“How’s that possible?!”

“Blame Little Qing. Remember the banner he won for the combat assessment? That’s when our ranking shot up.”

Mira nodded. “But that still wouldn’t be enough, right?”

“Right, but then he also earned a Silver Azure Guardian Medal. I heard the regiment had to dig through the regulations for this one. The bonus point clause probably hasn’t been used in decades, but it’s definitely in the books.” Wen Jifei paused, then grinned again. “So we were awarded many points in one go.”

Mira was speechless.

“Of course, you could always pretend you didn’t hear any of this... No hard feelings.” Wen Jifei waved goodbye.

Later, around dusk, Mira appeared in the field below Dormitory 11 and asked, “Do you all want to... go swimming tomorrow? How about the reservoir up in the hills?”

1. Chen Shimei is a Chinese opera character and a byword in China for a heartless and unfaithful man. He was married to Qin Xianglian, also translated as Fragrant Lotus. Chen Shimei betrayed Qin Xianglian by marrying another woman and tried to kill her to cover up his past. ☜