Beyond the Zenith

That evening, the mess hall prepared a late dinner of hot soup and food for the returning troops from both regiments. Two recruits from Regiment 491 finished eating, set down their chopsticks, stood up, and turned themselves in.

They were deep-cover Wiper operatives. Although they had yet to do anything and hadn’t been exposed in the slightest, they found that they simply couldn’t do it anymore.

Later that same night, Wen Jifei showed up carrying his bedroll. While making his bed on an empty bunk, he explained, “I got Lao Jian to pull some strings and put in a request. I’m staying here for a few days. The equipment yard only has quarters for the female equipment officers, and they won’t let me bunk there. I can’t sleep in the equipment shed, all alone.”

The lights went out, and everyone lay down.

After a while, someone tried to start a conversation, reaching for something lighter, even if it wasn’t entirely appropriate. Two jokes fell flat, so he switched to gossip.

Gossip was probably the universal remedy for distraction and mood-lifting.

“Hey, Little Qing? Do you have a secret crush on Instructor Mira?” the recruit asked. “The way you charged in like that, risking your life... Haha, and we were already told not to jump. Everyone’s whispering about it now, calling it your knight-in-shining-armor moment.”

Romance was not frowned upon in the Coalition. They had made that clear long ago. Love here came with far fewer social constraints, with factors like age or rank automatically being removed from the equation.

“Then what about that girl, Wobbles? Who was she?” He Tangtang asked, unable to hold his question back any longer.

The appearance of a brand-new name had the gossip mill churning into overdrive.

A little later, Han Qingyu heard his name come up again amid the chatter and asked, “What?”

Everyone was baffled. What was that supposed to mean? They’d been gossiping about him for ages.

Wen Jifei’s laughter broke the awkward silence. “Asking him about this stuff is pointless. It’s like asking a blacksmith how to do embroidery. His brain is missing that part entirely. I honestly wonder if he traded it away for integration points.

“Back in high school, there was this pretty girl in the class next door. Lots of guys liked her, but she apparently had eyes for him. She’d come by all the time to swap notes and problem sets. One time, at a sports meet, she spotted him at the school’s stationery shop and went over to say hi. In front of a whole crowd, she smiled sweetly and asked, ‘Little Qing, will you buy me a popsicle?’ He didn’t want to spend the money, so he pretended he hadn’t heard and ran off. I heard the poor girl was so embarrassed that she cried. She never talked to him again.”

“That explains everything,” He Tangtang said animatedly. “You guys have no idea. He was helping Wobbles catch a bug, but he just squished it right on her body. Just imagine. Even I was stunned.”

The whole dormitory burst into laughter.

“Hah, that’s just how he is. It’s not that he’s dense. He just gets absorbed in whatever he’s doing. Back in school, all he thought about was studying. Now in the Coalition, all he thinks about is fighting for survival.”

That night, Wen Jifei answered the first of many questions that Han Qingyu would face upon his return.

There was no need for Han Qingyu himself to say a word. He also ‌didn’t know that this was only the beginning.

Headquarters was the first to come looking for him the next morning.

Han Qingyu followed the escort, stepped through the door, and called out his report. As he did, he heard the door close behind him, leaving just him and Army Commander Lu Wuzheng in the room.

Lu Wuzheng was by the window watering his plants. Turning around, he studied Han Qingyu carefully and said, “Have a seat. I won’t be making you tea. Prospective tier, huh? Tsk. I only just learned about this myself. It’s impressive. Even I, an army commander, had to file a request to question you formally.”

The words seemed more like he was talking to himself. Han Qingyu didn’t know how to respond, so he simply obeyed and sat down.

“According to the report, you performed well this time.” Lu Wuzheng poured himself a cup of tea and sat down as well. “Tell me the details yourself.”

“Alright.”

Han Qingyu honestly recounted the entire sequence of events. The only exception was the critical moment with the pyramid-shaped object in the aircraft. Out of caution, he described absorbing the metal core as destroying the device. Everything else was the truth.

There were quite a few questionable points regarding his abilities.

Since Han Qingyu was filed under the prospective tier, many questions surrounding him were automatically tagged “understandable” and “classified circumstances,” so Lu Wuzheng couldn’t probe too deeply.

“Alright, I’ll need to file a commendation for you. You, Old Zhang, and the others. That needs to go to the International Coalition Council.” The commander paused. “Oh, one more thing. When you destroyed the device, did you see a metal core? The cleanup team says they haven’t found it.”

Han Qingyu appeared to mull it over carefully, as though trying in vain to recall, but in truth, he was weighing his options. Even if I’m going to tell someone, it can’t be here, and it can’t be to an army commander.

It wasn’t that he looked down on the army commander. Rather, his fear of the Wipers’ infiltration ran too deep.

“I don’t think so,” he said, shaking his head. “The Sharpie started chasing me right after that. I didn’t have time to check.”

***

After leaving Lu Wuzheng’s office, it was Regiment Commander Li Wangqiang’s turn to summon Han Qingyu.

As this meeting was among their own regiment, the conversation felt less like an interrogation and more like a discussion. Li Wangqiang, still deep in grief, found some comfort in seeing Han Qingyu alive and hearing his recount.

“Our Only Witness Legion has a tradition. When a soldier falls, we don’t engrave a name or put a photograph on their urn. We only inscribe their serial number in the upper right corner. There are usually a few more numbers in the lower left corner as well. The serial numbers of comrades, so the fallen aren’t alone. This is entirely voluntary,” Li Wangqiang explained, glancing at Han Qingyu. “I spent the morning making calls for Old Zhang. The surviving members of the Red Erasers all agreed to let his urn carry Platoon Leader Wang Liuzheng’s number, along with their own. Old Miao agreed too.”

That probably meant forgiveness.

“We can’t ask Old Zhang himself anymore,” Li Wangqiang continued, his voice tinged with emotion. “So a few of us thought it over on his behalf, and we figured that if your number were inscribed on there too, then he, on the other side...”

Han Qingyu nodded. “I agree.”

The next day, the remains of Zhang Dao’an and the other fallen soldiers were interred on Ninth Army Mountain, at the Wall of Heroic Spirits.

Besides the recruits, most of the regiment and the army leadership also attended the ceremony, alongside representatives from the army group headquarters and the council.

There were even internal journalists. The Azure Coalition had its own publications and newspapers, though these were typically displayed in cabinets, available for viewing, then collected on schedule.

Many people were surprised to see Wen Jifei carrying Zhang Dao’an’s urn up the mountain.

It was only while handling Zhang Dao’an’s affairs that the regiment learned about the many things he had quietly done. For example, before he left, he had filed a special report sponsoring Wen Jifei for a maneuvering device.

It was hard to tell whether the army would have normally approved it. Probably not.

Given the circumstances, however, they weighed the matter from the view of honoring a fallen hero’s last wish. In the end, they decided not to recall Zhang Dao’an’s maneuvering device and instead give it to Wen Jifei after it was inspected and repaired.

It rained on the way up the mountain. The weather was cold and overcast.

The surviving recruits of the two regiments stood in the rain and said goodbye to fourteen instructors, 141 comrades, and the entirety of Platoon 1123, who had fought alongside them, brief as it may have been.

With that, the urns were sealed into the Wall of Heroic Spirits.

Wen Jifei stood there empty-handed for a moment, then pulled a bag of peanuts from his jacket and placed it in front of Zhang Dao’an’s spot.

Meanwhile, a limping figure appeared at the foot of Ninth Army Mountain. Head bowed, he made his way up the mountain alone, eventually reaching Zhang Dao’an’s place with some difficulty.

Opening a wooden lunch box, he lifted out a large bowl of braised beef noodle soup that was still warm, set it down, and stuck a pair of chopsticks into it.

The man then picked up the lunch box, turned around, and limped back down the mountain through the rain, one step at a time.

He didn’t say a single word the entire time.

Old Geng had resented Zhang Dao’an and clashed with him for years, yet came to leave a bowl of braised beef noodles at his resting place.

Many people loved Old Geng’s beef noodles. They were something special. His roast lamb was legendary too. Zhang Dao’an had always loved his braised beef noodles back in the day.

Though Zhang Dao’an was gone, the big yellow dog named 34473 still kept watch at the gate of Regiment 425’s base.

***

It was already evening when they returned from Ninth Army Mountain, and everyone was sent to wash up and change before dinner.

The army commander’s guard pulled away Han Qingyu yet again, though this time, they seemed much more hurried and anxious than before.

“It’s not Commander Lu who wants to see you,” the guard whispered. “Someone from the Refusers has been waiting for you all afternoon.”