Chapter 38: Fighting for Food
The next day, as unshakable as thunder, they rose at mao hour for another weighted long-distance run.
The recruits groaned in misery. On top of yesterday’s training, they now had additional inspections. All recruits wore identical crimson training uniforms, and during morning roll call, no one was allowed to appear disheveled. Even their beds, if left messy from the night before, had to be neatly made by the next morning before departure. Those who failed would face an extra lap.
Lap after lap was added—who could endure it? Amidst the chorus of wails and curses, the recruits’ discipline and appearance were swiftly whipped into shape. In just over half a month, though these new soldiers still hadn’t learned blade or archery formations, their marching formation and military bearing already looked quite impressive.
He Yan couldn’t help but marvel inwardly. Say what you would about Xiao Jue’s ruthless heart, but his methods were undeniably effective. Compared to Commander Xiao, He Yan felt her own past training methods had been far too lenient.
As the saying went, kindness doesn’t command troops, and righteousness doesn’t guard wealth. It seemed she still had much to learn from Xiao Jue.
While the recruits ran lap after lap, the instructors seized the gaps between drills to chat.
Chief Instructor Shen Han glanced at Liang Ping and asked, “Where’s that… ah, the weakest kid in your squad?”
By now, everyone knew that among the new recruits in Liang Province’s garrison, there was one particularly weak boy—a recruit under Instructor Liang. Small in stature and shockingly lacking in stamina, he always lagged far behind during morning runs. One or two days was understandable, but after three, nearly everyone had taken notice of him.
In short, his weakness was infamous.
“You mean He Yan?” Liang Ping jutted his chin toward the distant mountain path. “Up ahead—see that one keeping pace with the middle group?”
Shen Han looked over and spotted a young man running forward with a sandbag strapped to his back. Though everyone wore the same crimson uniform, the boy’s unusually thin and short frame made him stand out at a glance.
Shen Han was surprised. “He hasn’t fallen behind?”
“Not anymore.” A complicated expression flickered across Liang Ping’s face. “That kid’s got a spine of steel.”
To be honest, Liang Ping hadn’t held high hopes for He Yan at first. In all his years as an instructor, he’d seen plenty of recruits, and he could usually judge at a glance whether someone had the makings of a fierce soldier. He Yan’s physical condition was simply too poor—likely raised in comfort, with no real strength to speak of. On the first day’s run, he’d been a complete mess, and Liang Ping had immediately pegged him as nothing more than a cook’s assistant.
Unexpectedly, though the boy’s body was weak, his will was strong. Even if he dragged at the tail end every day, he still ran with the group. Liang Ping had also noticed that from the first day until now, He Yan had never once tried to slack off—he simply ran earnestly, without complaint.
For a pampered young master fallen on hard times to enlist as a common soldier and display such perseverance was already remarkable. But He Yan wasn’t just spinning his wheels.
It was as if he’d grasped some kind of trick, or perhaps gradually adapted to the weighted runs. From lagging multiple laps behind at first, he’d slowly closed the gap, and now he could barely keep up with the group. Liang Ping even had the strange feeling that if this continued, in a few more days, He Yan might even end up leading the pack.
As he pondered this, Shen Han’s voice sounded beside him."What's the use of a strong will? Talent is talent. Even if he can barely keep up with the running, the skill training later will still be too much for him... I wonder if he can pass the skill training."
Before the skill training, the final morning run was to evaluate the physical condition and potential of the new recruits in each squad. Those who fell too far behind wouldn't even get the chance for skill training. Resources were limited, and they couldn't afford to waste efforts on those deemed unworthy.
War was cruel, and before facing its cruelty, they had to first select those capable of enduring it.
"I think he can," Liang Ping said.
Shen Han looked at him, as did several other instructors nearby. Someone remarked, "Instructor Liang, are you sure? Don't misjudge. You know, over the years, those who were this weak... never made it to the battlefield."
Even so... Liang Ping smiled. "As you all know, a spirit tempered through trials remains sharp and unyielding. Who can say for certain?"
He turned his gaze to He Yan. The young man's forehead was drenched in sweat. Under the scorching summer sun, his running companions gritted their teeth, most showing impatience and annoyance. Only he wore a bright smile, without a trace of complaint.
Such determination was truly rare.
...
He Yan had no idea she had briefly become the center of the instructors' discussion. Finishing her last lap, she put away the sandbags and was promptly punched on the shoulder by Hong Shan.
"Hey, you're something else," Hong Shan said, stroking his chin as he studied her. "Now you can keep up with us. You must be thrilled—no need to be a cook anymore?"
He Yan laughed heartily. "That would be wonderful indeed."
Seeing her in much better shape after the run compared to her exhausted state a few days ago, Hong Shan was genuinely happy for her. Just then, Xiao Mai waved at them from a distance. "Brother He, Shan-ge, hurry up! There's meat buns today!"
After so long here, they were finally getting some meat. At the mention, He Yan's mouth watered, and Hong Shan licked his lips. "Finally, a decent meal. Let's go, quick!"
A large iron pot held thin porridge—one bowl per person—while a wooden barrel beside it steamed with fragrant meat buns. The soldier in charge stood by the barrel, handing out one bun to each.
He Yan received hers.
Clutching her porridge bowl, she looked around for a shady spot to sit and eat. From afar, she saw Xiao Mai, the clever little thing, waving at her under a tree—clearly having secured a cool spot.
He Yan started toward him.
Halfway there, someone bumped heavily into her shoulder, knocking her off balance. Half her porridge spilled out.
Her meat bun slipped from her grasp, tumbling toward the ground. Just as she reached to catch it, a hand shot out and snatched it away.
She steadied herself and found a tall, mustached man standing before her. A scar ran from his left temple to his cheek, and his burly frame exuded a rough, intimidating air. Holding the bun as if it were rightfully his, he ignored He Yan and strode onward.
A foot suddenly blocked his path.
The man paused, looking down at the figure before him.
The young man withdrew his foot, a polite smile still on his face, as if oblivious to what had just happened. "Excuse me, sir," he said. "I believe you've taken something that isn't yours.""The bun in your hand is mine."
The scar-faced man gave him a strange look, then suddenly burst into laughter after a moment, as if he'd heard some hilarious joke. His voice was hoarse and unpleasant as he spoke, "Do you even know what you're saying?"
"I said," the youth replied calmly, "the bun in your hand is mine."
[Author's note: Depending on how lively the comments section gets these days, I might randomly drop double updates (lights cigarette.jpg
Qianshan Chake really spoils her fans (.
(End of chapter)]
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