Chapter 14 - Six Thousand

The meal lasted until past ten o’clock at night, which was considered quite late for a small mountain village.

After dinner, Han Qingyu helped his mother wash the dishes, then filled up the rice barrel and the water vat.

Then, he went out to the yard to split firewood with his father. They stacked the split wood along the foot of the wall. The two of them talked as they worked, and before they knew it, the woodpile had grown all the way up to the eaves.

The rice barrel and the woodpile meant a great deal to the livelihoods of mountain villagers. Words like “Mangang (full barrel),” “Manduo (full stack),” and “Mandun (full bin)” were often given as names because they always brought a sense of security.

As Han Qingyu went back into the house, he saw his mother sitting at the dinner table.

“Come here, Little Qing. I want to show you something,” she called, waving him over.

She unfolded an old white handkerchief with a blue border to reveal a silver bracelet inside.

The old silver had dulled with age, its luster plain and antique, and its style ordinary. It was bare without any engravings or patterns and had probably been part of his mother’s dowry from when she married.

“Take it with you,” his mother said, passing the bracelet over along with the handkerchief.

Han Qingyu quickly clasped both hands behind his back and shook his head. “I don’t need this. A silver bracelet? I’m a grown man. What am I supposed to do with that?”

His mother paused, as though she herself couldn’t quite come up with a proper reason on the spot.

“What do you think?” she finally asked, a pointedness to her tone.

Han Qingyu thought it over. “For something like that... Shouldn’t you wait until I’ve found a wife, and then pass it to her as her mother-in-law?”

His answer seemed to give his mother immediate righteous confidence.

“So you do understand!” she said brightly. “And isn’t it because you’re leaving? You’ll be gone for years, and Mom won’t be there to see or manage anything. Take it. If you happen to meet someone, give it to her on my behalf. Slip it on her wrist before she can get away.”

Han Qingyu was speechless.

Zhang Jiexia thought it over and, genuinely concerned, added one more instruction, “You’d better not let someone run off wearing our bracelet.”

“Wait,” Han Qingyu said, half laughing and half exasperated. “I’m going to the army, Mom.”

“So what, the army doesn’t have any girls? Don’t they need cooks?”

“The men do the cooking in the army.” In truth, Han Qingyu wasn’t actually sure what his particular “army” was going to be like.

“Oh, well... What’s to say you won’t step outside one day and run right into one? What’s to say some commander’s daughter won’t set her sights on my son? What’s to say there won’t be another Hua Mulan among the troops?” Zhang Jiexia went on at length, working herself up as she dreamed of possibilities, lumping together every far-fetched scenario she could imagine.

Han Qingyu remained unmoved throughout, especially at the part about Hua Mulan.

In the end, his mother sniffled and said in a reluctant voice, “We don’t have much else worth giving. Just take it along and keep it close. It’s something to remember us by.”

“All right,” Han Qingyu finally relented, taking the bracelet. He really did need something to remember them by, wherever this road was taking him.

After washing up, he returned to his room and took a moment to settle his emotions.

There was not much to pack. A few simple things that wouldn’t even fill the backpack he’d used for school. Once everything was sorted, Han Qingyu switched off the light and lay down on his bed.

His life at this point could be described simply enough. He was looking into an abyss and a light at the same time.

What had happened tonight had made the light a little brighter, but then Lao Jian had told him that seventeen people had died in the battle today, and every survivor had been wounded.

He had to survive. Source energy was the hope.

Han Qingyu understood his absorption of source energy as a quirk of his constitution. Lao Jian had previously mentioned that he had heard of people with exceptionally high source energy compatibility, though he had never seen one with his own eyes. Han Qingyu placed himself among their number, and he was hungry to know the fate and achievements that had come to them.

The blue-crystal source energy he had absorbed tonight was still present in his body; he could feel it, but the quantity seemed to have diminished slightly.

It seemed that in combat, it surged outward and could be expended, but when not in combat, the surplus quietly nourished the body, being absorbed gradually.

There was no one to consult or debate with, so Han Qingyu could only piece together Lao Jian’s scattered remarks with what he felt in his own body to analyze and reason through things.

Somewhere around midnight, he finally arrived at a preliminary understanding, or rather a set of conclusions.

First, the actual source energy content of a chunk of dark-gold metal that size—the kind from the first encounter—vastly exceeded that of the blue-crystal source energy blocks. Proportionally speaking, it was the difference between a full cup of water versus two or three drops on a fingertip.

So, the metal chunks that Lao Jian’s unit turned in for refinement after each battle could likely produce dozens of blue-crystal source energy blocks. However, factoring in what the soldiers burned through during combat, the net gain probably wasn’t all that significant.

No wonder, then, that Lao Jian had been forced to report to headquarters and submit to an investigation over a single missing metal chunk.

At any rate, none of that was his problem. He hadn’t done it on purpose. He’d had no other option.

Second, the “refinement” of these chunks didn’t actually involve purification at all. Rather, certain additives or catalysts were introduced, causing the source energy to migrate and divide, so that it could be used by more people and more universally.

The blue-crystal blocks were actually less pure than the dark-gold chunks, which also explained the enormous gap between the two in absorption speed.

At least, these were his rough theories.

As Han Qingyu puzzled through these thoughts, he found himself craving the metal chunks. Unfortunately, as things stood, getting hold of one required tracking down and cutting down at least two of those black-armored machines, which he had no hope of doing alone.

If he had squadmates with him, he couldn’t exactly pocket one without being noticed either. That would be far too complicated.

When he thought about it that way, the blue-crystal blocks actually weren’t so bad. If only he could get a great many of them. A cartful. A whole room full...

***

Lao Jian arrived the following day, close to noon.

He looked a little pale and tired, but he showed up neat and clean all the same. It was hard to believe that he could appear so put together after coughing up blood just the night before.

If a person in the village had been coughing up blood, they would have had a coffin put together overnight for them.

His timing was also deliberate. Arriving close to noon was the country equivalent of an unspoken message that said, “I would like to have lunch at your place.”

So you really have no shame, Han Qingyu mentally criticized. Just as I thought, he’s nothing like the regular soldiers. A regular soldier would never take so much as a needle and thread from the common people, yet here you are eating our household’s hen.

Zhang Jiexia had slaughtered one of the family’s old laying hens just to receive this army officer, while Han Youshan opened his last bottle of the old baijiu he had been saving and had never had the heart to drink before this.

Han Qingyu had gobbled down his own meal and stood to the side watching as Lao Jian called his parents “Big Sister” and “Big Brother” with familiar warmth, trading toasts back and forth with his father. It felt like watching a demon disguised in human skin. He was seated at their table, a face full of warmth concealing a true nature that could reveal a blade at any moment.

Dad, Mom, he pressed a knife to your son’s throat. He forced your son into serving as a soldier who could die at any time. He—

Han Qingyu couldn’t watch any longer. Making up an excuse, he slipped out to the yard.

Inside the house, Lao Jian finished with his meal and, without preamble, pulled a thick stack of cash from his bag and set it on the table.

“I applied for a special-talent recruitment subsidy for the kid. Six thousand yuan, here. Have a look.”

His father and mother both froze, confused and uncertain.

“It’s from the state. Take it without worry.” Lao Jian paused, then added, “By the way, given the circumstances, best not to mention this to others. Saves everyone the trouble of having to explain.”

With that, he rose and left the room, giving the Han parents time to absorb it all while he headed out to the yard to find Han Qingyu.

“Six thousand,” Han Qingyu muttered, having heard this exchange from outside.

Six thousand was a lot. He had requested ten thousand before as a high opening bid, but in truth, the Han family had never seen a lump sum of over a thousand yuan in all the years they had scraped together money for his schooling.

Despite these thoughts, his face showed nothing, and he merely said flatly, “Oh.”

Unbeknownst to him, this money had actually come out of Lao Jian’s own pocket.

Headquarters had not approved the funds. The Azure Coalition, for all its wealth, had operated for over eighty years without ever establishing any precedent for compensating a soldier before death. Nor had any military in the world, for that matter.

The six thousand was Lao Jian’s own money. Four thousand scraped together from what he had on hand, and the other two thousand borrowed from the nurses and medics at the medical station while he was still coughing up blood.

As for Han Qingyu’s reaction, Lao Jian understood exactly what the boy was weighing, and naturally took no offense.

Laughing outright, he said, “You know, there’s a lot I like about you, kid, except for that petty streak of yours.”

Han Qingyu said nothing.

At that moment, his mother and father came out of the house together, holding the money, faces worried and uneasy as they walked over to Lao Jian.

“Brother Lao,” his father said, low and urgent. “This... paying a soldier before he’s served this much; we’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“That’s right, Brother Lao,” his mother added. “Is the post our son is going into very dangerous? Is that why?”

Lao Jian stood there for a moment. He hadn’t anticipated that the first thing these hardworking, plainspoken parents would think of when faced with six thousand yuan would be this.

With a family like this, it’s easy to see why Han Qingyu’s so filial and sensible, he thought, mind wandering for just that instant.

Han Qingyu’s parents immediately felt that something was wrong and hurried to return the money to Lao Jian.

“Then, can we just not take it? No special recruitment. It’s not that we’re unwilling to serve the country, it’s just—this boy really isn’t cut out for it.”

“That’s right, Commander, you don’t know him. This child is terribly timid. A couple of years ago, he wouldn’t even go out to relieve himself alone at night.”

Unexpectedly, his parents started working together to dissuade him.

Han Qingyu knew the matter was unavoidable and that saying anything would be useless. Stepping forward with a smile, he assured, “Mom, Dad, what are you thinking? There’s no danger. I’m just going in as a cultural soldier.”[1]

“Really?”

“Of course.”

While Han Qingyu reassured his parents, Lao Jian quietly lit a cigarette and turned his head to gaze at the distant mountains outside the yard before finally turning back.

“That’s right, Big Bro, Big Sis, you’re reading too much into it. Besides, you’ve got me. I’ll do my best to look after Little Qing for you,” he said sincerely, patting himself on the chest, though with little genuine confidence.

The parents exchanged looks, seemingly deciding to believe him. After a slightly awkward moment, they remembered there were things to do and hurried back inside to pack.

“Why are my parents packing their bags?” Han Qingyu glanced at Lao Jian with a puzzled look.

“New recruits board the train in the city,” Lao Jian said. “Over lunch, your parents asked if they could come along to see you off. I said yes. I have a car anyway. While we’re at it, I can take them to the bank to deposit the money. What do you say?”

“Thank you.” Han Qingyu thought it over, then lowered his voice. “So I board with the other new recruits, the same as everyone else? Red flower, same send-off?”

“Of course. I told you from the start, every formality is proper and official,” Lao Jian said. “The only difference is the car you’re put into once you board.”

1. Cultural and Artistic Soldier (文化兵) is a common civilian term for personnel engaged in cultural and artistic work within the military. Source: Baidu Wiki ☜