Chapter 2 - This is Not the Mecha Movie

Han Qingyu was not present to witness all that happened after dinner, including the television static due to a lost signal and the shadow that appeared briefly under the moon. Even if he had been, he still would not have thought they were extraordinary or unbelievable events.

At that moment, he was walking home. Mountains encircled the village, but the valley itself was full of rugged terrain, so the homes of Fenglong Valley were actually quite scattered. The home of the host, his great-uncle, was on one side of the village, while Han Qingyu’s home was on the other side, next to the mountains. There was some distance between them.

He did not take the route through the village, but instead walked along the mountain path on the outskirts. This made for a shorter route, and more importantly, he would bump into fewer people that way. He was used to walking at night, and the moon was bright anyway.

The cool mountain breeze whistled softly as it blew past.

Am I really not taking the exam again? But what will I do with my life? What should I do with my life? Tend to the land, marry a woman, and have a child? Stay here and become the village accountant? Or should I leave to work in the city like they tell us at school? Earn money and send it back to Mom and Dad like a filial son? Am I really capable of that?

He felt lost.

In a rare moment of impulse, Han Qingyu felt the urge to smoke despite not knowing how. Coincidentally, the groom’s side had given out two Double Happiness[1] cigarettes to everyone. It was still in his shirt pocket; he hadn’t been able to pass it to his father.

He looked down and felt around for a cigarette, put it in his mouth, then touched his pocket again... Only to realize that he did not have a lighter.

Perhaps because he had finally left the crowd and was away from their line of sight, the emotions that had been brewing within him over the course of that annoying dinner suddenly exploded. He felt so miserable that he had a full breakdown.

Han Qingyu did not dare to go home in this state. Instead, he sat on a large boulder in an empty clearing of felled trees in the moonlit forest near the mountain path.

Five or ten minutes later—maybe more—he came back to his senses. He didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but at least his chaotic emotions had finally settled, and his mind had gone quiet. The surroundings were quiet too, apart from the chirping of insects in the grass.

Han Qingyu neither saw nor heard anything to give it away. Yet, he still became abruptly aware of something looming overhead.

He peeked up to see a dark, spindle-esque object grow ever larger as it slowly descended. It eventually came to rest on the open ground about thirty or forty meters ahead of him.

There were no jets of fire nor any great noise other than the occasional crack of shrubs snapping. It was perhaps the size of an SUV, or a little bigger, though not by much. It did not reflect any light, yet seemed to have the texture of metal.

What was it?

An alien spacecraft? A UFO? Some new military technology? Han Qingyu liked reading science fiction and military magazines; he had borrowed some from classmates during his school days. Thus, his mind naturally went there first.

The next second, he snapped to attention. Could this be dangerous?

He threw himself into a ditch beneath a thicket of shrubs. The dense summer shrubs and weeds covered him completely. Holding his breath, he watched carefully.

About a minute passed. The spindle did not open, nor did any mechanical sound come from it. Instead, a dense whoosh came sweeping in from the forests on both sides.

Then, people—all dressed in gray shirts that seemed to be uniforms. They had a dark metal case strapped to their backs, strange metal bands wrapped around parts of their bodies, and knives in their hands.

Thirty or forty of them rushed in from both sides of the forest like a gale through the darkness.

Or perhaps they were not people?

Although their appearances were not concealed and they looked clearly human, no human could move that fast. Not even an Olympic champion could run like that.

What the hell is going on?!

Han Qingyu was baffled; he could make absolutely no sense of what he was seeing. He watched as the people in gray uniforms ran to the spindle.

Suddenly, a hatch opened at the top of the spindle, and two things were ejected from it. Han Qingyu instinctively chose to call them “things” since the only alternative would have been “mecha.”

But no, they were not mecha. Han Qingyu had watched Mecha at Wen Jifei’s house, and the two things that had come out did not actually transform into anything after they landed. They were humanoid beings wearing black suits of metallic armor.

They looked considerably larger than the ordinary person, though that could perhaps be attributed to their armor. Regardless, if they really were human, they were on the larger side; they stood around two meters tall and seemed to weigh over 120 kilograms.

So, robots perhaps? Sophisticated ones.

Their armor fit their bodies far too precisely, and they moved a little too nimbly. They did not resemble robots depicted in magazines and movies, which always looked heavy, sluggish, and clumsy. As Han Qingyu was not familiar with the concept of exoskeletons, he could only call them robots.

In any case, everything before him had blown past the boundaries of his prior understanding and was beyond his ability to judge.

What he could tell was that the people in uniforms and the two robots were definitely enemies. There was no attempt at dialogue. They instantly devolved into fighting. It was a swift and ferocious clash, like two fierce tigers fighting a pack of wolves.

Flickering blue crystalline light seeped from the dark metal cases on the backs of the charging crowd. When this light appeared, they started moving even faster. The impact of their feet hitting the ground kicked up gravel at a speed that made it whistle through the air.

The black-armored robots stood their ground. Each had a two-handed grip on an enormous, bizarrely shaped sword that resembled a folded umbrella. Together, in a single downward motion, they drove the blades into the ground with such force that they went almost halfway in.

The impact caused a massive shockwave that blasted away the dirt and rocks on the ground. That one strike forced the vanguard of the charge to halt in their tracks as a number of them were thrown back onto the ground, but the wave of attackers behind them kept going. Soon, another group pushed through the gaps, enduring the shockwave and the flying rocks to reach close-quarters combat range.

That was the beginning of a massacre.

The fight grew increasingly chaotic, fast, and fierce. There was too much to follow clearly.

At some point, a scream rang out, and a severed limb hit the ground. Blood poured from the stump like a spring, seeping into the earth under the pale moonlight, staining the soil and rocks red.

Han Qingyu did not run, nor did he dare to stand. He lay there in the ditch, watching all of it in a daze. Not because he was brave, but because he no longer had the mental capacity to think about leaving.

At one point, he even started to assess each side’s performance. They seem to be losing...

The people seemed to be losing to the robots. The people had the advantage of numbers, but the two robots were clearly stronger.

The knives in the people’s hands seemed special. They were sharp and tough enough that, when they struck the robots’ armor, they sliced through with a dull thud. However, the two massive swords in the robots’ hands, which looked like furled black umbrellas, were larger and clearly more powerful.

Besides, the two robots were nothing like the heavy, sluggish stereotype. They were extraordinarily agile and fast, whether they were feinting, pivoting, sprinting, stopping dead, or reversing direction. Their speed and the seamlessness of their transitions were such that even a car at full speed probably couldn’t run them over. In fact, even ten or twenty cars at full speed could not succeed.

The mecha skidded to a halt, swiveling around with a screeching friction that caused sparks to fly. The inertia one would typically have to overcome to achieve this movement seemed as though it didn’t apply to them at all.

Of course, they were nowhere near as absurdly large as the mecha. Visually, they looked far more like people than mecha.

In any case, the gap in individual ability was enormous.

In just a short while, five or six of the people had already fallen. At least two had died instantly, while the rest looked seriously wounded, unable to get back up for the time being.

One of the robots pierced a person’s chest with its giant sword, then lifted them and swung them around, resulting in a rain of blood.

Yet the people still managed, at the cost of those sacrifices, to do one thing: divide the battlefield.

The two black-armored robots were now separated and surrounded, each assailed on all sides by a group of people.

The battle seemed to have entered a phase of encirclement and attrition, but the gap in individual ability between the two sides remained vast. The besieging side could not match the robots in a direct exchange and was entirely reliant on attacks from the rear and flanks. Once a maneuver was anticipated and countered, the attackers were even more likely to be killed.

Han Qingyu lay there, watching.

Whoosh... Thunk.

A fragment of iron, likely splintered off a blade, came flying past at an angle, passed just over his head, and buried itself solidly in the dirt. The fierce whistle it made while cutting through the air told him everything about its speed and force. If it had been any lower, it would have taken a piece of him with it.

Han Qingyu was instantly drenched in cold sweat.

Iron and blood yanked him out of the stupefied, innocently curious bystander state he had been in.

In the face of death, failing the Gaokao really did seem minuscule.

The nineteen-year-old village boy finally grasped that he was standing on the edge between life and death. Chilling terror gripped him when he realized the danger he had stumbled into and the extraordinary nature of this situation.

Meanwhile, the battle was growing increasingly intense. The sounds of impact were, surprisingly, not sharp; they were dull, unrelenting thuds.

There was no way they wouldn’t notice him if he ran. Thus, pressed flat against the ground, buried in the ditch, Han Qingyu clung to his last shred of hope. He trembled, praying the fight would move farther away or end quickly with no one noticing him.

Unfortunately, his prayers went unheard.

A sudden thud rang out from the middle of the battle. Then, a figure was sent tumbling through the air, arms flapping like the wings of a kicked duck, before landing in a shrub less than two meters away from Han Qingyu.

Han Qingyu could hear the person panting in pain. I don’t think he’s dead, but... he’s not far from it.

At the same moment, Han Qingyu also finally confirmed that the group carrying metallic backpacks was human. He could clearly hear several voices call out “Platoon Leader Lao!” at once with urgency, worry, and fury.

Amid this burst of startled cries, Han Qingyu looked up.

One of the robots, significantly damaged, stood in the middle of the battlefield, facing in his direction with one arm raised.

Is it going to finish this guy off? It doesn’t have a laser cannon or something, right? A dart? A throwing knife? A detachable mechanical arm?

Han Qingyu turned his head to look at the man. The man lying in the shrubs... had his eyes open and was staring weakly at him.

At this point, it felt wrong not to act.

Almost on instinct, the straightforward village boy reached out and pulled the man toward him, into the ditch where he was lying. Luckily, the ground sloped slightly toward him, so it did not take much effort.

Meanwhile, the people with the metallic backpacks also rushed in recklessly, throwing themselves at the robot to stop it from finishing the man off.

The shrubs blocked the view. No one could clearly see what was happening over here, and it seemed no one could spare the effort to come and help. They pressed their attack harder, and the fierce battle continued.

Seems like he’s passed out... Alright. But he saw me just now! That’s bad. Should I just strangle him and push him out? And then what? Keep lying here or try to crawl away?

Han Qingyu stared at the figure beside him. Blood was seeping from the corner of the man’s mouth, but even though he seemed unable to move, he was clearly still alive.

Han Qingyu silently weighed his options.

1. Double Happiness (红双喜 / Hóngshuāngxǐ) is a Chinese brand of cigarettes, currently owned and manufactured in mainland China by the Shanghai Tobacco Corporation. During the 1980s and 1990s, Double Happiness cigarettes played an unexpected role in Chinese weddings: the bride had to light a cigarette for every man attending the wedding banquet as a token of gratitude. After the 2000s, this custom slowly started to disappear. ☜