When Lin Yuhui saw his daughter being cared for, he no longer cared what became of his extracted body. Yet sometimes he sensed its perceptions, even glancing back occasionally. Mostly, though, his awareness was filled with memories from his past.
Occasionally, new sensations emerged, marked by distinct entry points. There was always a little girl on a golden beach bathed in sunset light, her back turned as she built sandcastles. When Lin Yuhui approached her, she never looked back, quietly absorbed in her play. Lin Yuhui knew she was Lydia, though he wasn't entirely certain. He had never seen Lydia, and having lost his eyes, he didn't know what purpose seeing her would serve. Still, he felt she was the Lydia who had once come to invite him.
Walking past her, Lin Yuhui felt as though he could connect his senses to this three-dimensional material world. He could see his daughter living a new life, happily cared for by others. He could explore the wider universe with peace of mind, returning anytime he wished. Without the constraints of a physical body, everything felt freer. Yet, that faint red thread in his heart remained untouched.
Lin Yuhui would occasionally visit Lydia, observing her activities through the starship's metallic hull to express gratitude to the sisters. Yet he consistently avoided his elder sister, unwilling to disrupt her life or stir up his own long-buried memories. Having lost his physical form, he could no longer do anything for her in the material world. In the spiritual realm, sadly, he could do little either. Since their worlds had no overlap, why intrude upon each other's existence?
She was kind, she was extrasensory, but she was also human—a young girl who liked boys her age. Though Lin Yuhui thought that boy unreliable, mediocre, unworthy of her, even potentially hurtful to her feelings, that was her destiny. And Lin Yuhui could do nothing about it.
Only her shadow still flickered intermittently, pulling him toward her. Lin Yuhui could only guard himself constantly, exploring in the opposite direction.
Returning to Earth from space, her shadow lingered behind him, still treasured in his heart. Looking down, he saw the American West Coast, but the California shoreline had already been submerged by the earthquake.
As Lin Yuhui wondered how vast the fractured plates were from this quake, he seemed to teleport into the ocean. Uncertain of the time, he saw massive vessels gliding beneath the waves—could they be Poseidon nuclear torpedoes? Mid-thought, his perspective shifted again. Not just one, but many more—two, three... As he continued tracking them through his perspective, Lin Yuhui felt an invisible force push him away, carrying him over inland.
He realized some other power must be guarding a secret operation. Seeing no need to wade into that murky water, he departed, flying toward inland areas that piqued his interest...
In low Earth orbit, after finishing her shift, Leanna headed back to her quarters. Along the way, she noticed a crowd gathered outside the holographic simulation game room in the lounge area, watching the gameplay inside.
Curious, Leanna joined the crowd and asked,
“What's going on in there?”
Before anyone could answer, Lydia's voice bellowed from inside,
“Squad Leader! The American bastards are sneaking up on us!”
At that moment, a spectator removed his sensory helmet and whispered,
“Korean War, Korean War,” before quickly putting it back on to continue watching.
Hearing the shouts, American soldiers began advancing head-on and flanking from the direction of the voices. Upon reaching the forward outpost, they suppressed the position with fire while throwing grenades.
As the grenades detonated, Maxim machine guns on the opposite hillside opened fire. But the explosions drowned out the gunfire, and many Americans only realized the flanking attack after being hit and falling. One by one, they hit the ground, wishing they could crawl into rock crevices as full-power rounds rattled off the stones.
Lydia, playing the role of a Chinese soldier, and several comrades crept back along the tunnel. Glancing at the enemy positions from the edge of the trench, they began frantically hurling grenades into the open trench.
The frontline American soldiers wailed in agony, too terrified to rise. Machine gun fire and grenade shrapnel forced them to crawl backward in helpless cries of “I'm not pinned down!” The rear soldiers spun around and scattered, each scrambling for cover before surveying the battlefield.
Enemy soldiers kept popping their heads up from their trenches at different spots, firing sporadic shots. It was unclear whether multiple defenders held separate positions or one man was moving between them.
Just then, the M2 heavy machine gun behind the Americans opened fire. Its devastating penetration power alone caused shrapnel wounds to several soldiers' arms, significantly weakening the suppression provided by the grenade barrage.
“Chang Desheng, Liu Zhiqiang, move up and relieve Zhang Fugui and Zhang Fuxiang,” Squad Leader Li Qingshan ordered.
“Ma Zhanshan, Wang Hu, find positions to suppress the enemy heavy machine gun.”
By then, Chang Desheng and Liu Zhiqiang had already reached the frontline along the trench. Patting Zhang Fugui on the back, they informed him,
“Squad Leader's orders—we're relieving you.”
Zhang Fugui didn't waste words either, shouting,
“Fuxiang, follow me!”
“Yes, sir!” Lidiya answered, retreating down with them.
Liana watched and smiled—it turned out her sister was playing the role of Zhang Fuxiang.
The medic tended to the Zhang brothers' arm wounds in the rear tunnel. Fortunately, they were only superficial cuts from flying debris.
Chang Desheng and Liu Zhiqiang had just reached the corner of the frontline trench when
“Shelling!” Chang Desheng shouted, shoving Liu Zhiqiang down into the tunnel bend before diving behind him.
A hissing sound was followed by a boom as an enemy 60mm mortar shell exploded in front of the position. Though the fire wasn't heavy, the indirect trajectory meant shells sometimes exploded inside trenches—extremely dangerous.
Squad Leader Li Qingshan watched anxiously from behind and urgently ordered,
“Lu Dayong, Qiao Goushen, flank around the rear slope and take out the enemy mortar!” After giving the command, he glanced around—almost no one was left. He quickly turned to the deputy squad leader and said,
“Li Tieniu, you go with them. After taking out the mortar, conceal yourselves and harass the advancing enemy from the rear flank at a critical moment.”
“Yes, sir. We'll complete the mission.” With that, the three men descended without looking back.
Meanwhile, Chang Desheng and Liu Zhiqiang were struggling in the frontline trenches, constantly shifting positions to throw grenades and fire. But the enemy mortar was conducting area fire on fixed coordinates. Each incoming shell was like opening a blind box—they never knew where it would explode within their sector. Unable to dodge strategically, they had no choice but to brace themselves against the advancing enemies crawling forward.
Ma Zhanshan and Wang Hu had found concealed firing positions. Ma Zhanshan, a former bandit with exceptional marksmanship, raised his Mosin-Nagant rifle and silenced an American M2 heavy machine gun over 800 meters away with a single shot. Whether the gunner was wounded or the weapon damaged, no assistant took over.
Without the heavy machine gun's suppression, Chang Desheng and Liu Zhiqiang could no longer stay in the trench. Exchanging a glance, they threw all their grenades. Before the explosions even detonated, they charged out of the trench, Popov-Shakhovas in hand.
Squad Leader Li Qingshan saw the two soldiers preparing to charge. Pointing with his hand, he shouted,
“Fugui, go!” Then he shouldered his gun and began calling out the names of American soldiers who dared to raise their heads to shoot.
American soldiers at the front line spotted the Chinese volunteers leaping from their trenches and began aiming to fire. But then grenades began falling, forcing them to scramble for cover.
Meanwhile, the Maxim machine gun that had been withdrawn earlier was repositioned in the trenches. Its rapid bursts of fire swept from the front of the position all the way to the rear American firing positions.
Lydia ran like a madwoman behind Zhang Fugui along the communication trench, swinging her arm wide to hurl grenades behind enemy formations, shielding the advancing troops. Reaching the trench's end, she raised her submachine gun, eyes wide, leaped out, and roared,
“Kill...” She fired as she charged, coordinating with Chang Desheng and Liu Zhiqiang flanking the advancing enemy from the front.
Liana couldn't help but smile at the sight. Her sister had never been so engrossed in play before. She seemed genuinely happy today.
But when she switched to other soldiers' viewpoints, a familiar sensation stirred within her—that intense collective consciousness, that cohesive force. Was it him? That Chinese soldier?
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