Lin Qiye's brow furrowed. "What is this supposed to mean?"
Zhao Kongcheng smiled faintly, unhurriedly drew a cigarette from his pocket. "Mind?"
"I mind."
Zhao Kongcheng: ...
He put the cigarette away with a resigned look, leaned back in the chair, and something like remembrance rose in his eyes.
"When I was young, I was just like you."
"Honestly, that opening is a bit of a cliché."
"..."
"It's fine. Go on."
"The year I turned six, my father died of illness. My mother worked two jobs alone to scrape me up to adulthood." Zhao Kongcheng's fingers rubbed the cigarette pack, his voice perfectly even.
"Life moved slow in those days. All my mother ever hoped for me was: finish middle school properly, come home, become a village cadre, marry a nice little wife, have a few kids, and live happily all together as a family.
"But you know how it is. Young men always get their rebellious phase.
"My grades were decent when I finished middle school. Going home to be a village cadre wouldn't have been hard. But I ignored her objections and marched off to join the army.
"Actually—she never even objected. She only looked... a little unhappy. The day I left home she stood in the doorway watching me, saying nothing. When I reached the road behind the house, she was watching me. When I reached the village gate, she was still watching me...
"Later, when I got to the bus station in the city, I couldn't settle my heart. I snuck back for one last look... and there she was, still standing in the same spot, staring off in the direction I'd gone. Just staring.
"I'll tell you the truth—in that moment I honestly thought about staying. Not leaving at all. But in the end I hardened my heart and went off to be a soldier."
Zhao Kongcheng let out a long breath and continued. "After that, my rank kept climbing. I made it into the special forces, and because I was good at close-quarters fighting, I got transferred into the Night Watchmen.
"Later I went home on leave to see my mother, and found out..."
He stopped short.
Lin Qiye ventured carefully, "Your mother... had passed away?"
"No. She'd remarried."
Lin Qiye: ...
"My mother wrecked her health working too hard when she was young. The real reason she wanted me back as a village cadre was so I could look after her a little. But the me of those days never thought that far, and chose the army instead.
"Eventually, alone and unable to hold on any longer, she remarried. At least in her old age there'd be someone to care for her.
"By then I was already in the Night Watchmen. I couldn't stay by her side to see out her years. And honestly? When I heard she'd remarried... what I felt was relief."
Lin Qiye considered for a moment. "So—what's the point of telling me all this?"
Zhao Kongcheng rose slowly, his eyes steady on Lin Qiye's. "All of us have things we treasure. But as we grow, habit dulls us—we start overlooking them without noticing, and let everything else eat up our attention...
"That's exactly what I did back then. But you're different, Lin Qiye.
"You're smarter than I was. More grown-up than I was. You know your own mind. You want to stay beside your family and keep them company.
"That is a genuinely good thing.
"Since you've chosen that road—walk it well.
"Leave the guarding-the-world business to people like us."
He turned, picked up the kraft-paper roll from the desk, and held it out to Lin Qiye.
"I met your aunt just now. In this day and age, people that good are rare. I know how things stand in your household. Take the money."
Lin Qiye didn't hesitate for a second. "I don't want it."
"I'm a Night Watchman. I'm not short of money."
"Then I still don't want it."
"It's for your aunt. You have to take it!"
"My aunt wouldn't take it either."
The corner of Zhao Kongcheng's mouth twitched. The two of them stared each other down, and neither would give an inch.
After a long moment, Zhao Kongcheng spoke again. "Lin Qiye... I'm old. I can't stand watching the same regret that happened to me play out in front of my eyes all over again—even if it's happening to someone else."
"Then close your eyes. Don't watch." Lin Qiye's stance was iron. "Our family may be poor, but we have our bottom line. A soldier's money—I will not take.
"Besides, my eyes are healed. I have ability now. I won't let any regret happen."
Zhao Kongcheng opened his mouth as if to argue—and in the end said nothing at all, only smiled bitterly.
"Take that money home for your wife and kids. Wouldn't that be nicer?" Lin Qiye added.
"I told you—the Night Watchmen's benefits are excellent. Even if I die on the battlefield, my wife and kid will never want for food or clothes, and the kid will get into a good university someday, with a bright future ahead." Seeing there was truly no persuading Lin Qiye, Zhao Kongcheng stuffed the kraft packet back into his coat.
"And you? Don't you have a dream of your own?"
"My dream?" Zhao Kongcheng dropped back into the chair, eyebrows lifting. "A dream—I do have one, actually. Had it since I was a kid."
"What is it?"
"To make general in the army! Then, with a chestful of shining medals, in full dress uniform, I'd march back to the village in glory—and let every last person who ever looked down on my mother know: my mother's son... is a general!" A dazzling light kindled in Zhao Kongcheng's eyes.
Lin Qiye stilled. For some reason, looking at the Zhao Kongcheng before him, he found himself thinking of Li Yifei...
They were, it seemed, the same breed of person.
"Have you made it yet?"
"Nope. Not even close." Zhao Kongcheng smiled ruefully. "And a Night Watchman can't exactly swagger around in public draped in medals anyway. That dream... will only ever stay a dream."
Lin Qiye fell silent.
"Well then. That's that—I should be going." Zhao Kongcheng stood, walked up to Lin Qiye, and held out his right hand.
"I wish you a bright future, Lin Qiye."
Lin Qiye stared blankly at that face—which somehow didn't look so greasy anymore...
He reached out and clasped the hand, hard. "And I wish you your chestful of medals someday, General Zhao."
Zhao Kongcheng laughed, turned, and headed for the door.
"Wait—your crest." Lin Qiye called after him, holding up the crest from the desk and giving it a wave.
Zhao Kongcheng smacked his own forehead. "Look at this memory of mine. Almost forgot! That thing's my life!"
He took the crest, turned it over once—and seemed to remember something. "Oh, right. Did you read the lines on the back?"
"I did."
"Well? Cool, right?"
"Very cool. Did you write it?"
"Nah. It's the oath we swear when we enter the Night Watchmen." Zhao Kongcheng flipped the crest like a coin, caught it clean, and slid it into his pocket. "But... I've always loved it."
"Wait."
"What now?"
"It's pouring out there. Take the umbrella."
"Thanks. This umbrella—I'm not giving it back."
"Keep it. Call it... payment for guarding the Earth."
"Ha. Fine. Now I'm really off."
"Goodbye."
Zhao Kongcheng took the black umbrella, opened the door, and stepped out. Lin Qiye stood by the window and silently watched him go.
In the rain, the man's fingers rubbed the crest inside his pocket as he recited softly:
"If the dark night should fall at last,
I shall stand before the ten thousands of thousands,
blade leveled at the abyss,
my blood staining the heavens..."
...
The rain fell harder and harder.
Zhao Kongcheng, umbrella up, settled unhurried into the black van and fished the cigarette pack from his pocket, ready to savor a brief moment of quiet.
At that instant, his earpiece crackled to life!
A man's voice came through.
The hand holding the cigarette jerked violently—and his pupils snapped tight!