Capital City, a certain military headquarters building.
Zhou Chaochao stood outside the Political Commissar’s office, took a deep breath, and raised her hand to knock.
“Come in.”
Pushing the door open, she saw Political Commissar Zhao Jianguo bent over his desk reviewing documents. When he saw her enter, he removed his glasses, a gentle smile appearing on his face.
“Chaochao? Why aren’t you resting in the hospital for a few more days? Director Xiao said that although your recovery is going well, you’re not ready to return to duty yet. You still need time to recuperate.”
Zhou Chaochao walked to the desk, stood at attention, and saluted.
Her movements were precise and crisp, giving no indication that she had just awakened from a three-month coma.
Zhao Jianguo waved his hand. “Alright, alright. Sit down and talk. Are you really fine?”
“Reporting to the Political Commissar, my body has no major issues,” Zhou Chaochao replied as she sat down, her back straight. “But… something has happened to my sister.”
Zhao Jianguo’s smile faded. After a moment of silence, he pulled open a drawer, took out a document, and pushed it toward her.
“Actually, while you were unconscious, the hospital and the military had already decided to notify your family,” Zhao Jianguo said heavily. “We contacted your sister Zhou Mumu’s workplace. Her manager answered the call. From her… we learned some things.”
Zhou Chaochao picked up the document. It was a brief record:
[September 15: Spoke with Zhou Mumu’s manager, Yang Li. The other party stated that Zhou Mumu recently suffered large-scale online harassment, was plagued by negative rumors, and was in extremely poor mental condition. The company is suspected of sacrificing Zhou Mumu to protect another artist. The manager was emotionally agitated and requested assistance.]
Below it was a handwritten note:
[Zhou Mumu, daughter of martyr Zhou Weiguo, military family. Her sister Zhou Chaochao is currently an active-duty soldier in our unit. Recommendation: intervene as appropriate; if necessary, coordinate with media departments to assist in clarifying public opinion.]
Zhou Chaochao’s fingertips trembled slightly.
“Political Commissar…” she looked up, her eyes reddening. “During the three months I was unconscious… Mumu, she…”
“We know everything,” Zhao Jianguo sighed. “Your father was a hero, and your sister is practically a child we watched grow up. If something like this happens to her, the military won’t stand by. I’ve already reported the situation to the political department. They are evaluating whether we can use military media or partner organizations to suppress the trending topics and help clarify the facts.”
“It won’t work.” Zhou Chaochao shook her head, her voice hoarse. “Political Commissar, you don’t understand the entertainment industry. Once those rumors spread, even if you run yourself to exhaustion clarifying them, no one will believe it. And… that black-hearted company did it on purpose. They’re using Mumu as a shield.”
Zhao Jianguo frowned. “Then what do you intend to do?”
Zhou Chaochao placed the document down, her hands resting on her knees as she sat upright. “I want to request leave.”
“Leave?”
“My sister’s agency is forcing her to participate in a wilderness survival premiere show. Filming starts next week. Mumu is covered in fractures—she can’t go at all. The company said either she goes, or she pays five million in breach-of-contract penalties.” Zhou Chaochao’s voice was calm, but a suppressed fire burned in her eyes. “Mumu can’t afford it. So… I will go in her place.”
Zhao Jianguo was stunned. “Go in her place? You mean—”
“Mumu and I are twins. We look exactly alike,” Zhou Chaochao said, word by word. “If I go on the show in her place, the company won’t pursue the penalty. And…”
She paused, her gaze sharpening. “The show is fully live-streamed, with no editing. In front of the cameras, I will expose those who framed Mumu.”
The office fell into a long silence.
Sunlight slanted through the window, casting a golden edge over Zhou Chaochao’s shoulder insignia. The military emblem gleamed under the light, symbolizing loyalty, responsibility, and sacrifice.
And yet, at this moment, its bearer had made an almost reckless request.
“Chaochao,” Zhao Jianguo finally spoke, his tone solemn, “do you understand what you’re saying? You are an active-duty soldier. Impersonating someone to participate in an entertainment program violates discipline.”
“I understand.” Zhou Chaochao met his gaze. “That’s why I’m reporting it to you and requesting approval. Political Commissar, I’m not only making this request as a soldier, but also as a sister.”
She stood up and walked to the window, looking at the soldiers marching in formation on the training ground outside.
“Before my father sacrificed himself, he held my hand and said, ‘Chaochao, I’m sorry. From now on… you must protect your mother and your sister.’” Her voice caught slightly. “Mom is gone. My sister is my only family. Now she’s been driven to a dead end—lying in bed, unable to move, covered in injuries, and still being pointed at and cursed. If even I can’t protect her, then what is the meaning of wearing this uniform?”
Zhao Jianguo looked at her straight back and thought of how this girl had lain in a hospital bed for three months, only to wake up and shoulder such a heavy burden.
He thought of her performance since enlistment: top marks in all evaluations, never retreating from missions, never complaining even when injured. She was a good soldier—an excellent one.
But soldiers were human too. They had weaknesses.
And Zhou Chaochao’s weakness was her younger sister, who had suffered so much in the entertainment world.
“How long will the show last?” Zhao Jianguo asked.
“The first episode is seven days and six nights, starting next week,” Zhou Chaochao turned back. “Political Commissar, I only need a long leave. Besides… I’ve just woken up. I need time to recover and can’t immediately return to duty anyway.”
Zhao Jianguo pondered, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk.
It was true. Even if Zhou Chaochao was in excellent physical condition, the military would not allow her to resume training immediately after waking. At least a month of observation and recovery was necessary.
And during that time… if she could help her sister through this crisis, it might not be a bad thing.
More importantly—
Zhao Jianguo picked up the document again and looked at the words “military family.”
Zhou Mumu was not only Zhou Chaochao’s sister; she was also the orphan of a martyr—a member of a military family. If she was being bullied like this and the military did nothing, it would be unacceptable.
“Chaochao,” he finally said, “I can approve your leave. Two months. Is that enough?”
Zhou Chaochao’s eyes lit up. “Two months? Political Commissar, that won’t be necessary—”
“Listen to me first,” Zhao Jianguo interrupted. “First, you’ve just woken up and need rest—that’s medical advice. Second, handling your sister’s matter will take time; it won’t be resolved by one variety show. Third…”
He paused, his gaze sharpening. “Since you’re going to stand up for your sister, do it cleanly and thoroughly. Don’t leave any leverage behind. Don’t give anyone anything they can use against your identity as a soldier. Understood?”
Zhou Chaochao stood at attention. “Understood!”
“Additionally,” Zhao Jianguo opened another drawer, took out a small USB drive, and pushed it toward her, “you’ll need leverage when negotiating with the agency. Words alone won’t be enough. This contains… some things you might find useful.”
Zhou Chaochao took the USB drive, puzzled.
“While you were unconscious, when we were learning about your sister’s situation, we also looked into her agency,” Zhao Jianguo said casually, as if discussing something trivial. “It turns out… that company isn’t exactly clean. Especially the deputy director in charge of your sister—Wang Qiang. There are quite a few issues.”
Zhou Chaochao tightened her grip on the USB drive, her heart pounding.
“Political Commissar… this is…”
“It’s not classified. All publicly available information—just requires certain access to retrieve,” Zhao Jianguo said, looking at her. “Remember, you are not going as a soldier to threaten them. You are going as a sister to protect your sister. As for how you use this… exercise your judgment.”
Zhou Chaochao’s eyes reddened.
She stood straight, saluted, her voice choked yet resolute. “Thank you, Political Commissar!”
“Go,” Zhao Jianguo waved his hand and put his reading glasses back on. “First go to logistics to collect your salary and allowances for the past three months, then pack your belongings. Remember, report to me daily. If you encounter any difficulties, contact the unit immediately.”
“Yes!”
Zhou Chaochao turned and left the office. As she reached the door, Zhao Jianguo called out to her again.
“Chaochao.”
She turned back.
The old Political Commissar looked at her, his gaze deep. “You are a soldier, and you are also a sister. The former has discipline and rules; the latter… sometimes doesn’t follow rules. But no matter what, don’t forget what your father taught you—live uprightly and act with integrity.”
Zhou Chaochao nodded firmly. “I’ll remember.”
Logistics Department, Finance Office.
“Comrade Zhou Chaochao, this is your salary, allowances, and various subsidies for the past three months, including your hospitalization period,” the finance officer said, handing her an envelope and a passbook. “The cash is here; the rest has been transferred to your salary card. The password is your enlistment date.”
Zhou Chaochao took them. They felt heavy.
“Also, the political department instructed that if your sister’s situation requires financial assistance, you can submit this form,” the officer added, handing her another document. “The military has support policies for military families, especially… families of martyrs.”
“Thank you, but not for now.” Zhou Chaochao put away the envelope and passbook. “I can handle it myself.”
Leaving the finance office, she headed toward the dormitory building.
It had been over three months since she last returned, but the dorm looked the same. Her former roommates had been reassigned; now she was alone. The bed was neatly made, and on the desk was a photo of her and her sister—two girls in camouflage uniforms, smiling brightly. It had been taken before her enlistment, when Mumu came to see her off.
Zhou Chaochao picked up the photo, her fingertips brushing her sister’s smiling face.
Back then, Mumu’s eyes had been full of light and dreams. She had said, “Sister, you protect the country. I’ll stay in the rear and bring happiness to everyone in my own way.”
But now… the happiness was gone. So was the light.
Zhou Chaochao carefully placed the photo into her suitcase, packed a few sets of casual clothes and personal items, and finally opened the bottom compartment of her locker, taking out a sealed box.
Inside were her medals, certificates, and… a military dagger.
The dagger had been left to her by her father. In his final letter, he had written: “If one day you need to protect someone important, use it.”
Zhou Chaochao picked up the dagger. The cold metal grounded her.
She would not actually use the blade—but some battles were more brutal than real combat.
After packing, she gave the dormitory one last look, then closed the door.
On her way downstairs, she ran into several familiar comrades.
“Chaochao? You’re awake?!” a lieutenant ran over in surprise. “When did you wake up? Why not stay in the hospital a few more days?”
“I just woke up. Came back to handle some matters,” she replied simply.
“I heard you’re taking a long leave? Not fully recovered yet?”
“Mm, I need some time to recuperate.”
Her comrades gathered around, expressing concern. They all knew about her sister’s situation—when Zhou Chaochao was unconscious, the unit had even conducted inquiries to understand her family circumstances.
“Chaochao, about your sister… we’ve all heard,” a major said in a low voice. “If you need help, just say the word. For public opinion, I have a classmate in the central propaganda department who could help.”
“Thank you, but not for now.” Zhou Chaochao shook her head. “I can handle it.”
“Be careful. The entertainment industry… the waters run deep.”
After saying goodbye to her comrades, Zhou Chaochao carried her luggage out of the military camp. She turned back once— the flag fluttered fiercely in the wind.
Facing the camp, she stood at attention and gave a standard military salute.
Then she turned and walked toward the parking lot.
Yang Li was already waiting there. Seeing her, she quickly stepped forward. “Chaochao, how did it go? The military—”
“They approved a two-month leave.” Zhou Chaochao placed her luggage into the trunk. “The Political Commissar also gave me some… bargaining chips.”
She got into the passenger seat, took out the USB drive Zhao Jianguo had given her, and plugged it into her laptop.
A folder popped up on the screen, filled with files: Wang Qiang’s bank records, irregularities in company accounts, abnormal financial transactions with multiple partners, and even several blurry audio recordings.
Yang Li inhaled sharply. “This… this is…”
“Enough to put him in prison,” Zhou Chaochao said calmly. “The Political Commissar said it’s all public information—just requires access.”
Yang Li’s hands trembled on the steering wheel. “Chaochao… what kind of soldier are you exactly? Why—”
“Sister Yang, don’t ask what you shouldn’t,” Zhou Chaochao interrupted, closing the laptop. “Now we’re going to the company. At three this afternoon, I want to see Wang Qiang—and get the termination contract.”
The car started and drove out of the military district.
Zhou Chaochao watched the cityscape rush past outside the window, her fingers unconsciously touching the cold dagger in her pocket.
Father, you were right.
Sometimes, protecting someone important required more than just gentleness.
It also required… a sharp blade.
And now, she would wield that invisible blade to carve out a path of survival for her sister.
At three in the afternoon, Xingyao Entertainment.
The show was about to begin.