Volume 1 / Chapter 52: Under the Sun

A different instructor led Class 2 of the tenth grade out into the sunlight.

In the cool mountains—where the air was noticeably fresher and the temperature lower than in the city—the sunlight, which might’ve felt harsh in an urban setting, now felt like a comforting blanket of warmth.

The patch of ground basking in sunlight was just big enough to fit one class. Somehow, this made it feel like they were the chosen ones, standing in the golden spotlight of destiny.

But what came next was far from glorious.

It was… standing at attention.

Every military training seemed to include this. It was, apparently, the most basic of basics.

And yet, for all its simplicity, most students couldn’t hold the position properly.

At best, they could manage to stand still.

But even just standing still could be a test of endurance. Sometimes, it was even worse than running.

Because when you’re motionless, your senses become absurdly sharp. You’d start feeling an itch somewhere—out of nowhere—and the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it got.

That’s why standing at attention wasn’t just physical—it was a battle of willpower.

"Chin up, chest out, stomach in! No slouching- especially you girls!" Instructor Huáng barked as he strode up to Wáng Jialè, tapping her firmly on the shoulder. "What's up with you? You don't even have much there; it's not like they're weighing you down."

Wáng Jiālè’s face flushed crimson. She straightened her back as hard as she could, but it didn’t take long before she slumped back into her old posture.

“Legs straight! Fingers together! Hands flat against your thighs!” Instructor Huáng swung the whistle dangling around his neck as he paced up and down. “You boys in the back—tallest ones in the group—don’t think I can’t see you slacking just because you’re at the end!”

Mò Xuěyáo had already braced herself mentally. Compared to the girls around her frowning and shifting uncomfortably, her expression was the calmest of all.

In fact, she found it… oddly fun.

Like a personal challenge.

The golden sunlight slanted across her face, illuminating the fine downy hairs on her cheeks.

She stood ramrod straight, trying her best not to move. But even so, her body trembled slightly. Despite the cool mountain air, sweat began to roll down her face in heavy drops.

Her long lashes dampened with moisture, making her eyelids feel heavy.

In her mind’s eye, she imagined herself guarding the border with weapon in hand. Just a few hundred meters away stood enemy soldiers, locked in a tense standoff, eyes fixed on one another.

Then her imagination shifted—if war broke out, she would march to the frontlines as a soldier.

Rifle in hand, charging through smoke and gunfire, mowing down enemies by the dozen…

Every boy must’ve had such a fantasy at some point, right?

And after living sixteen years as a boy, of course Mò Xuěyáo had them too.

It was, if nothing else, a way to distract herself.

At least it made the time pass a little faster.

“Good, very good. What’s your name?” Instructor Huáng looked at her approvingly. “Your stance isn’t perfect, but you’re focused. You’re doing all the basics right.”

“…Mò… Xuěyáo,” she replied quietly.

“Nice! Everyone, learn from her—especially you boys! Still giggling? Laugh one more time and I’ll send you off to the pretty female instructor next door!”

As time passed, more and more students began to wobble. The line lost its structure, bodies slumping in exhaustion.

Only a few still held firm.

Among the girls, Mò Xuěyáo stood her ground. Among the boys, Xuě Xiānshēng kept his posture sharp. And then there was Ān Ruòsù, the soft-featured boy who clung to the position with quiet determination.

“All right, rest where you are!”

At Instructor Huáng’s command, the students finally let out a collective sigh of relief. But after standing so long, their bodies were stiff—it was hard to even sit down properly.

Mò Xuěyáo exhaled deeply and plopped down cross-legged, a bit wobbly.

—At this point, who cared if the ground was clean or not?

Their clothes were destined to get dirty anyway.

By day five of training, everyone’s uniform would be a disaster.

“I’m exhausted… We must’ve been standing for at least half an hour, right?” Wáng Jiālè looked like she was about to collapse. If not for her arms holding her up, she probably would’ve melted into the ground.

The one who answered wasn’t a classmate—but the instructor.

“Half an hour? Hahaha! If we’d really done that, you’d be on a stretcher right now. You were only standing for five minutes.”

“Only five?” Mò Xuěyáo blinked in disbelief. She’d been sure it was at least fifteen.

“Yup. And look how tired you all are already. You think standing still is easy? Now rest for ten minutes, then we’ll get moving again. By the way—none of you brought water bottles? Tomorrow, make sure to bring one and fill it to the top, or you’ll die of thirst.”

“I hope it rains tomorrow…” Wáng Jiālè was already praying, even though this was just the beginning of training.

“No problem,” said the instructor with a grin. “We’ll train in the rain—with ponchos on.”

“Ah… you’re a monster…” Wáng Jiālè groaned weakly.

Those five minutes of standing had felt eternal, but the ten-minute break vanished in the blink of an eye.

When the instructor called for them to rise, many students looked reluctant.

But Mò Xuěyáo got up quickly. She stretched her limbs as best she could—her sweat had started to cool, and the mountain breeze now made her shiver.

“Next—marching in place! Let’s see who’s got two left feet.” Instructor Huáng whistled and barked, “March—begin!”

The class started marching on the spot. The boys in the back still had energy and began stomping hard, making thunderous noise like they were trying to crush the asphalt beneath their shoes.

“You in the back—the chubby one! You’re moving same arm, same leg!”

He was talking about Gāo Yuán.

“I am?” Gāo Yuán looked confused. He glanced around to adjust his steps, but ended up messing up even more.

Even the people beside him started getting thrown off rhythm.

“Don’t move,” Instructor Huáng said as he approached and grabbed Gāo Yuán’s arm. “Now start—swing your arms.”

“Like this?” Gāo Yuán asked, unsure.

“Yeah, keep that tempo. Try to keep up, you're always half a beat behind.”

“Oh! Okay!”

“Now you're half a beat ahead.”

Gāo Yuán was drenched in sweat. He realized—marching in place was way harder than it looked.

Instructor Huáng scanned the group again. His eyes landed on Mò Xuěyáo.

She immediately felt uncomfortable. Using her peripheral vision, she double-checked her posture. No missteps, no mistakes.

But the instructor was still staring.

Then he walked right up to her and stared into her eyes.

Mò Xuěyáo pretended not to notice and focused on marching.

“Mò Xuěyáo, right?”

“…Yes…” she answered nervously. She hadn’t messed up, but it still felt like being caught doing something wrong.

“Are you mixed-race?”

“Huh?” Mò Xuěyáo was stunned. Where did that come from?

“In this sunlight, your eyes aren’t dark brown—they’re deep blue.”

“Really…?” She looked a little awkward, and several nearby students turned to look at her. The bolder ones, like Gāo Yuán, even stepped out of formation to take a peek.

Naturally, he was caught instantly.

“Chubby boy! Why’d you step out? Want to go for a run?”

“No no no!”

“Then you wanted to sneak a peek at a girl, huh?”

“Ahem!” Gāo Yuán coughed in embarrassment. “Instructor! Admiring beauty is a universal instinct!”

“Oh? Then you like wearing skirts too, right?”

“No! Definitely not!”

“Looking’s fine. Come—everyone stop.” Instructor Huáng grinned devilishly and slung his arm over Gāo Yuán’s shoulder. In a comically affectionate but inescapable grip, he dragged him into the girls’ ranks.

He made room by nudging Huā Yínyín and Wáng Jiālè aside.

“You’ll train here now. All right—once again—march!”

The students started marching again.

Despite his usual clowning, Gāo Yuán turned as red as a roasted duck standing among the girls.

“Hey Huáng Gǒu, why’s there a guy in your girls’ squad?” a passing instructor joked as he came over during break.

“Nonsense. That’s a girl—just a little ugly is all,” Huáng Gǒu replied with a straight face.

The students burst into laughter—not just at the joke, but also because of their instructor’s name.

Everyone, including Mò Xuěyáo, was secretly wondering what character the “gǒu” in Huáng Gǒu was written with.

Surely… it couldn’t be the same “gǒu” as “wolf-dog,” right?

The first afternoon of military training dragged on endlessly.

Standing still. Marching in place. Rinse and repeat.

Even the boys who’d started off full of energy lost their drive by the end, their heavy stomps reduced to feeble shuffles.

By 4:30 p.m., training finally came to a close.

Exhausted students sagged their shoulders and shuffled off like zombies, dreaming only of showers and sleep.

Some were just plain starving. Lǐ Hóngrǎn, who’d been yelling drills all day, claimed he could eat an entire cow right now.

But their trials weren’t over yet.

When they reached the cafeteria, the chief instructor—nicknamed “Old Tiān”—announced that no one could eat unless they sang a military song first. Loudly.

“Alright, our class too—let’s sing loud so we can eat sooner. I’ll start us off—‘The sun sets in the west, and the clouds glow red—’”

The students froze.

Used to pop music, none of them could quite recall how this song went.

Luckily, it was Xuě Xiānshēng’s warm voice that rose up through the awkward silence:

“—The soldier returns from target practice at dusk…”