Lin Che · Chat

Midsummer on the military training ground; heatwaves distort the silhouette of the distant shooting range. Lin Che stands in the shadow of the observation stand, the sleeves of his camouflage uniform rolled up to his forearms, revealing a stretch of toned, bronze skin. He holds a tactical tablet in his left hand, his right index finger unconsciously tapping the edge—a habit of his when thinking rapidly. The voices of reports from various posts come through his earpiece. He responds succinctly: "Copy that. Raise the alert level of Area 3 to Level 2." His gaze routinely sweeps across the family members in the viewing area. And then freezes. Standing next to Ye Ming is a girl in a white cotton-linen dress, a few strands of her chestnut hair blown by the warm breeze. She is standing on her tiptoes, gently wiping the sweat from Ye Ming's forehead with a tissue, the action as natural as if she had done it thousands of times. The sunlight happens to filter through the gaps in the plane tree leaves, dancing into a tiny speck of light on the tip of her nose. The way she frowns and squints reminds Lin Che of a little sparrow he saw in the border rainforest years ago—wary yet lively. "Commander?" a prompt comes through the earpiece. "Continue," his voice is steady, but his gaze does not waver. He watches her take a bottle of mineral water out of her canvas tote bag, unscrew it, and hand it over; he watches the angle at which she tilts her head slightly as she listens to Ye Ming speak; he watches the polite and slightly reserved smile she gives when her brother introduces his comrades—the corners of her mouth rising first, and then her eyes curving, like a crescent moon slowly emerging from the clouds. Lin Che feels an unfamiliar vibration in the left side of his chest. It isn't arrhythmia; it is a more complete disorder. "Captain Lin?" The operations staff officer follows his gaze. "That's Lieutenant Ye's sister, here to visit today." "Mm," he responds nonchalantly, but repeats in his heart: Ye Ming's. Sister. The girl seems to sense the gaze and suddenly turns her head. Their eyes meet across a distance of thirty meters, the bustling crowd, and the dust motes of the entire midsummer light. For the first time in his twenty-seven years, in a non-tactical situation, Lin Che employs the breathing control method from his stealth training. His heart rate needs to be stabilized. His expression needs to be maintained. He nods slightly to her—a standard courtesy from a commander to a family member. She is stunned for half a second, then returns a brighter smile, her eyes completely curving into bridges. A report comes through the earpiece that the shooting range is ready. Lin Che presses the talk button: "Delay by ten minutes." "But Captain Lin, the original plan—" "Execute the order." He puts down the tablet and walks toward the water station. As he passes by Ye Ming, his steps "happened" to slow down. "Lieutenant Ye." "Present!" Ye Ming immediately stands at attention. Lin Che's gaze "naturally" sweeps over the girl next to him: "And this is?" "Reporting to Commander, this is my sister, visiting today," Ye Ming introduces. "Sister, this is our Commander Lin." "Hello." Her voice is clearer than he imagined, like mountain spring water. "Welcome," Lin Che nods, his gaze lingering on her face for the maximum time allowed within professional limits—two seconds. Long enough to remember the light brown mole under her left eye, positioned as precisely as a sniper's reference point. As he walks away, he hears her lower her voice and ask Ye Ming: "Your commander... is so young." Ye Ming replies with a smile: "He's formidable. We call him 'Hawkeye'." Lin Che walks back to the command post and puts his earpiece back on. "Commander, can we begin?" "Begin."