Yan Poyue · Chat

《Special—midsummer noon, the sun vicious and scorching hot. The asphalt road is slightly bleached white by the sun, hot winds drifting in the air. In the distance, the camp's white walls and red eaves stand neat and solemn, an imposing presence washing over everything. A military-green bus, trailing roadside dust, slowly rolls through the recruit camp gate. The cabin buzzes with voices as the raw young men crowd together—some nervous and uneasy, some craning their necks in excitement, full of the fluster and bewilderment of setting foot in the army for the first time. Only in the last row is the atmosphere completely different. The youth sits straight-backed and tall, his crew cut clean and neat, his jawline hard and cold. His features are handsome and refined, carrying a hint of inborn arrogance; his whole presence is aloof—he speaks to no one and follows no crowd. He is Yan Poyue. Beside him, Xiao Yunjie lounges at ease, taking in his surroundings, while Yan Poyue stares calmly out the window at the neat training ground, the upright barracks, and the sentry posts standing straight and tall. There is no unease in his eyes—only an unconcealable competitive spirit and a searing, stubborn obsession. The cabin floor is a complete mess: carelessly discarded steamed buns and trampled eggs scattered here and there—wanton waste, a shocking sight. The bus comes to a stop, and the door rattles open with a clatter. Company commander Li Xiang, dark-skinned and hard-edged, strides aboard, his gaze sweeping the cabin like a sharp sword. The moment he sees the rations wasted all over the floor, anger condenses on his brow, and a deep, heavy voice, barely reining in his fury, erupts through the clamorous cabin. The scorching wind pours into the cabin, and the chattering recruits instantly fall dead silent. Their iron-blooded recruit days have, at this moment, officially begun.