Chapter 640 - 457: Is His Name Really Number One?

The long night stretched on, and the mountains and forests surrounding three sides of the school added their chorus of insect songs to the late September night.

Walking back to his dormitory, Fang Huai sorted through his thoughts. Under the night lamp, his silhouette appeared rather tall, but not particularly outstanding. However, the thoughts swirling in his head, if voiced, could shock the entire Firefighting forces.

Yet, even this simple silhouette had caught the attention of two people.

Two girls dressed in long-sleeved uniforms were walking towards the service center for soldiers.

One of them said, "Wow, a young freshman, yay."

The other was dazed, "...Huai..."

She didn’t complete the name because her memory was vague, and in her nervousness, she had forgotten it.

The figure quickly passed by, only concerned with frowning and watching the path, without making eye contact. His steps seemed slow, and yet in just a few seconds, he had already walked far away.

"Do you know him, Zhang Dan?"

Zhang Dan’s gaze followed the direction Fang Huai took towards the dormitory. It took several seconds for the girl who had spoken to receive a response.

"Yeah... He’s from our brigade."

"What? Didn’t you stop him? But I’ve met all the freshmen from the Guizhou Brigade this year, and he wasn’t one of them."

The girl was very certain—tall and handsome with fair skin, someone she wouldn’t forget if she had seen him.

"It’s true, it’s him... Ah, his name is Fang Huai!"

Zhang Dan finally remembered the name. She called out a bit loudly and with some irritation, angry at herself for how unmemorable her love at first sight turned out to be, forgetting his name upon meeting him.

Meanwhile, right by the dormitory door, Fang Huai heard someone calling his name, finally snapped out of his thoughts, glanced back, and saw the person staring hopefully at him. With an impassive face, he turned and entered the building.

It was Zhang Dan; he recognized her.

However, he had already experienced enough of female soldiers’ infatuation. With such a tight schedule at the Military Academy, he simply didn’t have the energy to entertain these matters, so he decided to act as if he hadn’t seen. Better that way.

...

In his past life, Fang Huai had known almost nothing about the Military Academy. After arriving, he had been learning by listening here and asking there about the rules.

Luckily, there were no bad people in the dorm, and everyone got along well. Fang Huai initiated conversations, and nobody ignored him outright.

After everyone finished washing up and before lights out, they all sat together and started bragging.

Bro Tao was Jin Guotao’s nickname, snatched from squad leader Yang Tao because their "Tao" sounded the same. With two "Bro Taos" in one room being confusing, the District team leader was then called Bro Tao, and the squad leader received a new nickname, "Man."

Because Yang Tao was always boasting, saying, "A man has to be like this and that."

Bro Tao quite liked his nickname.

Then there was Sun Ning from Beijing, who was a candidate for accelerated promotion. Everyone said he had significant connections in the Capital City and was robust, so they nicknamed him "Big Boss."

Big Boss seemed used to the nickname but repeatedly warned not to call him that when leadership was around.

The other three, Luo Chuanhong, Zhou Long, and Xu Jiang, hadn’t yet been nicknamed.

Xu Jiang, who had contradicted Fang Huai in the classroom, given Fang’s rather sullen first impression, suggested they nickname him "Silly Fool."

Fang Huai wasn’t about to be bullied and, after observing Xu Jiang for a couple of seconds, promptly bestowed upon him a nickname.

"What’s up with that haircut of yours? It’s all pointy on top. From now on, we’ll call you ’Firecracker’."

On seeing Xu Jiang’s poorly trimmed buzzcut with the pointy top, the others burst into laughter and quickly agreed.

According to them, training at the Military Academy might be tougher than that of the new recruit group, but it was nothing compared to the Squadron; there wasn’t much night training. Fixed training was only from four to five-thirty in the afternoon every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, an hour and a half each day. Tuesday and Thursday afternoons were for drill practice.

However, it was the Trainee Big Team who managed the training, which would sometimes adjust flexibly based on the school’s requirements. For instance, if there was a drill performance coming up, they’d focus more on drills, add additional training during the morning PT, and do more physical training if overall physical ability wasn’t up to par.

Sometimes they might even grant mercy with free time.

Other skill exercises would have their own designated classes.

For ordinary students, this intensity might be grueling, as many who’d passed were Staff Officers. But for Fang and the others from the Eighth Squadron, this regimen was merely to maintain their fitness. To avoid falling behind, they’d have to push themselves harder.

The gap in physical fitness here was even wider than in the new recruit group. Take the pull-up bar, for example; the weak could barely manage two or three, while the strong could bust out dozens.

During this discussion, squad leader Yang Tao posed a question:

"How’s Fang Huai’s physical ability? Our class is full of top performers!"

Fang Huai just smiled, "You guys just go for it when we train. I won’t hold you back."

Everyone rolled their eyes at him.

"Cut the mystery act! Once we’re on the training ground, we’ll teach you a lesson!"

...

The next day.

What woke everyone up in the morning was no longer a whistle, but the familiar sound of reveille coming from the loudspeakers.

About half a minute after the sound had stopped, someone yawned loudly in the hallway.

"Ahh..."

By then, Fang Huai had already washed up and emerged from the washroom with his basin.

The morning routine here was the same as in the Squadron—first, morning drill, then wash up, and afterward, breakfast. If one were to follow the usual routine, they would soon have to queue up in the washroom, competing with over a hundred others on the floor for one of the twenty-some faucets.

Time was precious. With four classes in the morning, getting ready early meant getting to them early too.

Back in the classroom, he was greeted by a curious sight.

The lights were on.

All six guys were fully dressed, their actions strangely synchronous: backs against the edge of the bed, feet on the floor, upper bodies reclining on the bed, heads covered with blankets, each holding a belt in such a way that they could jump up and out the door at any moment, sneaking in those precious extra minutes of sleep.