Chapter 247: There's a pain called parting with comrades

On the track, Zhou Kaidong wore a heavy load, an ammunition box in each hand, sprinting.

Sweat soaked his camouflage uniform completely, and his chapped lips had turned somewhat pale.

Though he was already exhausted, at the final hundred meters he still gritted his teeth and roared, accelerating.

"Ah ah ah!"

The clatter of the ammunition boxes couldn't drown out Zhou Kaidong's unwilling roar.

After crossing the finish line, he suddenly felt nauseous, rushed to the nearby drain, and began to retch.

What he had eaten earlier had long been burned off by the massive training volume; now he couldn't bring anything up.

But his stomach was cramping severely, and his head felt heavy and swollen.

As saliva and mucus were forcibly vomited out, the little strength left in his body was drained.

Several times, his hands could barely support the ground, as if he might collapse.

"How... how much?"

Zhou Kaidong endured the discomfort, not turning back, and asked the deputy of the third squad.

"Ten minutes fifty-five seconds."

"......"

Seeing Zhou Kaidong silent, the deputy of the third squad grew anxious.

"Squad Leader, carrying this much weight, running three kilometers with this result is already terrifying."

"You've been running all afternoon, your stamina is drained too much; your scores will surely keep getting worse—you can't be so hard on yourself."

Zhou Kaidong wiped his mouth with his sleeve, staggered to his feet, waved at him, and said, "I don't have time."

The deputy of the third squad exclaimed, "Even if there's no time, you can't torture yourself like this! Squad Leader, don't run—if you keep going, something will happen, really will!"

"It's fine, I'll just take it easy, take it easy..."

Zhou Kaidong slowly straightened his spine, lifted his head, and looked at the bright sky.

The sunlight was a bit dazzling, making black spots dance before his eyes, and his head felt like it kept cutting out.

He could never break Cheng Jun's former running record; he felt unwilling, yet he had to admire him.

Those fourth-period veterans were no joke— their legs were like flying legs, and nobody behind could catch up.

This also made Zhou Kaidong curious: if Cheng Jun himself ran, could he break the record he set in his prime?

Zhou Kaidong smiled and shook his head, tossing these trivial matters away with his sweat, and staggered once more toward the two heavy ammunition boxes.

At that moment, his mind held only one thought: time is short, don't leave any regrets, absolutely no regrets.

"Squad Leader, please don't run—I'm begging you!"

"If you keep going, something will happen—really will!"

"I won't time you anymore—I'm going to call the platoon leader right now and have your men tell you off!"

The deputy of the third squad ran off in a panic; he couldn't be persuaded, but someone could.

Zhou Kaidong walked up to the two ammunition boxes, involuntarily twitching the corner of his mouth, revealing a faint smile.

Those words warmed his heart.

Just like when he was a mischievous kid at home, his mother couldn't control him and would always say she'd go tell his dad to beat him.

How nice—it feels great to have someone care and be concerned.

In the past, he never listened to his parents' nagging; every phone call, after a few words he'd hurriedly hang up.

But now, even if he wanted to hear it once more, he couldn't—being scolded a couple of times would be welcome.

Indeed, people only learn to cherish something after they've lost it.

Zhou Kaidong took a deep breath and readjusted his mindset.

He grabbed the handles of the ammunition boxes with both hands, but found he couldn't lift them no matter how hard he tried.

"Squad Leader, take a break."

Lu Yang placed his hand on the ammunition box.

The two ammunition boxes aren't heavy; it's the worries that press on a person, making them breathless and unable to straighten their back.

Zhou Kaidong let go, plopped onto the ground, propped himself up with both hands, and took a heavy breath.

"I'm old, I'm old, useless, I can't run anymore."

"Back when I first enlisted, no matter how hard it was, I didn't feel the hardship; a day's sleep would cure any fatigue."

"These Iron Feet of mine, I'll eventually return them to the original squad leader and the company commander."

Lu Yang didn't respond; instead, he sat beside him, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, and handed it over.

Although he should be drinking water now, Lu Yang felt he needed a cigarette more.

Zhou Kaidong didn't refuse; he took a cigarette, Lu Yang helped light it, and he drew a deep breath.

But after the smoke circulated in his lungs and he exhaled, he looked at the cigarette in his hand with some surprise.

"What's wrong?"

Lu Yang usually only hands them out, never smokes himself.

But he also lit one, just to keep him company.

Zhou Kaidong shook his head: "Is this cigarette damp?"

Lu Yang also took a careful drag: "Probably not—I just opened it."

Zhou Kaidong silently continued smoking, but felt the cigarette was unusually bitter, astringent, even slightly spicy today.

Lu Yang seemed to understand what the squad leader meant by 'damp'—the taste of smoke varies with one's mood.

A cigarette from his wife tastes sweet with happiness.

A cigarette from a comrade tastes purely rich and mellow.

The cigarettes given by the leader—smoking them brings the joy of being valued.

The cigarettes smoked when parting are naturally sorrowful, bitter in taste.

Lu Yang looked at him and said: "Squad Leader, stay!"

Zhou Kaidong choked on a mouthful of smoke, then laughed and cursed: "What the hell—is the unit yours to run, or mine? If you want to leave, leave; if you want to stay, stay!"

Lu Yang said firmly: "I have a way to make you stay!"

"Stop it!"

Zhou Kaidong had a cigarette dangling from his lips, made a stop gesture with his hand, and said: "I'm the type who's always been straight-backed since childhood. If it's about pulling strings, asking for help, playing the victim—just don't mention it."

"I have my own principles; even if I can't be a soldier, with hands and feet I won't starve."

"Real men need face!"

He jokingly slapped his face, but shoved Lu Yang's words right back into his mouth.

Earlier, in the electronic classroom, he had indeed wanted to ask Xiong Yao for help, because the other party had promised to owe him a favor.

Nowadays, Kang Changyi has gradually shaken off his old bad habits, slowly gained recognition, and blended in with everyone.

So he thought the other party should be willing to help, after all, for a leader of a division, such a matter is merely a trivial effort.

But after dialing, Lu Yang still couldn't bring himself to say it, because he knew Zhou Kaidong's character too well.

He also knew that this strong-willed man could absolutely not tolerate being pitied, being seen as pitiable, or receiving special treatment.

So Lu Yang merely gave a brief report on Kang Changyi's recent situation over the phone, then hastily hung up.

Zhou Kaidong looked at Lu Yang's silent silence, raised his hand and patted his arm: "People always have to part, and the more we part, the farther we drift. Not seeing each other's faces, not being able to touch, makes you long for them to the point of heartache."

"Life, after all, is just a process of constantly meeting and constantly parting. In fact, I've already grown used to it."

Lu Yang stared at him without blinking, quietly acting as a listener.

Zhou Kaidong also got fired up, rolled up his sleeves and said: "Really, you'd better not doubt it. Every year I have to send off a batch of people, constantly seeing them come and go—I've long been used to it; my heart is now harder than stone."

"Actually, I thought I had long been prepared, but only when I myself was about to leave did I realize I had never really been ready."

"But that no longer matters; what matters is that those who stay do their jobs well."

"You are the soldier I brought up, and also the most talented soldier I have ever seen."

"I can't bear to watch you enter a military academy, watch you become an officer—that is my regret."

"However."

Zhou Kaidong laughed and laughed, tears streaming down: "If memories were all beautiful, they'd have no value. In earnest, help Old Ma and them make the Sixth Company better and better."

"Whether the future leads to the navy or staying in the army, as long as we remain the People's Liberation Army of Dragon Country and can still wear the uniform, that's enough."

Lu Yang's eyes also reddened; when the former instructor Pan Yuan left, many people cried, but he did not.

He even felt that perhaps he should squeeze out a couple of tears to match the atmosphere.

In the past, he didn't understand.

But now he clearly knows that this ache of being unwilling to part is called comradeship!