Chapter 532: Postwar Side Story

Several weeks later.

The main building of Qiu Ce Yuan still wasn't finished.

The outer wall, overturned by the battle's aftermath, was temporarily covered with anti-radiation canvas; when the wind blew, the gray-white fabric billowed and fell, producing a dry scraping sound.

Half of the training field had been relaid.

The other half still exposed the charred foundation.

New trainees in uniform ran laps under the instructor's shouts, the formation crooked with personality.

"Regulation article one!"

"Come back alive!"

"Regulation article two!"

"Teammates first!"

"Regulation article three!"

"Reporting, sir! I haven't memorized it yet!"

The instructor, furious, lifted his foot and chased after them.

A burst of stifled laughter erupted from the ranks.

Qin Zhixia sat on the bench beside the field, her left shoulder bare.

The newly fitted mechanical prosthesis extended from her shoulder blade, its silver-gray casing unpainted; inside, fine gears meshed and turned, each motion bringing a slight friction.

Click.

Click.

Click.

She single-handedly adjusted the neural interface port, her right fingertips pressing the control panel, a deep weariness weighing on her brow.

The prosthesis's feedback was sharper than the previous generation.

Too sharp.

Sometimes she could even sense the hollow resistance when the metal fingertips grasped at air.

Absurd.

A limb that no longer existed still reminded her of pain at night.

Qin Zhixia lowered her gaze, watching the mechanical palm slowly open.

The silver-white fingers spread, closed, then spread again.

Very obedient.

More obedient than many living people.

In her mind flashed the image of Xiao Zhang collapsing for the last time.

The one who always followed behind her shouting "Qin Team," later wearing the Prophet's skin, stood in the half-built tower, asking her whether this world was still worth saving.

She couldn't give a nice answer.

She could only kill him.

That was harsh.

And very Investigation Bureau.

A slogan sounded again in the distance.

"We will ultimately take back tomorrow!"

A young voice shouted until it cracked, the tail end splitting.

Qin Zhixia lifted her eyes to look over.

Several trainees ran to the bend; one's legs went weak, nearly falling, and the person beside him cursed while helping him up.

"Don't act with me, bro! I just finished my will this morning; I don't want to write a eulogy for a teammate this afternoon!"

"Shut up, hold steady, I'm hypoglycemic!"

"You're hypoglycemic—you should've said sooner! I still have half a compressed biscuit in my pocket, battle-damaged edition; want to chew it?"

Qin Zhixia listened, the tension in her brows easing a little.

Humans, this kind of thing, are strange.

The day before they were laying flowers for the martyrs' list; the next day they could kick up a fuss over the cafeteria's braised pork being short two pieces.

Yet precisely because of that, this ruin hadn't truly become a graveyard.

From nearby came the sound of a canned coffee pull-tab being opened.

Jiang Yuan and Su Ming walked from the direction of the administrative building.

Jiang Yuan wore civilian clothes, his black coat buttoned up properly, no card bag at his waist, holding two cans of coffee.

No mission.

No alarm.

No captain shouting his coordinates over the comms.

Thus this newly promoted Shadow Lord walked with a stiff posture that was rather comical.

His left foot stepped out, then paused half a beat.

His right foot followed, shoulders held straight.

He looked exactly like he was taking part in some leadership inspection reception process.

Su Ming watched him from the side for three seconds, unable to hold back.

"Would walking normally get your pay docked?"

Jiang Yuan answered seriously: "In a state of leave, I'm not quite sure what bearing I should maintain."

Su Ming twisted open his coffee, took a sip, and his expression instantly became hard to read.

"Just maintain human decorum."

Jiang Yuan was silent for two seconds.

"I'll try."

Qin Zhixia lifted her mechanical hand.

"Aren't you two being forced to recuperate by Lord Wei?"

Su Ming stopped, shaking the coffee in his hand.

"Recuperation doesn't mean you don't have to eat."

He looked toward the Cafeteria, his tone laced with a rare resentment.

"Moreover, I must seriously criticize the Cafeteria's prices during the reconstruction period."

Qin Zhixia looked at him.

Su Ming said, "Tomato scrambled eggs cost twelve bucks, and it only contains tomato skins and what seem to be egg memories."

Jiang Yuan added, "I bought a serving of beef noodles."

Qin Zhixia asked, "How does it taste?"

Jiang Yuan pondered for half a second, choosing a very restrained description.

"It maintains a strong respect for the very concept of beef."

Su Ming sneered.

"Speak in human terms."

Jiang Yuan whispered, "No meat."

Qin Zhixia watched these two, who can clash with quasi‑gods on the battlefield, conduct a serious debrief over a lunch, and felt the weight on her chest loosen a bit.

She stood up, and her mechanical prosthetic automatically snapped back onto her shoulder armor.

"Let's go."

"I'll treat you."

Su Ming lifted an eyelid.

"Qin Team, you're generous."

Jiang Yuan reflexively straightened up.

"Thank you, Qin Team."

Su Ming looked at him.

"Don't salute, I beg you. Today is a day off, not a memorial service."

Jiang Yuan put the hand he had lifted halfway back down.

The three headed toward the staff Cafeteria.

Along the way, construction crews and the Medical Team were everywhere.

In the corner, unused seal boxes were stacked; in the Corridor, stretchers rolled by, wounded wrapped in bandages, still whining to the nurse.

"Sister, could you give me a cooler mounting frame? This grayish one affects my chances of finding a partner."

The nurse didn't look up.

"You have seven broken ribs; find a lung before looking for a partner."

A temporary sign hung at the Cafeteria entrance.

During reconstruction, seats are limited; please stagger your meals.

Below the sign, people were packed together.

Staggered?

Nonexistent.

After the Gospel Church war, the Investigation Bureau, from top to bottom, held an almost devout love for eating.

Being able to eat hot rice shows you're still alive today.

Snatching a chicken leg means luck is on your side.

Getting the last chicken leg before Liang Wen is a fate worthy of an ancestral tomb.

When Qin Zhixia entered carrying a tray, the Cafeteria was filled with hot air mixed with the scent of disinfectant, hitting her face.

The aunt at the window served her dishes expressionlessly.

Two spoonfuls of rice.

One portion of greens.

One piece of braised pork.

Qin Zhixia stared at that piece of meat.

The meat was small.

But it was stubborn.

Su Ming stood beside, staring at the price tag, his gaze more serious than when interrogating a criminal.

"Braised pork, thirty‑eight?"

The window aunt looked up.

"Post‑war supply is tight."

Su Ming said, "Thirty‑eight for this piece? Did it earn any merit in its lifetime?"

The aunt stabbed the spoon into the dish.

"Love to eat, but won't."

Jiang Yuan has already paid.

He lifted the tray and earnestly urged, "Su Team, at the current stage, the logistical pressure is huge."

Su Ming looked at the two slices of meat in his plate, thin enough to be transparent.

"I understand the logistical pressure."

He paused.

"But I don't understand why the meat slices have a shrinking function."

Qin Zhixia couldn't hold back, lowered her head and smiled a little.

Very short.

Very light.

But in these days, it's already a luxury.

The three of them carried their trays and walked inside.

All seats were full.

Every table was packed with people.

There were members of the Medical Team, the Construction Team, newly trained recruits, and field agents still wearing bandages who stubbornly stuck to dry rice.

Jiang Yuan saw a few recruits trying to give up their seats; just as he was about to speak to stop them, the other side had already stood up with their trays.

"Jiang Team! Sit with us!"

Jiang Yuan's whole body tensed.

"No need, you eat."

That recruit was so excited that the chopsticks almost flew out.

"Jiang Team talked to me!"

A companion beside him lowered his voice.

"Grow up, sit down, don't embarrass our class."

Qin Zhixia was about to change direction when a warm voice rose over the din.

"Zhi Xia."

She stopped in her tracks.

By the window, Chu Che sat there.

His Doctor's Lab Coat was spotless, buttons fastened neatly from top to bottom.

Sunlight filtered through the half‑repaired glass window, landing on his shoulder and lighting his clear, handsome face with a clean, gentle glow.

A tray lay in front of him.

The dishes were simple.

Rice, greens, steamed egg.

Beside it lay a stack of tissues and an unopened pair of disposable gloves.

Chu Che raised his hand to signal, his tone as natural as if they had only met yesterday.

"There's a seat here."

Qin Zhixia glanced at that table.

Four‑person seating.

The seat opposite him was empty, and the side seat was also empty.

In the Cafeteria where people were jostling almost to the point of fighting, this table somehow retained a quiet corner.

Jiang Yuan whispered, "Qin Team?"

Su Ming also looked at her, eyes scrutinizing, but said nothing more.

Qin Zhixia carried her tray over.

"Thank you."

Chu Che nudged the tissues toward her hand.

"You're welcome."

Jiang Yuan sat down lightly, as if the chair were a high‑risk Containment Object.

Su Ming sat on the outer side, first giving Chu Che a glance.

"Dr. Chu also came to the Cafeteria?"

Chu Che's smile was gentle.

"The boxed meals have been discontinued."

Su Ming said, "Then you're a bit unlucky today."

Chu Che glanced at the tray.

"Being able to eat on time is already pretty good."

The words were ordinary.

Coming from his mouth, however, they carried the soothing power unique to a doctor.

Qin Zhixia picked up her chopsticks, lifted the greens, then set them down.

She looked at Chu Che.

Some memories came uninvited.

It felt as if not long ago, she hadn't broken her arm yet, Weird hadn't been made public to everyone, and she was going on a blind date.

Sitting opposite her was the very Chu Che before her eyes.

Cultivated, refined, with measured conduct.

He would push the water cup to a suitable position when she was tired, and would give an impeccable answer when she probed.

At that time she had doubted him.

She had also overturned it.

Later the world changed too fast.

So fast that the blind date resembled an old photo, its edges curled up.

Chu Che noticed she had stopped using her chopsticks, and his gaze fell on her left shoulder.

He did not stare at the prosthetic for too long.

Very polite.

Very measured.

"New model?"

Qin Zhixia hummed.

"High-risk mechanical prosthetic, linked with the Ignorance interface."

Chu Che nodded.

"During the neural connection adaptation period, phantom pain usually occurs, especially near the shoulder blade and collarbone. Does it become more noticeable at night?"

Qin Zhixia's hand holding the chopsticks paused.

"How did you guess that?"

"Not a guess."

Chu Che cut open the steamed egg, his tone calm.

"The more advanced the prosthetic, the closer its feedback is to a natural limb; the more complete the information the brain receives, the harder it is to accept the loss itself."

He lifted his eyes, the gaze behind his Gold Thread Glasses warm and moist.

"Simply put, it helps you regain your hand, and also reminds you that you have lost your hand."

Qin Zhixia did not speak.

The Cafeteria was noisy.

Someone was grabbing the condiments.

Someone complained the soup was too salty.

Someone at the neighboring table was discussing the new trainees' evaluation.

But after Chu Che's words fell, the clamor around her ears suddenly drifted half a beat away.

She lowered her head to look at the mechanical hand.

The silvery-white joints rested quietly against the edge of the tray.

"Is there a way to resolve it?"

Chu Che took out a sticky note from his pocket and wrote a few lines on it.

The handwriting was neat and the strokes restrained.

"Do mirror training half an hour before sleep. Do not use strong stimulation to suppress pain, or it will cause the nerve to misjudge more severely. The medical room has a set of low-frequency intervention equipment; I'll grant you access later."

Qin Zhixia took the sticky note.

"Thank you."

Chu Che shook his head slightly.

"Within the scope of duty."

Su Ming was drinking coffee beside him, but his eyes never left Chu Che.

Jiang Yuan glanced at Qin Zhixia, then at Chu Che, his expression gradually falling into tactical bewilderment.

He couldn't handle this atmosphere.

It's much harder than fighting an S Ji Weird.

Jiang Yuan lowered his head to pick vegetables, trying to reduce his presence.

Then he picked up nothing.

The meat was gone from his plate.

Su Ming chewed expressionlessly.

Jiang Yuan looked at him.

Su Ming said, "You just zoned out."

Jiang Yuan remained silent.

Qin Zhixia saw this scene, the corner of her mouth twitched, but she ultimately gave no comment.

Chu Che also saw it.

He transferred the untouched piece of braised pork from his own plate to Jiang Yuan's plate.

"I have a clinic this afternoon; eating too oily makes me sleepy."

Jiang Yuan was startled.

"Dr. Chu, this is inappropriate."

Su Ming suddenly spoke up.

"Appropriate. This piece costs thirty-eight, its medical value is high; you should eat it with reverence."

Qin Zhixia finally laughed out loud.

This time she couldn't hold it back.

After laughing, even she felt a bit surprised.

Chu Che handed over a tissue.

His movements were natural, and the distance was just right.

"Looks like the recovery is going well."

Qin Zhixia took the tissue, lifted her gaze, and looked at him.

"Are you talking about my prosthetic, or my condition?"

Chu Che thought seriously.

"Both count."

He paused.

"Qin Team, you can't keep putting yourself on the battlefield forever. Humans aren't Containment Objects; they can't rely solely on seals and numbers to stay stable."

Qin Zhixia squeezed the tissue and fell silent for a moment.

"It's rather ironic that this comes from a doctor at Qiu Ce Yuan."

Chu Che's expression remained unchanged.

"Which is why it should be said even more."

Su Ming's coffee can hovered in midair.

Jiang Yuan also lifted his head.

Qin Zhixia looked at Chu Che.

At that moment, she suddenly thought of many people.

Xiao Zhang.

the fallen teammates.

the Fierce Ghost locked in a containment pod.

the names that were trampled by the grand situation.

and herself.

She had once despised the logic of the existing system.

But when she rose to a higher position and held more casualty reports in her hands, she realized that many choices were not right‑or‑wrong questions.

Cut anywhere with a knife, and it bleeds.

Chu Che looked at her gently, without probing, without comforting.

This sense of proportion felt too comfortable.

Comfortable enough to make one hard to guard against.

Qin Zhixia lowered her head and picked up the piece of braised pork.

The meat was a bit tough.

The chopsticks pierced it, and a little oil seeped from the edges.

She was about to bring it to her mouth.

Bang!

A dinner plate slammed heavily onto the table.

The broth splashed in a half‑circle.

Jiang Yuan's chopsticks froze in midair.

Su Ming closed his eyes, as if he had already sentenced his own lunch break to death.

Immediately after, a highly recognizable aria‑like voice rose high from the side of the table.

"Oh ho!"

Liang Wen wore a black Windcoat, his Fingerless Gloves still wrapped in bandages, his hair styled flamboyantly yet defiantly.

He pressed one hand on the plate, the other supporting an imaginary cape, his peach‑blossom eyes cruising back and forth between Qin Zhixia and Chu Che.

"Let me see what a marvelous scene this is!"

He lowered his voice, his expression exaggerated enough for the stage.

"One‑armed Valkyrie, gentle white‑coat doctor, window‑side lunch, sunlight bonus."

"Tsk."

"Is this perhaps the legendary post‑war romance side story?"