Look, He's Just Like Him

"Beep—" As the distant blare faded, the cars parked nearby began honking in unison. The piercing chorus of horns converged, swelling into the air and soaring straight into the clouds. The mourning crowd began by waving in silence, their eyes red, wiping away tears. Suddenly, a burly, weathered man roared at the top of his lungs, "Farewell, Commander Zhang!" "Farewell, Commander Zhang!" thousands of voices echoed in response. "Farewell, warriors of the Fourth Army!" "Thank you for your service!" "The people of Shenghai will remember you forever!" "..." One after another, shouts arose, rising and falling in waves. Children who had come with their parents stood by the roadside, earnestly holding military salutes. Their reverent gazes followed the hearses, their arms stubbornly refusing to lower. *Bang! Bang! Bang-bang-bang...* A volley of gunshots rang out. To maintain clear boundaries, the government of the ordinary civilian world was customarily not permitted to participate in official Azure ceremonies. Thus, they had sent their own honor guard to fire a rifle salute right here for the martyrs. The first volley sounded. Then the second. Then the third. The vehicles carrying the caskets gradually moved into the distance amid the gun smoke drifting from the rifle barrels. Yet more vehicles followed behind them. Within the massive motorcade came row upon row of trucks and row upon row of jeeps. Riding in the trucks were over a thousand brothers from the Fourth Army who had converged from across the regions. They had come as representatives of the Fourth Army's various regiments and squads to see their commander and comrades-in-arms to their resting place on behalf of the Fourth Army's tens of thousands of brothers. They were the most iron-blooded soldiers of the Fourth Army, yet now, grief had choked back their tears, leaving only low, wolf-like howls through clenched teeth. Inside the jeeps were representatives from the various armies of the legion, representatives from Azure Headquarters, and representatives from the Council. There were also the relatives of the fallen—parents, wives, children, brothers, and sisters—weeping uncontrollably within the cars. In addition, Sole Witness Legion Commander Chen Buer had arrived in person, as had Chief of Staff Xu Xiaohong... The core team of Stream Vanguard was present in full. "So, did Major Qing really come too?" "He definitely arrived yesterday, but he just didn't show his face after reaching the airfield. As for whether he came today, who knows? After all, with such massive waves stirring over the past day and night, none of them came forward to respond." "But I heard he was supposed to be a pallbearer for Commander Zhang. How could he possibly not show up for that?" The ones huddled together in discussion were journalists, whose sources were considerably sharper than those of ordinary citizens. Someone nearby answered, "He was replaced by Lieutenant Wu Xu. I heard it from the funeral organizers—the switch was made early this morning. How come none of you got the news?" "We didn't." A reporter nodded, then raised his head, eyes wide with shock. "Then that means...!" Then... "It's fake. It must be fake. We've all seen that newspaper. Who could possibly believe the person in that photograph was Major Qing?" "Sigh! It looks like..." It seemed Major Qing really might have fallen in battle. A journalist hesitated, shaking his head with a sigh. As reporters, they certainly needed news, thirsted to know the truth, and wanted to report it to the world. Yet at the same time, as human beings—as ordinary people surviving under the shadow of the apocalyptic cataclysm—who among them actually wished to hear such news? "Bullshit!" a childish voice suddenly barked from the side. The reporters turned their heads at once. It was a frail-looking boy of about thirteen or fourteen. Gripping the guardrail, neck stiff and tears still streaming from his red eyes, he shouted furiously at the journalists, "You're lying! You're all lying! Major Qing would never die! Major Qing is invincible! If anyone's dying, it should be you...!" Before he could finish his tirade, a young woman of about eighteen or nineteen hurriedly covered his mouth from behind. "All right, Weiyu, that's enough. Stop talking. As long as we know in our hearts, that's enough." Fearing her brother would cause trouble, the elder sister dragged him away to leave. Under the threat of the apocalypse, social order was far worse than before, so her worries were by no means unfounded. The journalists walked over. Zhang Youqing grew nervous, her eyelids fluttering as she prepared to apologize on her brother's behalf. "It's all right," the reporter who had been cursed at said with a wry smile. Addressing Zhang Youqing first, he then reached out to pat the boy's head... only for the boy to dodge away. Withdrawing his hand, the reporter said, "But you're wrong about one thing. Everyone dies. Major Qing is the same—he's flesh and blood too, so he can die just like anyone else." "Mmph!" The boy refused to accept it, struggling against his sister's grasp, but her hand remained clamped firmly over his mouth. "Yet precisely because of that, the things he has done are all the more precious. The desperate battles he fought for our sake are all the more worthy of remembrance and admiration. Do you understand?" With that, the reporter turned back. The group looked at each other in silence, every face shadowed with gloom. "I heard that even the person chosen to cleave open the mountain at the cemetery later has been swapped. Originally they said Major Qing would do it, but now it's changed to the Legion Commander..." "Let's hope the Legion Commander is still in good health. There have been plenty of rumors about his condition over the past six months." "Yeah." While the journalists spoke, the traffic order on site was being prepared for restoration. Large numbers of traffic police jogged back and forth, stepping onto their posts to direct traffic. "Wait! Wait! More vehicles coming from behind! Azure military vehicles!" an urgent voice suddenly blared from the radio transceiver on a traffic officer's shoulder. The gesture to wave traffic through was halted halfway, turning back into a stop signal. Amid a brief stir of confusion, the scene ground to a halt once again. Another convoy of Azure military vehicles had yet to pass, and they were approaching fast. Whether it was the civilian traffic police or their superiors, this was as far as their knowledge went. There was no need to question it; their only duty was to maintain traffic control and wait for the funeral convoy behind to pass. At the same time, the Rejecters' stance was far more tense. The four incoming military vehicles were not in the registry. The vehicles were certainly Azure issue, but the people inside might not be. What if members of the Cleansing Faction had slipped in...? *Beep, beep!* An emergency call request blinked relentlessly with a yellow light on the transceiver. A lieutenant in the convoy reached out and answered. "Identify yourselves!" "Fourth Army. We..." "Transit authorization. State your transit authorization code." "...None. But we..." "Halt! Immediately! Halt and submit to inspection, right now!" The Rejecters' command was urgent and stern. From the standpoint of military discipline and security, unregistered vehicles lacking transit clearance that suddenly appeared on the road—and were clearly pursuing the convoy ahead—warranted extreme caution. The Rejecters swiftly made preparations. The moment the convoy refused to stop and continued forward, the security forces lying in ambush along both sides of the road would receive orders to deploy and intercept them with force. "What should we do?" At his wit's end, the lieutenant routed the call to ask the lieutenant colonel sharing the vehicle with Han Qingyu, who was personally driving. "Tell them who we have in our car," the lieutenant colonel said simply and swiftly. The lieutenant paused. "Huh?" "Just tell them Major Qing is in our car, and tell them to look for themselves." As the lieutenant colonel spoke, he quietly rolled down the window beside Han Qingyu. Han Qingyu naturally heard and saw all of this, but he made no move to stop him. "Major Qing is in our car. Look for yourselves," the lieutenant in the other vehicle replied briskly. With that, the convoy continued forward. "What? Major Qing?!" The security personnel concealed in the crowd looked, their eyes widening as they took in the face, the uniform, the equipment configuration... It really was Major Qing. "Report! Major Qing is indeed in the lead vehicle! What are our orders? Report..." "Let them through for now," a different voice answered from the Rejecters' line. "This is Tu Zi. I'll contact Stream Vanguard." The one making the call was Tu Zi. The security personnel followed orders and stood down... Then, hesitating, one lowered his voice: "Officer Tu, can I ask you a personal question?" "Speak." "We all know you're friends with Major Qing—you always say so yourself... So could you tell me, is this Major Qing real or fake? If he's fake, then our Major Qing..." "Cut the crap! Of course he's real!" Tu Zi snapped irritably, cutting off the inquiry. With that single shout, he gripped the transceiver in his hand, turning his head aside as he drew a heavy breath. The truth was, even Tu Zi had no idea whether this Brother Qingzi was real or fake, or whether Brother Qingzi was alive or dead. It had been too long since Tu Zi had seen Han Qingyu. Without meeting him face-to-face, there was no way to be certain. Moreover, this was not something he could casually ask around about, for it might well be a top-level secret. "All right, stop prying and focus on your duty..." Having regained his composure, Tu Zi continued speaking, when suddenly— "Look! Major Qing! It's Major Qing!" the boy named Zhang Weiyu cried out in wild excitement. Virtually everyone present, including the group of journalists, turned toward the sound. The trucks came speeding along. It was. It was him. The crowd abruptly erupted into cheers. "Major Qing!" "Major Qing!" "Major Qing!" "..." They called out his name, wave upon wave of sound rolling endlessly forward. Normally, the public would cheer upon seeing Major Qing as well. Yet this time, the shouts were different. In these cries lay an even greater hope, an even deeper pleading. Because they were all terrified, all wavering. They called to him, longing for the slightest response—even if it was just a turn of his head, a single glance. If only he would look, they could firmly and resolutely convince themselves: In this world, that invincible Major Qing was still here. Yet the trucks rushed past. Throughout the entire passage, the profile framed in the car window remained utterly motionless, devoid of even the faintest expression. A strange sense of loss washed through the crowd, accompanied by an unsettling chill. "Ha, why are you all reacting like that?" One of the journalists suddenly chuckled, glancing around. "Somehow, I've just changed my mind." "What? Changed your mind about what?" his colleagues pressed anxiously. "Now I think he really might be the real deal." "How... why?" "What makes you say that?" "Just look at that arrogant, infuriating attitude of his! No matter who you are, no matter how many people there are, no matter how much passion you throw at him, he couldn't care less. He treats everyone with cold indifference, as if your shouting has nothing to do with him at all. Look—he's just like him." The reporter pointed at the receding trucks.