An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 303 Memorial Service (Part 2)
At the front of the venue, a black cloth hung down, and seven coffins covered with bright red military flags were lined up in a row, solemn and dignified.

In front of each coffin stands a portrait of a martyr draped in black gauze—seven young, distinct faces, frozen in time on black and white photographic paper.

This was another collective memorial service held by Unit 624 for the soldiers who recently sacrificed their lives and were being transported back to the rear. According to frontline practice, the bodies could not be preserved for long, so the fallen soldiers would be sent back in batches, and the unit would periodically gather them for a final farewell.

A sea of ​​people stood solemnly below the stage. The political commissar's voice, reciting a eulogy, came through the microphone, carrying a heavy echo: "...They are yet another recent loss for the 624th Unit, heroic sons and daughters whom the motherland will never forget!"

Meng Youyou stood in the crowd, staring intently ahead. Behind her, a mother held the hand of a small boy, who was at an innocent and carefree age, unaware of the meaning behind the photos displayed in front of him.

"Mom," a child's clear, innocent voice drifted into Meng Youyou's ears, clashing with the serious and somber atmosphere around her: "Why is Uncle Kou's photo displayed in front?"

Upon hearing the entire sentence, Meng Youyou's long-numbed heart was stirred for a moment by a nameless sense of relief—thankfully, the person in the photo was just her uncle.

The mother bent down slightly, patted her son's head with one hand, and patiently replied, "Because Uncle Kou is a soldier. If a soldier sacrifices his life one day, everyone will do what we are doing now: put a photo of him in his uniform, at his most spirited, in the auditorium, and hold a very solemn ceremony so that his relatives and friends can say goodbye properly."

The little boy blinked, seemingly understanding but not quite. Children of this age certainly don't understand what death is, much less what sacrifice is, and naturally, they can't comprehend sadness.

The child's rich and active curiosity was quickly drawn to the differences in the photos in front of him. He shook his mother's arm and asked, "Mom, why is the uncle in the middle photo wearing different clothes than the other uncles? The other uncles are all wearing military uniforms, but he's wearing a white shirt!"

This question clearly stumped the mother, who remained silent for a long time without offering an answer.

Meng Youyou's gaze was firmly fixed on the man's handsome and rugged features in the photo—the upward curve of his mouth, combined with the downward curve of his eyes and eyebrows, exuded a soft temperament, which softened the cold tone of his facial lines and made him appear approachable and gentle, quite different from the impression he usually gave people.

Through the still photograph, Meng Youyou seemed to see the scene when it was taken. The vivid images flowed before her eyes, frame by frame. She seemed to hear the "click" of the shutter, and almost simultaneously, a blinding white light flashed across her face...

After taking a few pictures, the photographer peeked out from under the lampshade and yelled at the two of them, "The gentleman on the left, don't look so serious, relax. And the young couple, you can sit a little closer."

So, Meng Youyou shifted her hips to the left, arms close together, and whispered instructions in his ear: "When you're about to take a picture, think of something happy in your mind. That way, you'll naturally have a smile on your face, and it won't look too stiff or forced."

Upon hearing this, Huo Qingshan looked over with a blank and utterly bewildered expression.

Meng Youyou understood, and decided to go all the way to help him, offering further concrete guidance: "For example, you can think like this: Ah! My girlfriend is so beautiful! Not only is she beautiful, but she's also outstanding and capable. I've really struck gold! Just thinking that she's my girlfriend makes me feel so lucky, and I'm overjoyed!"

At that moment, the photographer told them to look at the camera. Meng Youyou immediately turned her face away, not even bothering to ask him if he had heard her.

As soon as they left the photo studio, a cold wind blew by, carrying snowflakes. Meng Youyou hunched her neck and looked at the freshly developed photos with great anticipation. To her surprise, she found that some of the photos were actually quite good, and her smile was very natural, as if she were genuinely happy.

Meng Youyou pinched the photo between two fingers, lifted the man's chin, and interrogated him in a teasing tone: "Tell me honestly, what were you thinking when you took these pictures? Was it what I taught you?"

"Guess?" He reached out and firmly grasped her playful fingers, his fingertips warm as he pulled the photo from her hand and looked down at it.

Meng Youyou scoffed and leaned in to admire the photo, adding her comment, "This one is especially good; you almost outshone me." Finally, she wrinkled her nose and let out two unconvinced "tsk tsk" sounds; she was starting to feel a bit threatened.

Huo Qingshan was amused again. His gaze shifted from the photo in his hand to the face of the person beside him. The girl's delicate nose was red from the wind and snow, making her look quite adorable. He couldn't help but flick it with his finger, laughing as he said, "When I was taking the picture, I was thinking... how can my girlfriend be so cute?"

I don't know how much time passed. It felt like a long time, yet also like a short time, before the mother finally came up with an answer: "Mom guesses that this photo might have special meaning for the uncle in the middle."

The memory abruptly ended. Meng Youyou turned around and looked back towards the source of the sound. Just as she was about to look away, she unexpectedly met the little boy's gaze for a moment.

A few seconds later, Meng Youyou heard the little boy's questioning voice, which had noticeably lowered: "Mommy, that lady in front of us is so strange. Her mouth is smiling, but her eyes look sad. What's wrong with her? She..."

The mother probably immediately covered the child's mouth, only hurriedly instructing, "Don't talk nonsense." Almost everyone around was crying, some loudly, some softly, all with sorrowful expressions. But Meng Youyou's face was expressionless, looking like an insignificant person attending the funeral of a platonic friend or an old acquaintance with whom she had drifted apart, showing no emotion whatsoever.

Even when he ran into Commander Wang just now, he only glanced at her a few times before casually greeting her, "Xiao Meng is here too."

Unlike how he comforted the other martyrs' heartbroken wives, lovers, and elderly mothers grieving the loss of their sons, he did not offer her any words of comfort.

Therefore, Meng Youyou thought she had performed very well.

She didn't cry at all, not a single tear fell. She even consciously smiled when she thought about it. Because she knew he wouldn't want to see her cry; he would worry.

But why was it that such a young boy, barely a few years old, could tell she was very sad after just one glance?

Meng Youyou thought the little brat was definitely talking nonsense.

People gradually began to move around, the funeral music started playing again, and the ceremony moved to the next stage, with the crowd gathering and circling forward.

Meng Youyou chose this moment to leave the auditorium.

Unexpectedly, Cui Yan chased after him, calling out to him as she ran.

Meng Youyou stopped where she was and turned around to wait.

Cui Yan ran up to her, still out of breath, and without saying a word, first bowed deeply to her, then muttered, "I'm sorry." After that, she remained motionless in that position.

There was neither a preface nor a follow-up. It left one momentarily confused as to what her apology was referring to—the bracelet, the bowl of porridge, or something else entirely…

Meng Youyou was taken aback, but after a few seconds of contemplation, she roughly understood what the other person meant. She still did not express whether she forgave him or not, but calmly said, "I think he must want you to be happy, so... I also hope that you can have a bright and beautiful life in the future."

These are Meng Youyou's honest thoughts.

"As for the past, let it be the past! Take good care of Grandma and Grandpa from now on, and live your life well. Life is a very precious thing."

In places you can't see, many people's lives are in danger every moment. They try their best to survive, but they have no chance.

So don't give up so easily anymore.

After saying her last sentence, Meng Youyou didn't linger and turned to leave.

But she was stopped again by someone behind her. Cui Yan slowly straightened up, staring at the girl's lonely back, and asked, "Um, after the ceremony, my grandparents and I are going to take Qingshan to the crematorium. Do you want to come with us?"

Meng Youyou didn't turn around or look back. She continued walking forward and replied cheerfully, "I won't go."

Because I've used up all my courage and energy today, I can't guarantee how I'll perform next. What if I fail at the last minute? I'm sorry, I lack confidence.

As they grew further apart, Cui Yan resorted to shouting: "In his will left for Grandma, Brother Qingshan wrote that he wanted to go and be with Aunt Lin, and asked us to bury him in Nanyu Mountain. If you ever want to visit him but don't know where it is, you can come find me, and I'll take you there."

"Okay, I got it, thank you." The wind made her voice very soft, and then it drifted away into the air.