After being separated from my family, I became a darling of the military region thanks to my medical

Three days later, Beijing welcomed its coldest sunny day of the twelfth lunar month. The wind howled through the treetops, and the sun, though high in the sky, offered little warmth, making the surface of Weiming Lake on the Peking University campus appear blindingly white.

Outside the Centennial Memorial Hall, the two vermilion doors were wide open, the thresholds almost worn down by countless footsteps. Although it was winter break, the place was more bustling than the opening ceremony. The corridors, windowsills, and even the steps on both sides of the podium—everywhere there was room to stand—was packed with people. There were young students wearing grass-green military overcoats, navy blue padded jackets, and many wearing Lei Feng hats with their ears completely covered; their faces were red from the cold, but their eyes shone with an alarming brightness.

There was no heating inside, and with thousands of people huddled together, their breath formed a thin mist above their heads. The cracks in the windowpanes were already covered with a thick layer of frost from the heat of the people inside, and outside, many students who couldn't squeeze in were standing on tiptoe, peeking in and occasionally wiping the frost flowers off the glass with their gloves.

Today's event is special.

Students from Peking University and Tsinghua University, who usually argue fiercely about which university is the best, were now huddled together shoulder to shoulder. Everyone was holding their breath, eager to see if the legendary female doctor who had intimidated German experts with a scalpel and brought back hundreds of millions of dollars worth of equipment from Berlin with nothing really had three heads and six arms.

"Hey, have you heard? That big-nosed German from Siemens doesn't even dare to breathe loudly when he sees our Dr. Ye." A bespectacled boy pushed up his nose bridge, holding a chipped enamel mug in his hand, looking quite pleased with himself.

A female student with braided pigtails next to her tightened her scarf and interjected, "What do you mean by 'not daring to breathe'? I heard Song Sisi from the cultural troupe say that it's called 'worshiping' someone! She said that even the equipment blueprints were drawn by Dr. Ye on the spot, which brought honor to us Chinese!"

"Is it really that amazing? Or is it just hype?" Some people were skeptical, saying, "We know our own medical standards in China. Compared to Germany, the gap is enormous."

"Whether it's bragging or not, we'll find out soon enough."

The best seats in the front rows had long been taken by several elderly professors with white hair. Unlike the students, they weren't boisterous; they sat upright, notebooks open, pens capped and set aside. They didn't look like they were there to listen to a lecture, but rather to conduct academic research.

In the shadows of the backstage backdrop, Gu Zheng stood behind Ye Zhen.

He wasn't wearing his military uniform today, but a black woolen overcoat, which made him appear even taller and more slender. He lowered his head, his hands, usually gripping a gun, clumsily fiddling with the collar of Ye Zhen's shirt. The collar was slightly upturned, and he smoothed it out little by little, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against Ye Zhen's warm earlobe, causing her to flinch.

"Don't move." Gu Zheng's voice was deep and domineering, but his movements were as light as if he were touching a fragile piece of porcelain. "If your collar isn't straight, those old scholars will start finding fault again."

Ye Zhen let him do as he pleased, feeling the heat from his fingertips creeping down her ears. She turned her head and glanced at the surging crowd in front of the stage, her palms slightly sweaty.

"Nervous?" Gu Zheng felt her stiffness, placed his hand on her thin back, and gently patted it twice through her thick sweater. "Don't be afraid. If these bookworms dare to cause trouble, I can throw them out by myself without even needing the guard company."

"Chief Gu, this is Peking University." Ye Zhen helplessly slapped his hand away, turned around, and straightened his coat collar. "I'm going to start a fire, not to fight. Tone down that murderous aura."

She took a deep breath and regulated her breathing. Gu Zheng looked at her, the pride in his eyes impossible to hide. He took a half step back, making way for the stage.

"Go."

Ye Zhen nodded and reached out to push open the heavy red velvet curtain.

The spotlight shone down with a loud bang, somewhat blindingly.

The buzzing noise from the audience was instantly cut off by an invisible knife, and the auditorium, which held thousands of people, fell silent. Only the crackling sound of electricity passing through the microphone could be heard.

Ye Zhen didn't bring any notes. She wore a simple white shirt with a gray V-neck sweater over it, the cuffs rolled up to reveal a slender yet strong wrist. She stood there, her posture ramrod straight, like a small white poplar growing on a cliff, aloof yet impossible to ignore.

She walked to the center of the podium, adjusted the slightly bulky metal microphone, and calmly surveyed the pairs of inquisitive eyes below the stage.

"Before we begin, I'd like to ask you all a question."

Her voice was calm and unhurried, without any deliberate fervor, yet it possessed a penetrating power, steadily reaching everyone's ears: "In this freezing weather, instead of staying in your dorms huddled under the covers, everyone's scrambling to get here. What do you want to hear?"

There was a two-second silence in the audience.

Immediately, a burst of laughter and shouts erupted, revealing the straightforwardness and passion unique to young people of that era.

"Let's hear how you're going to stand up for us Chinese!"

"Listen to how we won back the German equipment!"

"Listen to how those foreign devils bowed their heads!"

"Yes! Tell me how the Siemens president begged you!"

The young people's eyes shone with a light, a pure and intense patriotism unique to the 1980s. They were so eager to hear such stories. In an era when the country had just opened its doors and the gap between nations was everywhere, every piece of news about "victory" was like a shot of adrenaline.

Ye Zhen nodded, a slight smile appearing on her face, but the smile was very faint and didn't reach her eyes.

"That's right, we were very successful in Berlin." She spoke calmly, as if recounting a neighbor's trivial matter. "German experts lowered their proud heads, Siemens gave us the best prototype of angiography machine, and European shipping magnate Schröder, to thank us for saving his granddaughter's life, used his private fleet to escort us. We won both face and substance. Those top-notch equipment that had been blocked by the West for more than a decade are now being transported into our hospital."

The audience erupted in applause and cheers, almost lifting the roof off. The elderly professors in the front row excitedly took off their glasses to wipe them, their faces beaming with satisfaction.

Ye Zhen stood amidst thunderous applause, neither smiling nor bowing in thanks. She simply watched the fervent scene unfold, then raised her hand, palm down, and pressed it down heavily.

The movement was small, yet it carried immense force.

The applause gradually subsided until it disappeared completely.

"but--"

The two words that came out of her mouth were light and airy, yet they struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.

Ye Zhen suddenly turned around, strode to the blackboard behind her, and ripped off the red silk cloth covering it.

With a "whoosh," a huge map of Beijing was revealed to everyone.

There were no flowers, no medals, and no breathtaking photos of Berlin.

It was a somewhat rough map, with the outline of Beijing drawn in black marker. Dozens of black dots were scattered across the map. The dots weren't extremely dense, but in the area of ​​the old tenement houses in the south of the city, and in several gullies in the remote suburbs, they stood out conspicuously, clustering together like unsightly scars.

The cheers abruptly stopped.