Courtyard House: Starting with handing over the keys, the state helps me abuse birds.

After Yan Bugui was carried out of the courtyard, Duan Chengyi stood in the messy house, telling people to continue cleaning up. Just as he was about to leave, Xie Weihong spoke up.

"Uncle Duan, there's something I need to tell you."

Duan Chengyi turned around.

"I've acquired a new skill."

Duan Chengyi's eyes lit up: "What kind of technology?"

"Deep mineral exploration." Xie Weihong turned around, her tone calm. "We can accurately image mineral deposits from 500 to 2,000 meters underground, with a positioning error of no more than one meter. This can increase mining efficiency by 30% and reduce costs by 40%."

Duan Chengyi was stunned for a moment, then gasped.

"Wei Hong, do you know what this means?"

"Know."

Duan Chengyi became more and more excited as he spoke, "If we can really pinpoint the deep mineral veins, it's like finding dozens of gold mines! I'll report to Director Lu immediately."

"No rush," Xie Weihong interrupted him. "Tell me first, what brings you here?"

Duan Chengyi slapped his forehead.

"I almost forgot." He lowered his voice, "The first batch of people selected for the pilot training have been chosen, and Director Lu asked me to take you there. This is more important than the technology."

Xie Weihong nodded: "Shall we leave now?"

"The car is waiting outside."

The jeep bumped along the uneven dirt roads of Beijing.

Xie Weihong leaned back in the back seat, closing her eyes to rest. Duan Chengyi sat in the passenger seat, holding a document in his hand, flipping through it over and over.

"There are twelve people in total." He suddenly spoke, as if talking to himself, or as if explaining to Xie Weihong, "They were selected from the entire army. They are politically reliable, physically fit, and of good character. The youngest is nineteen and the oldest is thirty-two."

Xie Weihong didn't open her eyes: "Mmm."

"Director Lu personally oversaw the screening process, going through three rounds of selection. I've reviewed the files of these final twelve, and each one is exceptional." Duan Chengyi paused, "However..."

He closed the file and glanced back at Xie Weihong.

"They're all top performers in the military, the kind who've earned merits and awards. Suddenly having a young instructor might sway their confidence..."

Xie Weihong opened her eyes and glanced at him.

Duan Chengyi swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

The jeep drove out of the city and into a mountainous area. The mountain road grew narrower and narrower, and the trees on both sides became denser. After driving for another half hour, a checkpoint appeared ahead.

The sentry checked the identification and let them pass.

The jeep continued driving in, passing through two barbed wire fences, and finally stopped in front of a cluster of buildings.

Xie Weihong got out of the car and glanced around.

Surrounded by mountains, it is isolated from the world. Several gray buildings are scattered around, and people are running and training on the playground, creating a well-ordered scene.

"We're here." Duan Chengyi walked to his side. "This used to be a special forces training base, but now it's ours. All twelve of them are here. Let's go."

……

Zhao Weize stood motionless on the playground.

The sun was blazing, making the back of his neck feel hot. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. He didn't blink, nor did he raise his hand to wipe it away.

He is a soldier.

From the day he enlisted, he learned to stand upright like a pine tree and sit upright like a bell.

Five minutes earlier, he caught a glimpse of his third comrade on the left whose calf twitched slightly. It was a natural muscle reaction from standing for a long time, and the man quickly adjusted his balance and regained his footing.

No one spoke. No one moved.

The twelve people on the playground were like twelve nails, driven into this concrete ground.

Zhao Weize, 23 years old, was said by the company commander to be a born soldier, and by the political instructor to have a strong ideology.

He himself didn't think it was a big deal.

Three days ago, he was still training in the field.

The place was deep in the mountains, with no cell phone signal, completely isolated from the world. I had just lain down at night when the communications officer came running, panting: "Squad leader! Squad leader! The company commander wants you to go back immediately!"

He got up, walked eight miles of mountain road in the dark, and hurried back to the camp.

The company commander was waiting for him in the office; the light was on. Pushing open the door, he found two other people inside, dressed in civilian clothes, sitting ramrod straight—clearly not ordinary people.

"Xiao Zhao, the organization has a mission," the company commander said bluntly. "We need you to go there. As for what to do, someone will explain it to you when you get there."

He stood at attention and saluted: "Yes, sir!"

They didn't ask what the mission was, where we were going, or how long we would be gone.

Soldiers don't ask why, they only ask what to do.

Then came a full day of inspections.

The physical examination was even more thorough than when I enlisted, involving all sorts of tests that I couldn't understand.

Then came the conversation.

The two men took turns asking him questions: about his family, his experiences, and what his biggest feeling was while he was in the army.

He said, "Serving in the military means protecting the country. We do whatever we're told, and we do whatever orders us to do."

The two men glanced at each other and scribbled something down on the paper.

Next came the physical fitness test.

Five-kilometer cross-country running, parallel bars, push-ups, and the like.

Finally, the older man in plain clothes told him, "Someone will come to pick you up in three days. You can't say where you're going or what you're doing. Can you do that?"

"able."

And so, he arrived here.

Zhao Weize glanced around out of the corner of his eye.

Twelve people, the same twelve people, standing as straight as him.

But after observing them for several hours, he had already drawn a mental image of them.

The first one on the left in the front row, in his early thirties, with a square face, the most standard posture, and thick calluses on the base of his thumb.

The guy to his right isn't tall, he's lean, but his calf muscles are as solid as iron, and his Achilles tendons are long and strong. He's a runner, and definitely a top long-distance runner. Someone like that could run 50 kilometers without even breaking a sweat.

The man in the middle of the back row had a dark complexion, thick eyebrows, and eyes as sharp as an eagle's. Judging from his position and the way he looked at people, he was probably a reconnaissance soldier who had participated in actual combat. That kind of alertness can't be trained; it comes from real fighting.

There were a few more, whose posture, physique, and habitual movements gave them a general idea: some trained in combat, some in climbing, some in demolition, and some in communications. A diverse group, but they all shared one thing in common:

They're all top students. The real elites.

Zhao Weize suddenly became curious.

What are they planning to do by bringing all these people together?

Nobody told them.

From the moment they got off the bus, only one person, who looked like an officer, led them into the dormitory, distributed bedding, two sets of training uniforms, a pair of combat boots, and a set of unfamiliar clothing made of a very unusual fabric. Then he said, "Assemble on the parade ground at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Rest now."

Just this one sentence.

At 7:30 this morning, they left their dormitory and went to the playground. At 8:00 sharp, all twelve of them were present and stood in two rows.

Then you just wait.

Waiting for what? I don't know. Waiting for when? I don't know.

But no one asked, no one moved.

The sun rose high in the east and then slanted westward. Zhao Weize felt his back getting wet and then dry, then wet again. His training uniform clung to his back, sticky and uncomfortable. But he didn't move.

Stand still and wait for the order to come.

The order came; charge in and get to work.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded ahead.

Zhao Weize's eyes flickered slightly, but he didn't turn his head. He kept his gaze straight ahead, only glancing at the source of the sound out of the corner of his eye.

Three people walked from the direction of the office building.

The first two.

He was a middle-aged man with a square face, wearing a dark gray Zhongshan suit. He walked with a steady and powerful gait and stood up straight.

Another young one.

very young.

He looked to be in his early twenties, with a somewhat youthful face. He wore a faded old military uniform, the most ordinary kind in the army. His gait was casual, more like a student on a visit than a soldier.

But when Zhao Weize glanced at those eyes out of the corner of his eye, a sudden thought struck him.

Those eyes were so calm.

It is not a feigned profound calm, nor is it a simulated calm; rather, it is a genuine, unfathomable calm.

They were followed by a guy who looked like an clerk; he was the one who led them into the dormitory yesterday.

The three people stood at the front of the line.