The First Trial of Fire
The sun had just climbed over the tops of the pine trees surrounding the Eternal Flame Academy, but on the vast main field, the heat was already starting to be felt. The morning dew that clung to the grass evaporated into a thin mist, mixing with the smell of mud, sweat, and the ragged breath of the hundreds of cadets spread out across the field. This was the first day of real training, and Hu Yanzhen was making sure it would be a day they would never forget.
"Faster! My senile grandmother can crawl faster than you!" his hoarse voice echoed, lashing the air like a whip. "Do you think the Japanese soldiers will wait for you to finish your tea? Lift your bodies out of the mud, or I will bury you in it!"
He stood in the middle of the field, his figure imposing and intimidating in his faded training uniform. He was not just shouting. His sharp eyes moved around nonstop, identifying every weakness, every hesitation. This was no ordinary physical training. This was a baptism by fire, a brutal process designed to crush every ounce of ego and tenderness from these young men, to see what was left beneath.
They ran with backpacks full of sand until their lungs burned. They crawled under barbed wire strung low over muddy ditches. They did push-ups on sharp gravel until their knuckles bled. For many of the cadets, especially those from wealthy or well-educated families in the big cities, this was a brutal culture shock. This was hell.
On the balcony of his office, Colonel Ji Jin surveyed the scene through binoculars, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Lee Junshan and He Xiang watched as well, but from a different perspective. He Xiang frowned as he watched a gaunt cadet collapse and have to be dragged aside by medics. He knew Hu Yanzhen's methods were effective, but his heart always ached at the cost. Lee Junshan, on the other hand, watched with the calm of an analyst. He did not see individuals suffering; he saw a system being stress-tested. He noted who gave up, who helped each other, and who, like Jin Wuyou, managed to complete each task with cold efficiency but with a face full of disdain.
After two hours that felt like an eternity, Hu Yanzhen finally blew his whistle. The shrill sound signaled the end of the suffering. Several cadets immediately collapsed to the ground, gasping like fish out of water. Others tried to stand on shaky legs, their bodies covered in mud and their dignity torn.
That was when Jin Wuyou stepped forward. Though dirty and sweaty, he still managed to maintain his air of arrogance. He stopped in front of Hu Yanzhen, his breath slightly labored, but his eyes defiant.
"Captain Hu," he said, his voice clear amidst the tired silence. "With all due respect, I question the value of this session. We signed up to be officers and strategists, not coolies. This exercise feels more like torture than training."
The entire field fell silent. No one dared to challenge Hu Yanzhen directly. Hu Yanzhen turned slowly, staring at the tall cadet before him. There was a dangerous silence before he spoke, his voice low and menacing.
"Torture, Cadet Jin?" he repeated. "Let me tell you what torture is. Torture is watching your comrades die because you were too slow to reach your position. Torture is running out of breath when you have to carry your wounded comrades five kilometers under mortar fire. Torture is freezing half to death in a trench because you don't have the stamina to survive."
He stepped closer, his face inches from Jin Wuyou's. "The battlefield won't ask if you're comfortable. The battlefield doesn't care if your father is a tycoon. The battlefield only cares about one thing: whether you can survive and complete the mission. If you think this is torture, then maybe you've chosen the wrong profession. Now get back in line before I give you a personal lesson in endurance."
Jin Wuyou swallowed, his face flushed with a mixture of anger and shame. For the first time, he had no answer. He nodded stiffly and returned to the ranks, leaving Hu Yanzhen as the absolute winner of the confrontation.
That afternoon, the atmosphere changed drastically. The same cadets, after cleaning themselves up and eating lunch, now sat in a clean and cool classroom. In front of them, Lee Junshan stood beside a large map of Europe hanging on a blackboard, next to it another, more detailed map of Manchuria and North China.
"Strategy is not about memorizing maneuvers from a textbook," Lee Junshan began, his voice calm and measured, a sharp contrast to Hu Yanzhen's early-morning shouting. "Strategy is about understanding why one maneuver succeeds and another fails. It's about the mind, not just the brawn."
He didn't lecture them. Instead, he gave them a problem: "In 1905, at the Battle of Mukden, a smaller Japanese force encircled and defeated a larger Russian force. Why? What decisive factors did they exploit that the Russians failed to anticipate? Now relate those factors to our current situation on the Manchurian border. Discuss in your groups."
The room was filled with confused murmurs. The cadets were used to being told facts to memorize. They were not used to being asked to think, analyze, and debate. Lee Junshan walked among them, listening, asking pointed questions, forcing them to dig deeper than their shallow answers. This was a different kind of exhaustion—a mental exhaustion as grueling as the morning's physical training.
The day's round ended in the academy's makeshift infirmary, a small building that smelled of antiseptic and herbal ointments. He Xiang, his shirtsleeves rolled up, moved with quiet efficiency, tending to the victims of Hu Yanzhen's "First Trial of Fire." He cleaned wounds, bandaged sprained ankles, and offered gentle but firm words of encouragement to the groaning cadets. He was the equalizer, the healer of wounds that had been deliberately created for a greater purpose.
The door opened and Hu Yanzhen entered, carrying two large buckets of clean water. He set them on the floor with a thud, his expression still stern.
"Don't spoil them too much, Xiang Xiang," he grumbled, avoiding the gazes of the injured cadets. "A little scrape won't kill them."
He Xiang looked at him over her shoulder as she bandaged a cadet's knee. He smiled slightly. "I'm not spoiling them, Yanzhen. I'm making sure they can walk for your training session tomorrow." She knew that beneath his rough exterior, his coming here was his way of checking on the damage, to make sure he hadn't pushed them too hard.
Hu Yanzhen only grunted in response, but she remained there, leaning against the wall, watching He Xiang work. There was an unspoken admiration in her eyes as she watched the way He Xiang's skilled and steady hands tended to the wounds.
A few minutes later, the door opened again. This time it was Lee Junshan who entered. He didn't carry a bucket or show any fierce expression. He walked straight to He Xiang, a small lacquered wooden box in his hand.
"I think this might be more useful than regular bandages," he said softly, his voice only for He Xiang to hear.
He Xiang opened the box. Inside were several small porcelain jars filled with a dark green ointment that gave off a strong herbal scent.
"This is tie da jiu," Lee Junshan explained. "Traditional bruise medicine, but this one is made with an improved recipe. It's much more effective in reducing swelling and muscle pain."
He Xiang stared at him, surprised and touched by his specific and intelligent attention. "Where did you get this?"
"I have some connections among the old schoolmasters in the city," Lee Junshan replied with a faint smile. "A good soldier takes care of his equipment. The body is the most important equipment."
As He Xiang picked up one of the jars, Lee Junshan's fingers briefly brushed against hers. It was a fleeting, almost accidental contact, but in the room filled with pain and exhaustion, the moment felt like a warm spark of electricity.
From across the room, Hu Yanzhen watched the interaction. Her expression hardened for a moment. She saw the tenderness in Lee Junshan's gaze and the gratitude on He Xiang's face. She, the soldier, brought water—a basic necessity. While Lee Junshan, the strategist, brought a more elegant and thoughtful solution.
Averting her gaze, Hu Yanzhen cleared her throat loudly. "Alright, enough rest!" she said to the cadets. "Drink this water. Tomorrow morning, your suffering will begin again before dawn."
He turned and walked out of the clinic without looking back, leaving Lee Junshan and He Xiang in a comfortable silence. As He Xiang began to apply Lee Junshan's ointment to the ankle of a grateful cadet, she knew that this difficult first day was over. The fire had tested the cadets, but it had also tested the three of them, showing their different ways of fighting, caring, and navigating the complex ties that bind them together.
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****To be continued