Chapter 121 - The Empress Game

There were far fewer people at the Ninth Army combat training base after the graduation. As Old Little Peach, the man in charge of guarding the gate over at the living quarters, put it in his home dialect, both the soldiers and the instructors went off to be soldiers. One batch came and one went, and just like that a year passed.

The base felt a little empty because of it. Apart from some veterans back on leave, plus the base officers and the garrison, there was hardly anybody left save for some new platoons still in their preparation period.

The instructors’ building was nearly empty too.

Lao Jian brewed a cup of Longjing tea[1] from west of Linzhou City in his issued celadon cup, lifted the lid to smell it, and strolled over to the window with a feigned casualness. “Platoon Leader Mira, when you have a moment, send someone to call Han Qingyu to the office. It wouldn’t hurt to let him sit in while we discuss this business of picking platoon members.”

This was a man who wanted Han Qingyu’s opinion but couldn’t bring himself to let go of his pride as a platoon leader.

Mira kept her head down over her writing, forming Chinese characters with her left hand. Holding back a laugh, she said, “He’s out on a mission.”

“Oh... What?” Platoon Leader Lao croaked out, then tried to rein in his reaction. “All of a sudden? Why didn’t it come through me for approval?”

“There probably wasn’t time. You were busy, so the army approved it directly. The few of them left in a hurry, and they said they’d be back before the platoon moves out,” Mira explained.

“Oh.” A huge wave of disappointment washed over him. But I’m the platoon leader. The platoon leader...

One of the soldiers under him kept getting orders straight from the army, sometimes from even higher up, skipping right over his head. Eldest Gourd was not happy.

“Most of the veterans who signed up are actually pretty good, and two are already settled. Why don’t we decide the rest ourselves? If we can’t decide, we can also ask the regiment commander.”

“Mn.”

***

In Nepor, Han Qingyu’s group stared at the warm, cheerful Cuihua with mixed expressions. Most of them weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

That bastard Wen Jifei wasn’t simply fooling around, of course. From the moment they met, he had been probing her, seemingly out of boredom, getting a rough read on her temperament.

This trial could easily become a matter of life and death, and the one calling the shots was a stranger they knew nothing about. It was better to have a rough judgment before going in.

It doesn’t seem like she’s faking it. Han Qingyu concluded after observing little Cuihua’s expression for a while.

In truth, this realization didn’t bring him any joy or relief. Out of some twisted logic, he had actually been hoping she would turn out to be a wicked, scheming person. That would have made a great many things much simpler for him.

If she really was sincere and kind, then by his own principles, he would have to do everything he could to keep her safe—especially because she had granted him this opportunity to come out ahead. This also made splitting the reward at the end more troublesome as well.

“Plague Chicken, you’ve gone too far. A sharp, fine fruit, and the moment she runs into you, a ‘researcher,’ she becomes a Cuihua,”[2] He Tangtang muttered from behind.

The words were in the Yanjing dialect but also served as street slang. A beautiful woman was called a sharp fruit, while a handsome man was called a sharp grandchild.[3] In the Coalition, though, both terms were used as insults, and not many men wanted to be praised that way.

That one line made everybody want to laugh.

Little Cuihua wasn’t stupid and could tell something was off from their reactions, so she looked to Han Qingyu and asked, “Is this name not robust?”

Wen Jifei hurried to cover for himself. “Big Brother, your research runs deeper than mine. Why don’t you go over it and change it to something better? We’ve already taken the money.”

“Are you two brothers?” Little Cuihua asked, glancing between the two of them.

“Mn.” Wen Jifei nodded. “Blood brothers.”

“Different father, different mother,” Han Qingyu said.

Little Cuihua appeared confused, but let it go. “So, what about my name?”

“It’s very...” Han Qingyu hesitated. “Well... robust. It's just that the old granny who lived next door back in my village happened to share that name, so I was thinking we could change it a bit.”

Little Cuihua nodded consideringly.

The question was what to change it to. They all talked it over. Some took it more seriously than others. Even Shen Yixiu, playing the robot, quietly slipped a suggestion to Han Qingyu so he could say it out loud.

They ended up with a whole basketful of names.

After listening to the meanings and explanations, Little Cuihua spent a good long while mulling it over before finally settling on two: Yin Caixin[4] and Yin Suyi. According to her, one was funny and cute, while the other sounded pretty and very Oriental Republic-esque. She wanted both and was torn between the two.

“Take them both, then. Treat one as your nickname and the other as your formal name. Keep the rest in reserve and swap them in whenever you like. Use your original one along with them too,” Han Qingyu suggested, not wanting to waste any more time on this.

That was how Yin Caixin ended up with a pile of Chinese names at their first meeting.

With that settled, she led the group to the hotel the Alphonse family had arranged for their temporary stay.

This wasn’t the Third Fixed Exploration Site. That was still some distance away, though this place was quite well hidden too.

The hotel was packed with young faces from every country, including others from the Oriental Republic Army Group.

In the large room that had just been opened up for them, Yin Caixin took out a sheet of paper with a rather artistic print on it and laid it on the table. In between, she said a few things in French and English to the foreigners she had brought with her.

Han Qingyu and the others weren’t worried about the language problem. Rust Girl understood some foreign languages. Although she couldn’t speak them well, she could at least follow the general meaning. She had taught herself a great many things during those lonely few years.

Yin Caixin shifted her attention to Han Qingyu and the rest. “This is the theme of this year’s trial. I’ll translate it for you.”

A theme? This thing has a theme? Han Qingyu wondered helplessly. The mind of that romantic French Starlight senior-turned-painter truly worked in unfathomable ways.

“There’s a theme every time. Mister Alphonse admires the spirit of war romanticism.”

“Oh... go ahead, then.”

“This time the theme is knights and... a princess.” Yin Caixin appeared bashfully pleased. By that logic, she would obviously be the princess.

“What the heck?” He Tangtang asked bluntly from the side.

“It means a platoon is only judged the winner, and only gets that extra metal core as a reward, if the girl on the platoon holds out to the end.” Han Qingyu turned back to huddle with the group.

Everybody was muttering furiously.

“She isn’t taking advantage of the fact that we can’t read that thing to con us, is she?”

“That’s a possibility.”

“We’ve got Rust Girl, though. Her ears work fine, at least. Not sure whether that counts.”

“Hey, why does nobody here think better of the little sharp fruit? Why do y’all think she’s going to flop for sure?”

“Knights and a princess, my ass. She’d be more like an empress than a princess. With a rule like that backing her once we’re inside, she could go completely wild and start throwing her weight around!”

“Then we find a way to make her listen to us,” Han Qingyu said.

Yin Caixin stared blankly at their backs for a good while. “You guys...?”

“It’s nothing. We’re discussing how to protect you properly. Go on,” Wen Jifei said, turning around.

“Mn.”

Yin Caixin translated the rest of the mission briefing very seriously.

It wasn’t complicated. Only five people per team could enter, and one had to be a girl.

“Was it like this before too?”

“No, it wasn’t. It changes every time. Last time, the theme was ‘My Brothers,’ and platoons of fifteen went in.” Yin Caixin sounded apologetic. “So I’m very sorry. I didn’t know beforehand either.”

That meant more than half the people in this room couldn’t go in.

“Whoever set the rules this time is sick in the head!” He Tangtang exclaimed, getting worked up. “They’re letting so few people in!”

“Right. With a lineup that small, even if every girl going in is strong, it’s still not enough to cut down a Sharpie!” Liu Shiheng muttered. “Is the point to force everyone to form alliances inside?”

Yin Caixin nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that’s exactly what Mister Alphonse said in the mission briefing. He said we’ll have to prepare for a chaotic, all-out invasion in our future, one where formations can never stay intact. Like units broken apart in a real war, we’ll have to organize ourselves quickly.”

The explanation sounded reasonable, but Han Qingyu couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. He was still pondering it when he was interrupted.

Yin Caixin’s eyes swept over the people around her as she asked with slight embarrassment. “So, out of everyone here, who should go in?”

There were thirteen of them, and Yin Caixin herself was a certainty.

“My integration level is B+,” she volunteered, a small unease in her eyes.

“A,” Han Qingyu said. Then, on Shen Yixiu’s behalf, he added, “This full-armor warrior is stronger than me.”

“I know.” Yin Caixin’s eyes darted over to Shen Yixiu, a kindness in them as she nodded with a smile. Evidently, she had heard about Shen Yixiu’s situation from her grandfather.

He Tangtang came next. “I’m B+ too.”

“I’m...” Liu Shiheng hesitated. “Never mind. I’ll watch your things out here.”

Wen Jifei was on the same page. “My situation’s a bit complicated, so I’ll sit this one out.”

As they were saying letters, the foreigners on Yin Caixin’s side could follow along, and they jabbered among themselves for a while.

“The people I contacted and hired include B and C-ranks,” Yin Caixin explained on the foreigners’ behalf. “Though they say integration level doesn’t equal strength.”

That was true. Integration level aside, there was also the question of realized potential and experience in the armor.

Han Qingyu nodded. “Understood.”

If he had his way, he’d naturally want the other four going in to be his own people. At the very least, he wanted He Tangtang to be one of them, to keep things easy.

With an apologetic expression still on her face, Yin Caixin tentatively said, “Then...”

“It’s fine. Just say it.”

“There’s a small sparring ground here.”

“Good. Your side will supply the energy cores for the sparring.”

She was at a loss for words.

***

Yin Caixin was the first to step up at the sparring grounds, perhaps to ease the awkwardness of an internal contest. “I... even though I don’t have to compete, I’ll show you what I can do, so you get a sense of it. This is my strongest move.”

The device started up with a hum, and she launched into action.

Her people observed calmly. Han Qingyu’s group, on the other hand, watched slack-jawed.

“Invincible Firewind Wheels?” Wen Jifei unwittingly exclaimed.

Yin Caixin wasn’t strongly built at all, but she managed to spin while maintaining a two-handed grip on a dead iron straight blade—one longer and wider than the standard Oriental Republic Army Group combat blade.

Her spins were quick and had decent explosive power. Then, the long blade drew in before extending again in her hands.

With a spin, she was at the top left corner, then the middle edge of the platform, then she followed an S-shaped path. Just as abruptly, any semblance of a pattern was gone.

It almost looked like she was about to take off with the way she was spinning and shifting positions.

“Is she a spinning top?” He Tangtang asked incredulously.

“A helicopter,” Wen Jifei offered.

“Either works,” Liu Shiheng said. “So do you think all that footwork is under her control, or is she just spinning at random?”

“I’m just curious whether she’s getting dizzy,” Han Qingyu said.

The answer was, she was.

When Yin Caixin finally stopped, her body tilted to the left, and she stumbled several steps before steadying herself. A fine sheen of sweat covered her forehead. Still catching her breath, she glanced over at Han Qingyu and the others. “Was that all right?”

“It was. That’s very impressive,” Han Qingyu said calmly. “Whatever you do, don’t use that move once we’re inside.”

Yin Caixin seemed confused. “Why?”

“Because... it’s too robust,” Han Qingyu said. “I’m afraid you’ll hurt us.”

1. Longjing (龍井, or “Dragon Well”) is one of China's ten most celebrated green teas. The tea has a sweet-pea flavor balanced by a characteristic roasted chestnut aroma; it’s delicate, but thick and buttery, with a long finish. (pulled from https://inpursuitoftea.com/blogs/the-ipot-journal/chinese-green-tea ) ☜

2. While 翠花 (cuì huā) strings together some nice concepts, with 翠 meaning jade or emerald green and 花 meaning flower, it is also a very literal one. Basically, it’s not abstract or elegant, and is strongly associated with both country girls and a much older generation.

A 90s song called "Northeasterners are all Living Lei Fengs" (东北人都是活雷锋) (link to song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ya8CTv2dwS4&t=65s) that got very popular in the early 2000s also had a line ("Cuihua, serve pickled cabbage!" / 翠花, 上酸菜!) at the very end that became iconic and can be used as a funny reference for someone to imply that a lady is a bit rustic in a light-hearted, familiar, teasing way. (pulled from https://mydramalist.com/778182-this-is-ridiculous/discussions/148402-funny-names-explained-wang-cuihua-and-zhang-san ) ☜

3. 尖果 literally means “sharp fruit,” and 尖孙 literally means “sharp grandchild.” In slang terms, however, “grandchild” is an insult meaning “coward.” ☜

4. 菜心 (cài xīn) literally translates to choy sum, the vegetable. ☜