Flame War Anthem: Beyond the Galactic River (GL) - Chapter 16

She even cleared her throat with great solemnity and said in a low voice, “That night, I was vigilantly scanning the surroundings with my infrared night vision goggles when a sudden beam of light caught my attention. Guess what? In the dead of night, someone had parked an incredibly sleek Ferrari on the open grassland near the hill. As you all know, that road is usually deserted—hardly anyone passes by even during the day, let alone in the middle of the night.”

At this point, she paused, a flicker of tension flashing in her eyes as if reliving that moment.

“My nerves instantly tightened, and I went into full alert mode. My eyes widened as I stared intently at that car. Minutes ticked by, but the vehicle remained motionless, as if nailed to the spot. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on, itching to sneak closer for a better look. But reason told me I absolutely couldn’t expose my position. So I waited patiently for another half an hour—until finally, there was movement inside the car…”

She paused again, her gaze slyly sweeping over the group. “The door opened and out stepped a woman in a long dress. Most importantly, she looked exactly like someone…”

She was a master at building suspense, always timing it perfectly.

Just as she reached the crucial part, she deliberately stopped and leisurely picked up her teacup.

She took a small sip, moistening her throat.

By now, everyone had mostly finished eating, and all eyes were glued to her as if drawn by a magnet.

Every person leaned forward, ears perked, eagerly awaiting her next words.

Xue Ran savored the attention, letting the tension build before her eyes subtly flickered toward Yan Yu. Then she continued, “Do you all remember the female squad leader who came from the Dragon Combat Unit to train us five years ago?”

Xu Yasong, who had been casually reclining in her chair to Xue Ran’s right, immediately straightened up at these words.

Her elbows rested lightly on the table, her entire demeanor now serious.

Her gaze grew distant as long-buried memories resurfaced. In a low, reflective voice, she said, “How could we forget? Back then, we were all scouts in the old unit. She came to train us in new combat skills—an outstanding special forces operative with exceptional tactical expertise. She was strict yet patient during training. Sadly, we later heard she sacrificed her life on a mission…”

At this, she lowered her head, her eyes filled with deep remembrance and respect.

The lively atmosphere came to an abrupt halt, the cheerful chatter dying instantly.

Though steam still rose from the hot pot, the room suddenly felt colder.

Amid her sorrow, Xue Ran abruptly slapped the table.

The sharp crack shattered the brief silence. Raising an eyebrow, she said hesitantly, “But you know what? The woman I saw that night—aside from her long hair—looked exactly like her. From her face to her build, it was like seeing a carbon copy. It terrified me…”

Standing up, she gestured in the air to mimic the woman’s figure, her expression unwavering.

“Don’t joke around like that. It was so dark there—how could you possibly see her face clearly? Besides, there aren’t people who look that similar unless they’re twins.”

Xu Yasong’s face was full of disbelief, his brows furrowing as he stared intently at her.

That class monitor had sacrificed herself heroically—she shouldn’t be the subject of baseless speculation.

The others also looked skeptical.

Huang Yasong crossed her arms, equally baffled by Xue Ran’s words, her tone laced with doubt. “Could you have been mistaken? In that kind of situation, people’s judgment can easily be off.”

Yan Yu sat across from Xue Ran, listening quietly.

But as the conversation continued, her calm gaze suddenly sharpened, as if struck by an electric current.

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand or slowly carved by a dull blade—waves of anguish piercing through her.

She clenched her chopsticks, her knuckles whitening from the force, the veins on the back of her hand faintly visible.

She had seen that class monitor in their group photos before—she knew exactly who they were talking about.

This was the first time in five years that she had heard someone claim there was another person in this world who resembled her.

To be precise, once this year passed, it would be a full six years.

“Come on, she didn’t turn off the car lights! With that much brightness, of course I could see clearly… Believe me, I’m absolutely certain. There’s no way two people could look so alike unless they were twins. Tell me, is it possible that the class monitor never actually died?”

Xue Ran grew more and more animated, excitement lighting up her face.

She had kept this to herself for days—finally, she could share it with them.

Qian Yang sat silently beside her, not uttering a word the entire time.

Her eyes flickered toward Xue Ran a few times, her gaze carrying something complicated.

“What was your class monitor’s name?”

Yan Yu forced down the rising panic and bitterness in her chest, though it made her throat tighten.

She tried to keep her voice steady, but the slight tremor betrayed her emotions.

Her shadowed eyes fixed on Xu Yasong, deep fear hidden beneath—even though she already knew the answer, she still waited for confirmation.

“An… An Jingxi. Her name was An Jingxi.”

Xu Yasong remembered this class monitor vividly, the name slipping out almost instantly.

The moment it was spoken, it was like a boulder crashing into a still lake, sending violent waves surging through Yan Yu’s heart.

It really was her. It really was Xiao Xi…

As she listened to them continue discussing her, her lowered gaze darkened, weighed down by unbearable unease and pain.

Lost in thought, a faint, unreadable smile tugged at her lips—one filled with too many complicated emotions.

There was nostalgia, agony, and the quiet desolation of time passing, of everything changing.

Then her expression gradually hardened, as if an invisible mountain had suddenly settled on her shoulders.

Her hand, resting on the edge of the table, unconsciously slipped beneath it, clenching into a fist.

Her short nails dug deep into her palm, but she didn’t even notice.

She lowered her head slightly, lips parting as she murmured to herself, so softly that only she could hear:

“An Jingxi… Xiao Xi…”

Hearing people mention her again stirred a complex mix of emotions in his heart, like an overturned spice bottle with flavors churning wildly inside.

He didn’t know whether to feel somewhat comforted—after all, the soldiers she had once led still remembered her—or to simply let those past memories come flooding back like a bursting dam…