Flame War Anthem: Beyond the Galactic River (GL) - Chapter 17

I still remember during our time at the military academy, during one class meeting where we all sat together chatting enthusiastically.

The classmates each envisioned what they would be like as leaders in the military someday.

One pounded his chest, declaring he’d implement brutal training regimes, his expression as imposing as a mighty general.

Another dreamed of bonding closely with comrades, treating them like friends to share stories and laughter with.

Yet others imagined years later when the whole class would reunite—would they embrace and weep? How much would they have changed by then?

Back then, they were young and full of vigor, each face radiating confidence and spirit, as if the whole world lay at their feet with no obstacle too great.

Who could have predicted that after graduation, they’d be the ones getting disciplined into submission? Those bold declarations gradually transformed into grounded growth through relentless training.

Those youthful, reckless fantasies gradually matured under the tempering of time.

Looking back now, so many things seem predestined.

Like how even now, her comrades remember Xiao Xi so vividly—at least they haven’t forgotten.

There was once an exceptional soldier who selflessly taught them how to fight on the battlefield and survive in dire situations.

Every drop of sweat shed during training, every lesson learned in actual combat—none would have been possible without her meticulous guidance.

Words once again sank into deep remembrance.

Her heart still ached with numb despair.

All these years, she thought she’d learned to adapt.

Adapted to days without her, adapted to that bone-deep stabbing pain, adapted to sudden memories surfacing, adapted to walking alone through lightless darkness.

Every silent night, every break between missions—that longing would follow like a shadow.

But what does adapting really change?

When the pain comes, it never lessens by even a fraction.

When composure is needed, emotions still spiral uncontrollably.

Those hidden feelings are like a dormant volcano—seemingly calm, but always on the verge of eruption.

Noticing her pale complexion and odd expression during a lull in conversation, the comrades exchanged concerned glances.

They didn’t understand what connection their captain had with that female squad leader.

“Captain, are you okay? Did you know that squad leader too?” Huang Xiaoqian cautiously probed with concern.

Words slowly raised her head, her gaze vacant with confusion and helplessness, as if struggling back from distant memories.

Then her body froze, standing motionless for several seconds before mechanically rising.

Her movements became slow and stiff, each motion seemingly pulling at wounds.

Clutching her phone with trembling hands, her face deathly pale, her voice betrayed disorientation and choked emotions: “Mm… I’m fine. I have… something to handle. I’ll go ahead. I’ve paid—remember to assemble at headquarters tomorrow.”

Without daring another glance at them, she turned and hurried toward the private room’s exit like a startled deer, her fleeing figure radiating panic.

The four watched her abrupt departure, exchanging bewildered looks full of unanswered questions.

“Could the captain know that female squad leader… Did we accidentally touch a sore spot by bringing her up?”

Qian Yang’s eyes filled with urgency as she stood and hurried after Yan Yu’s retreating figure.

Xue Ran had never seen the captain lose composure like this and immediately blamed herself: “I didn’t know… I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

She never imagined that casually bringing up the topic would fluster their normally unflappable captain so thoroughly.

Xu Yasong frowned and said gravely, “The captain specifically asked for her name—they must know each other.”

By the time they reached the restaurant entrance, Yan Yu had already disappeared into the streets.

The outdoor heat remained stifling.

Qian Yang immediately dialed her phone, but no one answered.

They weren’t worried about her safety—her skills were beyond question.

They simply didn’t want their always-strong captain to bear the pain alone.

For over five years, many things had been carefully sealed away in their memories, not to be lightly mentioned.

Since joining the Dragon Combat Unit, they’d seen her name countless times on the honor roll.

The golden characters stood out starkly against the black marble wall, lined up solemnly with the names of other fearless heroes and martyrs.

That wall of honor wasn’t just a record of achievements—it was a monument etched into the hearts of every Dragon Combat soldier.

They revered each name there while continuing these heroes’ mission to protect their homeland.

They would persevere on this path, passing on this legacy like an eternal flame.

Yan Yu walked alone through the crowded streets, soon breaking into a light sweat.

Her button-up shirt, black jeans, and white sneakers gave her a crisp, clean-cut appearance.

Amid the neon-lit world, she felt like a lost lamb in an endless forest—directionless, anchorless, lonely and adrift.

Her Xiao Xi had been her closest confidant and the person she’d silently loved for half her life.

That unspoken affection had taken root and grown intricate tendrils in her heart—how could she ever let go?

The wound torn in her heart had bled endlessly during those dark years, seemingly draining all hope and vitality.

With time, instead of healing properly, it festered with pain until finally forming a scar.

Yet no one knew that beneath the scar lay a bottomless void—dark, silent, and unfathomable.

That place had once overflowed with laughter and unforgettable memories of their companionship.

Those moments remained vivid no matter how much time passed.

Whenever they were together, she’d go out of her way to make Xiao Xi smile, and that smile could always dispel any gloom.

Xiao Xi loved saying things that left people struggling to keep up—quirky since childhood, forever young at heart, and constantly getting into mischief.

Yet despite it all, Xiao Xi had always doted on her, rarely even raising her voice.

Her special treatment and meticulous care made Yan Yu feel like the happiest person in the world.

For over a decade, through countless ordinary sunrises and moonrises, they had always been by each other’s side, understanding each other deeply.

Even just a day or two apart would fill her with longing, making her eager to see her again.

That yearning grew like wild grass, utterly uncontrollable.