In September, in the south-central region of Dongguo, Galuo City.

The sky brightened at four in the morning. A bluish-gray mist held a faint pink hue, a thin layer enveloping this dilapidated and deathly silent city.

On the top floor of a four-story building in the city center, the windows were shut tight, covered with newspaper. The room was dimly lit, with bare concrete walls and floor, furnished with a table, a chair, and a bed.

A small electric fan whirred by the bed. Suddenly, with a sizzle of electricity, the fan blades lost power. They spun slower and slower, wobbled a few more times, and finally stopped.

The power was out again.

Within minutes, Song Ran woke up in bed. She touched her neck, feeling a thin layer of sweat.

It was almost mid-September, but the weather was still scorching hot.

These days, the temperature in Galuo City had been consistently above thirty-five degrees Celsius, with the "feels like" temperature exceeding forty. Song Ran had been stationed here for a month. When she first arrived, the daily temperature of nearly fifty degrees had been deadly.

Over a month ago, the war in Dongguo had worsened, with countless civilian casualties. War correspondents from various countries, charitable organizations, volunteers, Doctors Without Borders, and the UN Peacekeeping Force had all entered the country.

Liang City TV had also sent reporters over. A few male colleagues went to the front lines, while Song Ran stayed in Galuo, the station for the UN Peacekeeping Force, responsible for reporting on the situation of the local Dongguo military and civilians, as well as the Peacekeeping Force.

Most of her time was spent within the Chinese barracks, providing documentation services for her country's troops. Occasionally, she would go to other teams for interviews. Today, she had a special mission: to follow a team of foreign soldiers on a rescue operation.

She had set her alarm for 4:30, and there was still a quarter of an hour left. Song Ran opened the window for some fresh air, looking out at the gray, dilapidated Galuo City. She leaned against the window, feeling the morning breeze for a while, as if listening to the city's gasping breaths.

A moment later, the alarm went off. She got ready and went out, bumping into a local Dongguo reporter, Sasin, in the old hallway.

"Good morning!" he greeted her in English.

"Good morning!" Song Ran said. "The power's out, did you know?"

"I know. There will be more and more power outages from now on. You'll get used to it."

"Does this mean the situation is unfavorable for the Government Army?"

Sasin shrugged, spreading his hands. "You know, they're being attacked from both sides." Half a month ago, an extremist terrorist organization had also joined the fray, adding fuel to the fire of Dongguo's already dire situation.

"Will Ale fall?" Ale City was the closest major town to Galuo where three factions were fighting, and a hub that several forces were desperately trying to seize.

"Only the Lord knows." Sasin made a prayer sign on his chest and pointed to the sky.

Sasin was younger than her cousin, Ran Chi, only twenty years old. He was a sophomore at Gamma University of Technology in the capital. After the war broke out, he took his camera and went to the front lines, saying he wanted to record the truth of his own country. He was tall and thin, with deep-set eyes and a high brow bone, his face having the deep contours of the locals. But he was a student after all, too young, so he deliberately grew a beard to look more mature.

The two of them were to follow a small Western peacekeeping squad today to rescue civilians in a small town 100 kilometers away.

Sasin didn't particularly like Americans. He wanted to go to the very front lines to film the Dongguo army in combat. But he wasn't a professional journalist, so he didn't have the qualifications.

The American soldiers traveling with them didn't pay much attention to the two of them either, chatting cheerfully with a few Western war correspondents along the way.

Song Ran was squeezed in the back of a military truck with a team of soldiers and reporters. She wore a helmet and a bulletproof vest, squinting at the clouds of dust kicked up behind the truck, intermittently listening to their English conversation.

Halfway there, an American soldier named Benjamin suddenly asked her, "I think I've seen you before."

Song Ran didn't recall.

"The Chinese barracks are next to ours, and you go there often. Are you Chinese?"

"Yes."

As soon as she spoke, a British soldier laughed, "How's your soldiers' vegetable farming going?"

The group around them burst into laughter.

Sasin looked at Song Ran awkwardly, not knowing how to defuse the situation.

The peacekeepers stationed in Galuo came from ten different countries, all under the command of the joint headquarters. The headquarters was predominantly staffed by Western officers. Even on the battlefield, discrimination existed. They believed that Asians were physically weak and less capable. Combat operations were usually assigned to Western troops. China was mainly responsible for road construction, material transport, and medical rescue, as well as protecting international aid workers like volunteers and doctors.

Meanwhile, the Chinese officers and soldiers had used their spare time to clear a few patches of wasteland within their barracks to grow vegetables, and they even raised chickens, which had become quite a spectacle.

Song Ran looked at them, and after they finished laughing, she said, "Thank you for your concern. The cabbages are already ripe, and the chickens are growing well. A couple of days ago, our soldiers sent some to the field hospital to supplement the nutrition of the injured American soldiers. Weren't you aware?"

The laughter stopped.

Benjamin exchanged a look with his companion and said, "We'd like to grow vegetables and raise chickens too, but we have to fight on the front lines. Our duties are heavy."

Song Ran said, "Farming is a science too. Just because you can shoot a bullet doesn't mean you can sow a seed well."

Benjamin shrugged and pursed his lips, not responding.

The team arrived at their destination at nine in the morning.

The small town was north of Galuo, not far from Ale City. It was in a remote location, and while the damage from the war wasn't severe, it was completely deserted.

Song Ran followed the team as they covertly entered the small town.

On the way there, they had been full of laughter, but upon entering the town, everyone became extremely vigilant.

Song Ran carefully crept across a deserted and quiet street when someone behind her stepped on a discarded can, making a noise. She turned back in alarm; it was Benjamin.

Seeing that she was startled, he and his companions grinned silently, their eyebrows nearly flying off their faces. Song Ran ignored their mockery, adjusted her helmet and mask, and continued cautiously forward.

They crept along without incident. The enemy forces seemed to have withdrawn.

Soon, the peacekeeping squad found a group of refugees in the school building in the town center. There were about a hundred people, from the elderly to children.

The soldiers quickly escorted the people to evacuate through the school's back door. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out from the school's playground, and a British soldier yelled, "Rebels!"

Song Ran took off running in a second.

Instantly, the civilians surged frantically toward the back door. The soldiers decisively split into two groups: one to escort, the other to provide reinforcement. All the war correspondents on site rushed toward the firefight, except for Sasin, who spread his arms to shield a few women and children, guiding them quickly outside.

Song Ran was the first to reach a classroom on the ground floor of the school building, just in time to see the peacekeepers inside exchanging fire with the rebels in the building across from them. Gunshots rang out continuously as they traded fire.

You could see the difference on the battlefield—a few who had been on long-term missions were accustomed to the scene, and their movements for loading, shooting, aiming, and taking cover were very practiced; a few newcomers were more timid, trembling all over as they sought cover.

Song Ran hid behind a wall, recording with her camera. A few bullets hit the wall on her side, cracking loudly, but the wall was thick and the bullets couldn't penetrate. Bullets flew in through the window from time to time, whistling past her face and shattering the glass windows at the back of the classroom. She was so tense that she actually forgot to be afraid.

The enemy was short on numbers, and the firefight stopped in less than a quarter of an hour. Twenty rebels were killed or wounded, and the few remaining survivors were disarmed and surrendered. It turned out their main force had abandoned this town and moved north.

After it was over, Song Ran returned to the school's back door and saw Sasin helping the adults lift the children onto the truck one by one.

Song Ran asked, "You didn't go over just now?"

"No."

"Didn't you want to get closer to the front lines? It was such a good opportunity."

Sasin scratched his head and smiled. "I didn't react in time."

The rescued people were quickly sent to a refugee camp, and the reporters took the opportunity to film at the camp as well.

On the way back to Galuo, several reporters discussed the day's gunfight, the refugees, and the footage they each captured. Only Sasin sat in the back of the military vehicle, looking back at the devastated land behind them.

In that moment, Song Ran vaguely sensed the difference between Sasin and the rest of the war correspondents—

This was his country, not theirs.

Upon entering Galuo City, Benjamin asked Song Ran where she was going.

Song Ran craned her neck to look at the road and said, "I'll get off at the corner up ahead."

"To the Chinese barracks?"

"Yeah."

Benjamin walked to the front, knocked on the window, and said to his comrade in the driver's seat, "Take a right up ahead, to the Chinese barracks."

Song Ran didn't know why he was suddenly being so kind as to give her a ride. Benjamin just smiled and said nothing.

After she got out of the truck, several of the Western soldiers on board waved at her enthusiastically, "See you!"

Song Ran was utterly confused: "..."

Back at the barracks, Song Ran went straight to Luo Zhan's office. Luo Zhan was the political commissar of this peacekeeping battalion. Song Ran had been here for over a month and had long since gotten to know them all well.

Along the way, many soldiers were drilling. Song Ran casually took a few photos.

At the end of the path, the vegetable garden was a swath of lush green. She hadn't seen it for a few days, and small cucumbers and tomatoes had already grown.

Song Ran leaned in for a look. The small cucumbers were only as long as a finger, with large yellow blossoms hanging from their ends; the small tomatoes were green and hard, not yet the size of walnuts, round and plump like pouting children.

She couldn't resist leaning in to take a sniff. The scent was fresh, the smell of summer.

Walking into the office, she found Luo Zhan analyzing a battle map.

Song Ran took off her bulletproof vest and helmet and said, "The cucumbers and tomatoes have grown."

Luo Zhan looked up and smiled. "I'll give you a few when they're ripe. ... How did it go out with them today?"

"We ran into a small squad of anti-government forces," Song Ran said. "A French soldier was so scared he almost wet his pants."

Luo Zhan was delighted. "Did you get it on camera?"

Song Ran, who was gulping down water, nodded.

"Our bomb disposal soldiers have been dispatched here, and the joint command has also given us the new task of mine-clearing and bomb disposal. If you're interested, you can follow them."

"Really? That's great."

"What? Got bored of following us around building roads and transporting goods every day?"

"... Of course not."

The two chatted for a short while before there was some commotion outside. A few officers and soldiers were preparing to water the fields. Song Ran touched the braids she had worn for a week, hesitating to speak.

Luo Zhan: "What is it?"

"Can I borrow your water to wash my hair? Just a quick rinse." Song Ran felt guilty, speaking in a small voice, "After I'm done, it can be used to water the plants."

Luo Zhan burst out laughing. "The power and water have been out in your area recently, haven't they?"

Song Ran nodded awkwardly.

"The water we use for watering is rice water."

"I know. Perfect, rice water is nutritious and good for hair."

Luo Zhan couldn't help but chuckle. "Go ahead, wash it."

"Thanks, Commissar Luo, I'll be very frugal." Song Ran got up and ran outside.

As soon as she was out the door, she undid her hair tie and let down her braids. Her hair was steaming, almost cooked through.

She crossed the courtyard toward the vegetable patch, just as a squad of officers and soldiers marched past in formation, all of them new faces.

Newcomers?

She looked back in confusion, and suddenly her heart clenched, as if she had seen a familiar figure. When she focused her eyes, it was gone. The squad of soldiers had brushed past her.

She silently let out a breath. She must have seen wrong.

Song Ran stood by the edge of the vegetable bed, bent over with her head down, and ladled a scoop of cool water over the back of her head. The heat all over her body was instantly extinguished, replaced by a refreshing chill that went straight to her core.

A few soldiers she knew stood by watching, teasing her deliberately.

Soldier A: "Ten US dollars for a scoop of water!"

Song Ran: "Ten dollars? Do you think this is milk?"

Soldier B: "Milk would be a hundred, okay?"

Soldier C: "The part by your ear is still dry."

Soldier D: "Want some shampoo?"

Someone brought her a small packet of shampoo.

After rinsing off the foam, Song Ran reluctantly poured another scoop of cool water over her head. It was just too hot.

Soldier A: "You've exceeded the water limit."

Soldier B: "Wait, there's still some foam on your neck that you missed."

Everyone chattered and laughed together. A few chickens were strutting around the vegetable patch. When water splashed on them, they would flutter their wings and fly off, bumping into the cucumber vines and making the small cucumbers sway.

Song Ran, with her head down, wrung the water from her hair with both hands. Behind her, someone chuckled lightly, their voice as clear as a spring: "Need a comb?"

Song Ran froze, then abruptly straightened up, flipping her wet hair back. She stood stunned for two or three seconds, and without caring that her hair was dripping, she turned around.

Across a bed of vegetables, Li Zan stood in his camouflage uniform, leaning slightly with his arms crossed, smiling at her.

A few of his comrades-in-arms next to him had their hands on his shoulders, all of them smiling at her.