Chapter Thirteen: Enrollment or Imprisonment?

An Jing had never imagined she would long so desperately to see someone.

It had already been two days, and Lei Dong had not come to visit her as he promised before he left.

On the first morning, An Jing thought perhaps he needed some rest. In the afternoon, she wondered if he was busy arranging things. By evening, alone in the tiny house of that mountain village, she was restless, unable to sit or lie still.

On the second day, she rose early to stand outside the small courtyard, gazing blankly at the winding mountain path.

Had something happened? Otherwise, why hadn't he come? All day, An Jing stood at the little gate, watching the serpentine road below.

But as the sun set, Lei Dong still did not appear.

Lei Dong’s friend, “Brother Wang,” stepped out of the courtyard, his face worried. “Go back inside. Xiao Lei probably has things to handle… If you’re really anxious, give him a call.”

An Jing seemed not to hear him, mechanically nodding, but then a sudden dread struck her: Something to handle? Did something happen to him?

As Brother Wang handed her the battered old cell phone, the ominous thoughts that had circled all day now thundered in her chest.

That number, memorized long ago and etched deep into her mind, surfaced once more. An Jing bit her lip. Whether it would help or not, whether she could do anything for Lei Dong or not, she had to try.

Just as her slim, pale, almost translucent fingers pressed the first digit, the phone suddenly rang—a harsh, jarring tone from the counterfeit device.

Glancing at the screen, An Jing’s eyes froze. The incoming number was the very one she was about to dial.

What was happening? How could it be that before she had called out, this number had already called in? And to a phone that belonged to someone entirely unrelated?

Could it be…?

Startled and uncertain, yet with a glimmer of hope, An Jing drew a deep breath and pressed the answer button. “Hello…”

“Is this An Jing?” The voice on the other end was deep, slow, and heavily accented from the central plains. It sounded aged, indistinct, yet carried an indefinable authority—a tone that brooked no refusal. An Jing faltered, almost panicking, “Yes… yes, I’m An Jing…” But as she finished, her composure returned.

“Oh, haha, it really is little Hong.” The awe-inspiring authority in the voice vanished instantly, replaced by a kindly, familiar warmth.

An Jing’s heart twisted with confusion. “Little Hong” was her childhood nickname, used only by her mother. How could this elderly man know it? Clearly, he must be someone very close to the family, yet she had no memory of him.

“May I ask… who is this?” An Jing asked cautiously.

“I am Tang Zhongyuan.” The aged voice was calm, but to An Jing, it was like thunder. She nearly cried out.

Impossible!

She knew well who Tang Zhongyuan was—a legendary figure whose name resounded across the republic for decades, a man whose slightest cough could change the fate of nations.

But how could such a titan be calling her? Forcing down her excitement, An Jing spoke again, “Elder Tang…”

“Don’t call me Elder Tang—call me Grandpa… or better yet, Great-grandpa.” The old man’s voice was full of joy. “When will you come visit? Keep this old man company for a while.”

“Oh… Great-grandpa…” An Jing felt awkward, yet a surge of pride welled inside her. How many in the entire republic could address him so intimately?

But she didn’t forget her true purpose. Haltingly, she began, “Great-grandpa, I wanted to ask about something. I… I…” The words stuck in her throat.

But the old man seemed to understand. He chuckled, “It’s about that Lei family boy, isn’t it? His father is here with me. I’ll let him talk to you.”

“I’m Lei Dong’s fa—cough, father, Lei Tiangang.” A strong, hearty voice came through.

“Hello, Uncle…” An Jing felt a sudden, inexplicable panic.

“Good, good. The first words you speak are to ask about Lei Dong. You’re a good girl!” Lei Tiangang’s voice softened, and An Jing blushed. Why did it all sound so ambiguous?

“Lei Dong… is he alright?” she asked, cheeks flushed.

“He’s fine. I sent him back to his unit. The issue has been resolved. Tomorrow, I’ll send someone to fetch you down the mountain. Ah, Elder Tang wants to talk to you again.” Lei Tiangang’s words were barely finished when the old man’s voice returned, “Don’t worry, he’s fine, little Hong. Come to see your great-grandpa tomorrow…”

The old man kept talking, and An Jing replied mechanically, her heart sighing softly. Back to his unit? He was a soldier? That life would be so hard… Could he endure it? No, he was so capable…

Thoughts rose and fell chaotically in her heart as she held the phone. Suddenly, a line of poetry surfaced in her mind: When shall we meet again on the willow-lined shore, beneath the faint moon and morning breeze…

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While An Jing was restless in the mountains, Lei Dong was sitting in an unremarkable van, making his way through Han Capital.

At dusk, Lei Tiangang, after bustling about outside all day, handed Lei Dong an admission notice to the “Han Capital Reconnaissance Academy,” then hurried off, leaving Lei Dong alone to stare blankly at the paper.

“Han Capital Reconnaissance Academy”? What nonsense was this? Though he’d served less than a year, he’d grown up in the military compound—how had he never heard of such a place?

Instead of sending him back to his original unit, his father had arranged for him to go to this bizarre place. What was he up to?

Lei Dong glanced at the endlessly talking driver with growing annoyance.

The driver was a tall, robust, and enthusiastic young man, no more than twenty-four or twenty-five, yet already a major. He introduced himself as Wu Yun, head of transportation for the Reconnaissance Academy’s logistics department.

This overly enthusiastic fellow had greeted Lei Dong with a bear hug and hadn’t stopped spouting platitudes about welcoming a new comrade.

“This is the Republic’s First Avenue—Chang’an Boulevard. It stretches thirty-eight kilometers. Look, here’s Chengtian Gate Square, the largest plaza in the world, known as the Republic’s heart. All the grandest ceremonies take place here…”

“Do you need to tell me that? Is there anyone in the Republic who doesn’t know this place? I’ve lived here for eighteen years, alright?” Lei Dong rolled his eyes, thoroughly exasperated by the man’s cheerfulness.

What bothered Lei Dong even more was how Wu Yun kept sizing him up, as if he’d found some curious new toy.

What’s wrong with this guy? Lei Dong was at a loss.

Unbeknownst to Lei Dong, Wu Yun’s thoughts were quite different.

As a veteran special forces operative in the Republic’s most mysterious unit, Wu Yun knew well that in the sixty-year history of the force, not a single private with less than a year’s service had ever even learned of its existence, let alone joined its ranks.

But this kid’s background… Every time he thought of his mysterious, serious superior’s special instructions, Wu Yun resolved to make friends with this greenhorn.

Night deepened, the surroundings grew dim, and people grew scarce.

Watching the changing scenery through the window, listening to Wu Yun’s endless chatter, and recalling their route, Lei Dong suddenly felt a sense of foreboding. His heart began pounding faster, almost leaping from his chest. No way… No way… The destination couldn’t possibly be… Lei Dong screamed silently.

When the van finally slowed and stopped at a small, inconspicuous side gate of a compound with towering walls, Wu Yun grinned, “We’re here, time to get out.” Lei Dong’s suspicions were confirmed. He slumped in his seat and groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

He knew this place all too well—as did everyone in the Republic—Zhao Du Prison.

Anyone even slightly familiar with political and social news knew of this prison, the Republic’s most notorious.

It had existed for over a century, and after the founding of the Republic, was massively expanded under the Ministry of Police, the only prison not under the Ministry of Justice. Initially, it held top generals and political figures deemed major war criminals after the decades-long civil war—men who once controlled the fates of millions, now imprisoned, reformed, or pardoned.

During later upheavals, it held senior officials accused of betraying “the people.” Ironically, some who oversaw its expansion ended up inmates themselves.

In more recent times, its inmates grew more diverse: senior officials convicted of corruption, violent crime lords, the most cunning economic fraudsters, and other sensitive figures all ended up here.

But whatever their backgrounds, this prison remained the largest, most mysterious, and held the “highest class” prisoners. Among them were politicians with keen insight and unique theories, scientists obsessed with breakthroughs at the cost of ethics, and deranged experts of unrivaled authority in their fields…

Years ago, a starlet convicted of tax evasion claimed after her release she had been held in Zhao Du Prison. When a reporter asked the warden, he exploded, “Who does she think she is? Does she think this is a place you can just walk into? She acts in a few lousy films and dodges a few million in taxes—ten years in prison and she thinks that’s enough? I spit!” As if he ran not a prison but the world’s only seven-star hotel.

And now, someone was telling him this place was actually the secretive “Reconnaissance Academy”!

At that moment, Lei Dong was so frustrated he could have coughed blood. Was there anything more absurd than this?

Was he enlisting, or being imprisoned? Had his father lied about sending him to serve, only to lock him up to pay for his supposed misdeeds?

Staring in shock, Lei Dong finally spoke for the first time since boarding Wu Yun’s van, “Are you sure this is the Reconnaissance Academy?” He secretly tensed, ready to bolt if things went south.

Wu Yun looked at the dumbfounded young man with a mix of pity and schadenfreude. “Strange, isn’t it? You think we shouldn’t be here?”

“What do you think?” Lei Dong rolled his eyes again.

Wu Yun chuckled, pressed a spot on the gate, and the iron door swung open.

As it did, Lei Dong was utterly stunned by what he saw inside.