Wheat Seedlings - Chapter 22

Mai Miao Parallel Side Story (3)

Chen Li barely slept a wink all night. Before dawn, he was already up.

Holding a white porcelain cup, he went to wash up. As he looked into the mirror, his hand holding the toothbrush paused.

He wiped the mirror with his hand—

Not to boast, but his looks were definitely among the top in the entire military.

Chen Li knew very well that many people, inside and outside the army, had taken a liking to him—some for his promising future, some for his appearance, and there were even those who fancied his physique.

But this year, he turned thirty-four...

Chen Li stroked his chin and quietly studied himself for a long while.

Suddenly, his movements became brisk. He picked up the razor and lathered his face with white foam.

At exactly eight in the morning, government offices opened for business.

Chen Li arrived right on time, only to find a long line of people already standing in the corridor leading to the office.

"Fill out the application forms first," Xiao Yang said as he came out with a stack of papers, handing one to each person. "Name, military ID, unit affiliation—the director emphasized, double-check these details. Don't make any mistakes—"

Flustered, when he handed the form to Chen Li, he barely had time to greet him with a hurried "Regiment Commander Chen" before rushing off without another word.

"Where's Director Yu?" someone at the front of the line craned their neck to ask.

Xiao Yang turned his head and quickly replied, "The director's in a morning meeting!" Then, raising his voice, he added, "Comrades, once you've filled out the forms, go downstairs to take a photo, then come back and submit the forms."

Chen Li silently glanced at the people in the line. Just those he could name off the top of his head numbered over a dozen.

By now, some had already finished filling out their forms and, as if racing to be first, hurried downstairs with their papers in hand.

Chen Li wasted no more time. He patted his pockets—thankfully, he'd remembered to bring a fountain pen before leaving home.

He licked his finger, smoothed out the application form, and was just about to start writing by the window when a frantic voice sounded beside him: "Comrade, if you're done, lend me your pen first."

Chen Li paused and turned his head. "Wang Can?"

Instructor Wang jolted. "Brother Chen?!" He looked Chen Li up and down as if seeing a ghost.

"You—you weren't planning to, were you?" Chen Li also said, "Didn't you say you weren't qualified?"

"Filling out an application form doesn't require qualifications," Instructor Wang declared righteously. "The great Chairman taught us that no matter how tough the conditions, we must face difficulties bravely and dare to try! Ah, no time to chat. Comrade Xiao Yang—comrade, lend me a pen—"

Frowning, Chen Li turned back and saw more and more people arriving. He quickly bent his head and filled out the form.

When Chen Li went downstairs to take his photo, he saw a crowd jostling at the door. The air was thick with the scent of a bunch of grown men. Some who had greeted each other as brothers and comrades in the morning were now eyeing each other sideways, suddenly finding fault with one another.

"Hurry up, stop preening. There's a whole line waiting behind you."

"Yeah, just take the photo! Who are you trying to impress with that face?"

If this weren't government property, fists would've flown long ago.

Chen Li had his photo taken and returned to the second floor to submit his form.

At some point, Xiao Yang had set up a table and chair outside the office door, too busy to even look up.

Chen Li glanced inside when handing in his form. His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a polished leather shoe under the desk.

That bastard Yu Shaotang.

Xiao Yang took the form and silently counted the submissions. It was only morning, but over twenty applications had already been received.

"Submit the form and wait for the notice," Xiao Yang said, neatly stacking the materials. "The earliest will be next Wednesday, no later than two weeks."

As Chen Li went downstairs, he spotted vehicles from other military districts pulling in.

Passersby turned their heads, muttering, "Looks like we're going to war..."

In the past, such opportunities were directly assigned by the organization after internal selection and ideological preparation. Usually, by the time people found out, the lucky ones had already been finalized and received their certificates.

This time, however, the organization was being unusually transparent. Anyone under forty with no disciplinary violations could submit an application for preliminary review.

Rumor had it this was Director Yu's suggestion.

He believed this approach ensured fairness and transparency while boosting morale in the troops—after all, with the war over and life becoming too comfortable, people tended to grow complacent. This initiative was meant to reignite their fighting spirit, encouraging them to keep improving and contributing to the organization and the nation.

Hard to argue with that.

A week later, the Special Defense Administration received nearly four hundred applications. After the first round of screening, over a hundred names remained, submitted to the Supervision Bureau. The final results would take another seven days.

For many men in the military, these two weeks felt unbearably long.

Chen Li abruptly turned over and sat up, switching on the light.

"...Goddammit," he cursed under his breath, irritably climbing out of bed.

In the dead of night, Chen Li hung his pants outside to dry.

He pulled out a cigarette pack, intending to smoke, but his lighter wouldn't catch. Out of fuel.

The compound was vast, encompassing not just the officers' academy but also the administrative building and military hospital—essentially the southern headquarters of their special forces.

Chen Li rode his bicycle with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Humming a tune, he pedaled down the long tree-lined path, his voice echoing through the quiet grounds.

He circled past the garden and the administrative center before gradually slowing to a stop.

The man pinched his nose. He smelled it again.

The scent was faint, drifting from far away.

Chen Li lingered for a moment, then turned his bike around. Just as he was about to leave, he heard voices.

"Who's there? It's pitch black."

"I really saw someone. He even looked at me."

"Then describe him—was he good-looking or not?"

Following the sound, Chen Li walked into the adjacent alley and spotted three figures. They wore round-neck shirts—student soldiers. Chen Li spat out his cigarette and barked, "What are you three doing?"

The compound had a curfew, especially for students. They weren't supposed to be wandering around at this hour.

"Ch-Chen Ge!"

The three of them startled, but before they could bolt, Chen Li strode over.

Memorizing their faces, Chen Li couldn't even be bothered to scold them. "Report to the dean tomorrow. Don't make me hunt you down."

Watching them slink away obediently, the man picked up the discarded cigarette from the ground, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned to leave.

As if guided by some unseen force, he raised his head and looked toward that window.

This should have been just a coincidence, but Chen Li preferred to believe it was fate's arrangement.

He saw a young man—strictly speaking, he looked more like a teenager, not because his features were particularly youthful, but because there was an air of childishness about him.

Compared to the photo, his face had finally filled out a little.

His face and neck were pale, as were his slender arms beneath the short sleeves, gripping the curtains.

Those eyes were just like in the photo—dark and gleaming, filled with wariness and unease.

As he appeared by the window, a rich, sweet scent of wheat drifted over.

Chen Li stared unblinkingly at that spot, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stammered, "I—“

The curtains snapped shut with a sharp rustle.

Chen Li stood beneath the window, his neck stiff from craning, but the curtains never opened again.

***

This time, the regulatory bureau's review took longer than ever—a full week and more before there was any news.

They had listed every criterion for evaluation this time, comparing all applicants' years of service, border aid missions, military rank, and merits.

When the news came, Chen Li was crouched on the ground, scrubbing his shoes.

A comrade, having heard the announcement, rushed all the way to the dormitory to find him and said, "Brother Chen, you got selected!"

In recent years, the national college entrance exams had just been reinstated.

Chen Li gave the shoes a couple more vigorous scrubs before tossing them into the basin.

At over thirty years old, he had now truly experienced the emotional turmoil of a student awaiting exam results.

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