An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 248 Crisis
The train is traveling from north to south and has already reached the central China region.

Outside the window, it was a dark winter night, with only the occasional dim yellow light, like a flashlight, passing by the small stations along the line.

Meng Youyou lay on the upper bunk, the thin cotton quilt covering her had a faint camphor smell, and the blue and white striped cotton pillowcase was printed with the words "Railway Only" in red.

The overhead lights in the carriage had long been turned off, leaving only the floor lights in the aisle casting a dim yellow glow. Even breathing could be heard from the lower berth, and occasionally, the passenger in the opposite berth would turn over, causing the spring mattress to creak slightly.

Meng Youyou is still awake.

Before setting off in the morning, the scene at the train station kept replaying in my mind—my mother holding my hand tightly, unwilling to let go, my father wearing a neat navy blue Zhongshan suit, but looking inexplicably haggard, standing beside me helping her carry her suitcase, the man remaining silent, his steady eyes occasionally glancing at the large clock in the direction of the entrance.

On the platform, the mother repeated what she had said on the train: "Before you left this morning, I put an aluminum lunchbox in your backpack with your favorite pork and corn dumplings. If you get hungry on the train, remember to take it out and eat it early."

The mother and daughter stood facing each other. As they talked, the woman's eyes gradually welled up with tears. Ms. Hu Shulan seemed oblivious, her mind solely focused on repeating, "Take good care of yourself over there. Don't be reckless. Follow the rules and arrangements. If possible, call your mother every month to let her know you're safe, or write a letter..."

Meng Youyou reached out her right hand and gently stroked her mother's eye with the pad of her thumb, wiping away the warm dampness.

This action made Ms. Hu Shulan suddenly turn her face away, freeing one hand to wipe her face haphazardly. A few seconds later, she turned her head back and asked, "Have you remembered everything I said?"

"Mom, I've remembered everything, don't worry."

The coolness of her mother's fingertips traveled through her palms to Meng Youyou's skin.

Just like the night before New Year's Eve, Ms. Hu Shulan knocked on her door. The mother and daughter were lying on the same bed, in the warm blankets, but the mother's hands were cold.

Ms. Hu Shulan stayed with her overnight, during which she only asked her one question: "Do you have a compelling reason to go?"

Meng Youyou first listed her advantages in a clear and organized manner: "Mom, I took the Red Cross battle wound care worker exam when I was in Fanzhou City. In addition, I majored in Y language during my university years. Besides, my graduation thesis research was on the dialect genealogy of northern Y language. For this purpose, I also conducted in-depth research on the dialect variants of three major tribes."

Meng Youyou's meaning is very clear—her skills are irreplaceable.

Ms. Hu Shulan understood. The entire Ministry of Foreign Affairs is full of talented people; among the dozen or so people in the Y-language department, all are fluent in Y-language, but those who master the local dialect are few and far between.

Although Ms. Hu Shulan has retired to the second line, she has spent most of her life in the fields of diplomacy and translation. Her family is a military family, so she naturally knows the importance of mastering the local dialect on the battlefield for deciphering enemy intelligence.

To quote the words of her former leader who had carefully nurtured her, "Sometimes on the battlefield, a translator who can understand the enemy's dialect is worth a whole reconnaissance company."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Meng Youyou told her mother about how her ill-considered actions had ruined the career of a young recruit who had just begun.

She said to her mother, "Mom, I always feel that because of me, a soldier with passion in his blood can't rush to the front and stand in the position he most wants to occupy. Then someone else has to step up and play a role, otherwise it's a loss."

Hu Shulan did not respond at the time.

When Meng Youyou woke up the next morning, she found herself alone in the room; her mother had already left.

On the third day of the Lunar New Year, Meng Youyou had to go back to work. When she got to her workplace, she learned that her father had not made that phone call.

Meng Youyou knew in her heart that it must have been her mother who persuaded her father. As for what Ms. Hu Shulan specifically said to Meng Zhengping, Meng Youyou had no idea.

Meng's father once commented on his wife: "She is a woman of strong character and broad vision; she is remarkable."

Meng Youyou wholeheartedly agrees with this.

But at this moment, the coldness of her mother's fingertips reawakened Meng Youyou's original understanding—Ms. Hu Shulan had simply hidden her vulnerable side and used all her strength to try to become a strong mother and a virtuous wife.

She was a remarkable woman, but also a vulnerable one.

After arriving in the war zone, Meng Youyou and her entourage were first arranged to undergo two days of pre-war acclimatization training at a command post on the outskirts of the county.

During this period, they completed a comprehensive study of enemy situation briefings, received systematic theater security training, and passed a rigorous battlefield survival skills assessment.

Subsequently, according to the deployment and arrangements of the front-line command, they were divided into groups and transported in batches to various forward observation posts in specially modified camouflaged trucks.

During transport, the vehicle was violently jolted along the rugged mountain road, and the old steel panels of the carriage constantly emitted a harsh metallic scraping sound.

There were two trucks on this trip. The one carrying the personnel was driving behind. Because the truck was loaded with a large amount of logistical supplies urgently needed at the front, there was less than one-third of the space left in the truck bed for the passengers to use.

Meng Youyou crouched against the wall at the back of the carriage. There were eight people in the carriage: two translators, two military doctors, one psychological counselor, one radar technician, and two armed infantrymen as guards.

Meng Youyou's colleague, Xiao Bai, was assigned to the same frontline observation post. The man squatted down next to Meng Youyou, staring blankly at the red string on her wrist.

Meng Youyou was listening casually as the two military doctors in the vehicle quietly checked the details of this batch of medical supplies.

The shells came without warning!

A sharp whistling sound tore through the air, followed by a deafening explosion. The truck jolted violently, as if kicked by a giant, and Meng Youyou's head slammed heavily against the ammunition box, her vision exploding with stars.

"Artillery fire! It's artillery fire!" someone shouted from inside the carriage.

Chaos erupted instantly inside the compartment. Everyone scrambled to grab onto anything they could. Meng Youyou's ears were ringing, but the whistling of shells continued—the second, the third, followed in quick succession.

The nearest explosion point was less than 20 meters from the truck where the technicians were located, and the debris kicked up by the blast wave pelted the truck.

The area outside the car had become a living hell.

The burning wreckage of the truck in front lay across the middle of the road, thick smoke billowing and obscuring visibility. Suddenly, a dozen camouflaged figures leaped out of the weeds on either side of the road, submachine guns spitting fire. Bullets clanged against the metal of the truck bed like a deadly hailstorm.

Driver Lao Fan has been driving this supply line frequently for nearly a year and is very experienced. A roar of "Hold on tight!" came from the cab.

He jerked the steering wheel, the truck screeching as its tires spun half a circle on the muddy ground, and it lurched off the road like a wounded beast.

Through the gaps in the carriage, Meng Youyou saw that they were rushing towards a cluster of abandoned houses not far away—those low mud houses had long been uninhabited, with their doors and windows wide open and empty.

This area is a buffer zone between the recent clashes between the two sides, and it has been frequently hit by artillery fire. The residents had already evacuated months ago. But the vacant houses have become natural shelters—the walls are thick, the structures are sturdy, and some even retain the bulletproof fortifications that the residents built before they left.

The truck crashed through a half-collapsed earthen wall and came to a stop in the yard.

"Get out of the vehicle! Everyone spread out and take cover!" one of the infantrymen shouted.

Driver Lao Fan kicked open the car door, and bullets immediately splattered mud at his feet. The infantry squad leader was the first to jump out, turning around to grab the staggering radar technician: "Everyone, get into the houses reinforced with corrugated iron as quickly as possible. Most of them will have air-raid shelters built by the villagers themselves. Once you find one, get inside quickly!"

Meng Youyou followed Xiao Bai into the nearest mud house. Most of the roof tiles had already been blown off by the blast, but thick tire rubber was nailed to the door frame—the last protective measure before the residents evacuated. As soon as she rushed into the house, she heard another explosion outside, and the dust kicked up by the blast wave rushed in through the doorway, choking her and making her eyes water.

A pile of moldy sacks of rice lay in the corner, bearing several clear old bullet holes. Xiao Bai grabbed her, and the two tumbled awkwardly into the cellar in the corner. There were rustling sounds in the darkness—a few frightened rats; the original inhabitants of this place had clearly changed.

This village, hollowed out by war, has now become their only refuge.

However, the alarm bells were not off, and the crisis was still ongoing.