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

Chapter 281 The Only Beauty

That night, darkness filled every corner, concealing the traces of the wind.

The voice of the bald dove came through the walkie-talkie: "The iron cover plate of the septic tank has been cross-welded. Report complete."

The second platoon deputy platoon leader responded immediately: "The area at the stove exit is now under full fire control. Report complete."

The man's eyes twitched up very slightly at the corners, then fell back down, like a hawk folding its wings in a split second before locking onto its prey. "Mountain Eagle received."

Huo Qingshan put down the walkie-talkie, knelt on one knee in front of the leaking inspection port, and used the tip of his dagger to pry open the last layer of asphalt sealant. The beam of his flashlight pierced downwards into the gap, and the reflection from the inner wall of the steel pipe revealed the shape of the tunnel—water droplets condensed on the damp corrugated steel.

Under the cover of night, no one could discern the unfathomable vortex swirling within those dark eyes.
The man's right hand suddenly rose high, hovering in mid-air with the tension of an arrow on a bowstring, before abruptly falling back down. The command that rolled from his throat was short and decisive: "Pour."

Two rubber hoses were inserted into the inspection port at the same time, and gasoline poured out two jets of black oil along the inner wall of the steel pipes, gurgling and spreading endlessly in the darkness.

Phosphorus powder.

The demolition expert removed his backpack, pinched the edge of the wax-sealed phosphorus powder bag with his knuckles, and the brittle wax shell shattered with a crack. A greenish powder trickled from between his fingers, gleaming eerily in the dim light. He lay prone before the access hatch, and with each flick of his wrist, the phosphorus powder poured down through the opening, slowly settling like a haze, gradually mixing with the gasoline.

"Everyone, immediately retreat to a safe area 30 meters away."

The soldiers immediately sprang into action. Several soldiers bent over, hoisted the empty oil drums onto their shoulders, and nimbly rolled over the wet mud, quickly disappearing into the shadows of the distant trees.

Only Huo Qingshan remained to cover the rear. The man crouched low, his hands alternately setting the fuse as he retreated, his palms rubbing against the thread, each step steady and deliberate.

The moment the fuse ignited, sparks crackled and shot up. The man turned sharply, pushed off the ground, and sprinted backward, his figure rapidly shrinking in the night, the burning sparks leaping forward.

...

During the post-battle cleanup, Huo Qingshan led his soldiers to drag out hundreds of corpses from the tunnels.

This tunnel was originally an underground fortification built by the F army during the colonial period in earlier years. It was later transformed into a tunnel system by the Y army before the war, with a total length of about 1.2 kilometers.

Its entrance was disguised as a dry latrine septic tank, while the exit was hidden inside an abandoned stove. This stove was located less than 200 meters behind our newly established defensive line in the occupied area, effectively exposing our entire rear to the enemy without our knowledge. Furthermore, if they turned around, they could penetrate deep into our territory, directly attacking our ammunition depots and mortar positions, posing a significant threat.

Over the past three days, the Y Army has quietly transported more than a reinforced company of troops through this hidden tunnel, equipped with ample weapons and ammunition.

After the results were reported to the command post, the entire staff of the regimental command room felt a chill run down their spines at the thought that these well-equipped enemies had been lurking right under their noses and could launch a deadly attack from within or without at any time.

I dare not imagine what the consequences would have been if the enemy's scheme had not been discovered and thwarted in time.

……

Not long after Meng Youyou lay down, she heard a knock at the door. She rubbed her eyes, got up, put on her shoes, and got out of bed.

A tall figure stood at the door. Huo Qingshan looked her up and down for a moment, then asked, "Asleep?"

Meng Youyou leaned against the door frame with one hand, her hair still a little messy, and shook her head, saying, "I just got back not long ago."

Huo Qingshan looked around first, then coughed lightly with his right fist to his lips, looking past her toward the house, and said, "Let me in."

"Oh." Meng Youyou took half a step back, making way for him.

After entering, Huo Qingshan turned to close the door, when Meng Youyou, standing behind him, suddenly asked, "Why are you closing the door?"

Meng Youyou shrugged indifferently, "If others see us, they'll think we have some kind of shady relationship."

She continued, drawing out the last syllable: "What if they misunderstand our pure revolutionary friendship?" Her tone seemed troubled, but it was actually full of hidden meaning.

Huo Qingshan turned around and, sure enough, caught a hint of sarcasm in her eyes. The man glanced at her silently, his gaze full of meaning.

He went straight to the wall, moved the empty crates, and stacked them into a neat little platform next to the bed. In this makeshift dormitory, the only thing that could barely be called furniture was a bed made of planks and a few empty wooden crates stacked against the wall to serve as a table and cabinet. It was very simple, but such living conditions were already better than those of most soldiers stationed at the front lines.

The man leaned against the edge of the bed, bending and stretching his long legs as he took out the items from the training bag one by one and placed them on the box.

After doing all that, Huo Qingshan looked up and stared straight at Meng Youyou, his gaze enveloping her, gesturing for her to come over. Meng Youyou pouted, walked over, took off her shoes, got into bed, and lay down—all in one smooth motion.

"Come closer, don't spill water on the bed," Huo Qingshan called to her.

Meng Youyou obediently responded, but suddenly rolled over and curled up on his lap, lying down steadily.

She glanced at him sideways, and this time, his reaction was unusually indifferent, almost negligible.

Not interesting.

Her eyes darted around, finally landing on the saline bottle on the box. She started a conversation: "Where did you get this water from?"

The man seemed not to hear, focusing on sterilizing the syringe, and did not respond.

Meng Youyou scoffed lightly, then began to mutter to herself, "Come to think of it, it seems to work better than the salt water Brother Da Lei boiled for me. I don't know if it's just psychological, but after this day, my ears really do feel a bit better."

"As long as it works," he suddenly interjected.

Meng Youyou: "..."

Oh, so we can hear it again now?

...

While Huo Qingshan was cleaning her ear canals, the person resting on his lap would occasionally shift a few times, then stop moving after a couple of twists. However, just when you thought she would finally settle down, she would wiggle around a couple more times.

He finally had no choice but to speak up and stop them: "Don't move."

"My back itches!" she cried out, feeling wronged.

Huo Qingshan sighed and asked, "Where?"

"The area around the right scapula."

Huo Qingshan switched the syringe in his other hand, his right hand stroking along her fabric until it landed on the slightly protruding bone. He asked, "Here?"

"Just a little bit lower."

"here?"

"Yeah, almost."

After that, the person in my arms remained still, eyes closed for a long time, breathing gradually becoming even. Even after the ear canal was cleaned, the person maintained the same posture without changing.

Huo Qingshan looked down at her, the light falling on her face, making the faint bluish-gray circles under her eyes clearly visible. She must have been extremely tired after listening to recordings all night yesterday.

Not wanting to wake her, Huo Qingshan quietly tidied up his things. He bent down, carefully supporting the back of her neck, and gently laid her flat on the bed. As he covered her with the thin blanket, his fingertips accidentally brushed against her cheek; the warm, soft touch made him pause.

He gazed at her sleeping face. He couldn't help but wonder, had she encountered something happy in her dream?

The girl's lips curled slightly, a faint smile spreading across her face, serene and warm. In Huo Qingshan's eyes, this appearance was the only unpolluted beauty in this world, permeated day after day with the smoke and blood of war.

At this moment, it was as if all the surrounding noise had been shut out. There were no ruins or wreckage, no desperate cries, no hunger or disease, no separation or farewell, no scorched earth or red rivers. All sounds returned to silence, leaving only the even, gentle breaths of her nose, soothing his nerves, which were constantly tense and had long since become numb.

Huo Qingshan stood by the bed and stared at it for a long time.

How wonderful it would be if time could stand still at such a moment, forever.
He knew that his wish was unrealistic, so he decided to do something.

He couldn't resist in the end, leaned down slightly, and gently placed a kiss on her smooth forehead.

Unable to hold onto it, he could only steal a beautiful moment and carefully treasure it. When he felt he couldn't go on, he would take it out and savor the sweetness, which seemed to offer him comfort. He would then struggle to get up, not wanting to leave this world so soon and go alone to a place without her.