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

Chapter 317 Arabian Nights
A dull, heavy sensation came from the back of his head, accompanied by a slight pain that slowly spread down his neck, as if he had been punched. This was the first obvious signal that Huo Qingshan perceived as he gradually regained consciousness.

At first, I couldn't hear anything clearly, only a thin hum, like the sound of wind blowing through power lines in the distance, faint and indistinct. Gradually, the hum faded, and indistinct human voices slowly crept in.

"Dr. Cai, is our battalion commander alright? Why hasn't he woken up yet?"

"We'll probably have to wait a while longer. There are no superficial injuries, but he was unconscious for a bit too long and might have had a slight tremor," another calm voice chimed in. It must have been the medic. "Tell me again in detail, did he dodge when the steel rod was swung at him?"

"He dodged! He definitely dodged!" another voice chimed in, filled with urgent defense. "I saw it clearly. Battalion Commander Huo was already in the middle of his side movement, his shoulder was even pulling back. I didn't hold back much, otherwise, how could I have dared to actually hit him on the back of the head!" This voice sounded particularly confused. "But for some reason, his movement suddenly paused, just for a moment, and the stick grazed the right side of the back of his head, and he fainted on the spot."

The young soldier spoke a little too quickly. He said that they had practiced the armed combat training this afternoon countless times, and had never knocked someone unconscious before.

Not to mention that it was their battalion commander who fell victim! Before this, they were always the ones who had their batons taken away and were counterattacked, and then they were beaten to a pulp. How could they be a match for the battalion commander? No one expected such an accident to happen.

Huo Qingshan's eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids felt sticky, and it took him a bit of effort to open them a crack. The light was a little bright, and he subconsciously squinted, only able to see a hazy white ceiling.

"That's a bit strange." The medic's voice was lowered, as if he were talking to someone next to him, or as if he were talking to himself. "That training stick is covered with a thick layer of rubber. Even if he didn't control his strength for a moment, with Battalion Commander Huo's physical condition, he shouldn't have fainted on the spot, right? He's taken much heavier impacts during training before. This time is really not right."

After a few seconds of thought, the military doctor made a judgment: "To be on the safe side, if he still hasn't woken up in ten minutes, we'll probably have to take Battalion Commander Huo to a hospital in the city for an X-ray."

The buzzing in his ears returned, mixed with the soldiers' hushed chatter. Huo Qingshan's mind was like a tangled ball of yarn—before closing his eyes, he could vividly recall the girl's desperate cries beside him, the cold, damp clothes clinging to his skin, the heavy, pungent smell of blood flowing from his body, and especially the extreme exhaustion of wanting to hold on a little longer but being utterly powerless to do so… all of this was starkly contrasted with the faint medicinal scent of the clean infirmary, the warm sunlight streaming in, and the cacophony of voices that filled the room, making him feel dizzy wave after wave, unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.

At that moment, someone with sharp eyes noticed that the man on the examination bed had opened his eyes and immediately shouted, "The battalion commander is awake!"

Upon hearing this, everyone rushed over, crowding around the narrow examination bed. "Commander, are you alright?"

"Battalion Commander, how's your head feeling?"

"Battalion Commander..." Concerned inquiries came one after another.

Huo Qingshan slowly sat up, supporting himself on the edge of the bed. He didn't rush to answer, but instead calmly examined his surroundings—he could naturally recognize the infirmary inside the 624th Camp.

But why is he here now?
The man subtly moved his right shoulder. There was no binding sensation from the gauze as he had expected, nor any stinging pain from the wound, so it didn't seem like he had a new injury. Upon closer inspection, the man found that apart from a slight throbbing at the back of his head, he felt no other discomfort throughout his body.

His doubts deepened immediately. He decisively abandoned his wild guesses and chose the most direct and efficient way to gather information. He called out a name from the crowd: "Zhang Yong, oh..." Realizing something, the man quickly corrected himself: "Where's Translator Meng? Where is she now?"

"Meng? A translator?" Zhang Yong was stunned, completely bewildered. He turned to Zhong Heng beside him and whispered, "Do we have another translator with the surname Meng in our team? Wasn't the one who left recently surnamed Ke?"

Zhong Heng's mind raced, and he quickly responded, "Battalion Commander, are you referring to the translator who's being transferred from the capital to our unit soon? It seems Xiao Li has already driven to the train station to wait for him." This answer sent a shiver down Huo Qingshan's spine, as if he'd heard something utterly unbelievable, like someone telling him the sun rose in the west today. The man frowned and pressed, "What day is it today?"

Standing by the bed, Zhang Yong and Zhong Heng exchanged a glance. Even the usually quick-witted Zhong Heng was stumped this time—what day? It was just a regular training day, wasn't it? Was there some special arrangement?

Suppressing his irritation, Huo Qingshan lowered his voice and asked clearly, "What month and what day?"

"August 29th," Zhang Yong answered without thinking, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he belatedly realized something was strange—the battalion commander couldn't remember the date! Had the sun risen in the west? Or had that blow really damaged their battalion commander's brain?

"Year?" Huo Qingshan asked again, his tone becoming increasingly urgent.

He can't even remember the year? Oh no, this is really bad! Zhang Yong's heart skipped a beat, and he looked at their battalion commander with worried eyes, hesitatingly whispering, "198. Battalion Commander, you..."

Ignoring the look from the other side that was almost like looking at someone with a mental disability, Huo Qingshan earnestly recalled the fleeting sensory transmissions received by his visual and auditory nerve endings before he opened his eyes—a large patch of blinding red light, and a broken mechanical announcement that seemed to come from nowhere: "Warning! Warning! Mission World No. 837... Mission protection failed! Mission World detected... collapsing! All related entities... immediately execute... external link... emergency disconnection order!"

This was the only fragmented information Huo Qingshan had managed to capture, existing briefly between the chaotic timeline of "the future of the past" and "the past of the present."

But these were clearly not enough for him to answer: why was he lying in a trench three years later, his life already coming to an end, and then the next second he appeared in the army medical room three years earlier, full of energy?

This was all so unbelievable! So absurd that Huo Qingshan even suspected that the blow he received that afternoon had probably made him stupid, causing him to go insane and develop a habit of wild fantasies.

Although he didn't know exactly what had happened to him, nor could he make up a logical cause and effect, Huo Qingshan was certain that he had returned to three years ago.

But Youyou hasn't met him yet.

...

As night fell, the distant mountain silhouettes blurred into undulating dark patches. At the foot of the mountains, the boundary marker, barely visible, revealed only a small, grayish-white outline, half-hidden by sparse sea buckthorn bushes. Zhong Heng and Zhang Yong lay prone in the waist-high grass, communicating entirely through eye contact and sign language.

The two men exchanged glances, trying to choose a fearless brave soul to go and suggest to their battalion commander that they go to the city hospital for an X-ray to check their brains.
It's really too strange. Ever since their battalion commander woke up after being hit with that stick in the afternoon, all his reactions and actions have been completely nonsensical. If he just couldn't remember the year and date, that would be one thing, but suddenly ordering the entire team to regroup, saying nothing, and then leading so many of them to this desolate wilderness in the dark to lie dormant for quite some time—what's going on?

Half an hour ago, Zhong Heng, who was like a headless fly, mustered up the courage to crawl over and ask their battalion commander what they were doing and if there was a mission.

All they got in return was a curt, curt reply: "Wait and wait!" and they slunk back down.