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

Chapter 370 Not Bad
The "Youth Visit the Military" event held at the beginning of the month was a great success. From the order of the event to the content of the exhibits and the interactive activities, it received unanimous praise from local authorities and higher authorities.

The documentary-style post published on the military's official WeChat account received an exceptionally enthusiastic response. Due to the highly classified nature of their operations, heavy workload, and strict daily management, border troops rarely open to the public, making this opportunity to hold an open event for the community all the more remarkable.

Many veterans who had served on this border line had their long-buried longing to return to their old unit stirred up upon seeing the news. They contacted the military through old comrades-in-arms and veterans' service stations, all with one wish: to go back to their old unit for a visit.

Considering that the confidentiality control and security measures for the event are in place, and the relevant procedures have been smoothly refined, making it relatively easy to organize, the camp took the opportunity to request permission from higher authorities to add another open day themed "Veterans Return to the Barracks" in the latter half of this month.

The matter was approved quickly, and the military camp reopened its gates in the latter part of the month to welcome this special group of "returning veterans".

The theme of "Returning to the Barracks" naturally has a different focus compared to previous national defense education activities. For example, in the equipment exhibition section, the barracks not only displayed many of the latest equipment, but also highlighted a lot of old equipment that had been kept hidden away for decades.

On the afternoon of the day before the opening ceremony, all the colorful flags in the camp had already been hung up. When Huo Qingshan arrived at the outdoor weapons display area, the sunlight was shining obliquely on the rows of old and new firearms and equipment.

Upon seeing the arrival of the men, Deng, the squad leader of the third squad in charge of setting up the site, immediately stepped forward, clutching several neatly folded checklists in his hand. He saluted and reported, "Battalion Commander! All weapons and equipment have been arranged in chronological order from oldest to newest, covering representative firearms, various types of light weapons, and individual equipment from the 1960s to the present. The corresponding information boards are labeled with the model, deployment date, and combat purpose. My deputy squad leader and I have checked them three times. Now, please inspect and accept them, Battalion Commander!"

Huo Qingshan nodded slightly, then raised his eyes and scanned the exhibition area one by one. The man's gaze was particularly sharp, as if he were inspecting fortifications on a battlefield rather than looking at an exhibition.

During this time, his gaze paused for half a second as it swept over a single-soldier low-light night vision device on the display stand. When it swept over the old-fashioned laser rangefinder next to it, he raised his knuckles and gently tapped the lens cap. Finally, his focus fell on two old guns and stopped abruptly.

There were two rifles placed side by side: a Type 56 assault rifle and a Type 81 automatic rifle. The rifle bodies were polished to a shine, and the information plaques stood neatly beside them. However, Huo Qingshan's gaze was fixed on the fixing screw under the handguard of the Type 56 rifle.

"Deng Hang." He spoke in a flat voice, devoid of emotion, "Come and take a look at this Type 56 assault rifle."

Squad Leader Deng quickly went over, stared at the gun for a long time, and then looked down at the markings on the checklist again and again, but couldn't find a problem: "Battalion Commander, is there a problem?"

Huo Qingshan leaned down, his fingertips not touching the gun barrel, but pointing at it from a distance, "Where did you find this screw?"

Following his directions, Squad Leader Deng looked over and immediately replied, "They were all obtained in conjunction with the main body of the firearm! All the accessories for this old gun were obtained from the warehouse in special accessory boxes. Each gun was assigned a specific accessory box according to its serial number. We did not mix any other accessories during assembly."

After he finished speaking, seeing that the battalion commander remained silent, he vaguely realized something and quickly added, "Battalion commander, is there a problem with the screws...?"

Huo Qingshan didn't respond, but instead looked down at the fixing screw on the back of the gunstock. He reached out and gently hooked the screw head with his index and middle fingers, twisting and turning it smoothly along the grooves. With little effort, the screw came loose along the grooves and was firmly held between his two fingers.

Huo Qingshan handed the small metal part to Squad Leader Deng, his voice calm and resolute: "This is the fixing screw of the Type 81 rifle, which is two millimeters longer than the original Type 56 punch screw."

Upon hearing this, Squad Leader Deng froze on the spot, staring blankly at the inconspicuous screw in front of him. It took him a long time to open his mouth before he finally asked, "Battalion Commander, how do you know so much about this?"

Two millimeters, just two and a half more turns of thread. Let alone the fact that routine maintenance of parts in the parts box involves handling them separately without comparison, even if these two screws were placed side-by-side, the difference might not be immediately noticeable. Furthermore, the Type 56 and Type 81 assault rifles are not their current mainstay equipment; they are quite old, and they have very little experience with them, mostly possessing only superficial theoretical knowledge. What's more, this screw was already screwed in—how did their battalion commander discover it? Deng Hang desperately wanted to know.

However, the man simply brushed it off with a casual remark: "I've seen it in a book."

Well, Deng Hang was a little disappointed. How come he hadn't mastered this skill when he was reading the book? Is it really something that can be discovered just by reading a book? But the battalion commander wasn't a stingy person, not the kind of person who was afraid of teaching his apprentice and starving himself. Since he said he saw it in a book, then so be it.

Huo Qingshan, of course, couldn't tell him the real answer—in fact, the Type 56 assault rifle and the Type 81 rifle were simultaneously deployed in large numbers on the southern Xinjiang front more than forty years ago. It was very common for a company or platoon at the front to use both types of rifles interchangeably. Whenever resources were scarce on the front lines, and repairs or emergency parts replacements were needed during battle, it was common practice to substitute parts from the same type of rifle for each other. However, apart from their similar appearance, many parts of these two rifles, especially the screws, were extremely similar. One was slightly longer than the other by the thickness of a thin radish peel, making it difficult to distinguish them without careful comparison by placing them side by side.

The Type 56's receiver is shallow. If the long bolts of the Type 81 were installed on the Type 56, the extra two millimeters would press against the recoil spring guide rod, causing the bolt to jam during automatic fire. This is an extremely fatal weakness on the battlefield. Conversely, if the short bolts of the Type 56 were installed on the Type 81, the receiver would not be tightened properly and would become loose, causing the bolt to deform and deviate during firing, or even break off and injure the hand.

The lessons and costs of this practice have been severe enough over time, which has honed everyone's ability to "see the smallest details."

...

The following morning, the camp was bustling yet orderly. A red banner with white lettering hung above the exhibition area, its slogans eye-catching.

Huo Qingshan accompanied a veteran surnamed Ge to the light weapons display area. The old man was a frontline infantryman who had truly fought his way through gunfire. Even after retiring for many years, he still stood upright in the barracks, exuding the spirit of a seasoned soldier.

As he approached, Huo Qingshan noticed that the person next to him was staring intently at a new submachine gun on the right side of the display, their gaze lingering on it for a long time. He seized the opportunity to suggest, "Want to try it out?"

Having received the invitation, veteran Ge didn't hesitate. After stretching his limbs a bit, he stepped forward, his fingertips lightly tracing the cool gun barrel, feeling its solid and heavy texture. He then firmly gripped the handle, raised his hand to hold the weapon, his wrist taut and motionless, naturally assuming a standard gun-holding posture. His eyebrows were slightly lowered, his cheek close to the buttstock, and his gaze followed the gun barrel. The entire set of movements was fluid and natural, as if it were muscle memory implanted in his body.

After a long while, he slowly shifted his gaze to Huo Qingshan and the young soldiers around him, but he still held his gun firmly in his hand and did not put it down.

“You wouldn’t believe it, back in our day, we didn’t have these.” As he spoke, the veteran pointed to the holographic sight on the top of the submachine gun. “We used to align the muzzle with the star, going up and down.” He gestured with the gun as he spoke: “Three points in a line. Unlike now, where there’s just one red dot. It’s more efficient, more accurate, and much easier.”

Huo Qingshan stood quietly to the side, listening, occasionally nodding slightly.

“You young people of your generation have never used those kinds of equipment! Back then, we were always crawling around in the woods. The trees were so shady that the enemy would sometimes be lurking less than 200 meters away from us. If the light was even a little dim, the crosshair would be completely gray, and we had to rely on our eyes to aim. Now, the equipment is so much better!”

Old Ge kept stroking the submachine gun with one hand, his fingertips brushing against the cold metal. His eyes suddenly darkened, as if something had hooked up with a distant memory.

After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly said, "There are a lot of rainy days in L Mountain. Sometimes it rains for a month or two in a row, and the humidity is extremely high." He lowered his voice, as if he were talking to himself, "If a gun is left in the cave overnight, the bolt will be stiff the next day and you can't push it. You have to take it apart and oil it every day. You can't afford to miss a single day."

He paused, his tone becoming more somber: "There's a lot of mud too. The forest is soft, and you step into mud every time you step in. You can't lie still for long before the mud and sand seep into the gun barrel. Once it gets in, it jams after only a few shots, it won't fire, and you can't pull it back. It's so frustrating."

“Once, we were exchanging fire when my gun suddenly stopped working. I lay in the mud, disassembling and cleaning the barrel, bullets whizzing past my head. I didn’t even have time to dodge; I was just afraid the gun wouldn’t wake up.” He looked up at Huo Qingshan, his eyes filled with a mixture of inquiry and apprehension: “Now… this gun won’t malfunction again, will it?” Huo Qingshan stood ramrod straight, listening without interrupting. Only after the question was finished did he reply in a deep voice, “No, it won’t.”

"The materials and processing techniques used in modern firearms are different from those used before. They are much more resistant to rust and corrosion, and are less likely to rust or become rough in most humid environments."

"Secondly, the bolt action and gas system are designed to resist mud and dirt, and the gaps are better sealed. Even if a small amount of mud or water gets in, it is not easy for the gun to jam."

"In addition, the materials and processing precision are higher. Under normal training and actual combat, as long as you don't deliberately soak them in mud and water, you basically won't get stuck after firing a few shots," the man explained in a calm and clear tone.

Upon hearing this, the veteran examined the gun in his hand with a deep look, then glanced at the other equipment around him, asking with a probing gaze, "Are all of these... made by our country?"

"They were all independently developed by our country," Huo Qingshan replied decisively.

"Great, great! Advanced technology is great, really great!" The veteran kept smiling with satisfaction.

After about an hour, everyone gradually moved to the combat training ground.

As soon as Huo Qingshan stepped into the venue, she spotted a slender figure in the crowd from afar. She had been borrowed by the publicity department to serve as temporary labor. With a camera around her neck, she walked along the edge of the venue with small, quick steps, occasionally stopping to tilt her head, stand on tiptoe, and stretch her neck, looking left and right to find the best angle for taking pictures.

In the center of the field, young soldiers lined up and demonstrated a set of military boxing. Their movements were uniform and synchronized, their punches were powerful and their kicks were strong. The sound of their footsteps and shouts echoed and reverberated, fully demonstrating the vigorous spirit and indomitable momentum of the young soldiers.

After the performance, the military leaders solemnly invited veteran representatives to go among the troops, have face-to-face exchanges with the young soldiers, and share their combat experience.

In a corner of the training ground on the east side, a rugged-looking veteran was demonstrating a horse stance to several young soldiers. Holding a dagger in his right hand, he showed them the technique of gripping the handle with a reverse grip, chanting, "When you're really on the battlefield, the reverse grip is the most practical. You can thrust straight or slash sideways, generate power smoothly, and hold the handle firmly, making it very difficult for the enemy to seize your weapon. It's incredibly useful in actual combat." He demonstrated slowly, correcting the young soldiers' postures one by one, demonstrating his genuine skill.

Meng Youyou listened attentively from the side. She didn't know if the active-duty young soldiers had learned the knowledge and skills that the old comrade was teaching. Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't, but at this moment they were all learning very seriously.

Meng Youyou raised her camera, selected a good angle, and took several photos. She then looked down to check the quality of the photos to make sure there were no problems. After that, she turned around and walked towards the area where the crowd was most concentrated. From afar, she could hear the old man's strong voice.

"When it comes to shooting, even if you can aim accurately, you might not be able to hit the target. Guns have recoil and vibration, so you need good hand strength and leg strength to shoot well."

"Come on, let me see how strong you young people are these days," the veteran said, extending his right hand to the tall young man in front of him.

Huo Qingshan was slightly taken aback upon seeing this, a faint look of surprise flashing across his dark eyes. He quickly composed himself and strode forward, extending his palm towards the person.

The moment their hands clasped, Meng Youyou, a few meters away, immediately raised her camera, quickly adjusted the focus, and captured the scene in the viewfinder—on the left was an elderly man with gray hair, wearing an old-fashioned yellow military uniform. Even though he tried to straighten his back, his shoulders were still slightly hunched. On the right was a young man in his prime, wearing a crisp dark green military uniform, whose posture was even more heroic and upright than his clothes.

The two men's intertwined fingers secretly tightened, the veteran taking the initiative, his knuckles gripping tightly with uncompromising force. Huo Qingshan, however, remained calm, his fingers subtly exerting force in defense. He held out for a moment, feeling the thick calluses and strength in the other's palm. Judging that the time was about right, the man suddenly gathered his strength and forcefully twisted the other's wrist down.

After losing, the veteran showed no displeasure. Instead, he laughed heartily, punched Huo Qingshan's shoulder with his fist, and said, "Not bad."

...

The morning's events went smoothly. As noon approached, the first half of the event was drawing to a close. Meng Youyou, with her camera slung over her shoulder, wandered around the entire venue, taking plenty of photos.

My lower back is a little sore right now. Today is the second day of my period. I've walked a lot and stood for a long time, so it's inevitable that I'm not feeling well. So I found a corner, squatted down against the railing, rubbed my lower back with one hand, and checked the photos I took this morning.

With a light touch of her fingertip on the playback button, photos scrolled across the camera screen, and she took over a hundred in total. When the veterans saw her carrying a camera, they generally assumed that she must be a skilled photographer, and they would always vie to have her take some photos of them, some with people, and some with weapons.

When she switched to one of the veteran's individual photos, her finger on the playback button paused inexplicably. Meng Youyou then pressed the zoom button, and the shape and details of the medals on the old man's chest became clear in her eyes. One was a shining first-class merit medal, and the other was a combat commemorative medal with a special mark, hanging side by side on his left chest.

These two medals were familiar to her; she had "had" two identical ones before. At the memorial service, in addition to the letters and ring, Grandma Huo gave her two badges, saying they were taken from his belongings. She and the old man each kept one, so she got two as a keepsake.

These two medals accompanied her through the most difficult time in the sanatorium and helped her return to the battlefield.

On the other side, Huo Qingshan found an excuse to sneak out from the crowd and noticed some folding chairs scattered around the field, which were prepared for elderly veterans who had difficulty standing for long periods of time. He casually picked one up and then jogged towards the direction where his girlfriend was.

Huo Qingshan approached the woman without her noticing. He placed a chair behind her and called out softly, "Sit here." His voice was a little hoarse from talking all morning.

Hearing the sound, Meng Youyou looked up from the camera screen and met the man's gentle eyes. The slight melancholy that had been lingering between her brows instantly dissipated, and the corners of her eyes curved into a soft arc. Meng Youyou smiled and said, "Finished?" With that, she plopped down in the chair he had brought.

"That's about it." Huo Qingshan squatted down next to her and asked, "What were you looking at just now? You seemed so engrossed."

Meng Youyou handed the camera to him and said, "I'm looking at this."

Huo Qingshan lowered his head and looked down.

"I was wondering if I might end up... receiving the same medal as you guys? It doesn't matter if it doesn't have a red bar."

“Yes,” he said, looking into her eyes, soft but firm.