It was supposed to be a casual game, but the Long March dungeon brought tears to everyone's eye

Crazy Bro just wanted to find something to talk about and distract himself.

The old squad leader seemed to be stunned for a moment.

His cloudy eyes darted around in the darkness, as if he were recalling something.

After a long while, he finally grinned, revealing a set of broken, yellow teeth.

"Eat noodles."

The old squad leader's voice carried a strange longing.

"Eat noodles with minced meat sauce."

"That flour must be made from freshly milled wheat, white and chewy."

"The noodles have to be stretched as wide as a belt. Once they're in the pot, they're boiled three times and then taken out."

"That topping has to be made with half-fat, half-lean pork, diced, topped with shallots and minced ginger, and then poured into a pot of boiling oil—that's when it 'sizzles'—"

The old squad leader swallowed as he said this.

His narration was clumsy and lacked any fancy words.

These simple words painted a picture in everyone's eyes.

At this moment, a warm yellow halo suddenly appeared on the originally pitch-black ice wall.

The world before Kuang Ge and his companions had changed.

No longer a cold cliff, but a steaming earthen stove.

Inside the stove, the flames burned brightly, casting a red glow on the old squad leader's face.

The old squad leader was no longer the thin, sallow-looking man he once was. He was wearing a clean, traditional Chinese jacket, a smile on his face, and holding a large, chipped bowl in his hand.

The bowl was piled high with snow-white noodles.

The noodles are topped with a thick layer of oily, bright red minced meat sauce, and sprinkled with bright green scallions.

The rich aroma of meat and noodles seemed to transcend time and space, wafting straight into my nose.

A little girl with two pigtails and a slightly chubby face was jumping around the stove.

"Dad! Dad! Is my noodles ready yet?"

The little girl tilted her head back, her eyes like two black grapes, looking expectant.

The old squad leader awkwardly patted his daughter's head with his one arm.

"Alright, alright, this is the biggest bowl for our little girl!"

He smiled and handed the bowl over.

In the live stream, viewers paused for a second upon seeing this scene.

"Holy crap? What is that? A mirage?"

"Is that a special effect? ​​The special effects that old bastard Luo updated?"

"I...I think I smell something delicious..."

"That bowl of noodles...it smells so good..."

Crazy Brother was stunned.

He looked at the steaming bowl of noodles and subconsciously reached out to take it.

But his hand only passed through a void of light and shadow.

"It smells wonderful."

The old squad leader's voice pulled Kuang Ge back to reality.

The stove, the girl, the meat noodles... all vanished in an instant.

It was still that same dark, cold rock wall.

The old squad leader didn't have any big bowls in his hands.

There was only one cup of murky, icy water made from melted snow.

He tilted his head back and took a sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction as if he had drunk the finest nectar.

"It smells so good."

He smiled and said to everyone.

In that instant, Kuang Ge's tears welled up without warning.

He is not a crybaby.

But now, looking at the satisfied smile on the old squad leader's face and the cup of murky snow water in his hand.

Then I thought of that steaming bowl of minced meat noodles from earlier.

An indescribable bitterness and anger welled up within me.

That's not a special effect.

That was the old squad leader's dream.

A simple, even humble, dream: to make a bowl of noodles for my daughter.

But this simple dream became an unattainable lie on this damned snow mountain.

He used this lie to stave off hunger.

Use this lie to boost morale.

They used this lie to deceive these "dolls" who were starving.

"Oh shit……"

Kuang Ge suddenly turned his head away, not wanting anyone to see his tears.

He wiped his face hard with the back of his hand, his voice hoarse as he spoke to his live stream, as if making a vow to himself.

"I swear!"

"Once I get out of here, I'll treat everyone in the server to noodles!"

"Meat sauce noodles! One bowl per person! All you can eat!"

……

dawn.

A sliver of dawn appeared on the horizon, and the wind and snow subsided somewhat.

The team packed their belongings in silence, preparing to depart.

After last night's "noodle illusion," everyone was feeling a bit down.

That bowl of noodles, visible yet unattainable, is more agonizing than any hunger.

The procession began to move forward.

Hawkeye's steps were somewhat unsteady.

He looked at the old squad leader who was leading the way with his body, and a question that had troubled him for a long time resurfaced in his mind.

Hawkeye quickened his pace and caught up with the old squad leader.

"Class monitor."

Hawkeye's voice was a little hoarse.

The old squad leader turned around and glanced at Hawkeye.

"Um?"

"I have a question."

Hawkeye was smarter this time and didn't directly say "I'm a player".

Instead, he stared into the old squad leader's eyes and asked, word by word.

"We... these few newcomers, Kuang-ge has a bad temper, Ruan-ruan is a spoiled brat, and I... I only know how to use my little tricks."

"We are physically weak and have a weak will. Kuang Ge and the others can't even pull the bolt properly."

"Logically speaking, we are a burden to the team."

Why didn't you abandon us?

Hawkeye asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

In any game he has ever played, abandoning a newbie who has fallen behind is a perfectly normal choice in order to achieve the optimal solution for the team.

Survival of the fittest is the law of the world.

The old squad leader stopped in his tracks.

The entire group stopped, and everyone stared at the two of them.

The old squad leader looked at Hawkeye silently, his eyes complex yet knowing, as if he had expected someone to ask that question.

"Come here."

The old squad leader waved to him, then turned and walked towards a slightly sheltered rock.

Hawkeye followed.

Kuang Ge and Ruan Ruan also curiously came over.

The old squad leader pulled a small notebook wrapped in oilcloth from the innermost pocket of his tattered cotton-padded coat.

The notebook is very old; the edges are worn out.

He carefully untied the oilcloth, revealing what was inside.

That was a list.

It was written with a brush, and the characters are already somewhat blurred.

Many names were marked with glaring red circles.

But what caught Hawkeye's attention was not those names.

Rather, it was the large characters on the cover of the list, almost completely soaked in blood—

"Red Army Western Route Army... Cultural Troupe... Roster."

Hawkeye's pupils contracted.

Cultural troupe?

[System notification: Your character background profile has been unlocked.]

Name: Hawkeye (codename)

[Identity: Propaganda officer of the Red Army's Western Route Army Cultural Troupe, responsible for battlefield surveying and sand table simulations. After the unit was scattered, he got lost in the snow and was taken in by the old sergeant's squad.]

【Name: Madman (codename)】

[Position: Cook in the Western Route Army Cultural Troupe of the Red Army, responsible for logistical support...]

[Name: Ruan Ruan (code name)]

[Position: Medic of the Red Army's Western Route Army Cultural Troupe, responsible for nursing the wounded...]

In an instant, all the logical loopholes were patched up.

Why are these "players" so physically weak, and even completely clueless about combat? The old squad leader and the others don't seem to care at all.

But looking into their eyes, there was always a hint of pity for the "doll".

From the NPC's perspective, they are not combatants at all!

They're from the cultural troupe! They're logistics soldiers!

They are a group of cultured people who wield pens, scalpels, and spatulas!

The old squad leader's withered fingers gently traced the list.

"There were twelve of us when our class came out."

"Now, including you, there are eight left."

The old sergeant raised his head and looked at Eagle Eye, his gaze no longer fixed on a soldier, but on something else entirely.

That look was familiar to Hawkeye.

It's like looking at an incredibly precious and fragile artifact through glass in a museum.

"I know you haven't fought many wars."

The old squad leader's voice carried a hint of a sigh.

"Her hands are so soft, just like those of an unmarried girl in the city."

"Let alone carrying a gun, he probably hasn't even held a hoe."

"But you are scholars."

"As long as you are still people of our Dragon Kingdom, as long as you still recognize our clothes, I cannot leave you here in the snow to feed the wolves."

The old squad leader paused for a moment, then gently patted Hawkeye's shoulder with his one arm.

"We roughnecks, if we die, we die."

"He toiled in the fields his whole life, yet he couldn't read a single word."

"When someone dies, they're buried in the ground without even a sound."

"But you are different."

The old squad leader's gaze swept over Kuang Ge, then over Ruan Ruan, and finally landed on Eagle Eye's face.

"You must live."

"Only if you live can we write our story into books, make plays, and sing it to future generations."

"Let them know why we're taking this path."

"Let them know how these good days came about."