Chapter 1: The Night House Male Child's Initial Growth...
In August, H city was scorching hot, with the highest temperature reaching 39 degrees. The dry heat was sweltering, and the sun beating down on people's skin made them feel anxious.
This is an old residential area, built for more than 20 years, with good greening. It's a particularly lively and mature community, every afternoon, a group of old men play chess, cards under the trees in the square, there are grandma choruses, singing red songs every day. In the center of the community, there is a not-so-small artificial lake, it's summer vacation, from time to time, children catch small fish, shrimp and butterflies with small fishing rods and nets.
Because there are three universities nearby, the night market in this community is also very popular. At night, the outdoor food stalls start business, with fragrant roasted fish, lamb skewers, whole lamb, and colorful large lobsters. Various small stir-fries, as well as refreshing beer. Groups of students coming out to have a good time, residents who don't want to cook at night, bringing their families to eat at the stalls. The sounds of hawking, laughter, and shouting make this old community seem so full of vitality.
Every day's night market ends around 2 am, and it is the quietest time for the entire neighborhood. Except for the frogs by the lake calling out, there are almost no other sounds.
A three-bedroom apartment on the third floor of Building 39 in a residential area. The house is nearly one hundred square meters, but it doesn't have any distinctive features and the interior decoration is very simple. In the living room, there are only a few old sofas and a red wooden carved coffee table that seems to be quite old. On the wall hang several old paintings. It's been cleaned very thoroughly. Two of the three bedrooms are empty, with only one being used for living. The bedroom has an old-fashioned red wooden double bed that looks very comfortable. Since it's summer, there is also a bamboo mat on top. A quilt is neatly folded into a rectangular shape like a block of tofu, with clear edges and corners.
On the floor by the window lay a military blanket, and on it a man was lying flat, his clothes and trousers folded neatly under his head. A black leather knife sheath protruded from the back of his clothes, with a short, straight, double-edged tactical knife inserted inside. The man was asleep, his tightly closed eyelids twitching slightly, as if he were dreaming something.
The night is still so quiet. The whole community seems to be in a silent sleep...
"Hmm..." Along with a sudden, urgent gasp for air, the person sleeping on the ground, as if conditioned to react, swiftly drew out a tactical knife with one hand and sat up abruptly. Only after discovering that there was nothing unusual did they close their eyes slightly, adjusting their breathing rhythm, and reversed the knife back into its sheath, all while vigilantly listening for any sounds around them with their ears.
"Hehe, just had another dream..." The man put away his knife and chuckled to himself, got up, lit a cigarette in the darkness. In the pitch-black room, that tiny flickering flame seemed especially eye-catching.
My name is Ye Yang Jian, night of the night, sun of the sun, health of the healthy. I am 24 years old and a retired veteran. Originally, I belonged to the People's Liberation Army NJ Military Region, 7077 Field Army A3 Special Brigade 177 Special Operations Battalion. Our garrison was located in Fuzhou, Fujian Province, with the mission of opposing Taiwan. My main subjects were jungle warfare, survival, infiltration, demolition, search, disguise, and small unit tactics under subtropical climate conditions...
I am not a special forces soldier. Since I joined the army at 18, I have never known what kind of soldier is considered a special forces soldier. I asked the company commander, and he told me that this question has too broad a scope. Only those who carry out special tasks and have special missions can be called special forces soldiers. Therefore, cooks in the cooking squad, engineering soldiers operating excavators in the construction corps, and those raising pigs and growing vegetables on the army farm are all special forces soldiers...
So, I'm not a special forces soldier, I'm a field army intelligence unit warrior, my confidentiality period is five years. I have tattoos, which were tattooed before the first mission in the troops, a black wolf head totem on my left shoulder and my bar code number 177-4130 on my right shoulder.
