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墨書 Inktalez
Zhang Meng's words struck like a thunderclap, shattering the silence in the Medical Tent.
A photo? My photo? Why does the Militant have my picture?!
I stared in shock at Zhang Meng, then turned to Li Heng. Li Heng's expression darkened instantly, his gaze sharpening like a blade.
"Where is the photo?" His voice was icy.
Zhang Meng pulled a crumpled photograph from his pocket and handed it to Li Heng. The edges were stained with a bit of blood, but the image was clear. It was indeed me. A picture taken at the airport when I arrived in this country, meant for a report and posted on my personal social media.
How did this photo end up in the hands of the Militant? And why was it carried around?
A chill shot up from my feet to the top of my head. This feeling… it was as if I had been targeted!
"What’s going on?" Li Heng's eyes bore into Zhang Meng, his voice laced with pressure.
Zhang Meng shook his head. "I’m not sure yet. But it feels like… this ambush might not be coincidental."
Not coincidental? Could it be aimed at me?!
The thought sent shivers down my spine.
Li Heng held the photo, his fingers turning white from the force of his grip. He fell silent for a few seconds before ordering Zhang Meng, "Immediately investigate! Find out where this photo came from! Also, increase security at the base! Especially…"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over me.
"…around the Medical Tent."
"Yes!" Zhang Meng acknowledged and quickly left.
The tent was left with just Li Heng and me, along with a doctor who dared not breathe too loudly. The atmosphere was so tense it felt suffocating.
Li Heng examined the photograph repeatedly, his brow furrowed and his expression dark as night.
I knew what he was worried about. If this ambush was truly aimed at me, it meant… I was still in danger. It could even put the entire Peacekeeping Forces at risk.
“Li Heng…” I began, my voice a bit dry. “If… if this is really because of me…”
“It has nothing to do with you,” he interrupted, his tone firm and decisive, though his gaze softened for a moment. “You are a journalist; reporting the truth is your job. Those desperate individuals are not targeting you personally.”
Was he… comforting me? Although his tone remained harsh, there was something different about it.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, tucking the photograph into his pocket as he stood up. “I’ll handle the rest.”
With that, he didn’t look back and walked out of the Medical Tent. I watched his retreating figure, my mind in turmoil. On one hand, there was fear and unease from being targeted. On the other hand, there was… a strange sense of reassurance from Li Heng’s words and that fleeting look in his eyes.
This person… was becoming increasingly difficult to understand.
In the following days, I was forced to stay in the Medical Tent to recover. The security level at the base had clearly been raised. Li Heng came by almost every day under the pretense of checking on the injured and asking about my recovery, but each time he would linger a few minutes longer.
Our conversations were still minimal, mostly revolving around my injuries and the safety situation at the base. He never mentioned the photograph or any progress on the investigation. But I could sense the immense pressure he was under. He seemed busier than ever, with a hint of fatigue always in his eyes.
Every time I saw the bandage wrapped around his arm, I couldn’t help but think that if it weren’t for me, he might not have been injured at all. That guilt weighed heavily on my heart like a stone.
Old Wang visited me often, sharing news from outside. He said the investigation regarding the photograph was ongoing but had no leads for now. He mentioned that Li Heng hadn’t slept much these past few days, constantly deploying defenses and checking for potential threats. He also noted that some soldiers in the unit had grievances against me, considering me a nuisance.
Hearing all this only deepened my discomfort.
I came here to document heroes, not to become a burden to others.
That afternoon, Li Heng arrived again. He looked more fatigued than in the past few days, with a hint of stubble appearing on his chin. He inquired about my wounds and then fell silent.
There were only the two of us in the tent, and the atmosphere felt heavy. I watched him for a long time, hesitating before finally speaking up.
“Li Heng,” I said, “have there been any updates on the photos?”
He lifted his head, glanced at me, and shook his head. “Still investigating.”
“Did I… cause you a lot of trouble?” I asked cautiously.
He was silent for a few seconds before replying, “It has nothing to do with you.”
There it was again—those words. I felt a surge of frustration. “How can it have nothing to do with me?! The photos are of me! It was my team that was ambushed! If… if something like this happens again…”
“It won’t happen again,” he interrupted me, his tone unusually firm. “I promise.”
His gaze was deep, like an ancient well hiding too many things I couldn’t comprehend.
“You just need to focus on healing,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about anything else.”
I looked at him, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to ask about that year… why he had so resolutely chosen to break up with me. Was it really because he thought it was too dangerous? Or was there another reason?
The words lingered on the tip of my tongue but were swallowed back down. Was it appropriate to ask such things now? What kind of relationship did we have at this moment? Superior and subordinate? Protector and protected? Or… something else?
“Li Heng,” I changed the subject, “once I’m healed, I’d like to… end this military assignment early.”
He paused for a moment, raising his head and looking at me sharply.
"Why?"
"I don't want to... trouble you anymore." I lowered my head, my voice tinged with sadness.
He fell silent.
The tent was eerily quiet.
I could hear the sound of my own heartbeat, once, then again.
After a long while, he finally spoke, his voice a bit hoarse.
"Xu Zhi Yi," he said, "you are not a trouble."
I suddenly looked up, unable to believe what I was hearing.
What does he mean by that?
He gazed at me, his expression complex.
"That Year..." he paused, "I was... too self-righteous."
"I thought that pushing you away was for your own good, that it was protecting you."
"But I forgot to ask if that was what you wanted."
My heart felt as if it had been struck hard by something.
Is he... explaining the reason for our breakup that year?
Is he... regretting it?
I looked into his eyes and saw a deep weariness and... remorse?
For a moment, I didn't know what to say.
So it turns out... what he did that year was truly meant to... protect me?
Though the way he went about it was foolish and hurtful, the intention was good?
This realization caused a corner of my heart's defenses to crumble instantly.
All the grievances and resentment that had built up over the years seemed to find an outlet.
My eyes began to redden uncontrollably.
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