Chapter 37

The rain continued to drizzle throughout the afternoon. By dusk, the northern region saw an even heavier downpour. Sheets of rain poured furiously from the sky, and in the distance, the heavens rumbled like raging waves. Lightning flickered across the sky, followed by the deafening roar of thunder, as if the sky itself was about to collapse.

Due to this torrential rain, the water levels of rivers surged more than five hundred kilometers away from Beijing. In Min County, multiple roads in the lower city were flooded. Two villages were buried under landslides. The disaster was severe, and the situation was critical.

The nearest regiments received urgent orders from the Beijing Central Command to dispatch personnel immediately to the disaster-stricken areas for emergency rescue and relief. Their top priority was to evacuate trapped civilians and ensure their safety.

The 149th Regiment mobilized at once.

The five-hundred-kilometer journey was grueling. A convoy carrying disaster relief supplies and soldiers pressed forward through the darkness and heavy rain. By now, over two hours had passed since the disaster struck. The rain intensified, engines roared, and water splashed as the vehicles trudged through the storm.

The convoy traveled through the night. After six hours, daylight finally broke. Fatigue and exhaustion were evident on every soldier’s face, but they had finally reached the outskirts of Min County.

The county had treacherous terrain, already affected by floods, landslides, and even massive mudslides, making rescue efforts even more difficult.

“Commander, the road ahead is blocked. A landslide has completely sealed it off,” reported the communications officer.

Yan Zeyang’s expression was grim as he unfolded the military district’s route map.

The commander of the Third Battalion pointed to a green-marked route on the map. “We’re currently on this route, but since the landslide has blocked it, clearing the path in time is impossible.”

A landslide of this scale couldn’t be cleared in a day or two—not by a single regiment.

“Is this the only route into Min County? Are there any other roads?” Yan Zeyang asked.

“There’s another path—a stone bridge road. But that’s exactly where the flood is at its worst. It’s probably submerged by now. Even if we try to build a bridge, there’s no time. And with such strong currents, we wouldn’t be able to cross safely…”

The officer trailed off. Everyone knew that taking the water route was the most dangerous option.

Yan Zeyang frowned deeply, silent as he studied the map. Finally, he pointed to a spot. “What about this road?”

It was a thinly marked, winding route leading to Min County.

“Commander, that’s a mountain road,” the Third Battalion Commander said. “It’s marked as a hazardous zone. The red warning here indicates a cliff. With this kind of heavy rain, there’s a high risk of mudslides or landslides. This road may already be blocked.”

“Order the convoy to move forward along this route,” Yan Zeyang commanded after a brief pause.

Three routes—one submerged by floodwaters, another blocked by a landslide. If they wanted to reach Min County, they had to find a viable path.

The convoy pressed forward through the muddy mountain roads. Though the ride was rough, and the vehicles were covered in dirt, the road conditions were still better than the other two routes.

When they reached the section marked in red on the map, they encountered another obstacle. Yan Zeyang got out of the vehicle and quickly moved to the front of the convoy. To his left was a sheer rock face; to his right, a steep mountainside.

The road was just wide enough for a single vehicle to pass, but the right side of the road was hollowed out beneath a layer of rock, with large stones having already fallen away.

The soldiers at the front hesitated to proceed. Though the road surface was still intact, the right side was supported by only a half-meter-thick layer of rock. Beneath it was an empty void.

If the weight of a vehicle exceeded the rock’s capacity, the right side of the road would collapse instantly, sending the vehicle over the edge and plunging it into the abyss below.

Zhao Dongsheng, an engineer in the unit, turned to Yan Zeyang and said, “Commander Yan, this road is too dangerous. We can’t determine how much weight that rock layer can bear. Rock formations vary in strength—some can support two vehicles, while others collapse under half a vehicle’s weight. Judging by the erosion underneath, the odds of making it across are no better than fifty-fifty.”

Yan Zeyang stood in the pouring rain, gazing toward Min County from the cliffside. Heavy rain churned up a misty haze, and through the veil of fog, the old county town loomed, half-obscured. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of collapsing structures, interspersed with the cries of women and children.

Min County was within reach, yet they were stuck. Lowering his binoculars, he made his decision.

“I’ll drive the first vehicle across. If it holds, the rest of you will get out and guide the convoy through one by one, leaving only the drivers inside. Move quickly—don’t stop.”

Zhao Dongsheng immediately objected, alarmed. “Commander, no! The first vehicle is the most dangerous—how can you take the risk? Let me do it!”

Whoever drove the first vehicle was facing the greatest peril. If the first one made it across safely, they would know the rock could support their weight, improving the chances for the others. But the first attempt was a gamble—a single mistake, and the vehicle would plunge off the cliff, leaving no survivors.

The question was: Who would drive it?

Yan Zeyang had earned his reputation as a fearsome commander. He trained his soldiers mercilessly, and they privately called him “the Devil Commander.” Yet, in moments of crisis, he was always the first to charge forward. The Devil Commander was both feared and revered.

Without hesitation, Yan Zeyang yanked open the driver’s side door of the first vehicle and barked at the soldier inside, “Get out.”

“Commander!” The soldier hesitated, unwilling to leave.

Yan Zeyang dragged him out in one swift motion.

“Commander, let me do it!”

“I’ll drive!”

“Commander, let me go! I’m not afraid to die!”

Seeing Yan Zeyang settle into the driver’s seat, several battalion and company commanders panicked. The Devil Commander couldn’t die here—he was irreplaceable. They crowded around the vehicle, trying to stop him, each volunteering to take his place.

But as their leader, he was responsible for every one of them. He could not let his men take this risk in his stead.

Taking a deep breath, Yan Zeyang calmly started the engine.

One soldier grabbed the door, unwilling to let go. “Commander!”

“Step aside!” Yan Zeyang shoved him away.

“If the vehicle goes down, don’t try to save me. Turn back immediately and find another route. Keep moving forward!” With that, he slammed the door shut.

“Commander!”

Sitting behind the wheel, Yan Zeyang’s face was ice-cold, his expression sharp and unyielding. Without hesitation, he pressed the accelerator, his hands steady as he drove toward the cliff’s edge.

…

The 146th Regiment had been stationed the farthest from Min County, yet they were the first to arrive. The relentless downpour had left the roads in treacherous condition. By the time the other units arrived, they had all taken the same route that the 146th Regiment had risked first.

The disaster in Min County was severe. Though many civilians were rescued, the death toll was high, and additional landslides occurred during the rescue efforts, injuring many soldiers.

By noon the next day, the rain finally eased. The most critically injured were transferred from the county hospital to the military hospital in the capital.

He Wenyan had been working all morning. The influx of wounded patients had completely filled the hospital beds. When she learned that Yan Weiguo’s son had been brought in, she immediately took notice.

She and Yan Weiguo’s son did not have a close relationship, but if anything happened to him in her hospital, she would be held accountable. So, she steeled herself and rushed to check on him.

By the time she arrived, Yan Zeyang was covered in blood, surrounded by busy nurses tending to his wounds. One of them carefully cut away the fabric sticking to his leg wound—tearing it straight from his flesh.

Yan Zeyang didn’t even flinch.

He Wenyan walked over, glanced at him, and pulled a pen from her pocket. “What’s the situation?” she asked a nearby nurse.

“Director…” A nurse cleaning his wounds quickly reported his condition.

Lying motionless, Yan Zeyang remained expressionless as medical instruments were connected to him.

But when he saw He Wenyan, a flicker of emotion crossed his gaze.

She approached and asked, “How do you feel?”

His bloodied lips moved slightly.

In the moment between life and death, there had been only one person on his mind.

He realized then—he had never truly let go.

The moment he spoke, his voice was hoarse, as if his throat had been ground to dust. His tone was dry, but within it, there was something even he hadn’t noticed—pleading.

“I want to see Wen Xin.”

Perhaps it was the pain. Perhaps it was the weakness.

But for the first time, his voice carried an unmistakable trace of longing.

He Wenyan adjusted her glasses, hesitated for a moment, and then said to him, “Wen Xin… she’s already gone…”