Arc of Fire

As the lengthy flight was nearing its end, Wang Zhong saw Yakov writing something and leaned over to take a look.

Yakov immediately answered, "I’m writing in my diary, maybe one day I can turn it into a book and make some money."

Wang Zhong, "You’re already thinking about how you’re going to live in the future?"

Yakov laughed, his smile somewhat shy like a big boy’s, "I didn’t before, given how unpredictable the war was, but after being around you, my confidence in us winning the war has grown. I’ve got to plan out my future life.

"Of course, publishing this diary would be a last resort, before that I plan to earn a living with my own two hands."

Wang Zhong, "Don’t say that, I don’t mind having more books written about me. You could even become a writer who specializes in writing biographies for me, how I was during the first year of the war, the second year, what decisions I made during which battles, the days that were the hardest to endure, write book by book like that, and you’ll live comfortably!"

Yakov laughed even more joyfully, "I hear what you’re saying, you’re just teasing me. How could there be such writers!"

On Earth, there really are, like someone making a good living by recalling the brother they kicked out.

Wang Zhong didn’t reveal the secret of another timespace, but instead pointed to the date in Yakov’s diary and said, "The date is wrong."

Wang Zhong gestured with his hand, "We flew from west to east over the International Date Line, so we have to subtract a day."

"Oh!" Yakov suddenly realized, "So that’s it! I forgot!"

Wang Zhong, "Haven’t you read a novel about a man who bets with his friend that he can travel around the world within a specified time, and, in the end, when he thought he’d lost the bet and was about to pay up, his friend congratulated him on winning the bet instead?"

While talking about it, Wang Zhong didn’t use the name of the book, after all, he didn’t know whether this era had Verne or his masterpiece "Around the World in Eighty Days," and even if the book did exist, he didn’t know whether the time to circumnavigate the Earth was still 80 days.

Yakov shook his head, "I haven’t read it. Sounds like a very exciting... what do you call that kind of novel?"

Wang Zhong, "Science fiction, the Federation also calls it Amazing Stories, mainly published in a magazine called Amazing Tales."

"Good, I’ll definitely find it and take a look when I have the chance." Yakov nodded repeatedly.

Wang Zhong thought he wouldn’t really go looking for it, but what if he did and it wasn’t there?

Meanwhile, Yakov was correcting the date in his diary, saying, "As a child, to get into the military academy, I studied very hard and didn’t have much time to read these books. And... I could only rely on the library to read, and they didn’t have these types of books.

"Later, the Church opened a reading room in my neighbourhood where you could go in and read newspapers, magazines, and selected books for free, so I often reported there."

Wang Zhong, curious, asked, "Did you ever meet a girl who liked to read in the reading room or library? She would often read by the window, and the library’s white curtains would flutter in the wind, often obscuring her face."

Actually, what Wang Zhong was describing was a scene from the classic romantic movie "Love Letter," but Yakov misunderstood, "That must be your and your lady’s past, right? So beautiful."

Wang Zhong, "Uh, yes, that’s right!"

Yakov with a look of longing, "That’s wonderful. My wife and I didn’t have such romantic scenes... No, that’s not right; we do, but not as poetically as you described."

Wang Zhong could only laugh awkwardly. At this point, saying it was actually a movie scene was out of the question.

At that moment, Wang Zhong felt the plane’s shaking increase noticeably. He knew this was because the plane was slowing down and approaching the ground.

He had experienced such landings many times in various aviation simulation games.

He stopped peeking at Yakov’s diary and looked out the window, sure enough, seeing the C47 deploying its flaps, entering the landing mode.

The plane gently swayed in the wind.

Wind rushed in from the opened gear bay doors, causing Wang Zhong’s hair to wildly flutter.

With the slight shaking, Wang Zhong heard the sound of the wheels rubbing against the ground, and the Fuselage trembled rhythmically.

Wang Zhong maintained his position looking out the window, glancing outside from another angle.

The Federation’s welcoming personnel were already in place, with the leading army general looking somewhat familiar.

Those sunglasses, that pipe! It’s you, famed critic MacArthur! No, Wang Zhong looked at the name again, this timespace doesn’t call him MacArthur, it calls him Hawthorn.

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So, does the Federation also have a similar setup with a bunch of literary giants as high-ranking army officers? What about Hemingway? Jack London? And Mark Twain, where have all these famous authors been hiding?

Wang Zhong internally scoffed but remained composed on the surface.

At that moment, the plane decelerated all the way and finally came to a stop amid the crowd waiting to greet them.

The military band gathered behind the welcoming party immediately began to play, to Wang Zhong’s surprise, "Farewell to Antenese Women."

Wang Zhong stood up, picked up his hat, and placed it on his head, adjusting it carefully.

The flight attendants also opened the cabin door at this moment, the wind gushing into the aircraft more fiercely, blowing against the medals on Wang Zhong’s chest.

These medals were newly awarded by the High Command of Ante just before departure, probably because they felt that the old medals Wang Zhong had worn into battle for so long weren’t shiny enough.

Everyone watched Wang Zhong, waiting for him to exit the aircraft first.

The moment Wang Zhong stepped out of the cabin door, the cannon salute sounded its first shot.

Wang Zhong walked down the plane with the sound of cannons saluting, and approached that sunglass-wearing, pipe-holding General Mick—Hawthorn.

Neither of the two saluted first.

Wang Zhong suddenly understood, this guy was here to show off, and thinking about his personality, it wasn’t strange at all.

Since showing off was the order of the day, how could he salute Wang Zhong first? Wang Zhong was an admiral, and so was he—they both sported the same number of stars.

After a standoff, Wang Zhong thought to initiate a compromise, so he reached out his hand, "Hello, Admiral Hawthorn."

The other side took the cue and grasped Wang Zhong’s hand, "Hello, Admiral Rocossov. Welcome to the Federation."

He spoke in surprisingly standard Antenese.

Having said that, the man maintained the handshake and skillfully turned to face the photographers with their cameras.

Wang Zhong barely suppressed his urge to scoff, and turned to smile at the reporters as well.

Then came the blinding flashes of camera lights. So close and so many flashes nearly dazed Wang Zhong. When the photographers had finished, his vision was speckled with bright spots—when he blinked, the green spots became glaringly obvious.

After the photographers dispersed, Wang Zhong said to Admiral Hawthorn, "I’ve long admired your name. When you were withdrawing from Borneo, that saying of yours, ’I shall return,’ resonated deeply with me. When I left my homeland, I took a tin of its black soil to inspire myself to fight my way back."

Wang Zhong was ironically alluding to the retreat from Borneo, but to his surprise, Admiral Hawthorn laughed, "Indeed! Let us both hope to fulfill our promises soon!"

What, is this how it was going to go? I was sarcastically commenting on you abandoning your troops to flee!

However, Wang Zhong reconsidered; when he had left Kazarlia, although he had managed to bring all his troops out intact, he had left behind good friends and his father, and it seemed he didn’t quite have the right to sneer at the critics of the Federation.

At that moment, Admiral Hawthorn released his hand and saluted Wang Zhong, "I salute you for your brilliant efforts in averting crisis last year!"

Sure enough, Admiral Hawthorn was convinced that Wang Zhong had just complimented him, so he returned the salute proactively.

A decent sort, indeed.

Wang Zhong returned the salute.

Then Admiral Hawthorn began introducing the members of the welcoming committee.

The Speakers of the Senate and the House of Representatives were present, as were party whips from both the Democratic and Republican parties, along with a whole slew of congresspersons and governors.

Once Admiral Hawthorn finished, he leaned in and whispered to Wang Zhong, "These folks are just here to get their faces known. The elections are on hold during the war, but as soon as it ends, things will go back to normal and everyone is building up their power."

Wang Zhong thought to himself, you’re no different; had you not poked the panda, you might truly have become President.

He too couldn’t be bothered to remind the admiral, so he acted as if he didn’t understand all the machinations of the Federation and asked, "Building up power? What are you talking about?"

Admiral Hawthorn laughed heartily, his eyes seemingly fixed on a nearby photographer through the tint of his sunglasses.

Once the magnesium lights had flashed past, Admiral Hawthorn distanced himself from Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong asked, "When can I meet the President of the Federation?"

"The President will host a banquet for the delegation tonight; you’ll definitely meet him then. But right now it’s noon, and—according to our schedule, you have a speech at the airport. The evening paper’s reporters are all waiting for material for tonight’s headlines."

With that, Admiral Hawthorn waved his hand.

At this point, he heard Yakov whisper in Antenese, "It’s quite different than Ante here, everything here has a flamboyant air."

Wang Zhong thought to himself, welcome to the bastion of ***ism.

He asked Admiral Hawthorn, "Shall I go give the speech now?"

"No, no, no, you should first inspect the joint military honor guard," Admiral Hawthorn gestured invitingly.

Following his gesture, Wang Zhong saw the lined-up honor guard, the long red carpet, and at the end of the carpet, the speech podium.

So he said, "Then let’s begin."

Thirty minutes later, Wang Zhong and Admiral Hawthorn climbed into a Jeep, and as the Jeep started, Admiral Hawthorn said, "The newspapers are currently very pessimistic about the Ante battlefield. I’m not sure how many will accept the points about luring the enemy deeper that you mentioned in your speech.

"But it doesn’t matter, here in the Federation, the correctness of opinions is not as important as the emotions they provoke. Your lack of fluency in Ansese is a significant disadvantage, but don’t worry, I’ll translate for you during the subsequent fundraising speech—I’m an expert at stirring up emotions."

Wang Zhong thought to himself your sunglasses and large pipe are indeed very good at stirring up emotions.

Admiral Hawthorn continued, "By the way, you have a great look. When I saw your photos on the front pages, I thought you were born to be a public relations ambassador. Seeing you in person has convinced me even more. I’ll arrange for some tabloids to interview you; their reports might even outdo the front-page news!"

Admiral Hawthorn paused and asked, "Do you have an eagle?"

Wang Zhong was shocked, "What?"

"An eagle! Don’t the lyrics go, ’She sings of the mighty eagle of the steppe’? You should have an eagle."

No, I do not—I almost got killed by an eagle trainer in Balas.

Admiral Hawthorn ignored Wang Zhong’s thoughts, merely saying, "I’ll figure something out. How about a bald eagle?"

Wang Zhong replied, "My hometown is the steppe, only the edge touches the White Sea; a bald eagle... doesn’t seem fitting, does it?"

Hawthorn considered, then asked, "So perhaps...?"

Wang Zhong suggested, "A falcon, or any other bird from the falcon family would do."

"Settled!" Admiral Hawthorn snapped his fingers.

And so began Wang Zhong’s extraordinary journey in the Federation.

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