Chapter 12: “What a sight.”
The enlistment ceremony proceeded as scheduled. Most of the recruits who had gone through the initial training looked haggard, standing obediently in their ranks without a word.
In the open-air training ground where the entire Area A had assembled, only the heavy, rhythmic sound of footsteps could be heard.
He Yue sat in the front row of the temporary seating area, quietly waiting for the ceremony to begin. A camera, used to observe the insects participating in Area A’s assembly, swept across his row, capturing him sitting in the front.
At the very front of the open-air training ground, a large display screen was set up. Anyone, regardless of their location in the training ground, could see the clear projection.
A promotional video played on loop on the projector, every movement of the characters incredibly high-definition. Every step of the enlistment ceremony was broadcast in real-time to every base.
Not just Area A, but all the bases in the entire insect race.
And Colonel Koeyle of Area A would deliver a speech as a representative at this ceremony.
He Yue had read the program and knew about this segment.
The black remote control in his hand blinked a few times, the connection indicator changing from red to green.
He really did it…
Meeting with Koeyle that morning, He Yue had expected some bargaining, but instead, he received a promise.
“Master, I will do as you require.”
Even though it was the first time he had held the vibrating device in his hand and attempted to use it, the unease in Koeyle’s eyes was fleeting, replaced by firm resolve as he pursed his lips.
“I allow you to inform me when you think you’ve reached your limit. The signal is to tug on your tie with your left hand.” He Yue said.
This wasn’t mercy, but a more torturous tactic.
He gave Koeyle the right to stop, but in reality, he was testing whether, at the edge of his limit, he would choose to beg to stop or use all his will to please him.
When Koeyle had the option to give up when it became unbearable, the choice to persevere would become even more difficult. The willpower required was like a starving, dying person refusing a sweet piece of bread.
Koeyle lowered his eyes, his tone unreadable: “I will persevere.”
He only had an unknown guess about this, but he chose to believe in his determination and endurance.
He Yue nodded and smiled: “I need to remind you of a few things. First, I will absolutely keep my promise to stop. Second, by ‘limit,’ I mean not being able to endure even one more second.”
He walked past Koeyle, whispering as he passed: “I look forward to your performance, Colonel Koeyle.”
The absolute promise to stop was even more tempting than that life-saving piece of bread. However, He Yue hadn’t said what would happen if he didn’t stop…
Would he be disappointed? Would he refuse?
He Yue’s footsteps had already faded away, but Koeyle still stood there.
He couldn’t disappoint him; this was a hard-won opportunity.
The metallic surface dug painfully into his palm, the warmth of his hand gradually warming the cold metal.
He was still holding his speech, the speech he would read to everyone. He would stand in front of the camera in the broadcasting studio and read this speech, as Colonel of Area A, to all the insects in every base.
With the device He Yue had given him.
*
The proceedings of the ceremony perfectly matched He Yue’s stereotypical impression of such events: long and boring. Different military females said similar, repetitive things, making one’s ears numb.
The newly enlisted female insects standing and listening also looked numb and tired.
It wasn’t until Koeyle’s projection appeared on the screen that the crowd stirred slightly.
He was different from the insects who had spoken before. He was a female insect, the only one qualified to stand in the broadcasting studio and deliver a speech to the entire insect race as a colonel.
How many enlisted female insects would idolize such a person?
“Hello everyone, I am Colonel Koeyle of Area A.”
He placed his right hand over his left chest, stood by the microphone on the podium, and gave a standard imperial military salute. He looked the same as when he first met He Yue in the nurturing room, polite and distant.
“It’s the colonel! I was hired as a captain this time. When will I become a colonel?”
Behind He Yue were the civilian female insects who hadn’t yet been awarded their titles. They were clearly much more relaxed than the new recruits standing in the middle. Wien was also in the crowd, right behind He Yue.
These people, like Wien, had enlisted with high academic qualifications and were directly hired as civilian military officers.
“Can your position be the same?” The female insect standing next to the speaker patted him. “You’re a civilian officer. Don’t even mention colonel; even if you climb to senior colonel, you can’t compare to Colonel Koeyle.”
He paused, then continued: “Even generals among civilian officers are female insects, but Colonel Koeyle is the only female colonel among active duty officers.”
He Yue listened to their conversation, smiling faintly.
His aversion to male insect pheromones and the death of his accompanying male insect were both Koeyle’s source of pride, freeing him from constraints, and the nightmare of enduring the pain of the backlash.
He Yue raised his hand and pressed the button on the remote control.
The sound coming from the speakers paused noticeably. Koeyle frowned, his speech slowing down. He didn’t dare to relax, continuing to read his speech with a taut string.
The sound of his heavy breathing mixed with his words.
But he still persevered. Even though his speech was intermittent, it didn’t stop completely.
So, He Yue pushed the slider forward a notch.
The person on the screen suddenly bent over, letting out a soft cough. He nervously gripped the edge of the podium, his nails digging into the wood with a scratching sound.
He bit his lip to control his erratic breathing, but couldn’t suppress the momentary loss of focus in his eyes.
“Is the colonel sick?”
“He’s still attending the ceremony while sick, so dedicated.”
…
The female insects behind He Yue readily came up with excuses for Koeyle, not suspecting that this serious, ice-cold colonel would be doing anything inappropriate.
Only He Yue and Wien knew the real reason.
Wien’s gaze passed over He Yue’s shoulder, landing on his hand. The green indicator light on the remote control, though small, was piercingly bright.
And as far as his gaze could reach, He Yue’s gaze was fixed on the screen, on Koeyle, never leaving him.
He wouldn’t give Koeyle the excuse of being caught off guard. Last time in the basement, he had personally seen He Yue put a wired iron ball into Koeyle’s hand.
Looking up at the screen, Wien was momentarily lost in thought. The “invitation letter” in his hand still had the word “Major” written on it, and he gripped the hard card even tighter.
Wien knew it wasn’t Koeyle’s dedication that the female insect beside him had mentioned, and he also knew that it was his Master who was doing this to him.
Indescribable emotions spread from his chest.
Listening to Koeyle’s suppressed breathing as he read his speech, he desperately wished that the iron ball was inside him.
His fist slowly clenched, this thought making his heart itch. He shifted his position, concealing his competitive thoughts and the surging plea.
A soft click sounded as the slider was pushed forward another notch.
“Thank you… uh… cough, cough…”
The almost escaping moan was masked by a coughing fit. Koeyle lowered his head, coughing continuously, covering his face with his hand. His voice was hoarse from coughing, the broken syllables mixed with a sound that was almost a sob.
“Oh my, Colonel Koeyle is really pushing himself…”
“Colonel, please rest well. You don’t have to continue, just a sentence or two is enough.”
“You can upload the rest of the speech to the optical network for us to see.”
…
The hushed discussions didn’t carry any negative speculation, showing Koeyle’s image in the public’s mind.
Koeyle supported himself with his hand, tears welling up in his eyes, seemingly from coughing, but only He Yue and Wien knew the real reason.
Quite clever.
He Yue thought, silently watching the screen.
Koeyle on the screen bit his lip hard, his left hand reaching for his collar, but ultimately only grasping the buttons on his chest.
The camera in front of him moved slightly, focusing directly on He Yue. Koeyle on the screen was no longer looking directly at the camera, but down at something.
He Yue glanced at the camera, then at Koeyle.
He probably understood; Koeyle must be looking at the audience feedback screen below the broadcasting studio.
The camera, pointed directly at He Yue, didn’t move away. Koeyle on the screen lowered his head, concealing his forced composure. How much willpower did he need to regain his senses at the edge of his limit?
He Yue leisurely watched the person on the screen struggling to maintain his composure while suppressing the surging sensations, almost losing consciousness in moments of distraction.
He lowered his eyes, relying on staring at He Yue in the audience to remember his goal and determination, so as not to be disoriented by the waves of tingling, almost painful sensations that seemed both real and illusory.
He Yue crossed his arms and turned to look at the red-lit audience camera.
He knew that through the camera, a fervent gaze was seeking support.
But…
He Yue faced the camera, smiling faintly as he mouthed the words clearly—”Lowly insect.”
A soft moan and a series of violent coughs came from the speakers.
After a few sounds of rustling paper, Koeyle’s voice, perhaps hoarse from coughing, lost all its forced composure.
“Cough, cough… I sincerely apologize for my poor physical condition, I couldn’t present myself in a better state. The speech will be uploaded to the optical network. Considering everyone has been standing outside for a long time, I won’t waste any more of your time. Thank you.”
He almost said these words in one breath, as quickly as possible, not even waiting for the cheers of the female insects, before abruptly cutting off the broadcasting studio’s signal.
Most of the female insects, whose legs were numb from standing, were praising Koeyle’s thoughtfulness, occasionally adding a “Thank you for your hard work, Colonel.”
This made He Yue’s composure seem even more out of place.
The colonel has really worked hard…
He thought, putting the remote control back in his pocket and walking towards the broadcasting studio. They had agreed to meet at the broadcasting studio earlier, and besides, he wasn’t kind enough to turn off the device, leaving Koeyle unable to move a step.
Pushing the door open, He Yue saw Koeyle slumped over the podium, his body limp.
He was leaning forward, his body draped over the podium for balance, his feet almost off the ground, twitching occasionally.
“What a sight, Colonel Koeyle.”
