The thing Shen Qinghui regretted most in his life was not that he transferred the armored brigade to the left wing in the seventh step on the sand table, but that he didn't pour the bowl of red soup on Jiang Nieling's head on graduation day.
She thought graduation meant going our separate ways.
Later Shen Qinghui went to the front line. Later, she was shot.
A foreign object shrapnel flying from a dark place passed through her right shoulder, and energy residue that did not belong to any known weapon was detected on the shrapnel.
After recovering from her injuries, she was sent to the Foreign Object Administration—that top-secret agency hidden from the world, her father's territory.
Before Shen Qinghui could curse, the ward door was pushed open - a man walked in, wearing the uniform of the Administration, with epaulettes two steps higher than her.
"It's time for you to take your medicine."
Shen Qinghui pulled out the IV on the spot: "... Why the hell are you here?!"
Jiang Nieling lowered her head and flipped through the medical records: "Administration Bureau, Foreign Object Special Investigation Team, team leader. Your file has been transferred over. Starting tomorrow, you will be under my control."
"..."
Intention: the symbiosis of mission and emotion