【Interstellar Contract Magician】Ruyuanke

When it was almost dawn, people began to move outside the tent. At first, there were light footsteps, which gradually merged into one, mixed with the sound of pulling equipment, clashing metal, and whispered commands. The cold wind brought the aroma of cooking soup and boiled cakes, mixed with the smell of snow and the moist scent of flames.

When I opened my eyes, Qianmo's hand was still hanging on my sleeve, his fingertips slightly cold. He seemed to have just woken up, blinking, a little dazed.

I turned my face to the side and whispered, "Let go when you wake up."

A moment of surprise crossed his face, and then he quickly let go of his hand. His movements were a little stiff, like a boy who was caught stealing candy. The tips of his ears were red.

I sat up, slowly rolled up my sleeping bag, and lowered my head to adjust my collar. Next to me, the mecha student was also fumbling to sit up. His face was ashen, and his eyes were filled with the fatigue of a sleepless night. To him, it was as if he hadn't slept at all. He glanced at us, said nothing, and simply lowered his head, silently packing up his equipment.

As I walked out of the tent, a cold wind blew in my face.

The sky was already bright, but the clouds were still thick, with a little pale white light occasionally showing through. In the distance, the snow was bumpy and uneven, with footprints of shoes and scratches of various supplies scattered around.

On the other side of the open space, there were several large pots placed on a makeshift fire, with boiling soup emitting steam. The military cadets and some logistics personnel accompanying the team were running back and forth around the pots, busy adding water, cutting ingredients, and throwing in dry biscuits and freeze-dried meat.

Someone yelled, "Add dried fruits and vegetables to the next batch of soup pots! Hurry up!"

Some people brought bundles of frozen dry food from afar, and some people squatted on the snow to peel off the dry and hard bread and slowly cut it into small pieces with a knife.

I was called to help organize the dry ingredients by the soup pot, and Qianmo was sent to the back to help check the spare medicinal materials and small heating device.

I took the heavy bag of dried food, squatted down, and bit by bit crushed the icy dried fruits and vegetables, dropping them into the boiling pot. The steam rushed up, steaming my face red. The hot soup splashed on the back of my hand immediately turned into a sticky, damp heat, mixed with the chill of the snow, so sticky that it was hard to tell whether it was cold or warm.

The pot was bubbling, with broken biscuit crumbs and dried fruit pulp rolling on the surface of the soup, giving it a mixed aroma. It was hard to say whether it smelled good, but it made people feel more "alive" than the marching nutritional paste in school.

The others around him were equally quietly busy. No one mentioned going out, no one discussed the fate of the mission, everyone just mechanically cut, stirred, and passed the food over and over again, as if they were already used to it.

I looked down at the hard dried fruits and vegetables under the knife, cutting them one by one. I could hear the "crackling" sound of the blade colliding with the frozen, crispy flesh. The rhythm was steady and calm, almost indifferent.

Occasionally, I looked up and saw the newly arrived teams lining up outside, gearing up for departure. Their clean coats and well-maintained armor gleamed dimly in the snow, making them stand out clearly from the busy logistics cadets.

Those people will replace us and face the next bone-chilling mission.

I lowered my head and continued to stir the soup in the pot. The heat blurred the scenery in front of me. My cuffs and fingertips were soaked with moisture. Only the aroma of the soup mixed with the chill of the snow continued to surge over me layer by layer, falling on the tip of my nose, hot and cold.

Not far behind me, Qianmo was also quietly sorting the medicinal herbs. When he looked up at me, his eyes were obscured by the steam, but he paused for a moment, as if silently confirming that I was still there.

I didn't respond and just continued to focus on the work at hand.