Extra - Ji Lu Wushuang - Is This Fair

Chen Lei's letters were Ji Wushuang's only connection to the normal world.

They were her only respite in the gaps between blood and fire.

Once, during a mission,

her squad was ambushed by a group of armed drug traffickers in a valley.

The enemy numbered over a hundred, their firepower overwhelming.

Her team had only six.

In that brutal battle, the deputy squad leader sacrificed himself to cover her.

A bullet pierced his chest.

Before collapsing, his last words to Ji Wushuang were:

"Survive."

Ji Wushuang led the remaining team members and fought their way out.

Alone, she eliminated the enemy leader and his personal guard squad.

The mission was accomplished.

She survived.

Back at camp, Ji Wushuang locked herself in her room.

For three days and nights,

she didn’t speak, didn’t eat.

She just kept cleaning her gun,

the one stained with the blood of comrades and enemies alike.

On the fourth day,

she received a letter from Chen Lei.

Inside was a photo—

Chen Lei standing at the university gates,

wearing a white shirt and glasses, smiling shyly.

Behind him was sunlight and the vibrant energy of a college campus.

Ji Wushuang stared at the photo,

at that clean, carefree smile from another world.

Her hands trembled.

A tear fell onto the photo,

blurring the sunlight.

It was the first time she had cried since enlisting.

She picked up a pen and, for the first time, wrote more than just "I’m fine" in her reply.

She wrote:

"Chen Lei, what color is your world?"

After sending the letter, she was awarded a first-class merit.

A heavy medal now hung on her chest.

Her name became legendary in the special operations forces.

The title "Female Soldier King" was cemented.

She became an idol, a figure countless soldiers looked up to.

She stood at the first peak of her military career.

Yet as she gazed at the distant mountains,

for the first time, she felt lost.

But that flicker of doubt was quickly buried beneath the weight of relentless missions.

...

Ji Wushuang was promoted to Master Sergeant First Class,

the highest rank an enlisted soldier could achieve in the special forces.

She was given her own private quarters.

Her photo was hung on the honor wall of the training camp,

alongside the legendary "Soldier Kings" of the past.

Her codename, "Ghost," became synonymous with awe and fear among recruits.

They said Ghost moved without sound,

could smell a man from a hundred meters away,

that her eyes were like infrared scanners in the dark.

Ji Wushuang listened to these tales without reaction.

She simply carried out her missions, day after day.

Training, deployments, more training.

Her life ran like a precision clock,

every gear perfectly aligned,

every second filled with purpose and efficiency.

She was the sharpest blade in the unit, unstoppable.

Yet in the quiet hours after missions,

she sometimes polished that unmarked gold medal.

It still gleamed,

but its light no longer seemed to reach her heart.

Her heart was a deep well—dark, still, undisturbed.

The military landscape was changing.

The New Xia Nation had known peace for years.

Real combat missions grew rare.

Exercises, debriefings, and inter-branch exchanges became the norm.

The war of words in conference rooms sometimes mattered more than sweat on the training grounds.

Ji Wushuang struggled to adapt.

She excelled in battle,

but not in diplomacy.

During a regional skills competition,

Ji Wushuang swept every individual event—

marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, endurance marches.

Her scores shattered records,

even surpassing those of elite male soldiers.

After the competition, Gao Feng summoned her to his office.

Now a senior colonel and commander of the Special Operations Brigade,

his temples had begun to gray.

"Congratulations, Wushuang," Gao Feng said warmly, pouring her tea himself.

"What are your plans next?"

Ji Wushuang stood at attention.

"Reporting, sir. I follow orders."

Gao Feng waved her off.

"Drop the formalities with me."

He sighed.

"Your abilities are undeniable.

The brass wants to fast-track you into the officer corps."

A flicker of emotion crossed Ji Wushuang’s face.

Gao Feng read it instantly.

"But there’s a rule," he admitted reluctantly.

"Officer candidates must hold at least a bachelor’s degree.

You... only finished high school."

Silence filled the room.

An invisible wall stood between her and advancement—

unbreakable, no matter how many records she set.

"I can arrange for you to attend military academy," Gao Feng offered.

"A few years of study, earn your degree. With your skills, you’d commission as a captain at least."

Ji Wushuang fell silent.

Go back to school?

Struggle through textbooks that gave her headaches?

Leave the battlefield for a classroom?

The thought was unimaginable.

"Sir, I’ll need time to consider," she finally said.

Just then, the door opened.

A young captain in crisp dress uniform entered—

Li Mu, a staff officer from headquarters.

A defense studies graduate from a top university,

he’d joined the bureaucracy straight out of school.

His reports were famously polished.

"Sir, the after-action report for the summer exercises is ready for review," Li Mu said,

placing a thick folder on Gao Feng’s desk.

Noticing Ji Wushuang, he added smoothly,

"Ah, Master Sergeant Ghost is here too."

His tone held respect, but also distance.

Gao Feng skimmed the document.

"Solid work. Covers all bases."

Li Mu adjusted his glasses.

"Only possible under your guidance, sir.

Master Sergeant’s unit provided invaluable combat data. Without their sacrifices, my report would be empty words."

The flattery rolled off his tongue.

To Ji Wushuang, it rang hollow.

She remembered last month’s exercise—

Li Mu, assigned as an observer to her team,

got lost in the jungle.

Drank contaminated water, fell violently ill,

nearly compromised the entire operation.

She’d carried him out on her back.

Now here he sat in his air-conditioned office,

turning their blood and sweat into career advancement.

And she—the one who’d actually bled—

was barred by a piece of paper.

Was this justice?