Loyalty Medal

At 6:27 a.m., the convoy entered the Eastern European base.

Fine snow drifted beneath a lead-gray sky as the base gates slowly opened to the low hum of the hydraulic system. Lin Xiao sat in the front passenger seat of the first SUV, looking through the mud-speckled windshield at the base within—no one was on the training grounds, and only a few searchlights cast pale beams through the curtain of snow. The air carried the mingled smell of diesel and snowmelt agent. Cold wind slipped through the gaps in the windows, bringing the particular chill of metal and concrete.

The vehicles stopped in front of the command building.

Fletcher was already waiting there, dressed in a dark gray Hydra officer's uniform. The silver insignia on his epaulets gleamed coldly in the snowy light. Two adjutants stood behind him, folders in hand, their expressions as stern as stone statues.

Lin Xiao pushed open the door, his boots crunching into the snow. He walked around to the back and opened the rear door. Anna and another team member were helping Su Ying out of the vehicle—she was wrapped in a thick military blanket, and the bandages around her left ribs could be faintly seen through her unfastened body armor. Her face was pale as paper, her lips bloodless. Her steps were unsteady; every step made her frown slightly, and a fine layer of cold sweat covered her forehead.

"Commander." Lin Xiao walked up to Fletcher, stood at attention, and saluted.

Fletcher's gaze passed over Lin Xiao's shoulder and settled on Su Ying. His eyes lingered on the bandages for three seconds, his pupils narrowing slightly.

"Report." Fletcher's voice was calm, but Lin Xiao caught the faint tremor beneath it.

"At 9:40 p.m. last night, we encountered an attack by an unidentified armed group while carrying out a supply transfer mission." Lin Xiao's voice was clear and steady, every word seeming precisely measured. "There were approximately fifteen enemy personnel. They were well equipped and tactically coordinated. The firefight took place on an abandoned road three kilometers southwest of the logging yard. We killed seven, wounded four, and the rest fled. Su Ying was shot while covering the withdrawal of the supply vehicles and protecting me."

He paused for a second before adding, "Fractures in the sixth and seventh ribs on the left side. The bullet grazed her; the flesh wound is three centimeters deep. She received emergency treatment from the medic and is not in life-threatening condition."

Fletcher remained silent. Snowflakes landed on his epaulets and quickly melted into tiny droplets. He walked over to Su Ying and studied her face—that pallor could not be entirely faked with makeup. It was the result of blood loss and pain. Her breathing was shallow, and her left ribs rose faintly each time she inhaled, an instinctive protective reaction caused by the fractures.

"You were injured protecting the commander?" Fletcher asked.

Su Ying lifted her head. Her eyes were somewhat unfocused, but still resolute. "Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Because he is the commander of this team." Su Ying's voice was soft, yet every word was distinct. "If the commander falls, the entire mission fails. My duty is to ensure the mission is completed."

Fletcher stared at her for five seconds, then slowly nodded.

He turned to Lin Xiao. "The supplies?"

"All supplies were safely transferred to Backup Site Three and have been placed under the guard of Black Bear's team." Lin Xiao pulled a data terminal from his tactical vest and brought up the transport manifest and photographs of the supplies. "Twelve crates in total, including electronic components, rare metals, and medical equipment, worth approximately eight million dollars. Nothing was damaged."

Fletcher took the terminal, his fingers sliding across the screen. The photographs had been taken inside the warehouse, where the crates were neatly stacked and their seals intact. He enlarged several images and confirmed the serial numbers and labels on the containers.

"Casualties?"

"Three lightly wounded on our side. No deaths," Lin Xiao said. "Wolf's team is clearing the battlefield and collecting enemy equipment and identity clues. Preliminary assessment suggests they may be arms dealers or mercenary groups active near the border, but their exact identities require further investigation."

Fletcher handed the terminal back to Lin Xiao. His expression remained stern, but something deep in his eyes had loosened.

"Well done," he said, warmth finally entering his voice. "Take her to the medical wing and have Anna conduct a full examination. I need a detailed operational report on my desk within two hours."

"Understood."

Fletcher turned and headed toward the command building, his two adjutants following closely behind. At the entrance, he stopped and glanced back at Su Ying.

"Recover well," he said. "The organization does not forget loyal soldiers."

The door closed behind him.

Lin Xiao supported Su Ying as they headed toward the base medical building. The snow fell harder, gathering in a thin layer on their shoulders. The medical building smelled of disinfectant mixed with the rusty odor radiating from the heaters. The corridor was long, its walls painted a sickly white, while fluorescent tubes hummed with electric current overhead.

Anna was already waiting outside the medical room, medical chart in hand. The moment she saw Su Ying, she stepped forward and took over supporting her.

"Do you need my help?" Lin Xiao asked.

"No." Anna shook her head. "Go handle the report. Leave this to me."

Lin Xiao looked at Su Ying. She gave a faint nod, her eyes saying, I'm fine.

He turned and left.

At nine in the morning, Lin Xiao delivered a twenty-seven-page operational report to Fletcher's office.

The report detailed every stage of the previous night's mission—from departure to the ambush, from the firefight to the evacuation route, from the supply inventory to the treatment of the wounded. Its wording was calm and objective, its figures accurate to two decimal places, supplemented by scene photographs, ballistic analysis diagrams, and a list of enemy equipment. Lin Xiao devoted three full pages to Su Ying's injury: how she spotted the flanking attack, how she pushed Lin Xiao aside, how she continued fighting after being shot until she confirmed the supplies had safely withdrawn.

Fletcher sat behind his desk, turning the pages one by one. The office was quiet, filled only with the rustle of paper and the occasional click from the heater. Snow still fell outside, dyeing the entire world a monotonous white.

After reading the final page, Fletcher set down the report, removed his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"It's very detailed," he said. "But some parts are overly detailed."

Lin Xiao stood straight before the desk. "I believe headquarters should know all the facts."

"Facts." Fletcher repeated the word, his tone subtly strange. "Are you certain these are all facts?"

"I guarantee it on a soldier's honor."

Fletcher stared at him for several seconds, then smiled—a shallow smile, almost imperceptible, but undeniably there.

"Sit." He pointed to the chair opposite him.

Lin Xiao sat down. The leather chair felt somewhat cold.

Fletcher took a silver cigar case from the drawer, pulled out a cigar, carefully clipped its end with a cutter, and lit it. Smoke slowly rose through the air, carrying the rich scent of tobacco and oak.

"You know headquarters' attitude toward Su Ying." Fletcher took a puff and slowly exhaled smoke. "A former elite S.H.I.E.L.D. agent suddenly defects and voluntarily joins us—such a story is too perfect. Perfect enough to invite suspicion."

"I understand headquarters' caution."

"But you don't agree with it," Fletcher said. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have devoted so much of your report to describing her 'heroic actions.'"

Lin Xiao remained silent.

"I'm not criticizing you." Fletcher flicked ash from his cigar. "On the contrary, I appreciate your approach. In this organization, loyalty must be proven, and the best way to prove loyalty is to bleed."

He rose and walked to the window, watching the snow whirl outside.

"Headquarters needs an example," Fletcher said. "Especially at a time like this. S.H.I.E.L.D. is becoming increasingly active, and the formation of the Avengers has made many people uneasy. We need to show everyone that Hydra remains strong, still attracts the best talent, and is still worthy of loyalty."

He turned, his gaze falling upon Lin Xiao.

"Your report, along with Su Ying's injury, provides exactly that kind of example." Fletcher returned to his desk and rested the cigar on the edge of a crystal ashtray. "I will forward this report to headquarters exactly as it is, along with my recommendation. I recommend that Su Ying be awarded the Hydra Loyalty Medal and formally added to the organization's list of core personnel."

Lin Xiao's heart tightened slightly.

"As for you," Fletcher continued, "headquarters has noticed your performance. Three consecutive missions completed successfully, and this time, you defeated a larger force with fewer men and preserved vital supplies. Your promotion order should arrive soon—possibly deputy regional operations commander, or commander of an independent operations team."

"Thank you for your guidance, sir."

"Don't thank me." Fletcher picked up his cigar again. "You earned this yourself. But let me remind you—the higher your position, the more people will watch you. Make every step a steady one."

"Understood."

"Go." Fletcher waved a hand. "Go see your partner. Tell her that the medal and official status are only the beginning. The organization's tests of her are far from over."

Lin Xiao stood, saluted, and left the office.

The moment the door closed behind him, he heard Fletcher mutter something under his breath, but it was too quiet to make out.

At two in the afternoon, headquarters' reply arrived.

Fletcher gathered all personnel on the training grounds. The snow had stopped, but the temperature had dropped even further, and their breath condensed into white mist in the air. More than two hundred Hydra soldiers stood in formation, their dark gray uniforms forming a single expanse against the snow, like a group of silent statues.

Fletcher stood on a temporary platform, an encrypted document from headquarters in hand. His voice carried across the training grounds through loudspeakers, echoing through the frigid air.

"Last night, Lin Xiao's team encountered an attack by an unidentified armed group while carrying out an important supply transfer mission." Fletcher's voice was solemn and powerful. "Outnumbered and at a terrain disadvantage, they fought bravely, repelled the enemy, and preserved critical supplies worth eight million dollars. During the battle, team member Su Ying was seriously wounded while protecting Commander Lin Xiao."

He paused, sweeping his eyes across the crowd below.

"Headquarters has given this operation the highest praise." Fletcher unfolded the document. "After deliberation, it has been decided: Su Ying is to be awarded the Hydra Loyalty Medal in recognition of her bravery and spirit of sacrifice; she is to be formally added to the organization's core combat personnel roster, with all temporary restrictions and surveillance measures lifted; she will receive a full set of equipment and access privileges, along with the benefits of a level-three officer."

A low murmur spread through the crowd. The Loyalty Medal was one of Hydra's highest internal honors, normally awarded only to members who had made major contributions or sacrifices for the organization. And inclusion on the core combat personnel roster meant absolute trust—access to classified intelligence, participation in high-level missions, and independent command authority.

Fletcher raised a hand for silence.

"At the same time," he continued, "in light of Lin Xiao's outstanding command and composure under pressure during this operation, headquarters has decided to promote Lin Xiao to commander of an independent operations team in the Eastern European region, reporting directly to me; grant him the rank of major, along with corresponding authority and resources; and expand his team to twenty personnel, with authority to recruit and train members independently."

Applause rose, sparse at first, then quickly swelling into a unified roar. Lin Xiao stood at the very front of the formation, ramrod straight, without a trace of expression on his face. He could feel the gazes directed at his back—envy, jealousy, scrutiny, and pure respect.

Fletcher stepped down from the platform and stopped before Lin Xiao. He accepted two boxes from an adjutant—one made of dark blue velvet containing a silver Loyalty Medal, its snake-shaped design entwined around a sword; the other black leather, holding brand-new major's epaulets and an identification plate.

"Congratulations." Fletcher handed the boxes to Lin Xiao.

"Thank you for the organization's trust."

"You earned this." Fletcher lowered his voice. "But remember what I just said—the higher your position, the more people will watch you. Su Ying's medal can silence some people for now, but not everyone."

"I understand."

Fletcher nodded and turned away. The soldiers began to disperse, heading toward the barracks in small groups. Lin Xiao remained where he was, holding the two boxes and feeling the cold touch of metal and leather.

"Boss." A voice came from behind him.

Lin Xiao turned and saw Black Bear standing a short distance away, a simple, honest smile on his face.

"Congratulations on the promotion," Black Bear said. "The brothers all say following you was the right choice."

"It was everyone's combined effort," Lin Xiao said. "Tell everyone there'll be extra food tonight. My treat."

Black Bear's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really. Go draw two crates of vodka from logistics, and have the kitchen make more meat."

"Got it!" Black Bear ran off excitedly.

Lin Xiao watched his retreating back, the corners of his mouth lifting faintly. Then the smile vanished, and he headed toward the medical building.

By evening, the base cafeteria was bustling.

The long tables were piled with food—grilled pork chops, beef stew, mashed potatoes, sauerkraut, dark bread, and crates of vodka and beer. The soldiers sat together, laughing and talking loudly as the clinking of glasses rose and fell. The air was thick with the aromas of roasted meat and alcohol, mingled with sweat and tobacco.

Lin Xiao sat at the main table beside Fletcher and several senior officers. He did not drink much, spending most of his time listening to others talk, occasionally nodding or smiling. Fletcher was clearly in high spirits. After several glasses of vodka, his cheeks had reddened, and his voice had grown louder.

"You know," Fletcher said, patting Lin Xiao on the shoulder, "what I appreciate most about you is that you know when to take risks and when to be cautious. In this operation, no one would have blamed you if you'd abandoned the supplies and retreated—we were outnumbered, and preserving our strength would have been the wise choice. But you chose to fight, and you won."

"We got lucky," Lin Xiao said.

"Luck?" Fletcher shook his head. "No. Judgment. You judged that while they had superior numbers, their tactical training was poor and their coordination clumsy. You judged that although the terrain was unfavorable, you could use the abandoned buildings as cover. You judged that Su Ying could take that bullet, and that bullet could win headquarters' trust."

He leaned closer, the smell of alcohol washing over Lin Xiao's face.

"Those were all calculations, not luck," Fletcher said. "And calculation is the ability this organization needs most."

Lin Xiao raised his glass. "To the organization."

"To the organization!" Everyone at the table raised their glasses.

After several rounds of drinks, the atmosphere grew increasingly lively. Someone began singing an old Russian military song, rough and tragic. Lin Xiao found an excuse to leave the main table and walked to a window in the cafeteria's corner. It was completely dark outside now, with only a few streetlamps casting dim yellow circles across the snow.

He took out an encrypted communicator and opened Nightingale's channel.

"Anything happening in Geneva?"

"Nothing for now." Nightingale's voice came through his earpiece. "The villa is quiet. Only the cleaning staff and one chef went in or out today. No unfamiliar faces, no unusual signals."

"Keep watching."

"Understood. Also, news from S.H.I.E.L.D.—they've downgraded their search for Su Ying. An internal notice says the target was seriously wounded in a firefight with another armed group and may already be dead. Relevant leads have been temporarily archived pending further intelligence."

Lin Xiao frowned slightly. "They gave up that quickly?"

"It doesn't seem like giving up. It feels more like... shifting their attention," Nightingale said. "I intercepted several internal S.H.I.E.L.D. communications. They were discussing the situation in Sokovia, as well as certain 'abnormal phenomena' in New York. It seems Nick Fury has shifted resources in other directions."

"Understood. Keep listening. Notify me immediately of any developments."

"Received."

Lin Xiao ended the communication and slipped the device back into his pocket. He turned toward the cafeteria—the soldiers were still drinking and singing, while Fletcher was already somewhat drunk, an arm around an adjutant's shoulders as he laughed loudly. Everything was proceeding according to plan, even better than planned.

But why was there always a faint unease in his heart?

At ten that night, the celebration ended.

Lin Xiao returned to his room—his new residence after the promotion, located on the second floor of the officer dormitory. It was nearly twice the size of his previous room, with a separate bedroom, living room, and small office. It was cold inside, the heater not yet fully warmed up. He took off his coat, switched on the desk lamp, and sat at the desk.

Two boxes rested on the desktop. He opened the blue velvet one and took out the Loyalty Medal. The silver snake design gleamed coldly beneath the light, while the sword blade had been finely polished and reflected scattered points of light. The medal was heavy, solid in his hand.

He looked at it for a long time, then placed it back in the box and closed the lid.

A knock sounded at the door.

Lin Xiao raised his head. "Come in."

The door opened, and Anna stood there with a medical chart in hand.

"Su Ying's examination results are out." Anna entered and placed the chart on the desk. "Her rib fractures are healing well, with no sign of displacement. The flesh wound has begun to heal, and the risk of infection is very low. But she needs at least three weeks of rest. No strenuous activity."

"Three weeks," Lin Xiao repeated.

"That's the bare minimum," Anna said. "If she doesn't want lasting complications."

"I understand. Thank you, Anna."

Anna nodded and turned to leave. At the door, she stopped and looked back at Lin Xiao.

"There's something I'm not sure I should say." She hesitated.

"Say it."

"Su Ying's injury... was too convenient." Anna's voice was quiet. "The bullet grazed her ribs, causing fractures and a flesh wound, but missed every major blood vessel and organ. Medically speaking, this kind of injury feels more like the result of careful design than an accident on the battlefield."

The room fell silent for several seconds.

"What are you trying to say?" Lin Xiao asked.

Anna bit her lip. "I'm only a doctor. I don't understand tactics or conspiracies. But I've seen many injuries. I know what kind of wounds are luck, and what kind are... arranged."

Without waiting for Lin Xiao's answer, she quickly left the room.

The door closed softly.

Lin Xiao sat motionless in his chair. The desk lamp cast shadows across his face, half-lit and half-dark. Outside, the wind howled past, whipping up snow from the ground and sending it hissing against the glass.

After an unknown amount of time, he stood and left the room.

The officer dormitory was quiet. Only a few wall lamps lit the corridor, their glow dim. Lin Xiao stopped outside Su Ying's room—officially, it was called a "sickroom," but in reality it was simply her own room, with a few additional medical devices.

He stood outside the door for a long time.

His fingers rose, then fell. Rose again, then fell.

In the end, he gently pushed the door open.

Only a bedside lamp was on inside, its warm yellow glow filling the small room. Su Ying leaned against the headboard with a book in her hands—Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms. Its pages had yellowed, its corners worn. She wore a loose hospital gown, bandages wrapped around her left ribs, and her face seemed especially pale beneath the light, the result of both makeup and genuine injury.

At the sound of the door opening, she looked up.

They held each other's gaze for several seconds.

Lin Xiao entered, closing the door behind him. His footsteps were nearly soundless on the carpet. He walked to the bedside and sat in a chair. The room was quiet enough to hear the faint circulation of water within the heater and the occasional wind outside.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Not bad." Su Ying closed the book and placed it on the bedside table. "Anna said I'm recovering well."

"She came to see me just now."

"Oh?"

"She said your injury was too convenient. Convenient enough not to look like an accident."

Su Ying was silent for a moment, then smiled—a faint smile, almost invisible.

"She's a good doctor," Su Ying said. "Very observant."

Lin Xiao looked at her. The lamplight cast soft shadows across her face, making her pallor even more evident. Her eyes were bright; even while injured, that sharpness had not entirely faded.

"Thank you," Lin Xiao said quietly.

Su Ying tilted her head slightly. "For what?"

"Thank you for going along with the plan. Thank you for taking that bullet. Thank you..." He paused. "Thank you for trusting me."

"I told you, we're partners," Su Ying said. "Besides, this injury was worth far more than some of the injuries I received back at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"What do you mean?"

Su Ying did not answer immediately. She looked out the window. Snowflakes had begun to fall again, like countless tiny points of light in the darkness.

"At S.H.I.E.L.D., I was seriously injured three times." Her voice was calm, as if she were telling someone else's story. "The first time was in Afghanistan. I took a bullet in my left shoulder to save an informant who never should have been saved. The bullet lodged in my collarbone, and removing it nearly damaged a nerve. The second time was in Ukraine, while pursuing an arms dealer. I was injured by a booby trap he had set, and my right leg needed twenty-three stitches. The third time was in New York, handling an incident involving superpowered individuals. An energy shockwave broke two of my ribs and caused internal bleeding. I spent a month in the hospital."

She turned to look at Lin Xiao.

"Those injuries earned me nothing more than a line in a mission report, or a 'good job' from Nick Fury," Su Ying said. "But this time was different. This injury earned me a medal, trust, and... a reason truly worth being loyal to."

Lin Xiao's heart tightened slightly.

"Are you sure it's worth it?" he asked. "For someone you've only known for a few months? For an organization you don't fully understand?"

"I understand you," Su Ying said. "That's enough."

The room fell silent again. The radiator gave a soft click, and the temperature seemed to rise a little. Lin Xiao could smell the disinfectant, mixed with the faint scent of soapberries on Su Ying. The bedside lamp cast warm shadows across the wall, lending this cold room a trace of human warmth.

Just then, the encrypted communicator in Lin Xiao's pocket vibrated.

He took out the communicator and pressed the answer button.

"Boss." Nightingale's voice came through the receiver, carrying obvious urgency. "I found it! The signal residue from that anomalous pursuer... points to the encrypted frequency band of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Rapid Response Special Forces, but the access records are abnormal. The frequency was activated four hours before we were attacked, from S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters in New York. But the caller's identity code is covered by multiple layers of encryption. When I traced it to the final layer, the system displayed... insufficient clearance."

Lin Xiao's pupils contracted slightly.

"What does that mean?"

"It means whoever accessed that frequency had clearance higher than a standard S.H.I.E.L.D. operations commander," Nightingale said. "And the access records were deliberately altered. The original logs have been deleted. I only recovered some fragments. But judging by the residual data, this access didn't go through the standard approval process. It looks like... a private call."

"A private call to the encrypted frequency of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Rapid Response Special Forces?"

"Yes. And the caller used at least three layers of encryption protocols to cover their tracks. If I hadn't planted a backdoor in that frequency ahead of time, it would have been impossible to discover these anomalies."

Lin Xiao gripped the communicator tighter, his knuckles turning pale.

Outside the window, the snow fell harder and harder. The entire world was covered in white, silent and cold.

"Keep digging," Lin Xiao said, his voice low and clear. "I want to know who that caller was. At any cost."