Lin Xian looked at Hua Xiaoling, who stood naked before him, and suddenly felt a chill surge through his body. It was not a feeling from within but a real coldness.
It’s as if it started snowing.
Lin Xian glanced around and discovered that the surrounding space had changed. He was inside a concrete structure, not far from an old kerosene stove hissing away, with rusty patches exposed on the walls and a weapon rack displaying AK-74 rifles and RPG-7 rocket launchers. Frost covered the glass due to the severe cold.
Hua Xiaoling slowly approached him, and Lin Xian frowned, wanting to step back, but realized.
He couldn’t move.
He could only watch as Hua Xiaoling, naked, walked up to him, and then her face suddenly transford, her hair shifting into curly auburn locks. Lin Xian felt himself fall backward as ’Hua Xiaoling’ straddled him, a disheveled military-style white shirt mysteriously appearing on her, while a discarded coat lay on the ground.
Lin Xian glanced at the na tag inside the military coat on the ground, where it was written in Russian, Yelena Panova.
What was happening?
Lin Xian was bewildered. Was he inexplicably drawn into a scene of a secret nightti rendezvous with a Soviet female officer?
In the cramped communications station, aside from the background sound of howling wind and snow, only the creaking rhythm of table legs and the suppressed screams amidst their fleeting intimacy filled the room.
Ugh!
Ugh!
Suddenly, the piercing red alarm lights spun abruptly! The air-raid siren blared outside, and before the two could stop their movents, the blast door was violently pounded! The guards shouted through the blizzard, "Captain! Highest ’Halo’ alert! Ergency summons!"
Crash, the teacup fell and shattered. The two hurriedly separated and clumsily dressed. ’Lin Xian’ grabbed the coat and rushed through the door. Wind and snow poured in, the siren devoured the silence, deafening beside them. Outside, the scene transford into a snowy forest, then into a military jeep, with wheels skidding on ice, headlights like the eyes of a dying wild beast tearing through the blizzard curtain.
This was undoubtedly not a holographic projection—Lin Xian felt as if he were truly there, becoming another person.
He quickly cald himself, capturing the details around him. The dashboard reflected his pale face. This old jeep was at least 60 years outdated, and the scene seed to belong to a certain era of the old Soviet Union.
The jeep passed through camouflage nets and the entrance of heavy reinforced concrete structures. Lin Xian flipped out of the vehicle, quickly entering the passage with a group of guards. Inside was a long, dark corridor, echoing with the dense sound of boots. Wall paint was peeling, revealing gray undersides. Old fluorescent light bulbs buzzed, casting a stark white glow, while the air was thick with the sll of oil, cheap tobacco, and strong disinfectant.
Lin Xian’s gaze swept over the corridor walls and instantly fixated.
This was the ’Cassandra’ strategic missile warning center!
The elevator descended deep into the earth, hydraulic doors hissed open. The massive radar screen flashing monotonous green light occupied an entire wall, appearing as a complex constellation grid at the mont five light points crossed the polar ice cap, with countdown numbers pulsing like heartbeats. Several soldiers in khaki uniforms sat solemnly before the screen, all enveloped in a low, monotonous chanical hum.
"Yakov, repeat again!"
A tall colonel stood at the forefront, his voice was heavy.
"Satellite data has been verified, Colonel! Trajectories locked onto Moscow, Kyiv... A total of 5, expected to reach the mainland in 28 minutes."
Dead silence descended amidst the blasting alarms, one could almost hear the sound of sweat sliding down foreheads. All eyes were fixated on the pulsing red numbers representing the countdown to destruction, oxygen seed to deplete instantaneously, and the apocalyptic fear gripped every heart tightly. So instinctively clenched fists, knuckles turning white.
Lin Xian’s gaze scanned over the figure, imdiately realizing sothing and lifted his eyes toward the clock in the warning center.
September 26, 1983, 11:32 AM.
This was...
The night of the nuclear crisis during the Cold War!
Lin Xian’s heart sank as he looked up to see the figure now turning toward him.
"Lieutenant Sergei, any anomalies in the North Arica command chain?"
"None!" answered ’Lin Xian’ himself as he stepped forward to report, "The Cassandra System falsely reported solar flares three weeks ago, but they wouldn’t have such trajectories."
Lin Xian looked at the middle-aged officer before him, guessing his identity.
Lieutenant Colonel Stanislav Petrov, the duty officer tonight, about fifty years old, with gray hair, not wearing a uniform jacket, just a faded military green shirt with sleeves rolled up and collar open, his whole body seemingly under enormous pressure.
Looking at the man, Lin Xian felt a surge of questions—the aning behind Hua Xiaoling’s actions, what exactly did she want him to see?
Of course, Lin Xian had studied the Cold War history from the Federation’s modern history, and had learned of these historical secrets that once nearly led the entire human race to crisis, yet here at the mont, he truly felt the spine-chilling pressure for the first ti.
Lieutenant Colonel Petrov stood straight, bloodshot eyes fixed on the red dot on the radar screen, the highest alert mandated an imdiate report, and upon receiving this urgent ssage, the Ministry of Defense would certainly initiate the strike procedures, with destruction orders flying to missile silos across the Soviet Union.
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