The Physical Training Scam

On a July afternoon, the sunlight pressed down on the playground like smoldering cotton, heavy and stifling. The rubber track, softened under the scorching sun, gave off a sharp, pungent smell mixed with rubber and dust, clinging to the skin like an unshakeable thin film. I suddenly snapped my eyes open to the deafening chants ringing in my ears—"One two one! One two one!" I looked down at myself: the faded camouflage uniform sleeves rolled up to my forearms, the exposed skin burnt red, even tingling with a faint heat. The soles of my military boots were as hard as wooden boards, and my heels throbbed with a dull ache. This isn't a dream—I've really returned to the first-year physical training scene from three years ago. Memories of my past life rushed through my mind like a flood breaking through a dam. The dimly lit rental room had its curtains drawn tight, not letting in even a sliver of sunlight. On the table sat a half-finished bottle of mineral water; next to it, an empty bottle of sleeping pills, the bitter taste still lingering on the tip of my tongue. The mobile phone screen was glowing, and under the campus forum post, vicious comments like "sl*t," "shameless," and "breaking training discipline" flooded in—each word stabbing into my eyes like needles. At that final moment, clutching my phone, my consciousness sank slowly into darkness, overwhelmed by the feeling that my entire life had been lived so unfairly. "Lydia! What are you spacing out for? Instructor Lewis's already looking this way!" My arm was suddenly poked, and Windy Lynn's voice came with an annoyingly sweet tone. I turned my head and saw her high ponytail swinging, fine bangs brushing her forehead, lips curved in an innocent smile, but the pink nail polish on her fingers was glaring against the camouflage uniform — the very same hands that, in my past life, had secretly grabbed my mobile phone while I was in the shower. "Nothing much, just a bit sunburned." I tried to keep my voice calm, but my fingers clenched tightly inside my pocket. In my past life, I was fooled by her innocent act for a whole year, treating her as my closest confidante, confiding all my secrets, only to be stabbed in the back by her in the end. Instructor Lewis was walking toward us from the front of the line, his physical training uniform crisp and sharp, the stars on his shoulder insignia shining, but the smile on his face held unmistakable malice. As his gaze swept across the formation, it lingered noticeably longer on Windy Lynn, the calculating look in his eyes impossible to hide. "Instructor Lewis, you look more refreshed today than yesterday!" Windy Lynn immediately brightened her smile, raising her voice a bit deliberately so everyone nearby could hear. Instructor Lewis paused, the smile at the corner of his mouth growing deeper. "Windy, you look pretty today, too. This camouflage uniform suits you better than anyone else." He hesitated, then pretended to be concerned. "If you're tired, go rest under the shade of a tree. Don't push yourself too hard." "Not tired at all!" Windy Lynn straightened her chest and deliberately pulled her collar down a little. "Training with Instructor Lewis makes me really happy. I'm not tired at all!" A few low chuckles came from around me; someone quietly nudged their companion with an elbow, their eyes full of sly meaning. In my past life, it was at this moment that I foolishly defended Windy Lynn, insisting everyone was overthinking it, completely unaware that those two had long been secretly involved. A wave of humiliation surged up my throat. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails nearly dug into my palms — this time, I absolutely won't let them run wild like that again! "Lydia, why do you look so pale? Are you suffering from heatstroke?" Windy Lynn moved closer again, reaching out to touch my forehead, but there was a faint hint of unease hidden in her eyes. I jerked my head away from her hand, my tone turning cold: "No need, I'm fine. Maybe I just got a little dizzy from the sun. I'll rest for a bit and I'll be okay." Windy's hand froze in mid-air, the smile on her face faltering for a moment before she quickly regained that innocent expression: "Then you have to be careful. If you don't feel well, you must tell me. I'll ask Instructor Lewis to excuse you." "No need to trouble yourself." I avoided her gaze and quietly pulled out the old mobile phone from my pocket—this was the secondhand phone I bought when I first started university. The pixel quality wasn't great, but it was clear enough to capture faces. Taking advantage of no one paying attention in the line, I lowered the phone with the lens aimed at Windy Lynn and Instructor Lewis, who were chatting not far away, and pressed the shutter. With a soft "click," as the photo saved, I felt a surge of power spread from my fingertips throughout my body. This was not an ordinary photo—it was the first step of my revenge and the beginning of rewriting my destiny. Instructor Lewis seemed to sense something and suddenly looked over in my direction. I immediately stuffed my mobile phone back into my pocket, lowered my head, and pretended to be tying my shoelaces. I heard Windy Lynn saying goodbye to Instructor Lewis. When I looked up again, Instructor Lewis had already walked away, and Windy was standing next to me, a hint of confusion in her eyes. "What were you looking at just now?" Windy asked. "Nothing, my shoelace was loose." I stood up, brushed the dust off my pants, and said, "The instructor called for us to continue training. Let's get back to the group quickly." Windy Lynn stared at me for a few seconds, then stopped questioning and turned away to run back to the group. I watched her retreating figure, silently clenching my fists in my heart—Windy Lynn, Instructor Lewis, everything you owed me in that past life, this time, I will take back piece by piece.