November 1st, early morning, 0800 hours, Abawahan Front Army Headquarters.
Wang Zhong had already been sitting in the headquarters, sipping half a cup of tea.
It was unknown what method the Ceres chef brought back from the Federation had used, but this morning Wang Zhong had a hot pastry, so he was in a very good mood, as if the hot pastry had swept away the oppressive mood brought about by the heavy sacrifices of recent days.
Wang Zhong was even seriously considering catching up on some sleep.
Just then, the telephone rang.
Pavlov, with a half-eaten pastry in hand, frowned, "What's the matter? It's not time for the daily routine report yet."
Although he said this, he still picked up the receiver, "Front Army Headquarters. What? How many troops have crossed your defense area? Why didn't you stop them? Alright, I understand, make sure to close the breach and block the subsequent troops."
