Chapter Three: The Soldier's Lament
Private Liu Zhang stood at his post, staring out across the barren, sun-baked landscape of Djibouti. The Chinese military base here was nothing like his home in Guizhou, a province known for its misty mountains and fertile farmlands. The dry heat and dust of the desert felt alien to him, but it was his duty to be here—guarding this strategic base as China sought to expand its influence in Africa.
His body was present, but his mind drifted. He couldn't stop thinking about her. Amira. The 15-year-old girl who had walked—or rather, hobbled—past him just days ago. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen before, with her dark, expressive eyes and quiet grace, despite the obvious pain she was in. Liu knew she had just undergone some sort of surgery. The way she limped, the way her face contorted in pain with each step, haunted him.
He couldn't get the image out of his head.
He had never imagined that his time in Djibouti would include something like this—a strange fascination, almost an obsession, with a girl whose life was so different from his own. But there was something about her vulnerability, the way she had looked at him for just a moment, her eyes filled with pain and confusion, that stirred something deep inside him. It wasn't lust. It wasn't love. He wasn't sure what it was. But he felt drawn to her, as if he needed to protect her from the world.
As he stood guard, rifle slung over his shoulder, he found himself daydreaming about the next time he would see her. Would she walk by again? Would she stop this time? Say something? He wanted to ask her what had happened to her, to understand why someone so young had been subjected to such suffering. He had heard whispers from the locals—something about a cultural procedure that all the girls went through, something that was seen as a rite of passage. But it seemed so cruel to him, so unnecessary.
The thought made him angry, but also helpless. What could he do? He was a foreign soldier in a country that wasn't his own, subject to orders and protocols that had nothing to do with the people who lived here. And yet, there was Amira, walking through his mind like a ghost he couldn't shake.
"Liu!" A sharp voice snapped him out of his reverie.
He blinked, his daydream shattering as he realized his superior officer, Lieutenant Chen, was standing in front of him, arms crossed, glaring.
"You've been daydreaming again," Chen said, his voice low but full of warning. "This is the third time this week. You're a soldier, Liu. Not some lovesick schoolboy. Stay focused."
Liu stiffened, snapping to attention, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
Chen narrowed his eyes. "Sorry isn't enough. Drop and give me five."
Liu hesitated for a moment, then lowered himself to the ground, dropping to his hands and beginning the push-ups. His arms strained as he pushed himself up and down, the desert heat pressing down on him like a weight. He could feel Chen's eyes on him, judging him, and he hated how weak he must have looked.
But even as he did the push-ups, his mind wandered back to Amira. He thought about her thin frame, the way she had barely been able to walk, each step seeming like torture. He thought about the bandages he had glimpsed beneath her long dress, and how her face had been pale, beads of sweat forming on her forehead despite the cool evening air.
What had they done to her? Why had they done it? And more importantly, why couldn't he stop thinking about her?
Liu finished the push-ups and stood, breathing heavily. Chen stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head.
"Keep your head clear, Liu," the lieutenant muttered. "This place has a way of getting to you, but we have a job to do. Don't let distractions get in the way."
"Yes, sir," Liu said, though his thoughts were far from clear.
As Chen walked away, Liu stood there, wiping the sweat from his brow. He felt foolish. Weak. A soldier wasn't supposed to let his mind wander like this, especially not about a girl he barely knew. But no matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, they kept creeping back.
He remembered the first time he had seen her—standing with her family near the marketplace, her eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and fear. She had been with her older brother, who had glared at Liu when he noticed the soldier looking in their direction. Liu had quickly averted his eyes, knowing it was dangerous to even glance at a local girl like that. But something about Amira had captured his attention from the start.
And now, after seeing her again, after witnessing the aftermath of her surgery, he felt an even stronger pull toward her. He didn't know if he would ever see her again, but the possibility lingered in his mind, like an itch he couldn't scratch.
As he resumed his patrol, he thought about what he would say to her if they met again. Would he ask about the surgery? Would he try to learn more about her life, about the pain she had endured? Or would he simply stand there, too paralyzed by his own thoughts to say anything at all?
The sun was beginning to set, casting a deep orange glow over the horizon. Liu's shift was nearly over, but his mind was still racing, filled with thoughts of Amira. He could see her face in his mind, the way her lips had trembled as she forced herself to keep walking despite the agony she was in. He wanted to tell her that it wasn't right, that what had been done to her was wrong.
But who was he to say such things? He was just a soldier, far from home, stationed in a place he didn't understand.
As night fell and the base grew quiet, Liu found himself looking toward the edge of the compound, where he had seen Amira last. He didn't know when—or if—he would see her again, but one thing was certain: he would be thinking about her until that day came.
Liu lay in his bunk that night, staring at the ceiling. The other soldiers were fast asleep, but he couldn't shut his mind off. His thoughts kept circling back to her—the girl who could barely walk, the girl whose pain he could feel in his own chest.
He thought about the next time they would meet, and how he would find a way to talk to her. He didn't know what he would say, or if she would even respond. But he had to try. Something about her was different. Something about her made him feel alive in a way he hadn't since arriving in this strange, foreign land.
And as sleep finally began to take him, he couldn't help but wonder if she was thinking about him too.