The Morning Routine

A black-haired man with sideburns lay on the lower bunk of a bunk bed, but even in his sleep, he furrowed his brow, as if he were constantly on guard for any signs of imminent danger.

The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated a bare, cracked wall. The paint on the walls and ceiling had long since deteriorated, and the ceiling lights were broken, but no one bothered to replace them, either due to a lack of funds or indifference.

"Time to get up, Ming Fa," a gentle female voice awakened Ming Fa, who was still reluctant to leave his bed.

Ming Fa struggled to climb out of the lower bunk. Even though he tried to control his movements, the bed still creaked and groaned loudly under his weight, making all sorts of odd sounds.

"Be careful; we're running low on money," the woman's voice chimed in again, reminding Ming Fa of their financial constraints.

He looked up to see the woman, who had been persistently waking him up. She had long brown hair and a makeup-free face that accentuated her strong-willed personality. Despite her manly demeanor, a faint smile highlighted her beauty. She was dressed in a dark green camouflage suit, with black boots on her feet, all made of fabric.

"Next time, ask General to buy an alarm clock. Otherwise, more late risers won't know that those monsters already have their guns pointed at their hearts," Ming Fa scratched his messy black hair and countered with a lazy tone, a sharp contrast to his vigorous hair-combing routine.

"That's your problem too. Don't forget that we are in serious danger now. One day, the monsters might drop a nuclear bomb on our headquarters, and you guys won't even know it," the woman chided, crossing her arms over her chest and speaking sternly.

"Don't lump me together with them. They are the problem, not me," Ming Fa chuckled as he zipped up his uniform, then headed to the door. He turned the valve beside the door, and suddenly, a strong, pungent odor wafted out from the ventilation, followed by the door whooshing open.

Ming Fa walked out, and the woman followed closely behind. As the door closed with another thunderous sound, louder than an exploding bomb, Ming Fa strolled down the corridor. He glanced out of the window along the way.

They were currently inside the head of a gigantic mechanical robot. The robot had massive legs but no hands, only thick thighs and a tall head with two cannons on each side that seemed capable of obliterating an entire country. Below the head was a vigilant eye that scanned the surroundings, continuously analyzing the geographic terrain.

Wherever they went, they left behind huge footprints, accompanied by deafening footsteps, further marring the already desolate wasteland.

Ming Fa stepped over several pipelines on the ground, which also adorned the walls. They were not only for convenience but had some other purpose. Underneath these wall-mounted pipelines, there were handrails. Ming Fa, however, criticized them as a waste of money.

He arrived at the cafeteria where the seats were already filled with people having breakfast. The cacophony of voices filled the air—some were boasting about their heroic achievements, while others shared stories of the despair they felt on the battlefield. Some even discussed the ages of their children back home.

Ming Fa paid no attention to this chatter; he grabbed a plate and filled it with fried rice and sausages. Then he found a seat in a corner to sit down. Right behind him was the woman from his room, who had brought a plate of white rice and pickled spicy meat.

"Alright, Christie, do you have any stories to share?" Ming Fa couldn't help but ask. He felt that their interactions had been too quiet lately.

"Can I tell you about the time I got a confession?" Christie pondered for a moment before responding.

"Nah, you'll definitely exaggerate it," Ming Fa shook his head and continued eating.

"What do you want to hear, then?"

"..." Ming Fa fell silent.

"...Or maybe you have a story to tell?"

"..."

"...Sigh, you really should focus more on conversation. Don't spend all your brainpower on fighting and arguing..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Ming Fa interrupted, "This way is more efficient. It doesn't use up too many brain cells, allowing us to quickly get into combat mode."

"Is arguing a form of combat?"

And so, they began bickering again. Their voices mingled with the surrounding noise, making them sound like one big, quarrelsome family.