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  What Im going to talk about next is not a story, but the truth. Its a real event that happened during those red years.

  An anti-Japanese veteran in his eighties who is my neighbor told me that this was still a matter of sixty years ago, on the eve of Chinas founding.

  Old soldier Hu Zhou, sixty years ago today, when their regiment was still fighting on the anti-Japanese battlefield, the loudspeaker suddenly broadcast the news of Japans surrender. At that moment, everyone stood in place, looking at the suddenly retreating Japanese army with some incredulity.

  Japanese army surrender? Is this a dream?

  Did eight years of war end like this?

  Hu Zhou was stunned on the spot, and he didnt even know where to point his submachine gun.

  Comrades around him began to retreat under the organization of their respective company commanders, Hu Zhou reflected and finally understood that this was a fact, the Japanese army had surrendered, eight years of resistance, we won!

  A surge of indescribable fervor welled up in Hu Zhous heart, and he immediately looked for his comrades in the crowd.

  Surrounded by unfamiliar faces, he grabbed a soldier beside him and asked urgently: "I am from the 8th company of the 3rd battalion. Has anyone seen our people?"

  The soldier caught by him was covered in blood, his face unable to conceal his excitement, muttering: "Victory, victory... what did you say... you are from the 8th company, I dont think Ive seen anyone from the 8th company."

  The crowd retreated like a tide, and the Japanese army withdrew neatly in the blink of an eye. A white flag was erected on the battlefield, fluttering in the wind amidst the lingering gunpowder smoke.

  Hu Zhou was squeezed by the crowd to retreat backwards, he kept searching for his comrades everywhere, Lao Shi, Hei Zi, Lian Zhang, where are you? We have won, we dont need to fight anymore!

  A burst of thunder was stuck in Hu Zhous throat, he wanted to let out a loud roar, wanting everyone to know this joy.

  But Hu Zhou didnt see his comrades, he followed the retreating crowd back to the camp. The company commanders were taking roll calls, everyone was lined up neatly, only Hu Zhou stood alone in one place.

  At this moment, an ominous premonition arose.

  Hu Zhou looked around at the crowds gathered from all directions, but in the position of the 3rd Battalions 8th Company, there was only himself.

  In the end, it was counted that more than 2,000 people in this reinforced battalion were killed or missing, while the eighth company, except for Hu Zhou, was completely annihilated.

  Hu Zhou felt as if the sky had fallen.

  His forehead was still bleeding, and his young face, covered in gunpowder, only had a pair of black eyes that could be seen clearly. His gaze slowly swept across the camp, looking at other silent comrades who were crying, and his legs went soft, his knees hitting the ground hard, and finally, he couldnt hold back his tears anymore.

  When Hu Zhou was thirteen years old, it was a chaotic year in China. His father was a teacher who made a living by being someones tutor, but eventually he could hardly get any tutoring jobs. Later, they encountered droughts one after another, and the Japanese invasion added to their misery. As a result, Hu Zhous parents died of starvation during those turbulent and famine-stricken years.

  Thirteen-year-old Hu Zhou was thin and weak, he had no land and no skills, in order to have a meal without starving to death, he finally took up his gun and joined the anti-Japanese army which was still not established at that time.

  In the several years of the Anti-Japanese War, countless people died one after another. Hu Zhou may have been lucky or blessed by his deceased loved ones; he miraculously survived eight years of bloody battles and made it to the present day.

  Those comrades around me are all like brothers, they have managed to survive in the smoky battlefield with great difficulty, and now that the new China is just one step away, they died on the last battlefield.

  Cant accept it, really cant accept it.

  So many years, so many battles, we all got through together, why this time, the last battle, you all left me behind.

  That night, Hu Zhou drank. The army was forbidden to drink, and Hu Zhou had obtained a bottle from a local peasants home. The wine was Sanwu brand inferior wine, which was not only inferior but also strong.

  That night, the Third Regiment held a Victory Banquet, and local villagers all wore their best clothes, with every household decorated with lanterns and streamers as if it were New Years.

  In the daytime, the big girls and daughters-in-law climbed up the mountain slope to pick wild vegetables. At night, they put all kinds of wild vegetables on the table, and the military and civilians celebrated together.

  Hu Zhou looked at the camp and saw his comrades singing military songs with the locals:

  This is our land

  This is our hometown

  We are brave and strong,

  We stand united and strong

  We struggle for the survival of our motherland.

  Obey orders, defend borders

  Unite the people, resist tyranny

  Dedicate ones own strength to the motherland

  Complete the liberation of the Chinese nation.

  The loud and clear song floats on the vast plain, like a lingering elegy that refuses to disperse.

  Hu Zhou got drunk and his eyes were red and swollen. He stumbled and staggered to the battlefield of yesterday.

  The battlefield is desolate and barren, with no grass growing.

  A wheel of deep red moon hung in the sky, and the hazy moonlight cast a layer of eerie gauze over the surrounding scenery.

  The moon is already incomplete, just like Hu Zhous heart at this moment, which is about to shatter in pain.

  The corpses on the field have been cleaned up and buried in large pits nearby.

  In that era, in order to prevent the spread of plague, most corpses on the battlefield were either buried in deep pits or burned directly.

  These mass graves were scattered all over the place, with a diameter of at least six or seven meters. The earth on top had been leveled off, and the newly turned soil was still gleaming with a reddish hue, it was unclear whether it was the color of blood or mud.

  It wont be long before weeds grow here, and it will gradually be forgotten by people. No one will know about these disappeared heroes who dedicated their lives passion and dreams to a common ideal on this land.

  Hu Zhou looked at the massive burial pits in front of him, thinking of his fallen comrades, and finally couldnt bear it anymore, kneeling down with a thud. His hands grasped the mud on the ground tightly, wailing uncontrollably beside one of the pits.

  Tears fell one by one onto the newly turned earth, wetting the crimson soil. He felt it was not enough, and the pain in his heart could not be fully expressed.

  Just one more step, then another.

  New China is about to be established, brothers, have you seen it? Little Japan has surrendered!

  But why, why am I the only one still alive?

  Hu Zhou was in agony, his voice suppressed and low, like a lone wolf driven to the brink of despair, emitting a hoarse howl from his throat.

  Past years flashed in Hu Zhous mind.

  He remembered that on the march, in order to drive away the dullness, the loud and clear song echoed in the mountains, shuttled through the snowy fields, and shook through the canyons, often making peoples morale high.

  He recalled countless nights gazing up at the starry sky with his comrades, dreaming of the years to come.

  Those years, those battles, those voices, still so vividly appear before my eyes and echo in my ears, yet the people are already gone.

  He remembered his first time on the battlefield, seeing blood made his legs tremble with fear, and he couldnt even dodge when the enemys bayonet came.

  They are comrades-in-arms around me, who have saved myself time and again, blocked bullets and grenades for myself, and pushed myself away from the enemys bayonet.

  Why is it that when Ive become strong enough to take a bullet for you all... you didnt even give me a chance before leaving like this.

  Hu Zhous heart was bleeding, and that kind of pain that made him feel like hed rather die than live would be something he could never forget for the rest of his life.

  Just as he was crying until the sky grew dark, a whirlwind suddenly swept across the wasteland.

  The leaves on the ground were blown up in a whirlwind, and Hu Zhous eyes were blinded by the sand. His eyes stung from crying and the burning pain of the sand, Hu Zhou held back his tears, feeling like his eyeballs were being rubbed with stones, he kept rubbing his eyes with his hands.

  The wind around him grew stronger and stronger, countless small stones were blown up by the wind and hit Hu Zhous body.

  Its a late winter evening now, and the night wind carries a chill that makes ones skin prickle.

  Hu Zhous body couldnt help but tremble, he felt that his knees, which were kneeling on the ground, seemed to have been hit by a stone blown up by the wind, and the stone knocked against his kneecap, causing a dull ache.

  Hu Zhou subconsciously took a step back, facing the whirlwind with narrowed eyes looking down, and as soon as he did, his whole body felt cold, his throat constricted.

  All that could be seen was a pale hand slowly emerging from the crimson mud, covered in fresh blood. At this moment, it was struggling to stretch outwards, constantly grasping at Hu Zhous knee, as if wanting to use him as leverage to climb up.

  Hu Zhous heart seemed to have been thrown high into the air, the hairs on his body stood up one by one, his scalp tightened in waves, and his throat seemed to be pinched by a pair of hands, unable to make a sound.

  He almost crawled out with his hands and feet, crawling out of the range of the pit.

  A whirlwind swept up behind him, and Hu Zhous back felt a chill. He subconsciously turned around to take a look, only to see that the hand was still crawling out.

  Pale hands continued to struggle in the soil, five fingers stretched towards the sky like a desperate cry for help, as if making a dying struggle.

  Its come up with an idea...

  Hu Zhou had encountered many strange things on the battlefield over the years, and had seen his fair share of life and death. Just now, he was startled suddenly, but after taking a deep breath, he stared at the hand with both eyes wide open, and a glimmer of hope suddenly rose in his heart. Could it be... could there still be survivors in the mass grave?

  As soon as this idea emerged, Hu Zhous heart thumped and his deceased comrades immediately appeared in his mind.

  Still got it! It must be so!

  Hu Zhou has been fighting for so many years, his troops are his family and his comrades are his relatives.

  He thought he would be alone again from now on, but this idea made Hu Zhou almost ecstatic and wanted to shout out loud.

  He was no longer afraid, and with his hands he dug a grave, calling out as he dug: "Brother, hold on, Ill save you!"

  Hu Zhous hands were all bleeding, but he was afraid that if he moved slowly, the people inside would suffocate to death, so he endured the pain of his ten fingers being connected to his heart and continued to dig with his hands.

  Gradually, a body wearing our military uniform appeared, legs, body, hands, shoulders, and finally, only a thin layer of soil was left on the face.

  The people inside had apparently exhausted their physical strength, with only their hands and feet constantly moving, but their heads remained still.

  Hu Zhou immediately reached out and wiped his face, urgently saying: "Brother, quick, breathe!"

  Who would have thought that as soon as he made a scoop, his hand was immediately transmitted a heart-wrenching and lung-splitting severe pain.

  Hu Zhou let out a loud cry, and his buttocks fell to the ground. All he could see was that his hand was covered in bright red blood, his index finger severed in half, with white bone visible inside.

  Hu Zhou was stunned and confused, unable to understand how this had happened. When he opened his eyes again, a face covered in blood was pressed against his, with yellowish eyeballs staring at him fixedly.

  That face was his best comrade-in-arms, a familiar visage that now sent shivers down his spine.

  Old Stone...

  Hu Zhous heart skipped a beat, and the entire world spun around him.

  The man who had fallen to the ground was already sitting up, his legs stretched out stiffly in front of him. His face was covered with bright red blood, and on the back of his head, a shiny dagger reflected a pale white light under the moonlight.

  On that pale and stiff face, a strange smile was slowly unfolding, the smile grew bigger and bigger, the corners of his mouth, which were cut by the military knife, smiled all the way to his ears...

  Thats no longer a human expression.

  A familiar voice echoed in Hu Zhous ears, filled with resentment, unwillingness and a desperate scream: "Why... why did I die... Ga Ga, youre alive, youre alone, come keep me company, come keep me company..." All that was left in front of Hu Zhou was that eerie smiling face, and the sound of bones rubbing against each other in his ears grew louder.

  Hu Zhou felt that he was getting closer and closer to himself, the brain marrow of his skull slowly dripping onto his cheeks, Hu Zhou could hardly breathe, the tip of his nose had a strange smell, the smell of human brain fluid.

  He wanted to run, but his legs trembled uncontrollably and a massive fear almost made him faint.

  An icy hand grasped Hu Zhous neck, a sharp pain shot through his throat, Hu Zhous hands and feet flailed wildly, but his body grew weaker, his lungs burning with dull pain from lack of air.

  Finally, Hu Zhou stopped struggling. He looked at the familiar comrades in front of him, and then at his blood-stained face. A faint smile slowly appeared on his face as tears continued to fall from his eyes.

  He slowly stretched out his hand, patted the others shoulder, and smiled miserably in a broken voice: "I... I wont leave, cough... Ill stay with you, Old Stone... everyone... do you know? Cough, Japan has surrendered... our new China is not far away."

  Hu Zhou endured the severe pain in his throat and spoke intermittently, his vision already blurry due to lack of oxygen. Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed beside his ear: "The Japanese have surrendered... Really? Theyve surrendered..."

  Hu Zhou knew who was speaking, he wanted to nod, he wanted to share this good news with his fallen comrades, but unfortunately, at this moment, he couldnt make a sound.

  Finally, Hu Zhous consciousness turned completely dark, and he thought to himself that he had also died.

  In a daze, Hu Zhou thought that his life was too short, but also too long.

  I am only twenty-four years old, but I have been fighting the anti-Japanese war for eight years. In these eight years, countless people have fallen one after another on this road. Among them, there are comrades who do not know each other but share the same dream in their hearts, and brothers who have shared life and death together day and night.

  His short life has already experienced too many separations and farewells.

  Its enough to die in the last battle, to die on the road of New China.

  Brothers, take me with you, Im willing to go with you.

  Hu Zhou finally completely lost consciousness.

  The next day when Hu Zhou woke up, he was already back in the fourth companys camp. The captain of the fourth company had a dark face and punished him with running laps, saying that he got drunk and fell on the battlefield, and even scribbled all over the burial ground.

  After running, Hu Zhou was back on the battlefield under the scorching sun. He looked at his intact fingers and wondered why he was unscathed. Was last nights event just a dream?

  Why, why am I still alive?

  Hu Zhou arrived at the burial ground, stumbling and searching for the grave pit from last night. Finally, his gaze stopped on a scarlet large pit.

  On the damp red soil, a row of words were written with fingers: Living for us to see the new China.

  Hu Zhou shed tears, and the mans tears flowed like a spring.

  He is familiar with those words.

  He remembered the face of the man from last night, and recalled the mans resentful and indignant roar.

  Hu Zhous knees hit the ground with a thud, and he slowly stroked the crimson soil with his hand. After a while, he suddenly raised his head and let out a loud roar: "I will survive, brothers, dont worry!"

  At this moment, he knew he was no longer alone.

  Even though old friends have gone far away, their dreams and passion have never left.

  Later, Hu Zhou successively participated in the Korean War and the Huai River Campaign. At countless critical moments of life and death, he silently recited the oath he had made in front of the mass grave, to live on and witness the new China for his comrades!

  Old Man Hu told me this story during Qingming Festival.

  He wore a dark blue Zhongshan suit, and even at nearly eighty years old, his back was still straight.

  He held a bunch of golden chrysanthemums in his hands, which were not bought from the flower shop, but picked when climbing the mountain in the morning.

  That bunch of wild chrysanthemum still held dew, swaying gently in the morning breeze.

  The old man looked at the monument in front of him, his eyes fixed on the reliefs of war on it. After a long time, he put down the chrysanthemum in his hand and said softly: "Old stone, Ive come to see you again. Dont mind me coming every day to bother you, Ill be leaving in two days, my son is moving to Beijing, Im going to take care of their children, so I wont have much time to visit you in the future. However, except for the year of the military parade, I havent been to Beijing for a long time. Now our China is developing very well, several national leaders are very clean, but the Japanese still dont want to admit the fact of invading China... Alas, when people get old, they become garrulous. You can rest assured that my body is still very strong, if you want to practice shooting with me, youll have to wait a few more years..."

  I stood by and watched as the old man chatted with the monument as if it were a person.

  His head full of silver hair trembled in the morning breeze, a smile spread across his aged face.

  Some people will be remembered forever even after they die.

  No one knows when and where the 4th company of the 8th battalion died sixty years ago, no one knows that there was a person nicknamed Lao Shi among them, and no one knows that sixty years ago, in those barren years filled with gunfire, their friendship transcended life and death, transcended time, even after many years have passed, they can still laugh and talk about the past with the departed.

  No one remembers, but Hu Zhou remembers.

  After a few days, Old Man Hu Zhou really went to Beijing and I never saw him again.

  In front of the cold monument, there was one less old man who offered flowers every day, and his story was also gone. So I went there less often too. 151 book net