Director of Photography Department of Huayu

Chapter 514 "1939" (Purely plot-driven chapter; please do not subscribe if you dislike this genre)

The lighting up of the screen attracted everyone's attention.

Anti-Japanese Allied Army camp, night.

The scene begins at night, in a movie theater, where the audience listens to the cold wind of Changbai Mountain, like countless sharp knives whistling and slicing through the forest.

The thick snow covered the entire campsite, and the moonlight reflected a cold, silvery glow on the snow.

At this moment, a body wrapped in a cotton blanket was slowly carried across the center of the camp by four wounded soldiers.

Each step sank into the snow, making a dull "crunch" sound.
The flickering torchlight made their faces appear even more haggard, but their eyes remained fixed on the distance, and not a single person spoke.

The wind seemed to carry the smell of blood.
Inside the tent, the dim light of a kerosene lamp flickered.

Commander Zhou stood in front of a tattered map, his hands resting on the table, his palms sweating from gripping them so tightly.

There were many soldiers standing inside the tent.

Some people had thick bandages wrapped around their chests, the blood that had seeped out had long since dried into a hard crust;

Someone is missing an arm;

Some people had only horsehide and rags wrapped around their feet, with blood seeping out and their feet turning blue from the cold.

The cotton-padded coat was already tattered, and the exposed cotton was blown about by the cold wind.

The air was thick with the smell of burnt oilcloth and blood, so heavy it was hard to breathe.

Commander Zhou spoke in a hoarse voice:
"Who is still able to walk out and deliver the letter?"

"."

Through Wu Chen's simple camera work, both close-up and wide shots, the tense scene of the battle that had just ended was vividly presented to everyone. From this tent, everyone learned that the four messengers had set off one after another, but there was no reply.

The anti-Japanese guerrilla force in front of them was surrounded by Japanese and puppet troops, and these people were soldiers who were about to face a life-or-death decision.
Because the orders couldn't be delivered, not only would their entire Anti-Japanese Allied Forces be surrounded and swallowed up by this impenetrable Japanese and puppet army, but the other units behind them would also suffer the same fate.

Just then, a small, thin figure stepped out of the queue, looking particularly out of place.

Huang Xiaoshan was only sixteen years old. His military uniform was still too big for him, and the leather belt around his waist was so tight that it seemed like a gust of wind could blow him over.

"Report! I'll go. I'm the last messenger here. Commander, it has to be me."

A chorus of dissent immediately erupted from inside the tent.

"Nonsense, this kid's only been in the army for a few days. This mission isn't yours."

“Go back to your original position, we’ll take over.”

The faces of the crowd were filled with reluctance.

“I’m young, I can run fast, and I’m a messenger, none of you are. According to military orders, this is my job.”

Huang Xiaoshan raised his stubborn eyes.

"Commander, this can't be left to Little Sparrow; he hasn't even delivered the message yet."

Commander Zhou pressed his fingers firmly on the table, veins bulging on his forehead.

He looked at Huang Xiaoshan with pain in his eyes.

Just then, Wei Sanpao pushed open the curtain and walked in, his body covered in the smell of gun oil that hadn't been wiped off, and his face stained with blood and weathered.

"We can't let him go alone? How much experience does he have? The four brothers who went before him didn't come back. If he goes out alone, it's just sending a kid to his death!"

The sound was like a thunderclap, so loud it seemed to freeze the air inside the tent.

Regiment Commander Zhou: "Old Wei"

Wei Sanpao interrupted, snatching the envelope: "I'll take this! I'll take him with me!"

Someone inside the tent became anxious: "Wei Sanpao! Are you crazy?! How long has it been since you've had a rest?! Let us take over!"

"You'll be lucky if you don't become a burden to him. Now, to get him out of here, someone needs to cover him! I'll scout ahead for him, and he'll run behind! If one of you doesn't die, both of you have to live. Besides, he's my apprentice, so this task is mine."

Wei Sanpao's sharp tongue remained as sharp as ever, but no one complained about it.

Outside the tent, the wind howled, and snowflakes pattered against the canvas.

Commander Zhou remained silent for a long time, the envelope in his hand soaked with sweat, his fingertips trembling slightly.

Finally, he slowly reached out and handed the letter that would decide the fate of several units to Wei Sanpao.

When Wei Sanpao took the letter, his knuckles turned white, as if he were trying to carve it into his flesh.

The night wind blew in through the tent entrance.

Huang Xiaoshan looked at Wei Sanpao with a mixture of tension, fear, and an unyielding stubbornness in his eyes.

Wei Sanpao simply nodded vigorously, as if making a solemn vow.

From the distant mountains and forests, the footsteps of Japanese and puppet troops on patrol could be heard.

"I'm so nervous, are they about to leave?"

"It was truly a single, continuous take; I had completely focused on the two of them."

"."

The audience behind them were already whispering among themselves, and they couldn't help but take a deep breath.

"Environment, sound, camera lens"

Zhang Yi looked at it very carefully, analyzing it meticulously. With just a few simple visual sketches and sound enhancements, the atmosphere of the entire scene suddenly became vivid.

The judges couldn't help but mutter to themselves.

"The feeling I had when I watched it a couple of days ago is different from today's."

"The camera work is very intense, and it feels even stronger when I watch it again today."

"."

By this time, the scene had moved to outside the camp, and the night was deeper.

Several wounded soldiers were preparing tough, chewable rations for the two men who were about to depart, and the atmosphere was extremely somber.

Wei Sanpao sat on a frozen, white rock, his head bowed as he wiped his pistol again and again, the gun oil gleaming between his fingers.

Huang Xiaoshan knelt down beside him, carefully arranging the food bag. His hands were trembling so badly that he couldn't tie the bag properly several times.

Sweat slid down his cheeks, instantly freezing into ice crystals in the cold wind.

He looked up at Wei Sanpao, his eyes like those of a child, or a young soldier who had been forcibly pushed onto the battlefield.

“Master, you have all taught me, I know how to be a messenger.”

Huang Xiaoshan's voice was a little hoarse and trembled slightly.

Wei Sanpao stopped what he was doing, slowly raised his head, remained silent for a moment, and then suddenly reached out and tied a knot in Xiaoshan's food bag.

"That's good."

"But today, I'm going to teach you something I've never taught you before."

Huang Xiaoshan froze, his eyes revealing a hint of doubt and fear.

"What is it?"

Wei Sanpao looked at the gun in his hand, his voice sounding like it was being squeezed out from deep in his throat:
"Do not look back while delivering the order."

The wind suddenly picked up, as if echoing the weight of those words.

Huang Xiaoshan's breath hitched, and he stared at Wei Sanpao: "Why?"

Wei Sanpao slowly stood up and patted his tender shoulder; his hand was thick and rough.

He looked directly into Xiaoshan's eyes.

"Because our country, our nation, must always move forward."
His voice choked for a moment, then became even harder.

"We can't afford to lose anymore. If we lose again, no one will be able to get back up."

Huang Xiaoshan lowered his head, his teeth clenched so tightly they trembled, and his fingers clenched into his palms.

Wei Sanpao suddenly smiled, a bitter smile unique to veteran soldiers:
"Kid, don't think being a messenger is a small job. Sometimes, defeating the enemy, besieging a city, or rescuing your brothers all depend on this one letter."

He patted the envelope.

"Let's go."

The two figures, one tall and strong as iron, the other thin yet stubborn, stepped into the dense snowy forest. Behind them, the injured people got up with the help of the others.

Snowflakes fell silently, as if the world had held its breath, leaving only the howling wind sweeping across the bare branches.

Huang Xiaoshan and Wei Sanpao moved silently through the forest, one after the other, like two ghosts.

As soon as their military boots stepped into the snow, they were quickly covered by the thick snow, leaving only a long, thin line of footprints winding forward.

Wei Sanpao walked ahead, his movements nimble, like an old leopard familiar with this dense forest.

Every few steps, he would bend down close to the snow, reaching out to touch the footprints and twigs, as if listening to the pulse of the earth.

Huang Xiaoshan followed closely behind, and although he was young, he tried his best to imitate his master's movements and make as little noise as possible.

Suddenly, a dog barking came from afar, shrill and urgent.

In the wind, the shouts and footsteps of the Japanese and puppet troops could be faintly heard, growing louder as they approached.

The snow on the treetops fell down
Wei Sanpao suddenly stopped, waved his hand, and gestured for someone to lie down.

Huang Xiaoshan's heart pounded wildly, and he immediately plunged into the snow, the icy touch seeping into his bones through his cotton-padded clothes.

He held his breath, his eyes wide open, and saw Wei Sanpao leaning forward, his finger slightly raised, signaling "Don't make a sound."

The white light of the searchlights flickered through the woods, like countless sharp blades cutting through the night.

Several Japanese and puppet soldiers, accompanied by hunting dogs, slowly approached.

The snow crunched under their feet.
Wei Sanpao lightly patted the snow twice with his palms, a coded signal agreed upon by the messengers: "Disperse and wait for my signal."

Huang Xiaoshan's heart tightened, and he nodded slightly.

Wei Sanpao slowly moved his body, like a crouching snow fox, and quietly slid behind another large tree. He took out a fist-sized stone, held it in his hand, and held his breath.

The footsteps of the Japanese and puppet troops grew closer.

The hound sniffed the air and barked softly.

Just as they were about to approach Huang Xiaoshan's hiding place, Wei Sanpao suddenly hurled a stone at the other side of the hillside.

"Thump!" A muffled sound was heard, followed by the rustling sound of skiing.

The Japanese and puppet troops immediately shouted loudly, and the hunting dogs barked wildly as they rushed towards that direction, with the beams of searchlights moving accordingly.

Taking advantage of the situation, Wei Sanpao returned to Huang Xiaoshan's side, pressed his hand on his shoulder, and whispered, "Let's go!"

Like two startled hares, the two quickly crossed the snow and disappeared into another, denser forest.

After running several dozen meters, Huang Xiaoshan was panting heavily and finally couldn't help but lower his voice:

"Master, if we had been discovered just now, would we have been finished?"

Wei Sanpao didn't even turn his head: "If you're really discovered, just run, don't worry about me. You have to get the orders out, understand?"

Huang Xiaoshan's voice trembled slightly as he said, "But what if something happens to you?"

Wei Sanpao suddenly stopped, turned around, patted his helmet, and smiled with a hint of rugged tenderness:

"Kid, there's no such thing as 'must' in war. Remember, messengers don't fight with guns; we fight to outrun the Japanese bullets."

He paused, then teased in a low voice, "Run faster, if the Japanese catch you, with your fair skin, they'll probably put you in a pot to stew first."

Huang Xiaoshan was stunned for a moment, tears almost welling up in his eyes, but the joke forced a smile out of him.

Seeing this, Wei Sanpao patted him on the shoulder: "As long as you can laugh, you can live. Let's go, it's still a long way before dawn."

The two figures disappeared once again into the vast snow-covered forest, leaving only the sound of the wind swirling their footprints and slowly smoothing them over.
The forest was even colder before dawn.

The snow-covered ground gleamed with a grayish-white light, and the wind swept across the mountain ridges, carrying fine snowflakes that felt like countless cold arrows piercing the skin.

After a night of rapid marching, Huang Xiaoshan and Wei Sanpao's military boots were torn, revealing frost-cracked cotton cloth, but they did not stop.

Ahead, a strange red color was faintly visible in the white snow.

Wei Sanpao frowned, raised his hand to signal Huang Xiaoshan to stop, and bent down to walk forward.

As he approached, he saw a crushed military cap, a torn belt, and a message bag buried deep in the snow. The red color was frozen blood.

Wei Sanpao squatted down, scraped away the ice and snow with his fingers, and slowly dug out the message bag.

There was a bloody handprint on the bag, as if it were a mark left behind by someone desperately entrusting it to someone before they died.

The bag was pierced by a bullet; it was empty except for a torn strip of cloth with a few crooked words written in blood:

"It wasn't delivered."

Huang Xiaoshan caught up and saw this scene, his face instantly turning pale.

He saw the remaining traces of the corpse: the tattered cotton-padded coat was torn by tree branches, revealing grayish-white cotton; the boots were already broken, and the strips of cloth wrapped around the feet were frozen together with the flesh and blood.

They lay frozen in the snow, as if they were still running.

In the wind, his breath was like a plucked string, and he stood frozen on the snow.

"Master, who are they?"

Wei Sanpao did not answer immediately, but slowly wiped away the frost on the bag with his thick palm.

My fingers traced the congealed bloodstains, like tracing invisible wounds.

He remained silent for a long time, then his voice, like crushed stone, said, "Let's go."

Huang Xiaoshan's eyes instantly reddened, and hot tears broke through the cold and flowed down.

He knelt down in the snow with a thud, pounding his fists hard on the ice, making a dull thud.

"Master, why? They risked their lives, but still couldn't deliver it?!"

Wei Sanpao pulled him up: "Little Sparrow, there are no 'whys' on the battlefield. Those who manage to get out are miracles; those who can't are heroes."

Wei Sanpao lifted the tattered messenger bag and slammed it against his chest, as if branding it with a mark.

He stared at Huang Xiaoshan, his eyes filled with determination:

"From today onwards, their lives are in our hands. We are not two messengers, but six!"

The wind howled, and Huang Xiaoshan's tears dried on his cheeks in the cold wind. He wiped away his tears and nodded firmly.

He reached out his still trembling hand and grasped Wei Sanpao's calloused hand. Their hands clasped tightly together, like flames burning in the snow. Wei Sanpao whispered, as if swearing an oath to the spirits in the snow pit:
"Brothers, don't worry. This time, we'll definitely get it delivered."

The wind above the snow pit suddenly stopped for a moment, and only snowflakes fell gently, like a silent response from comrades.

The camera slowly rises, looking down at the two solitary yet resolute figures from above. The surrounding forest resembles an endless battlefield, and their silhouettes against the vast white snow appear particularly heavy and determined.

"This long take is handled really well," Martin Scorsese exhaled softly, his eyes still fixed on the movie scene.

This long take technique makes everyone feel like they're moving along with the protagonist. Even though it's not a battle, the encounter with the enemy keeps you on the edge of your seat.

"How did they do that? They trained for a long time?"

Leonardo couldn't help but ask a question.

At this moment in the movie, a gray-white tinge has just appeared on the distant horizon, and broken walls and ruins are reflected on the snow.

Wei Sanpao continued crawling forward with Huang Xiaoshan in tow, when suddenly they smelled a mixture of burnt and bloody odors.

After they climbed up a collapsed wall, the scene before them froze Huang Xiaoshan in shock.

A village that was burned down.

The wooden house was reduced to charcoal, and several frozen villagers lay dead in the snow, their bodies still bound with thick hemp ropes, each with a bullet hole in their forehead.

Further away, on wooden stakes, hung several mangled corpses, half-naked, clearly having suffered humiliation.

Huang Xiaoshan's eyes widened suddenly, his lips trembled, as if someone had grabbed his throat tightly.

He instinctively tried to lunge forward, but Wei Sanpao grabbed him and held him down.

Wei Sanpao lowered his voice and said coldly:
"Look closely, kid. These are Japanese devils. Don't forget."

At this moment, several Japanese and puppet soldiers were standing at the entrance of the village, laughing crudely, and were letting a hunting dog tear apart the corpse.

The hounds growled and pounced, instantly staining the snow red with blood.

Huang Xiaoshan finally couldn't hold back anymore, tears welled up, and he squeezed out a sentence:
"They...they aren't soldiers."

Wei Sanpao's eyes were as cold as knives, and his teeth were clenched: "The Japanese don't care if you're a soldier or not. If we lose, the whole of China will be like this."

He pulled suddenly, dragging Huang Xiaoshan back into the dense forest.

“Baby, if you don’t want them to die in vain, send the letter out.”

The camera zooms out, revealing an empty village in the snow, save for the low growls of hunting dogs and the mangled corpses swaying in the cold wind.

The gray and blood-red hues of the world resemble a torn landscape painting of a nation in ruins.

Many Chinese students studying abroad and media professionals choked up while watching this scene. There were no battle scenes, but this was more touching than any battle.

The most brutal scene involving the Japanese and puppet troops occurred after the war.

"This scene is too cruel."

"The Japanese really did that; Wu's films are very direct."

"."

The overseas media were discussing it very quietly; glancing back, two Japanese media outlets had quietly left the scene.

"Has the Japanese director arrived?"

Neither of the two directors came.

"."

At this moment, the sky was a little brighter than before, and the light of dawn, like a broken silver thread, tore through the night from the forest.

The cold wind, carrying snow and mist, rolled in like countless whips lashing at the face.

After trekking all night, a frozen river finally appeared ahead, stretching across the land like a giant mirror.

Wei Sanpao stopped, half-squatted down, and tapped the ice with his fingers, producing a dull echo.

His brow furrowed, and he cursed under his breath, "Damn it, there's an undercurrent underwater."

Huang Xiaoshan nervously swallowed and looked towards the woods on the opposite bank, which was the only passage to break through the enemy's blockade.

At this moment, Wu Chen executed a camera movement, slowly zooming in from behind the two, bringing the cracks on the ice closer, and then moving to their side to create a continuous tracking shot.

"What amazing filming skills!"

"That's a great way to go around the obstacle."

"."

Many directors and cinematographers nodded in agreement.

At this moment, Wei Sanpao took a deep breath, thrust the gun barrel behind him, and reached to undo his belt.

Huang Xiaoshan watched him tie the knot and couldn't help but speak:
"Master, are we really going to walk up here? What if we fall?"

Wei Sanpao interrupted, "Kid, this river is a matter of life and death. Aren't you scared?"

Huang Xiaoshan hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said, "I'm not afraid."

Wei Sanpao: "That's the right thing to do. Even if you're afraid, you still have to leave."

Wei Sanpao tightened the belt around his waist and tied the other end to Huang Xiaoshan.

Wei Sanpao: "If I fall first, you pull me up; if you fall first, I'll pull you up. If one of us survives, we'll deliver the message; if both of us survive, we'll deliver it together."

Huang Xiaoshan's eyes welled up with tears, and he nodded vigorously.

The two held their breath and slowly stepped onto the ice. The ice beneath their boots made a series of tiny cracking sounds, like countless invisible blades moving beneath their feet.

A cold wind swept by, lifting the hems of Wei Sanpao and Huang Xiaoshan's coats, and the camera followed their steps as they slowly moved forward.

When Huang Xiaoshan reached the middle of the river, a small crack suddenly appeared in the sole of his shoe.

The ice surface let out a low groan, followed by a "crack" as a large section of ice broke apart, and Huang Xiaoshan instantly fell into the icy river water!

The camera zooms in from above, showing Huang Xiaoshan struggling desperately in the whirlpool, his breath swallowed by the icy water, his hands flailing wildly on the surface.

"master!!"

Without hesitation, Wei Sanpao lunged forward, his knees slamming heavily onto the ice, his arms gripping the rope like hooks, and his other hand plunging into the icy river water.

The icy water instantly turned his entire arm blue, but he didn't let go, gritting his teeth and roaring: Wei Sanpao: "Grab my hand!! Grab it now!!"

Huang Xiaoshan was being dragged along in the undercurrent, his face already pale, his lips trembling as he stammered, "I...I can't take it anymore."

Wei Sanpao's eyes were bloodshot, and he roared, "Didn't I teach you?! Messengers are not allowed to die at this time!!"

He pulled hard, dragging Huang Xiaoshan out of the water, and his own body was pulled halfway into the water as well.

The two rolled on the broken ice, their breaths mingling with the rising white mist, panting like wild beasts.

In a series of long shots, the scene shows the two men struggling to climb out of the water and crawling laboriously to the riverbank, their cold fingers leaving streaks of blood on the snow.

Huang Xiaoshan collapsed to the ground, vomiting, trembling all over, his face deathly pale.

Wei Sanpao, panting heavily, slapped him on the back, as if waking someone from a deep sleep:
"Kid, if you die, how will I face my brothers?!"

Huang Xiaoshan mustered all his strength to lift his head, tears welling in his eyes: "Master, if you hadn't pulled me up, I... I would have been finished."

Wei Sanpao's lips curled into a desolate smile:
"As Lao Tzu said, if one of us survives, we'll deliver the message; if both of us survive, we'll deliver it together. Neither of us can abandon the other."

A cold wind blew, and the dark shadows of the distant woods resembled an iron wall, waiting for them.

Wei Sanpao slowly put his soaked military cap back on, gripped the letter tightly, and pulled Huang Xiaoshan's wrist.

"Stand up, and you still have a long way to go."

The camera slowly zooms out, revealing only two soaking wet figures supporting each other as they walk forward in the wind and snow, leaving two trails in their wake.
As dawn broke, before the first rays of light had even reached the mountaintop, the sky was a hazy gray, as if it had been dyed with ink.

A watchtower stands on the edge of a cliff in the distance.

The Japanese and puppet troops swept their searchlights back and forth, the cold light drawing deadly arcs across the snow.

The footsteps of the patrolling soldiers and the occasional barking of dogs sounded particularly jarring in the quiet mountain forest.

Huang Xiaoshan and Wei Sanpao hid behind a pile of frost-covered rocks, completely soaked and exhausted.

The chill of the glacier was still taking effect inside him; Huang Xiaoshan's teeth chattered, and the white mist he exhaled dissipated in the darkness.

Wei Sanpao gripped the envelope tightly in one hand, while drawing lines on the ground with a dagger in the other, his gaze calm and profound.

"The blockade line is just ahead. Once we get past it, we'll reach the main force."

Huang Xiaoshan was a little nervous: "But... the searchlight."

Wei Sanpao looked at his young apprentice, his gaze suddenly softening, like a father looking at his child about to embark on a long journey:
“Kid, we’ve been lucky to get here. But now that we’re here, we have no choice.”

Huang Xiaoshan fell silent, his fingers gripping the rifle tightly, veins bulging.

Wei Sanpao suddenly shoved the envelope into his arms and pressed it down hard.

"Remember, this is the lives of our brothers, the lives of the entire unit. You're fast, so carry it across, even if you're on your last breath, deliver it. Go to that rock, head down, and run fast. Remember what I taught you before we set off."

Huang Xiaoshan's eyes were red-rimmed, and tears trembled on his eyelashes: "And what about you?"

"me?"

Wei Sanpao smiled, a hint of mockery in his eyes, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

The chances of them going back together are too slim, so he's going to gamble on a future.

Wei Sanpao looked up at the sky.

"Disciple, do you think it will get light?"

Before Huang Xiaoshan could reply, Wei Sanpao suddenly stood up, picked up the machine gun, and roared.

Gunfire ripped through the silence of dawn, instantly alerting the Japanese and puppet troops on the watchtower, and bullets rained down like a storm.

Wei Sanpao hid behind a rock, firing and growling softly, without even glancing at Huang Xiaoshan:
"Doll, run!! Run!!!"

The camera quickly cuts to Huang Xiaoshan, whose tears well up instantly, but Wei Sanpao's blood-soaked back stands like a mountain, firmly blocking his way.

Huang Xiaoshan felt a jolt in his chest, then scrambled to his feet, clutching the envelope, and ran with all his might, passing through the beam of the searchlights, leaping over mud and corpses, with countless bullets scattering sparks on the snow behind him.

"My disciple! Will dawn break?!"

Wei Sanpao caught a glimpse of the slender figure crossing the blockade line out of the corner of his eye, a relieved smile appeared on his lips, and he murmured softly.

"Master, dawn will surely break."

In a daze, he seemed to hear Huang Xiaoshan's reply, his eyes softened, and he murmured to himself:
"That's good, that's good. When dawn breaks, you can go and live a good life. Forward. Forward."

As Wei Sanpao pulled the trigger for the last time, a burst of fire erupted in the dim light.

Japanese and puppet troops rushed up and pinned him down in the cold snow.

Wei Sanpao looked up at the faintly brightening sky and revealed a tired but satisfied smile.

His fingers trembled slightly on the snow before finally stopping.

The camera didn't switch; instead, it quickly caught up with Huang Xiaoshan's silhouette in the distance.

He was panting heavily, his lips were frozen purple, and the envelope in his arms was soaked with sweat and blood.

He dashed through the last stretch of mountain path, running faster and faster, looking up at the dawning sky, sunlight piercing through the thick clouds and sweeping across the earth. His eyes welled up with tears, and his voice was hoarse.
"Master, it's dawn."

"Master, it's dawn."

Finally, he saw the flags of the main force waving in the distance.

Huang Xiaoshan staggered into the command post, collapsed onto the muddy ground, and handed over the envelope. His voice was hoarse but resounding:

"Report! Wei Sanpao, mission accomplished!!"

Command post, sunrise.

Huang Xiaoshan collapsed at the entrance of the command post, his body covered in blood and mud, resembling a tattered suit of armor.

He clutched the bloodstained letter tightly, his fingertips gripping it as if grasping at the last thread of life.

The commander took the envelope, his hands trembling as he opened it. After quickly glancing at the orders, he abruptly looked up, his eyes red: "Commander: All troops prepare! Breakout immediately!"

The sound of bugles echoed through the valley, and the sleeping troops awoke like tigers.

The soldiers, gripping their cold steel rifles, marched out in formation through the snow, their faces etched with frost and determination.

In the distance, artillery fire roared, and smoke mingled with the dawn light, sweeping across the battlefield. The snow was trampled into crimson rivers.

Huang Xiaoshan stood on the high ground outside the command post, breathing rapidly, his eyes blank, like a lost and dejected lone wolf.

As the sun slowly rises, its golden rays fall upon the white snow, the glacier begins to crack, and the chill of the night is dispelled.

He looked up at the rising sun, his eyes filled with tears, and his throat felt like it was being cut by a knife.

I can almost still hear Wei Sanpao's heart-wrenching roar and its echo:

"Baby! Run!! Run!!"

And that whisper: "My disciple, will dawn break?"

Huang Xiaoshan wiped away the tears on his face, his voice choked but firm:

"Master, it's really dawn."

The long shot slowly rises from behind Huang Xiaoshan, overlooking the entire battlefield.

On one side was the mighty Anti-Japanese Allied Forces breaking through the encirclement, their battle flags fluttering in the morning light; on the other side was the enemy's routed position, covered with scorched earth and snow.

In the distant woods, only a tattered military cap was blown by the wind, rolled off in the sunlight, and disappeared into the depths of the snowfield.

The background music slowly rises, an old military song of the Northeast Anti-Japanese United Army, coming from afar, like countless sacrificed soldiers softly singing in harmony at this moment:

"Smoke rises over the white mountains and black waters, hot blood stains the snow-covered sky red. Brothers, what fear is there of losing our lives? We only hope for the early reunion of our homeland."

Huang Xiaoshan stood alone on the high ground, his shadow stretched extremely long by the morning light.

He stood straight, slowly raised his right hand, and solemnly saluted in the direction where Wei Sanpao had sacrificed his life.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn't make a sound.

The screen gradually darkened, and a line of strong, white characters appeared:

"From 1931 to 1945, countless Chinese messengers rushed through the flames of war, nameless and without graves, yet they used their blood and flesh to usher in the dawn for the nation."

The music is soaring, the scene freezes on a snowfield under the golden morning light, and then everything goes completely black.

The last line of the subtitles slowly appeared:
Forward, forward!

(End of this chapter)