Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 287 The wind is rustling and the water is cold

The sky was still dark, as dark as the bottom of a pot.

The wind was blowing on the mountain ridge, so cold it hurt your ears, and no matter how low you pulled your hat brim, it didn't help.

There was still some snow in the woods that hadn't melted, and it made a crunching sound when you stepped on it.

The fire is out.

Zhang Shouyi sat up straight and touched the gun at his waist, which felt like a block of ice.

He pulled the gun out, wiped it with his sleeve, fastened the safety, and put it back.

The young man by the fire pit was still asleep, sleeping soundly. He turned over and kicked off a corner of the blanket.

Looking at that thin back, Zhang Shou suddenly remembered the year he first joined the army.

I was fifteen years old, but not here. In winter, I lost two toes due to frostbite.

The sound of horses' hooves could be heard in the distance; it was Zhao Cheng from the reconnaissance squad returning.

He knocked on the door, but didn't come in. He just whispered something from outside:

"Platoon leader, the lights are on over in the village. They must have received supplies."

"what time is it?"

"It's almost five o'clock."

Zhang Shouyi grunted in response but didn't move.

He sat silently, his back ramrod straight, his eyes fixed on the broken teapot in the corner, its spout slightly chipped.

Zhao Cheng didn't urge him.

He knew that the platoon leader hadn't slept half the night, writing the list of the dead.

The story then moves on to the last two veterans, and then to the communications officer who had just turned sixteen.

After a while, Zhang Shouyi finally spoke.

"Let's go."

The voice wasn't loud, as if it were being spoken to oneself.

They emerged from the dugout; it was still dark, but the wind had died down a bit.

A lamp was lit in the village at the foot of the mountain, flickering gently, as if waiting for someone, or seeing someone off.

They remained silent the entire way.

Zhao Cheng walked behind, and only when they were almost there did he suddenly ask in a low voice:
"Platoon leader, is it even possible to win this battle?"

Zhang Shouyi didn't turn around; he only walked for a while before saying:
Whether we can win or not is not up to us.

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"We fight so we can survive," he said. "To not resist is to perish."

They continued walking, the wind rustling through the dry grass.

When we arrived at the village entrance, the villagers had already brought out the horses.

The truck was carrying three sacks of millet and a tattered cotton coat.

The horse was thin, with white breath coming out of its nostrils, and it had an injury on its leg, making it walk unsteadily.

Zhang Shouyi walked over, placed his right hand on the side of the cart, and looked up at the sky.

The sky brightened a little, with a grayish-white morning light, neither bright nor dim.

He turned around and said to the person next to him:

"Unload the stuff first, and get back to that depression on the mountainside before dawn. Don't leave it today; bury the people there."

"How many should we bury?" Zhao Cheng asked.

"Seven."

The terrain behind the mountain is slightly lower.

The wind picked up again, the soil was hard, and when you dug with a shovel, the sound was dull and resonant.

They buried seven people.

There was no coffin; instead, they used felt blankets tied with hemp ropes. Each person dug with a shovel, and no one said a word.

After burying the body, a wooden stick was inserted, and the name was written on it stroke by stroke.

"Let's go," Zhang Shouyi said.

There's an open area here, which was bombed a long time ago. The burn marks are still there, patches of black and gray.

They stood in several rows, carrying guns on their backs.

Zhang Shouyi walked up to them, glanced at the line, and then looked at the sky.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but it was already light.

“There are still twenty-eight people in the platoon,” he said. “Before yesterday, there were thirty-five.”

"Our mission is not to defend our position, much less to launch a counterattack."

"The only word they gave us was 'delay'."

"If we can hold out, we can buy more time for the later stages."

"I know everyone is feeling frustrated: we're using old guns, the bullets are scarce, and our cotton-padded clothes are thin."

"What about the other side? They're carrying light machine guns and mortars."

Zhang Shouyi narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on the distance.

It's foggy over there, so you can't see anything.

"Even so, we can't retreat." "The command said that if we can't hold out here, they will break through the Xikou Highway."

"Go through there and you'll reach Baoji; go further on and you'll reach Xi'an."

"If Xi'an is lost, the entire Northwest will be finished."

What's behind us?

"There are schools, hospitals, farms, and gun manufacturing facilities in the rear."

"There are still some babies who are only a few months old and haven't been weaned yet."

“Those are ordinary people, our own people.”

“As long as we are still standing here, they have a chance to escape, retreat into the mountains, or head west.”

After he finished speaking, Zhang Shouyi did not continue immediately.

He stood still, staring intently at every face in the queue.

It's not just them.

Those who are here, those who are not here, those who have gone missing, those whose bodies are left to rot in the wilderness, and those whose remains have not even been found.

From Hongdong, Jixian, and Lingshi;
Jizhong, Dingzhou, Shenxian
There were also two from Qingjian, Shaanxi. They always walked side by side and could sing folk songs.

How do you sing it again?

Zhang Shouyi blinked.

“Now that we’ve covered the heavy stuff,” he said, “let’s talk about something more optimistic.”

"Can we still win this battle? I say yes."

"Why? Because we're surrounded by mountains, ravines, and forests."

"Not only can the tanks not get up, but once it gets dark and fog rolls in, their planes can't find us."

"We can crawl through slopes and climb over ridges while carrying guns."

"They were a large group of people who didn't know the way. If they ran into a landmine, they would take one step forward and three steps back."

"Besides, it's not like we haven't won battles under these circumstances before."

"From Heishuigou to Malianwa".

"We lay in ambush during the day and pursued them at night, forcing them to retreat in defeat."

When Zhang Shouyi said this, the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he wanted to laugh but didn't.

That glimmer of light flashed briefly in the corner of my eye before disappearing again.

"Even so, I know it will still be difficult."

"The guns are old, the men are few, they have no shoes, and their backs are covered in wounds."

"So, if anyone feels they really can't go on, I will definitely not stop them."

There was silence.

The wind swept through the mountain pass, making it impossible to open one's eyes.

No one moved.

Zhang Shouyi nodded.

"very good."

"Put your hat on properly."

"salute."

They raised their hands together, palms pressed against the brim of their hats, their clothes fluttering in the wind.

After the ceremony, the procession did not immediately disperse.

Zhang Shouyi told Zhao Cheng to lead the others to retreat first, as he wanted to stay there a little longer.

Zhao Cheng didn't ask any more questions, just waved his hand and led them to the other side of the mountain ridge.

Zhang Shouyi stood there for a while before slowly squatting down in front of the newly erected wooden stick.

He reached out and touched the name on it, frowning.

How exactly is the folk song "Xintianyou" sung?

Zhang Shouyi pondered for a long time.

The sun had risen completely.

The sky was tinged with a pale golden dawn.

The land is vast, with rolling hills stretching endlessly in the distance.

Zhang Shouyi finally remembered the tune.

So he hummed softly.

—Brother, you're going west.

—Little sister, I really can't bear to leave you here.

—Holding her brother's hand
—I escorted my brother to the front gate.

—Brother, you're leaving the village.

—Little sister, I have something to say.
—Walk to that main intersection
—Many men and horses come to relieve worries
Zhang Shouyi propped himself up and walked down the mountain in the newborn morning light, singing all the way.

The world is vast, and the mountains and rivers are silent.

(End of this chapter)