My era, 1979!

Chapter 117 "The Box of Hope" (1) (Celebrating the 80th Anniversary of Victory)

I hope you will fold the letter carefully and solemnly put it into the black box.

[The foxholes on the front lines of the 1979 Sino-Vietnamese War (17:32)]

The flame of the kerosene lamp wick flickered wildly in the blast of gunfire. Huang Siyuan lay on his lap with a letter to Lin Chunyan, the ink on the tip of his pen lingering, yet he hesitated to write.

Next to the four characters “Spring Swallow, My Beloved”, freshly splashed mud spots resemble a dark seal.

Inside the red silk handkerchief on his chest, the teeth marks of half a wooden comb were digging into his ribs. He had been working on it at night last night, and it was only one-third finished.

"Shoot-"

Suddenly, an envelope popped out of the black box's mail slot and landed on the letter from home.

Huang Siyuan was so startled that the nib of his pen tore through the letter paper, and the assistant gunner woke up with a start: "Squad leader?"

He quickly pressed the envelope down and shook his head at the assistant gunner: "It's alright, Feng."

The pencil writing on the envelope, addressed to Huang Siyuan, was as tender as newly sprouted wheat.

He opened it; it was Xin Xiwang's first letter:

"Uncle Huang Siyuan! This is Xin Xiwang. Today the school showed your movie. You looked so cool charging with a machine gun! But at the end of the movie... were you...? I'm so scared. Uncle, you must live. My dad is also a soldier. He says soldiers have to protect their country, but I want you to come back even more."

In the bottom right corner of the letter, next to the machine gun drawn in red crayon, there was a heavy cross.

Huang Siyuan's Adam's apple bobbed as he pressed the letter to his chest, feeling the warmth of Chunyan's handkerchief.

He thought a lot.

But I have to go to the battlefield again. Oh well, let's not worry about whether it's a cruel joke from heaven.

He picked up his pen again, and as he wrote back to Hope, the nib of his pen trembled uncontrollably.

"I hope you received the letter, young comrade. Your uncle is on the front lines, bullets are whizzing past my ears, it's truly dangerous. The 'movie' you mentioned, was it made by people from later? You... what year are you from?"

As he folded the letter and stuffed it into the mail slot, he heard another burst of cannon fire outside the cave.

[Xin Xiwang's Home in Harbin (17:35)]

Hopefully, just as he dropped the first letter into the black box and turned to tell his mother, the box popped out a reply with a "click."

He rushed over and tore it open. Seeing Huang Siyuan's question, his eyes widened. He quickly grabbed a pencil, leaned over the table, and wrote a second letter at lightning speed:

"Uncle! I am Xin Xiwang from 2024! Now it is a peaceful era, China is very powerful, and no one dares to bully us! Your story has been made into a movie, and everyone remembers you as a hero! We have skyscrapers, high-speed trains that can travel 300 kilometers per hour, and cell phones that can talk to people thousands of miles away!"

Fearing his uncle wouldn't believe him, he drew a crooked, simple sketch of a high-speed train and stuffed it into the box.

【Cat ear piercing (17:40)】

Just as Huang Siyuan put the letter to Chunyan into a waterproof bag, the black box popped out a second letter of hope.

Upon seeing "2024," "Peace," and "High-speed Rail," his hand gripping the letter tightened suddenly, his knuckles turning white.

The assistant gunner leaned over: "Squad leader, what's the news?"

He pressed the letter to his chest and said in a hoarse voice, "A letter from home... everything is fine at home."

He practically snatched the pen, and his reply to Hope consisted of only one line, the ink heavily smudged:
"2024...the future of China...will it be good? Will ordinary people be able to live peaceful lives, and will children be able to go to school properly, just like you said?"

But am I a hero?
He was just a class monitor. How could a class monitor become a hero?

he knows.

【Xin Xiwang's Home (17:42)】

Hoping to see a reply, my nose tingled, and I nodded vigorously (even though my uncle couldn't see me), and immediately wrote a third letter:

"It's wonderful! Uncle! China is wonderful now! Everyone has enough to eat and warm clothes to wear. Schools have lots of books, and we can even go to museums to see stories from your time! The country is very strong. Warships can go to the far seas, and airplanes can protect the skies. No one dares to invade! You and your comrades shed blood and sacrificed your lives for this kind of China. We all remember that!"

He folded the letter into the shape of a paper airplane and solemnly dropped it into the box.

【Cat ear piercing (17:50)】

Just as Huang Siyuan received the third letter, the bugle call tolled through the air.

The assistant gunner had already loaded his gun and shouted, "Squad leader, it's time to charge!"

He unfolded the letter and saw the words "exceptionally good." Suddenly, the red silk on his chest felt burning hot.

He carefully folded the three letters and, along with Chunyan's handkerchief and the unfinished wooden comb, pressed them tightly against the inside of his military uniform.

The last time he touched the black box, the reply he sent was only a few short sentences, the ink stained gray by gunfire dust:
"I hope so. That's great. Uncle's off to the front lines now. Hearing 'The future is bright' makes it all worthwhile. Take a good look at that golden China for Uncle."

He didn't look back, picked up the machine gun, and was the first to rush out of the foxhole.

"Siyuan! Come back!" Xu Jianjun's shout was swallowed up by the explosion.

Huang Siyuan's machine gun trembled violently in front of his chest, and spent cartridges rained down on his uniform. Blood seeped from the bullet hole in his left shoulder, staining a corner of his red silk handkerchief even darker.

He ran unsteadily, but kept the machine gun pointed at the bunker's firing port, using his own body as bait to create an opening for the subsequent demolition team.

Vietnamese bullets chased after him, his back burning from the blasts of air, and every breath he took carried the sweet, metallic taste of blood.

Amidst the smoke of battle, he seemed to truly see the sunlight of 2024 shining on a child's smiling face, with skyscrapers and high-speed trains behind him—the golden future he wanted to protect with his life.

"so good……"

A barely audible sigh escaped Huang Siyuan's throat, and a sudden heaviness gripped his chest as a bullet pierced his heart.

He didn't fall down. Instead, he used his last bit of strength to push the machine gun barrel forward again. The tracer rounds grazed the bunker's firing port, sparking as they went, until the demolition team's explosive charge exploded inside the bunker, the flames engulfing everything.

He collapsed in a pool of blood.

He saw hope and hope.

"I wish to dedicate this heart to China and give my years to the mountains and rivers."

【Xin Xiwang's Home (18:00)】

Hopefully, when I receive Huang Siyuan's last letter, a documentary clip from the Sino-Vietnamese War will be rebroadcast on television.

In the scene, a soldier carrying a machine gun rushes towards the firing point, his back resembling a burning mountain.

He roared: "For the motherland, for hope, for peace!"

He clutched the letter, the words "It was worth it" wrinkled from his tears. His small face was instantly covered in tear tracks, but he bit his lip tightly to keep himself from crying out loud.

He knew that his uncle had seen his letter.

He knew that his uncle was smiling as he charged into battle.

Because my uncle heard it: the future of China is very good.

This is the first letter I hope will be on my 8th birthday.

I hope that when I was nine years old, I could send a letter to a soldier who fought in the Korean War.

[Trench of Position 391 on the Korean battlefield in 1952 (minus 22°C)]

Li Changcun's fingers were frozen like red radishes, his knuckles were cracked and bleeding, and every time he gripped the pen, it hurt terribly.

The snow in the trenches seeped into my cotton shoes, and my feet had long since lost all feeling. Only the half-written letter to my younger sister back home, which I was carrying in my arms, still retained a bit of warmth.

"Shoot-"

Suddenly, an envelope popped out of the black box and landed on the snow, covered with a layer of frost.

He thought it was an illusion.

In this godforsaken place, even letters home have to be delivered by messengers braving gunfire. Where would a letter come from? Picking it up, I saw crooked pencil writing on the envelope: "To my uncle who fought in the Korean War." In the lower right corner, there was a round airplane with a five-pointed star drawn on its fuselage.

Opening the letter, I found a childlike warmth in every word: "Hello Uncle! I'm Xin Xiwang, nine years old, and I go to school in Harbin. Yesterday, our teacher showed us a documentary about your war effort. You were lying in the snow, it looked so hard. My mom said you're the most adorable people. I wanted to ask, are you cold now?"

"Hopefully, we have won this war?"

"Which war, Uncle?"

"In the Korean War, attack the Pingkang Jinhua position, position 391!"

"You've won! The movie even says you captured Position 391 that very day!"

"Hopefully, so do we have our own plane now?"

"Mom said today is the 80th anniversary of the victory in the anti-fascist war. There are so many airplanes, all of which we developed ourselves. The world is amazed!"

"They say our missiles have a range that covers the entire globe."

"Global coverage?"

"That's great, I hope."

"That's great, I hope."

"Uncle, what's your name?"

My name is

(End of this chapter)