Not enough Japanese devils to kill? 1.4 billion people volunteer for the Battle of Shanghai.

[Please prepare yourself, host. Your identity this time is—a Chinese soldier during the Battle of Shanghai.]

Outside the window, it was a typical weekend afternoon in 2025, and Bian Yun was checking the footage from the action camera.

He is a military enthusiast and is preparing to record a video about firearms.

But a line of semi-transparent words suddenly appeared in front of me, as if they were etched directly onto my retina.

Bian Yun was stunned.

"What the hell?"

3.

2.

1.

"My name is Yao Qing, lieutenant colonel battalion commander of the 583rd Regiment."

Yao Qing squatted down, took out a half-smoked, crumpled cigarette from her pocket, but didn't light it. "Who are you? Which part are you from? I've never seen you before."

Bian Yun opened his mouth.

What should I say?

Are you saying I came from 2025? Or that I was originally filming a video?

He swallowed hard, his throat dry and sore. "My name is Bian Yun."

"and then?"

"I..." Bian Yun looked into Yao Qing's eyes. Those eyes held weariness, bloodshot veins, but something else—

A serene and resolute light that Bian Yun had seen in his grandfather's old photographs.

He suddenly didn't want to lie.

"I am not a person of this era," he said. "I come from...the new China."

Yao Qing was stunned for two seconds.

Then he laughed.

It wasn't mockery, but a faint, weary smile: "New China? What kind of new China?"

Many images flashed through Bian Yun's mind.

High-speed rail.

Aircraft carrier.

Spacecraft.

A bustling night market.

Children are running around in the park.

He chose the simplest word:

"Prosperity. Democracy. Harmony. Strength."

"No one dares to bully us. Ordinary people can have enough to eat, and children can go to school."

Yao Qing stuffed the cigarette back into her pocket: "Then, can you still go back?"

go back?

Bian Yun then remembered the line of words in his mind. He closed his eyes—the words remained:

[Countdown to the reunification of the People's Republic of China in 2025: 9 minutes and 47 seconds]

[Number of people who can return: 2 (including the host)]

[Returnable items: 2 cubic meters]

…………

[After the initial return, a new era begins.]

[Second crossing, 2 people allowed. 2 cubic meters of supplies allowed.]

Third time: A four-person team, 4 cubic meters of equipment...

[Rule Note: The scale of the crossing will increase exponentially.]

The tenth: 1024 people, a modern reinforced battalion.

The fifteenth: 32678 people, this is the size of a modern army group, with J-20s filling the sky.

The twentieth mission: 1048576 people, the entire aircraft carrier battle group sailed directly to the mouth of the Yangtze River in 1937.

The 30th: 14 billion people, the steel torrent of the new China in 2025 will stretch as far as the eye can see.

[Furthermore, the number of returning participants has also shown exponential growth.]

Bian Yun opened his eyes with some excitement: "Yes. In ten minutes. Moreover, I can bring more people from New China to support you."

Yao Qing stared at him for a long time.

Bian Yun was so stunned that he thought the other party was going to arrest him as a madman.

"Report!"

A medic, his face covered in soot, stumbled over, his voice trembling with tears: "Little Sichuan... Little Sichuan's wound is infected, he's been burning up, and he's talking nonsense. He needs sulfonamides, but we... we've already run out of medicine."

Yao Qing's face darkened.

He got up and walked to a corner of the hall.

Bian Yun followed.

A soldier lay on the straw mat; he looked to be no more than nineteen years old.

His left leg was wrapped in bandages, which were soaked with pus and blood.

The medic choked up, "Without sulfonamides, we won't make it through today..."

The words were flashing through Bian Yun's mind.

Number of returning participants: 2 (including the host).

Bian Yun stepped forward, squatted down, and grasped Xiao Sichuan's burning hot hand.

"I can take him back." Bian Yun looked up at Yao Qing, "Back to the new China. There are the best medicines and the best doctors there."

Yao Qing remained silent.

Sporadic gunshots rang out again outside.

"What do you need me to do?" Yao Qing finally asked.

Bian Yun said, "I need you to survive, to live until we meet again."

Yao Qing smiled.

This time, the smile was more pronounced.

He stood up, dusted off his uniform, walked to the center of the crowd, and shouted to the six hundred soldiers guarding Baoshan:

"Brothers, our battalion has been ordered to defend Baoshan County to the death."

"The Japanese forces opposite us number over 5,000, and they also have naval and air force support."

"But we are not fighting alone."

"The Guangxi Army".

"The Yunnan Army of Yunnan".

"The Sichuan Army of Sichuan".

"The Guizhou Army,"

"The Hunan Army of Hunan".

"The Henan Army".

"The Cantonese Army of Guangdong".

"The Jiangxi Army of Jiangxi Province".

"The Zhejiang Army of Zhejiang".

"The Anhui Army of Anhui".

"The Shaanxi Army of Shaanxi..."

"The Hebei Army."

"The Lu Army of Shandong".

"The army of the three northeastern provinces."

"The Jin Army of Shanxi."

"The Soviet Army in Jiangsu."

"The Fujian Army of Fujian".

"The Hubei Army."

"The Qiong Army of Hainan".

"The Long Army of Gansu".

"Ningxia's Ning Army".

"The Qinghai Army".

"Xinjiang's new army."

"Brothers all over China are rushing here..."

Yao Qing looked at Bian Yun in the crowd, her smile dazzlingly bright amidst the smoke-filled ruins:

"Just like Brother Bian Yun said, he came from the new China."

"Therefore, victory in the War of Resistance is inevitable!"

In Baoshan County, over six hundred people, over six hundred voices, squeezed out from hoarse throats:

"Victory in the War of Resistance is assured!!"

…………

[Countdown to the return of the People's Republic of China: 3 seconds.]

[2 seconds]

[1 seconds]

Bian Yun held Xiao Sichuan's hand tightly.

The world was plunged into absolute darkness once again.

But there was no smell of gunpowder.

He felt the hard floor transform into a soft carpet, and the pungent smell of gunpowder was replaced by the familiar, faint lavender scent of laundry detergent.

Bian Yun opened her eyes.

The sunlight still shone on the wooden floor, just as it had when he left.

But there was someone else in his arms.

Little Sichuan lay on the carpet, breathing weakly, his face as pale as paper.

The bandages on my leg were still bleeding, and pus and blood had soaked through the outermost layer.

Not a dream.

Bian Yun looked at her chest.

The DJI camera is still there.

The red light is still on.

He removed the camera, connected it to his phone, and exported the video.

The scene begins with him setting things up at home, and then—

The camera shook violently, went completely black, and when it came back on, it showed a dilapidated hall, sandbag bunkers, charging figures, Yao Qing's face, and those who saluted...

One minute later.

Likes explode.

[Likes: 1000 → 10000 → 100000]

Three minutes later.

[Comments explode]

Five minutes later.

A knock came at the door.

Bian Yun opened the door, and a man in military uniform stood outside. Behind him were a doctor in a white coat and a nurse carrying a first-aid kit.

From uploading the video to receiving on-site assistance from government officials, the entire process took only five minutes.

This speed is much faster than Bian Yun taking Xiao Sichuan to the hospital himself.

"Comrade Bian Yun?" The leading soldier was in his thirties with a resolute face. "My name is Lu Bei, and I'm from the General Hospital of the Military Region. I received a notice to come and pick up a... special wounded soldier."

Bian Yun stepped aside to let them in.

The doctors and nurses immediately knelt down beside Xiao Sichuan, cut the bandages, and examined the wound:

"Acute gangrene infection...simple bandaging has been applied, immediate surgery is required!"

When Little Sichuan was lifted onto the stretcher, his eyelids twitched.

He saw a pristine white ceiling, people in white coats, and the view outside the window—outside the window was Shanghai in 2025, the glass curtain wall reflecting blinding sunlight.

A tear slid down his cheek, mingling with the blood on his face.

"We won..." His lips moved, almost inaudibly, "That was awesome..."