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

"Welcome back to the team!"

His voice choked with emotion.

These four words were squeezed out of Chen Dashan's throat.

It was as if all the strength in his body had been used up.

This iron-willed company commander.

This veteran crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood.

This man has witnessed countless life-and-death situations and has never shed a single tear.

finally--

I couldn't control myself anymore.

A stream of hot tears flowed from that one eye.

Following the bloodstains on his face.

White streaks appeared one after another.

It dripped into the corner of my mouth.

Salty.

It's astringent.

Hot.

He looked at Li Dajiang.

Looking at this brother who had gone through thick and thin with him.

Look at this face covered in blood.

His Adam's apple bobbed.

What do you want to say?

I want to shout.

I want to call out.

I want to say, "You're finally back."

I wanted to say, "I actually thought you were all dead."

I want to say—

But he couldn't say anything.

Just standing there.

Watching.

It seems like I can never get enough of looking at it.

Li Dajiang also looked at Chen Dashan.

Looking at the company commander who had fought alongside him, endured artillery fire, and crawled out of piles of corpses with him.

Looking at the line of tears on his face.

Li Dajiang smiled.

That smile was awful.

It looks terrible.

His face was covered in blood.

Dry, chapped lips.

The scar that ran diagonally from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth twisted with his smile.

But it was a genuine laugh.

It's a smile that comes from the heart.

He raised his hand.

He gently patted Chen Dashan on the shoulder.

"Alright, you're a grown man."

His voice was hoarse.

But it's heartwarming:

"Still crying and whining like this."

"Let the soldiers below laugh at us."

Chen Dashan took a deep sniff.

It sucks very loudly.

Then he reached out his hand.

Grab Li Dajiang's shoulder.

I squeezed it tightly.

In the end, he only uttered four words.

Her voice was still choked with sobs.

"It's good that you're back."

Li Dajiang nodded.

He nodded very forcefully:

"It's good that you're back."

This moment.

The two teams merged together.

The Seventh Company, and the Ninth Platoon of the Seventh Company.

These are the people who have been guarding this place since the first day of the Battle of Shanghai.

These are people who have just crawled out of hell.

They all stood together.

Old Gun walked up to Tian Dazhuang.

Look at him.

His face was covered in blood.

Looking at the Hanyang rifle in his hand.

Looking at him—

still alive.

"Still alive?" Old Gun asked.

The sound was very soft.

Tian Dazhuang nodded:

"Still alive."

"Good," Old Gun said, "It's good that you're alive."

Tian Dazhuang looked at his arm in a sling.

Looking at the bandages soaked in blood.

"Your arm?"

"It's ruined," Old Gun said.

He paused for a moment.

Added a sentence:

"But we can still fight."

Tian Dazhuang smiled.

As I laughed, tears started flowing again.

Old Zhou stood there.

It has no arms.

The two sleeves were empty and hanging there.

Swaying slightly in the wind.

But he stood very straight.

It stands as straight as a pine tree.

Zhang Shitou walked up to him.

Look at him.

Looking at his empty sleeves.

Looking at his calm face.

He opened his mouth.

What do you want to say?

I wanted to say, "Where's your arm?"

I wanted to ask, "Does it hurt?"

I want to say—

But Lao Zhou spoke first.

"Stone."

Zhang Shitou was taken aback:

Do you know me?

Old Zhou smiled.

That smile was very faint.

But it's very real:

"I don't know him."

He paused:

"Our team has been broken up and reassembled, and we come from all over the country."

"Some soldiers died on their very first day here."

"Some soldiers were wounded and died as soon as they went to the battlefield, without even having a chance to get to know each other."

"But we're all soldiers in the Seventh Company now. What does it matter if we know each other or not?"

Zhang Shitou was stunned for a moment.

Then, he smiled too.

"Yes," he said, "they're all soldiers from the Seventh Company."

He reached out, wanting to pat Lao Zhou on the shoulder.

But he stopped halfway through reaching out.

Because he remembered.

Old Zhou has no arms.

Where should we take the picture?

But Lao Zhou didn't embarrass him.

Old Zhou bumped him with his shoulder.

"Let's go," Old Zhou said. "Back to the team."

Old Zhao carried the stone pillar on his back and walked to the side.

Old Zhao is blind.

But his steps were very steady.

The stone pillar was lying on his back.

Two hands were placed on Lao Zhao's shoulders.

He looked at the soldiers of the Seventh Company.

Looking at those—

People like him.

Looking at those—

People who are still alive.

Sudden.

He shouted.

Using all my strength:

"Brothers of the Seventh Company—!!!"

Everyone looked at him.

Look at this person without legs.

Look at the person who is lying on his comrade's back.

The stone pillar grinned.

That smile was huge.

It was brilliant.

"I've lost my legs!"

He shouted:

"But the eyes are still there!"

"Wait until the Japanese come again! I'll bite one more to death!"

The soldiers of the Seventh Company smiled.

As they laughed, someone started crying.

As they were laughing, someone else shouted:

"good--!!!"

"Well done, stone pillar!!!"

"Not a single soldier in our Seventh Company is a coward—!!!"

far away.

The anvil and the doorbreaker jumped off the two Qilin tanks.

They strode over.

They walked very fast.

Each step was taken with great force.

Anvils are known for their loud voices.

At that moment, he shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Welcome Class 9!!!"

"Return to the team—!!!"

The sound was like a thunderclap.

They lingered on the battlefield.

The person who broke down the door also shouted:

"Return to the team—!!!"

"Return to the team—!!!"

The soldiers of the Seventh Company shouted in unison:

"Return to the team—!!!"

"Return to the team—!!!"

The sounds merged into one.

Huicheng—

A burning, scalding feeling welled up from the bottom of my heart—

Shouts.

The anvil walked up to Li Dajiang.

She hugged him tightly.

They were holding each other very tightly.

Very hard.

"Brother!" shouted Iron Anvil, "Well done!"

Li Dajiang was so breathless from being hugged by him.

But he couldn't break free.

Just laugh.

As she laughed, her eyes welled up with tears.

The anvil loosened him.

He walked up to Old Gun again.

Pat him on the shoulder:

"Old Gun, still alive?"

Old Gun nodded:

"To live."

"Good!" said the anvil. "It's good that they're alive! The longer they're alive, the more Japanese devils we can kill!"

He then walked up to Old Zhou.

Looking at his two empty sleeves.

The anvil's eyes turned red.

But he didn't cry.

He simply reached out his hand.

He gave Lao Zhou a firm grip on the shoulder.

"Brother," he said, "well done."

Old Zhou laughed:

"The same to you."

The one who broke down the door walked up to the pillar.

Looking at this sixteen-year-old child.

His face was covered in blood.

Looking at the blood-red brick in his hand.

"Kid," he asked, "Are you scared?"

The pillar shakes its head:

"I'm not afraid."

"real?"

"Really," Shuanzhu said, "With you guys here, I'm not afraid."

The person who broke down the door laughed.

He stretched out his hand.

He ruffled Shuanzhu's messy hair.

"Good lad," he said, "I'll treat you to meat after the war is over."

Shuanzhu's eyes lit up:

"real?"

"real."

Shuanzhu grinned.

He was laughing very happily.

Not far away.

The embroiderer stood there.

Look at those people.

Looking at those—

The person who risked his life to protect that small building.

Looking at those—

A person who crawled out of hell.

Looking at those—

The people we finally reunited with.

Her eyes were burning.

It was so hot it was burning.

She looked at those images.

These--

The visuals are more realistic than any movie.

These--

The images are more moving than any words.

These--

living people.

These--

The person who is still laughing.

Fu Hao stood beside her.

I'm watching too.

Looking at those—

The people she saved.

Thinking of those—

The people she couldn't save.

Looking at those—

Those who are still alive.

"Sister Embroiderer," she said softly.

"Um?"

"They..." Fu Hao paused, "...are truly remarkable."

The embroiderer nodded.

He nodded very forcefully.

"Um."

she says:

"That's amazing."