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

"Embroiderer, Fu Hao, anvil, door breaker."

A voice came from behind the crowd.

The voice sounded somewhat tired.

But it's very clear.

"Angel!"

The embroiderer raised an eyebrow.

He quickly stepped forward.

Approach the angel.

Look at her.

Looking at her tired face:

"Are you alright?"

The angel reached out his hand.

He put his arm around the embroiderer's shoulder and gave her a hug.

"Very good."

She smiled.

That smile looked somewhat tired.

But it's very real:

"I'm just a little tired."

The embroiderer looked at the angel with his arm around her shoulder and suddenly frowned.

"Angel, you're a military medic."

Her voice carried a hint of reproach:

"Even battlefield medics must be stationed behind the defensive lines."

"You now..."

"Embroiderer," the angel interrupted the embroiderer.

"At this point, is there any support left?"

The embroiderer fell silent.

The angel's voice continued: "The Japanese Third Division, 25,000 Japanese soldiers."

She paused:

"The number of people we killed, including those from Katayama Riichiro's infantry brigade, was only a little over five thousand."

"As for the Independent Tank Regiment—"

She shook her head:

"Only six light tanks were lost."

"The Third Division has at least forty vehicles left."

The angel's voice was very soft, as soft as a sigh:

"Now, there is no rear base."

The embroiderer nodded.

They were ordering very slowly.

But very forcefully:

"We only won a small, temporary victory by taking a shortcut."

She went on to say:

"Next, Fujita Susumu, enraged and humiliated, will surely retaliate."

The angel looked at the wounded on the battlefield and whispered:

"Therefore, I plan to move the field hospital directly to the front line."

"In this way, wounded soldiers can receive the best treatment as soon as possible."

She paused.

His gaze fell upon the soldiers of the Ninth Platoon.

"There's another reason," she said.

"They've always wanted to come to the front lines."

"We can't let protecting me prevent our soldiers from fighting the enemy."

The angel had barely finished speaking.

Chen Dashan stepped forward.

He walked up to the angel.

Stand straight.

It stands as straight as a pine tree.

Like a pine tree that has been scorched but still stands tall.

"May posterity rest assured," he said.

The voice was loud and clear.

Like a thunderclap:

"We swear to protect our medic angels with our lives!"

Behind him, the soldiers of the Seventh Company shouted in unison:

"I swear to protect you to the death—!!!"

"I swear to protect you to the death—!!!"

The sounds merged into one.

Huicheng—

A cry that welled up from the bottom of my heart.

Huicheng—

A vow made with one's life.

Li Dajiang even raised the tiger-headed broadsword.

Raise it above your head.

"I swear to protect you to the death—!!!"

The angels watched them.

Looking at these—

People who are willing to risk their lives to protect her.

Looking at these—

Chinese soldiers in 1937.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

A dashing smile.

That smile was beautiful.

Also—

It hurts people.

"If you all really die—" she said.

He paused for a moment.

Word by word:

"Why would I live alone?"

These words stunned Chen Dashan.

That one eye was wide open.

Then, he hurriedly shook his head.

It's shaking very fast.

Very hard.

Like a rattle drum:

"No, no, no! In the future, I must survive!"

His voice sounded somewhat urgent.

It's really urgent.

He was so anxious that his voice cracked.

He was so anxious that the muscles in his face were trembling.

Because he was genuinely afraid.

I fear that these people from the future might actually die here.

I'm afraid of these things—

Those who come to their rescue will die before them.

"We'll risk our lives to protect you!"

He shouted hurriedly.

The embroiderer looked at the anxious Chen Dashan.

She walked up to him with a smile.

"Company Commander Chen," she said, very seriously.

"Squad Leader Li."

She then looked at Li Dajiang.

"The soldiers of the Seventh Company."

She looked at them—

A Chinese soldier is watching her.

Look at those—

They sacrificed their lives for the sake of future generations.

"We are from the future."

Her voice was very flat.

It's like stating a fact:

"It is precisely because we, the descendants—"

She paused:

"Then they should be at the forefront even more."

Chen Dashan was stunned.

Li Dajiang was stunned.

Everyone was stunned.

The embroiderer's gaze swept over everyone.

Scan each one—

The people who risked their lives to protect this land.

"You gave your lives to give us this future."

she says.

His voice was slightly choked up.

But I am very determined:

"We, too, should risk our lives—"

"To protect you."

The words fell.

Chen Dashan cried again.

This tough soldier has lost count of how many times he has cried today.

But this time, he didn't dodge.

It wasn't wiped.

Let the tears flow.

It flowed down his blood-stained face.

"They came from later generations," he said. "They were also Chinese."

Li Dajiang shouted even louder:

"Chinese!" he shouted. "We're all one family."

Zhang Shitou stepped forward.

Old Gun stepped forward.

The stone pillar straightened its back from Old Zhao's back.

Old Zhou stood up even straighter.

Although Old Zhao couldn't see, he turned his face towards the embroiderer.

Everyone stepped forward.

Everyone straightened their backs.

Li Dajiang gripped the tiger-headed broadsword.

Step by step.

He walked up to the embroiderer.

Stand still.

"Comrade Embroiderer," he said.

hoarse voice:

"You are from the future."

"You've come to save us."

"You risked your lives to protect us."

He paused.

Word by word:

"How could we possibly let you—"

"Fighting alone?"

far away.

The anvil and the door-breaker stood there.

Looking at this scene.

Looking at these—

Chinese soldiers in 1937.

Looking at these—

A man who speaks with his life.

The anvil's Adam's apple bobbed.

He raised his hand.

He wiped his face.

I don't know if it's sweat or something else.

"The door-breaker," he said.

"Um?"

"Tell me, was this trip worth it?"

The person who broke down the door immediately replied:

"value."

"It was totally worth it."