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

As darkness faded, a deafening roar was the first sound to assault our ears.

It wasn't artillery fire, it wasn't an explosion.

It was a passionate, tearful cheer erupting from tens of thousands of people at the same time.

Bian Yun opened her eyes.

In the special transfer area of ​​the Eastern Theater Command General Hospital in 2025, bright white lights poured down from the ceiling.

He lay on a mobile stretcher, while on the thirty-one stretchers beside him lay Zhou Shuisheng, Li Dazhu, Chen Xiaogou, Wang Xiulan… all the wounded soldiers brought back from 1937 were still unconscious or semi-conscious.

But the cheers didn't come from here.

From outside.

Through the huge floor-to-ceiling glass wall of the transfer area, Bian Yun saw—

Crowds of people.

It's not an exaggeration.

It was true; a dense, endless crowd filled every street and every corner outside the hospital.

Men, women, the elderly, and children.

They waved national flags and held homemade signs, their faces streaked with tears, and from their throats burst out the same voice:

"hero--!!!"

"Return—!!!"

The sound waves grew louder and louder, making the glass tremble slightly.

A young girl, who looked like a college student, wearing a red T-shirt with the word "China" printed on it, stood on tiptoe and shouted at the top of her lungs towards the transfer area:

"Welcome home!!!"

The old man next to me had a full head of white hair and his chest was covered with medals—Bian Yun recognized them as the Korean War Medal and the Sino-Vietnamese War Medal.

The old man's hands trembled as he held up a simple cardboard sign, on which were written crookedly with a brush:

"Brothers from 1937, we've brought you home."

The old man didn't shout, he just silently shed tears, but his eyes, which had been through the flames of war, shone like burning embers.

More people are shouting:

"Welcome to the new China!!!"

"Thank you so much!!!"

"We remember—we will always remember—!!!"

In the military hospital, Zhou Shuisheng was the first to wake up.

Before the anesthesia had completely worn off, he groggily opened his eyes and saw the white ceiling and the flashing, incomprehensible instruments.

Then, he heard a sound outside.

"What's that sound..." he murmured.

The nurse beside her—a young woman in her early twenties with red eyes—said softly, "It's the people. They've come to welcome you."

Zhou Shuisheng was stunned.

Welcome...to us?

He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his left leg—it felt empty, but had been properly bandaged.

He remembered that his leg had been blown off, then fished out and placed in a glowing box.

"Don't move." The nurse held him down. "You just had limb replantation surgery and need to rest. The surgery was successful, the leg is back on, but it will take time to recover."

Zhou Shuisheng didn't listen.

He just stared blankly out the glass wall, at the dark mass of people, and at the deafening cheers.

"They..." his voice trembled, "are they calling for us?"

"Yes." The nurse wiped away her tears and said with a smile, "They're calling you to go home."

At this time, the other wounded also woke up one after another.

Li Dazhu woke up and stared wide-eyed at the sight outside.

Chen Xiaogou woke up, and upon hearing the cheers, his eyes widened in surprise.

When Wang Xiulan woke up, she looked at the people waving the national flag and tears streamed down her face silently.

They don't understand.

I don't understand why so many people are here.

I don't understand why these people cry, laugh, or call out their names.

I don't understand... what's going on?

until--

Outside the glass wall, in the square, someone started it, and thousands of people began to sing in unison:

That year, you were the same age as me, young, like a budding song.

"But in order to create that new world in your dreams, you turned around and hurriedly walked into the storm."

"I saw millions of lovely people like you, rushing into the depths of the smoke of war without looking back."

"How many youthful figures disappeared into the night, only to be replaced by the dawn."

"I look up at the starry sky you once saw, and we meet again across a century."

"I understood that smile you gave me before you turned away."

"I look up at the starry sky you once saw, but the earth beneath my feet has changed time and space."

"The touch of red you left behind, swaying in the wind, remains in my heart, in my heart."

The singing was initially a bit uneven, but it quickly became synchronized, loud, and...heart-wrenching.

That's "Misplaced Time and Space May Fourth Special Edition".

As Zhou Shuisheng listened to the song, tears instantly streamed down his face.

Chen Xiaogou murmured through tears, "This song is so beautiful."

Wang Xiulan sobbed uncontrollably: "The new China...is really...different..."

When the song was sung for the second time, Zhou Shuisheng suddenly struggled to sit up.

"What are you doing?!" the nurse cried out in alarm. "Don't move!"

"Help me up..." Zhou Shuisheng's voice was hoarse. "Help me up..."

"Your legs—"

"Help me up!" Zhou Shuisheng practically shouted.

The nurse was stunned.

The doctor next to him walked over, looked at Zhou Shuisheng's eyes, and then looked at the people singing outside the glass wall.

The doctor paused for two seconds, then said, "Help him up."

Two nurses carefully helped Zhou Shuisheng sit up and lean him against the headboard.

Zhou Shuisheng's left leg—the newly reattached limb—was fixed to a brace and could not move.

But he used his right arm to support his body and slowly, with difficulty, turned around to face the glass wall.

He faced outwards to those who were singing for him.

Then he raised his right hand.

He brought his five fingers together, his fingertips trembling, and slowly raised them to his temples.

salute.

A military salute that couldn't be more perfect.

Even though he was only nineteen years old.

Even though he had just lost a leg and had it reattached.

Despite having multiple wounds on his body.

But his salute was straight and firm, like a flagpole nailed to a bed, never bending.

Inside the military hospital, the other wounded soldiers were all stunned when they saw this scene.

Then--

Li Dazhu struggled to sit up and saluted with his still-functioning left hand.

Chen Xiaogou—he was only fifteen years old and had never received formal training, so his salute was crooked and awkward—but he still tried his best to raise his right hand and salute.

Thirty-one wounded soldiers who returned in 1937, thirty-one soldiers covered in wounds who had just crawled back from the brink of death.

At that moment, everyone sat up and faced the people outside the glass wall.

salute.

silent.

But it speaks louder than a thousand words.

Outside the glass wall, the people saw it.

I saw those figures lying in hospital beds, yet struggling to sit up and salute.

I saw tears streaming down those young, heartbreaking faces.

I saw that even in those broken bodies, the spines remained straight.

The singing stopped.

The cheers stopped.

The whole world seemed to fall silent for three seconds.

Then--

An even louder roar erupted, like an explosion.

It wasn't a cheer.

It was crying and screaming.

It was the simultaneous, uncontrollable, scalding cries of tens of thousands of people.

"hero--!!!"

"You've worked so hard!!!"

"Long live the People's Republic of China!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

"Long live--!!!"

The sound waves crashed like a tsunami, battering the glass walls, the sky of 2025, and the land they had risked their lives for.

And in the hospital.

Zhou Shuisheng maintained his salute, tears streaming down his face.

But he grinned and smiled.

Facing the glass wall, and at the compatriots outside who were strangers yet weeping for him, he mustered all his strength and shouted out a single, hoarse sentence—

The words were spoken softly and were drowned out by the noise outside.

But people outside could understand it just by reading his lip movements.

他 说:

"Is this the new China?"

"very nice."