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

"Countdown to the return of the People's Republic of China in 2026: 00:05:48"

Bian Yun's voice rang out through the full-channel communication system:

"All the Qilin tanks, form a circle, and place the soldiers of the 62nd Regiment in the very center."

"Roger that, wingman."

"Okay, team leader."

Fifteen steel behemoths moved slowly in the twilight, their tracks grinding against the scorched earth with a heavy groan.

They adjusted their positions to form a steel ring about fifty meters in diameter, with the cannons pointing outwards, like a city wall built with shields.

In the center of the circle are the only fifty-seven remaining soldiers of the 62nd Regiment.

They were sitting or lying down, or supporting each other, and their faces, hands, and exposed skin were covered with blisters and ulcers from the poison gas burns.

But they were all laughing.

That faint smile, tinged with weariness and satisfaction.

The angel carried Little Hubei, a soldier from Hubei who was not yet seventeen years old, to the open space in the center and gently placed Little Hubei on a spread-out moisture-proof mat.

The situation in Hubei is very bad.

His left ear was deafened by the gas explosion, and his right ear was also severely damaged. His face, neck, and arms were covered in blisters, some of which had ruptured and were oozing yellowish-green pus. His eyes were burned by the gas, and he could only perceive light vaguely.

But at this moment, he grinned, revealing a smile with two missing front teeth, which had been blown away by shrapnel.

"Commander... I heard... the sound of tanks..." he said hoarsely. "Lots of tanks... surrounding us..."

Han Bin staggered over and knelt beside Xiao Hubei. This tough man's legs went weak at this moment, and with his only still-functioning hand, he trembled as he stroked Xiao Hubei's festering cheek.

"Little Hubei..." Han Bin's voice choked, "Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt..." Little Hubei shook his head, the blister burst, and pus flowed out. "Commander...we won, right? The Japanese...they've all been burned..."

"We won." Han Bin nodded vigorously, tears streaming down Xiao Hubei's face. "They were all burned... not a single one was left..."

The remaining soldiers who were still able to move gathered around.

Little Jiangsu, the sixteen-year-old soldier from Jiangsu, whose eyes were temporarily blinded and thickly bandaged, groped and grasped Little Hubei's hand: "Brother Hubei, you still owe me a pack of cigarettes... You promised to give it to me after the war..."

"I'll burn it for you when we get down there..." Little Hubei said with a smile, but the smile aggravated the wound on his face, making him wince in pain.

Little Henan, whose left leg had been ripped off by shrapnel from a poison gas grenade and was already infected, limped over, leaning on a crutch made of a tree branch: "And my... my steamed buns... you said you'd treat me to white flour steamed buns..."

"Please...please..." Xiao Hubei's voice grew weaker and weaker.

Little Guangdong—also sixteen, a soldier from Guangdong, who could speak a few words of Cantonese and loved teaching everyone to sing Cantonese nursery rhymes—squatted on the other side of Little Hubei. His throat was burned by the poison gas, and his voice sounded like a broken gong.

"And also... you said... after the war... come back to Hubei with me to see the Yangtze River..."

Little Hubei laughed, tears streaming down his face: "The Yangtze River...it's so long...you can't see it...and I can't see it either..."

The angel stood aside, looking at these "seniors" who were much younger than her, and her eyes involuntarily welled up with tears.

But she was smiling too.

Because the angels knew that Bian Yun was about to "return".

And returning means...

She looked at Bian Yun.

Bian Yun had just gotten off command vehicle number 104 and was walking towards the center of the circle.

Bian Yun walked to Han Bin's side, squatted down, looked at Xiao Hubei, and looked at every soldier from the 62nd Regiment who had gathered around.

What does he want to say?

But Han Bin spoke first.

The regimental commander gently held Xiao Hubei in his arms, as if he were holding his own child—he raised his head and looked at Bian Yun with his almost half-closed eyes, and at the young soldiers around him who came from 2026 and were wearing strange uniforms.

His voice was calm, eerily calm:

"The people here have all been infected by the poison gas."

He paused, then looked around at his soldiers:

"Even if he doesn't die now, he'll be a cripple later on."

"Those who are blind, have rotten lungs, or have rotten skin... if they survive, they are just a burden."

He looked at Bian Yun, a faint smile tinged with blood and foam appearing on his face:

"Before I die, I can see you all, know about the future... know that China later became so strong... we are already very satisfied."

He took a deep breath—a difficult breath, accompanied by the grinding sound of his lungs:

"My fellow countrymen of future generations—"

"Let's get started."

Three words, spoken lightly, but striking the heart of every soldier in 2026.

"We have no regrets about dying at your hands."

Han Bin blinked, trying to make a relaxed expression:

"Besides, your weapons are so powerful... one shell and a person is gone... it doesn't hurt."

He looked at the soldiers around him:

"Brothers, isn't that right?"

A brief silence.

Then, Xiao Jiangsu was the first to respond.

The sixteen-year-old boy, who was blind, groped his way to his feet, facing the direction of Bian Yun's voice, and grinned, despite the blisters that had burst at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes! Go ahead and do it! We don't blame you!"

His voice still had a childlike quality, but his tone was firm:

"To be able to see my compatriots in the afterlife before I die... to see those iron lumps that can burn the Japanese devils to ashes... I'll have it all!"

Little Henan, leaning on his crutches, also limped over.

"That's right! Let's do it! We're already happy to see you before we die... to die alongside Little Hubei!"

His Henan accent was very strong, but he spoke every word clearly:

"It's better than... dying from the Japanese poison gas!"

Little Guangdong squatted on the ground, looking up at Bian Yun. His Cantonese-accented Mandarin wasn't perfect, but he tried his best to speak clearly:

"Yes... hurry up... we won't blame you..."

He paused, then switched to Mandarin:

"Our lungs... are already rotting... we can't breathe... dragging this on... is making it even worse..."

"You...give us a quick death..."

There was also an older veteran, about thirty years old, probably a platoon or company commander. Leaning against the Qilin tank, he said in a hoarse voice, "Brothers of later generations...send us on our way...let us...leave with dignity..."

They were all laughing.

Despite the festering wounds on their faces and the difficulty of breathing, they were smiling.

That kind of calm, fearless, prepared-to-face-for-final-fate smile.

The angel's tears finally fell. She turned away, unable to bear to look any longer.

As a military doctor, she had seen death, but never anything like this—actively seeking death and even smiling and saying thank you.

Bian Yun looked at Han Bin, at Xiao Hubei, at Xiao Jiangsu, Xiao Henan, Xiao Guangdong, and at every soldier of the 62nd Regiment.

In the twilight, in the center of the steel ring, amidst the festering sores caused by poison gas, these people's faces radiated a strange light.

It is a light that...knows why one dies and dies a worthy death.

His throat tightened.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.

Han Bin thought he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he spoke again, his tone even carrying a hint of comfort:

"Brother Bian Yun...don't hesitate..."

"We know you're a good person... but this is war..."

"We soldiers... have been preparing for this day for a long time..."

He lowered his head, looked at the little Hubei in his arms, and whispered:

"Little Hubei, are you scared?"

Little Hubei shook his head, grinning, "I'm not afraid... I'm with the regimental commander... I'm not afraid to go anywhere..."

"Good boy." Han Bin patted his head, then looked up at Bian Yun, urging him one last time:

"Let's get started."

"Use your cannons... or that flying rocket..."

"Hurry up...don't keep us waiting too long..."

Bian Yun took a deep breath, shouted, and interrupted Han Bin:

"Wait a moment--!!!"

The sound exploded in the twilight.

"Commander Han," Bian Yun's voice trembled, but he tried to control it, "Who said you were going to die?"

"Who said we were going to make a move?"

Bian Yun looked at every soldier of the 62nd Regiment, and then he roared again, each word seeming to explode from the depths of his chest:

"What I want to do is—take you back to the new China of 2026!!!"

A deathly silence.

The wind blows across the scorched earth, stirring up ashes.

Inside the steel ring, fifty-seven pairs of eyes, all of which were still open, were wide open.

Han Bin's mouth opened slightly, his lips trembling: "Back...back..."

"Back to the new China!" Bian Yun repeated, his voice still loud, but already choked with emotion.

"I'm taking you home!"

"It's not a home in the underworld!"

"It's about going home in 2026!"

"Return to the new China you risked your lives to protect!!!"

Time seemed to stand still.

Xiao Hubei was the first to react. In a hoarse voice, he cautiously asked, "Brother Bian...you...you're serious?"

"Really!" Bian Yun nodded vigorously.

Little Jiangsu groped for the hand of the person next to him: "What...what did he say? Where...are he taking us?"

Little Henan translated for him: "Brother Bian said... he'll take us back to the new China... the new China in 2026... that incomparably powerful new China..."

Little Jiangsu was stunned, then tears welled up from the gaps in the bandages: "Back to the new China... can it really... really be cured? My eyes... can see again?"

"Yes!" Bian Yun squatted down in front of him. "Not only will you be able to see, but you'll also be able to see a better world than before."

Little Guangdong opened his mouth, as if trying to say something, but no sound came out. He just nodded vigorously, tears mingling with the pus and blood on his face.

Han Bin was still holding Xiao Hubei, but his hands were trembling violently.

He looked at Bian Yun and suddenly burst into tears.

She cried like a child, completely losing her composure.

"They can live...they can live..." he cried and laughed at the same time, "My soldiers...they can all live..."

…………

Time-space Medical Rescue - Special Record

"This time, I'm not bringing back wounded soldiers, but living monuments—so that those heroes who should have died in agony in 1937 can see the world they gave their lives for; so that those soldiers who were prepared to sacrifice themselves can receive the treatment and dignity they deserve. Han Bin's tears are not the end, but the beginning—from today onward, we will bring home everyone who has shed blood for this land, heal their wounds, and let them see: this prosperous age has finally come as you wished."

—Bian Yun, Medical Rescue Summary Report