The Rise of a Special Forces Soldier Abandoned by a Wealthy Family

The girl had a pair of extremely large, dark eyes—eyes that should have been bright and clear, but were now filled with terror and despair. She had a delicate nose and pale, chapped lips, clearly a beauty in the making. But long-term malnutrition had left her cheeks sunken and her hair dry and yellow like autumn grass.

She gripped her father's rough, large hands tightly; his hands were cold and trembling slightly.

"Father..." Her voice was barely audible, trembling with sobs, "Father, don't sleep... look at me..."

A woman stood beside her.

The middle-aged man's wife, Little Pomegranate's mother, is known in the village as "Pomegranate Mom".

She was only in her early forties, but her back was already hunched over, like a tree bent by the weight of life. Her face was sallow, her eyes were sunken, and crow's feet were piling up at the corners of her eyes. Her hands were as rough as tree bark, her knuckles were large and deformed, and dirt that could not be washed off was stuck under her fingernails.

She kept wiping away her tears with her left hand, but the more she wiped, the more tears she shed.

She gripped her husband's other hand tightly with her right hand, until her knuckles turned white.

"Honey..." Her voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against wood, "Just listen to me, let's go to the hospital... Let's go to the county hospital, okay? Even if it's just to get a checkup and some medicine..."

She bent down, her face almost touching her husband's: "You can't leave... If you leave, how will Xiaoshiliu and I live? Xiaoshiliu is only fourteen years old, she still has to go to school, what will she do in the future..."

"Cough cough—!"

The middle-aged man suddenly started coughing violently, his whole body arching up like a boiled shrimp.

Dark red blood gushed from his mouth, splattering onto the blackened mattress and spreading into hideous patterns.

Little Pomegranate was so frightened that she let go of his hand, then quickly grabbed it back, tears streaming down her face.

Pomegranate's mother hurriedly used her sleeve to wipe the blood from his mouth, instantly staining her sleeve red.

The cough lasted for about ten seconds before finally subsiding.

The middle-aged man slumped back onto the kang (a heated brick bed), his chest heaving violently, his eyes becoming even more unfocused.

He struggled to turn his eyes to look at his wife, his lips moving, his voice weak but clear:

"Honey...look...what else do we have left?"

His gaze slowly swept over the bare walls of the house—a few tattered sacks were piled in the corner, their only food rations; a chipped enamel mug; the earthen stove was cold, and the pot contained only half a pot of thin, watery porridge.

"What will we take to the hospital?...What will we use to treat it?"

He had to catch his breath after every few words, and blood kept trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"Over the years... in search of Xiaozhuzi... everything that could be sold has been sold..."

Xiao Zhuzi, their eldest son. More than ten years ago, Xiao Zhuzi went to herd sheep on the hillside and never returned. The villagers said he had been abducted by human traffickers. The middle-aged man and his wife carried dry rations and traveled to three nearby counties, posting missing person notices and asking everyone they met.

When all the money ran out, they sold grain, the family's only pig, and eventually even a pair of silver bracelets from his wife's dowry.

I searched for three years, but there was still no news.

That's when Shiliu's mother's back started to bend.

That's when the middle-aged man's eyes started to become cloudy.

"We two...work so hard...and we've managed to raise Little Pomegranate...and send her to finish elementary school...that's already pretty good..."

A tear finally slid down his cheek.

Turbid, scalding hot, it meandered down along the deep wrinkles.

"Leave some money... for you and your daughter... I won't go to the hospital..."

Suddenly, a terrifying light burst forth in his eyes—the final, burning hatred of a dying man.

"I just hate... I hate it so much!!"

He roared, his voice broken yet frantic:

"Those heartless human traffickers... kidnapped my little pillar!! And now... now there are heartless bullies... trying to bully little pomegranate!! Trying to rape her!! Trying to force her to go to the city to do... to do that kind of deal!!"

He tried to raise his fist, but his arm only lifted slightly before falling limply.

"These wicked beasts... I will haunt them even as a ghost!!!"

This morning, a few outsiders came to the village in an SUV, saying they wanted to develop tourism in the area. The one leading them was a bald man in his thirties with a thick gold chain around his neck.

They wandered around the village and saw a small pomegranate washing clothes by the river.

The bald man's eyes widened immediately.

They were about to pull the little pomegranate onto the truck when the middle-aged man happened to see it, grabbed his hoe, and rushed over.

He injured the bald man's leg, but was beaten to the point of near death by the other two men with steel pipes.

Before being lifted into the car, the bald man declared, "I won't let you go. Either hand over your daughter, or I'll burn down your dilapidated house and sell your wife to some remote mountain village!"

Shi Dazhu was panting, his breathing becoming increasingly rapid.

He turned his head and looked at his daughter, his eyes suddenly becoming incredibly tender—a tenderness that concealed a heart-wrenching pain.

"Mother of my child..." His voice suddenly weakened, like a candle flickering in the wind, "You...you take Little Pomegranate and leave now...go as far away as possible...don't worry about me..."

"I broke that beast's leg... They'll definitely come back for revenge... I can't bear to leave you and your daughter... You should go... Go..."

"Let me be alone... in peace and quiet..."

He gritted his teeth, mustered his last bit of strength, and slammed his fist into the earthen wall!

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

His fist slammed against the wall, sending dirt and sand raining down. His hand instantly split open, blood mingling with the dirt, leaving dark red marks on the wall.

The sound was dull and desperate, like a death knell tolling on people's hearts.

"Let's go—!!!!!"

He roared with the last of his strength, but his voice abruptly stopped.

His arm hung limply at his sides.

His eyes were still open, gazing at his wife and daughter, when finally a tear rolled down his cheek and disappeared into the graying hair at his temples.

Breathing stopped.

Pomegranate Mom was stunned for two seconds.

Then, she let out a mournful wail that sounded inhuman, and threw herself onto her husband:

"Honey, wake up! Look at me! Look at our little pomegranate!"

Little Pomegranate knelt there blankly, watching her father's chest no longer heaving and her mother's broken cries.

She didn't cry out loud.

She simply opened her mouth wide, tears silently streaming down her face, and her body began to tremble violently.

She raised her hand and slowly, very slowly reached towards her father's face, wanting to close his eyes for him.

My fingers stopped just before touching my eyelids.

She looked at the frozen expression on her father's face—it was resentment, anger, endless worry, and bottomless despair.

A breeze picked up outside the window.

The withered branches of the old locust tree swayed in the wind, making a "whooshing" sound, as if heaven and earth were weeping.

Meanwhile, in the county town more than 100 kilometers away, in the reception room of the Public Security Bureau, sat two men who seemed completely out of place in this impoverished mountain village.