A courtyard house; Li Yunlong, a subordinate of the deputy director of Harbin Military Engineering I

Zhang Renfeng and Brigade Commander Chen entered the rear hospital one after the other.

Zhang Renfeng walked ahead, his steps very light, his gaze sweeping over the first bed.

The soldier lying there had bandages wrapped around his head, so his face was not visible except for half of his chin and lips.

Looking further back, some were sitting, some were lying down, and some were leaning against the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the severed half of their left hand with their right hand.

Upon seeing the commander enter, the wounded soldiers closest to the door were the first to react, struggling to get up and salute. The movement aggravated their wounds, causing them to grimace in pain.

Zhang Renfeng quickly raised his hand and pressed down, "Comrades, don't move. Whether you're lying down, standing, or sitting, make yourself at home. My political commissar and I are coming to check on you. Nobody is allowed to get up. That's an order."

The wounded soldiers then leaned back against him, but their gazes still followed him.

He stopped in front of the bed of a wounded soldier from the 15th Army.

The soldier's right trouser leg was open from the knee down.

"Comrade Huang Rujing, if I remember correctly, you're from Sanbao Township, Xuanwei County, Yunnan Province?"

The soldier, who had been staring blankly at his empty trouser leg, suddenly looked up when he heard his commander call his name, and his eyes immediately welled up with tears.

He grinned, revealing a row of white teeth, his voice carrying the distinctive intonation of the Yunnan dialect:

"Yes...yes! How do you recognize me, sir?"

"Of course I recognize you," Zhang Renfeng patted the back of his hand.

"During the year we suppressed bandits in Yunnan Province, you were in the Baoshan Military Sub-district, and later you were transferred to the 15th Army, to the engineering company, right? I even personally demonstrated the demolition operation to your company. You're a very capable young comrade, and you even received an award from the regiment."

Huang Rujing was shocked that the commander even knew he had received an award. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away with her uninjured hand. Her voice was trembling with sobs, but a smile still lingered on her face.

"Commander, I haven't disgraced the people of Yunnan Province!"

"What's so shameful about it? You're doing a great job."

Zhang Renfeng glanced at his empty trouser leg, his mind racing, but he showed no sign of it on his face.

"Go back and rest well. A hero like you will be given a job by the local government."

Huang Rujing nodded repeatedly, her eyes sparkling, and finally squeezed Zhang Renfeng's hand tightly: "Thank you, Chief."

Looking at his expression of both crying and laughing, Zhang Renfeng felt a tightness in his chest.

Children this age would be in school or being pampered by their parents in peacetime, but here, a leg can be lost in an instant.

He knew that young wounded soldiers like Huang Rujing, even with the best compensation policies, were mostly destined to remain bachelors for life after being sent back from the front lines.

But what could he say?

He could only try his best to provide the best treatment, ask the logistics department to prioritize the list of veterans receiving disability pensions, and ask the comrades of the Yunnan Provincial Military Region to take good care of these veterans who had returned to their hometowns.

"Take good care of yourself. You're a great guy, and you're all great guys."

Zhang Renfeng stood up and patted Huang Rujing on the shoulder.

They went to the bedside at another location.

The wounded man lying on this bed was unlike any he had ever seen before.

His entire face was burned so badly that it was almost unrecognizable. His skin was wrinkled and covered with a layer of dark brown scabs. The contours of his features were blurred by the high temperature, but his eyes were still bright.

When Zhang Renfeng and Brigade Commander Chen approached, he struggled to raise his few remaining fingers as a salute, then grinned.

His smile revealed a set of white teeth, creating a heartbreaking contrast with his unrecognizable face.

"Comrade Hu Anbang."

Zhang Renfeng crouched down, his gaze level with his, and said in a softer voice, "Well done. Liangshan is great because of you."

Hu Anbang's lips moved, his white teeth retracting, his expression obscured by the burning skin. His Adam's apple bobbed twice, and tears streamed down his charred skin, leaving two glistening streaks on the scabs. He gasped sharply, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping metal: "Flowery monk... Waaah... Monk..."

"Wei Dayong... he couldn't even find any fragments of the body... We went back and searched three times... all we found was a belt buckle... we didn't even find a single bone..."

Zhang Renfeng's hand paused in mid-air for a moment before falling down and gently patting the back of Hu Anbang's hand.

The familiar title, uttered from burned lips, was more devastating than a cannonball exploding overhead.

"Young comrade, take good care of yourself. We'll go back and build a new China in the future. Da Yong... was a good man. When he left, he shouted 'Fire!' into the microphone. He traded his life for an enemy ammunition depot. You live in his place, live a few more years, live out your life to the fullest, that will be the best tribute."

As he stood up, his palm lingered on Juanbang's hand for a couple of seconds before he turned and walked toward the next bed.

Brigade Commander Chen followed half a step behind him, never interrupting, just silently watching Zhang Renfeng walk past each wounded soldier, saying a few words to each one, remembering every name.

After passing two tents, a clear voice came from around the corner, carrying the unique spirit of youth:

"Commander!"

Zhang Renfeng looked in the direction of the sound and saw a familiar face.

Sun Bing sat on the edge of the bed, holding an enamel bowl in his right hand. His left arm—or rather, his left arm—was only half an upper arm, with the sleeve tied in a knot above the elbow. The bowl rested on his knee, and he was clumsily pressing down on the rim of the bowl with his remaining arm, shoveling rice into his mouth with his right hand.

Seeing Zhang Renfeng approaching, he put down his bowl and was about to stand up and salute.

"Sit down, sit down."

Zhang Renfeng strode over, grabbed his shoulder, and said, "You brat, you've become a one-armed swordsman, and you're still grinning. You're quite something, managing to take down a platoon to only four men, and still managing to roll a satchel charge towards the side of a tank."

Sun Bing grinned, a mix of smugness and embarrassment in his smile: "Reporting to the commander, that day we ran out of ammunition, so I gathered up all the remaining grenades on the position, tied them together, thinking I had to make them explode at least once. I ran with them, and that tank sprayed me with bullets. I rolled, thinking I was dead, but I managed to sneak up on it from the side. The only problem was that I was a little too close when it detonated, and my arm got blown off… It wasn't a bad deal!"

"No loss my foot!"

Zhang Renfeng slapped him on the back of the head, a few times harder than when he slapped Huang Rujing earlier, but his palm landed with an undisguised tenderness.

"I should have stuck you in the guard battalion when you told me you wanted to go to the company; at least I could have saved one of your arms."

Sun Bing chuckled but didn't reply, though the frankness in his eyes remained undiminished.

Looking at his empty left sleeve, Zhang Renfeng felt an overwhelming surge of sorrow in his heart.

He patted Sun Bing's head, his fingers running through his slightly tangled short hair: "When you get back to Handong, you'd better do a good job. Grassroots work is still work, you know?"

You must keep this First-Class Merit Medal that the Corps Political Department has given you. If you encounter any problems you can't solve in the future, write to me. You are a soldier I, Zhang Renfeng, trained; wherever you go, I will always be your support.

"it is good!"

Sun Bing answered readily, his "okay" carrying the fearless cheerfulness unique to young people, as if he had only lost a sleeve rather than half an arm.

Looking at his innocent smile, Zhang Renfeng finally couldn't hold back anymore.

He turned around and pretended to look at the medicine box in the corner of the tent, using this action to suppress the tears welling up in his eyes.

The soldiers of this era were so pure, so pure that you couldn't even describe it.

They received tens of thousands of yuan in subsidies a month, which wouldn't even buy a few pounds of pork in Beiping, but they worked their lives away from home.

An entire generation of people ate all the hardships that would have been borne by the next generation.