X. Long skies harbor resentment

Guiyun clenched her fist, silently shedding tears. She grasped Zhanfeng's shoulder and asked, "What do you want to do? What are your intentions?"

Zhuo Yang could not sleep. He knew that General Cai had not slept for two days and two nights, yet still possessed such a bold spirit.

The driver smiled: "Indeed, you are quite familiar with this." They began to accelerate, merging onto the main road. "Do you know what your choice will lead to?" the driver asked Zhuo Yang. "One misstep and we could be blown to bits." "So, are you still going to do it?" "There are more than ten of them, and only the two of us. I know the way, you drive, and we will divert the enemy. It is only right and just."

He struck fiercely at the bomber. The driver gripped the steering wheel and began to curse: "Damn it, they treat us like fools." Indeed, the bomber was relentless, like a cat playing with a mouse, with no enemies in sight, thoroughly toying with this mouse.

The pain of separation, both in life and death, weighs heavily, suffocating one with its intensity. Yet, the son has finally returned, holding her tightly, enduring her reprimands. Zhan Feng stands in a daze, staring at his father's memorial tablet on the Eight Immortals table in the living room. There are two tablets; one is inscribed with the words "In Memory of the Late Du Lixing." He cannot read the characters and does not know who inscribed them on behalf of Qing Gu. He realizes he has done nothing for his father, not even had the chance to properly honor the memorial tablet. This farewell has split his heart in two. Overcome with shame and pain, he kneels down with a thud, bowing his head repeatedly. Gui Yun and Gui Feng, who have followed him, desperately pull him up. "I failed to take good care of your father, I failed to take good care of your father!" Gui Yun cries, tears streaming down her face as she collapses in grief with Gui Feng beside her. Zhan Feng stands upright for a moment, then kneels heavily again, bowing his head; this time, no one can lift him until his forehead is marked with lines from his persistent bowing. "I couldn't find the body of the class leader!" Gui Yun cries out. Qing Gu, awakening, pulls her son up with red eyes, her voice hoarse: "Zhan Feng, promise me before your father's memorial tablet that you will marry Gui Yun immediately after the seventh day of mourning for your father!" She points to her husband's memorial tablet and says, "You are the only male heir of the Du family; this is your responsibility!"

His mother was still extremely worried about him, often preparing snacks to send to the newspaper office. One day, while he was photographing the refugees sleeping on the streets of the concession, he suddenly saw his mother and several girl scouts setting up a relief station in the alley, distributing rice to those in need. "Your father has taken out all his savings," Mrs. Zhu said. Zhu Yang was left speechless, overwhelmed with emotions he did not know how to express. Mrs. Zhu looked at him hopefully: "Don't be angry with your father, go back and see him!" Yet he still did not return home, being both sulky and stubborn, and continued to come to the Luo shop. Zhu Yang sat up, returned to the temple, and packed his belongings, which consisted of just one item—his camera. He planned to take a few more photographs here; he was supposed to rush back to the city last night, but he stayed behind to prepare for the defense organized by General Lu, who was someone he had admired for a long time. It was only in the early hours of the morning that General Cai finally arrived, showing signs of blood on his clothes and the wear of the elements on his face, yet his eyes were bright and spirited.

The national situation is so tense, yet my father is solely preoccupied with his personal safety!" Zhuo Yang said to Editor-in-Chief Mo.

Its speed fluctuated, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, soaring high while spinning low, seemingly showing off. Recently, a bomb that fell exploded in the pond beside them, instantly flipping up a layer of fish. Zhuo Yang gritted his teeth, and the driver exclaimed, "Are we to be blown into dried fish?" He became serious; this driver, who joked so easily, was not ordinary. He skillfully handled the steering wheel and knew how to navigate and evade attacks with twists and turns. "Hearing the sound of cannons in the sky over Shanghai, I can only feel joy. I believe this is the joy of our national rejuvenation; our nation has the determination to resist the enemy to the end." The driver spoke, reciting a couplet, and indeed, the sound of cannons erupted behind the car. Zhuo Yang put away his camera; he could do that too.

In a world of political and business chaos, and warlords in conflict, the only thing one can maintain is clarity within oneself and one's family. Zhuo Hanshu often said this and acted accordingly. However, his son, whom he raised, constantly clamored to "benefit the world." Student movements, political and business alliances, anti-Japanese activities—none were overlooked, each time causing him great anxiety, wishing he could tether one of his legs at home. Zhuo Yang bowed deeply to the Buddha, the image solemn and imposing, and he felt as if he were being watched. He also hoped to be blessed, to receive the blessing of universally saving all beings.

Ren Yunge and Yan Haiwen, this time it is again Shen Chonghai! He clenched his fists. Without air defense, there is no national defense! The strength of the Chinese Air Force is too weak and too small. Yet it is heroic. Dying together with the enemy is their last method of defending this land. He recalled the desperate sprint of the morning, opened his palm, and carefully put away that name card. Those who have been on the ground know the kind of fear that spreads, the desperate situation filled with tears and snot. "Who will go with me to the South Station!" The door was forcefully slammed open, and blonde Mona rushed in. She was waving a newspaper, her ocean-like eyes filled with shock and fear.

Our weapons may not be as formidable as those of the enemy, but our morale and spirit far exceed theirs by countless times. We are not afraid of gas, nor of bacteria; we will use human lives to destroy the enemy. The driver laughed, saying, "Kid, you are indeed one of us." Zhuo Yang also laughed, replying, "This poem came from General Feng's residence; I specifically transcribed it to publish in the newspaper."

Gui Feng's heart sank, ultimately unable to grasp Zhan Feng. She covered her face, and tears fell through her fingers.

As everyone looked up, the sound of "rumbling" aircraft gradually filled the air. Zhuo Yang strained his eyes and vaguely spotted a fighter plane appearing in the distance, flying in from the northwest. It was the "Gray Bat" adorned with the sun flag. He reacted swiftly and said to Zhan Feng, "Bring out General Cai's body." Zhan Feng was still in a daze when the driver shouted, "Hurry!" Everyone understood and worked together to carry the general's corpse out. Zhuo Yang said to the leader of the medical team, "To the east are the farms, all evacuated. There are a few barns with hidden compartments dug underneath, we can take shelter there." Zhan Feng asked, "What about you?" Zhuo Yang jumped into the car, sitting next to the driver. "I know the terrain well; everyone should act separately." In a critical moment, there was no time for further deliberation. Zhan Feng carried the general's body, while others rode Zhuo Yang's bicycle. They raced against the bomber. The driver was a serious-looking middle-aged man who asked Zhuo Yang, "You know the terrain?" "I have studied the map," Zhuo Yang replied. "Good, then we will take a chance." "There is also a larger farm to the west, with many alleys, and it is backed by a small hill. Beyond that, we can cross the Suzhou River."

These words are even more terrifying. Gui Feng held back her tears, wanting to speak but stifling her words, her face flushed a deep red, unable to utter even half a sentence.

She had no time to spare, releasing his hand and joining the surrounding rescue personnel to dig through the ruins. Although people said it was futile, the diggers still exerted all their strength. Beneath it lay their loved ones! Yet, despite their repeated efforts, all they could see were fragments of clothing crushed under bricks and steel bars. A corner of a garment peeked out, both familiar and unfamiliar! Perhaps it was the jacket she had mended for Master Du that day, or perhaps it was not. But despite their repeated efforts, all they could see were fragments of clothing crushed under bricks and steel bars. A corner of a garment peeked out, both familiar and unfamiliar! Perhaps it was the jacket she had mended for Master Du that day, or perhaps it was not. The sight left onlookers in a daze, unable to distinguish the truth!

Zhan Feng held Gui Yun with his left hand and Gui Feng with his right, just like when they were children playing hopscotch, all together under the same roof, sharing the warmth of family. He divided his affection equally between them. He said to Gui Yun and Gui Feng: "As your older brother, I have always been a burden to you. Tomorrow, I must leave, and Mother still relies on you to take care of each other. Once the war is over, I will return." The warmth of his hand was also shared with them, and Gui Feng cherished it carefully. "You must be careful," she said, gazing at him, feeling an overwhelming reluctance to part with him, unable to hold him back. Zhan Feng's heart was filled with a fervent heat that grew bolder with the flames of war, rising up, unquenchable, ready to burn fiercely. He walked to the main hall, knelt before his father's tablet, and bowed deeply, again and again. This unquenchable resentment roamed within him, gnawing fiercely at his heart, only to be released in the midst of the raging flames of war. "We cannot keep him here," Gui Feng said to Gui Yun. Gui Yun remained silent, also feeling despondent. The surging emotions were like wild horses that had broken free from their reins, spreading across the Bund in Shanghai.

Mona said, "You look very tired." Zhuoyang fiddled with the camera; some parts had broken, and he was repairing it. He confirmed that it could still take pictures, feeling a sense of relief in his heart

Gui Feng wiped her tears and said, "Alright, whatever you choose to do, I will not stop you. Now that you have someone who understands you to help you through your difficulties, you can leave with peace of mind!" Gui Yun was puzzled and looked at Zhan Feng. Zhan Feng sighed and took Gui Feng's hand: "How could I not understand your feelings? You all rely on me, fulfilling your filial duties and alleviating my worries. I have always made you bear my burdens—" He released her hand and deeply bowed to Gui Yun and Gui Feng. Gui Yun and Gui Feng were startled, and Gui Feng could no longer cry; she could only say sorrowfully, "Why must you do this?" Zhan Feng sighed again, holding Gui Feng's hand: "How could I not understand your feelings? You all rely on me, fulfilling your filial duties and alleviating my worries. I have always made you bear my burdens—" He released her hand and deeply bowed to Gui Yun and Gui Feng. Gui Yun and Gui Feng were startled, and Gui Feng could no longer cry; she could only say sorrowfully, "Why must you do this?"

Qing Gu grasped her son's hand, refusing to let go: "Is that alright? You promise me!" She stomped her foot, "I have no other hopes left; my only hope is you—Zhan Feng!" Her gaze swept over everyone present, pressing down on each person. She had nowhere to release her emotions, this was her only demand, hysterical, struggling to voice it.

The wind howled fiercely. Qing Gu stretched her neck and glared at him. She insisted that he must agree. He could only call out "Mother," unsure of what else to say, as if sadness had overwhelmed him, leaving him too weak to argue further. However, Qing Gu seemed to lose her train of thought, her words becoming disjointed, and suddenly exclaimed: "If you do not want to marry Gui Yun, then marry Gui Feng instead"

The driver said, "This is a reconnaissance plane; it should not head towards the concession. I will drive the car into the farm, and we will jump out when the time is right, then we will see what fate has in store for us." "Alright." This was Zhuo Yang's first venture into danger, and his life was at stake. The time was so short that he had no moment to think. The driver slipped a piece of paper into his hand. "This is the kind of friend I can have." The car accelerated, and the door opened. The time was so short that he had no moment to think. The driver slipped a piece of paper into his hand. "This is the kind of friend I can have." The car accelerated, and the door opened. The driver aimed for an alley, and Zhuo Yang did the same; the driver pushed him out. Zhuo Yang used the momentum to roll on the ground, and when he looked again, the car had sped away, and the bomber followed. Zhuo Yang exerted himself to run; the surroundings were desolate. Suddenly, there was a loud bang ahead, and a fierce fire erupted, creating thick smoke. He was startled and wanted to see clearly, but hesitated to move forward. His palm was cut by a sharp piece of paper. It turned out to be a name card with the name "Chen Mo" on it. He looked ahead again, where the fog thickened, rising up and almost obscuring the sky. The bomber flew higher and headed north.

Zhan Feng, with a heavy heart, heard the low call of Gui Yun. Yet, he continued: "At Luo Dian, there is blood everywhere. I can only carry the stretcher, bringing those who are dead and those who are not from the front lines. What am I doing? In the end, I couldn't even save my father? What kind of man am I? What kind of son? I really want to -- I really want to --" He cried out in anguish. The once formidable Zhan Feng, holding his head, squatted on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. What kind of son? I really want to -- I really want to --" He cried out in anguish. The once formidable Zhan Feng, holding his head, squatted on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. He had never cried from childhood to adulthood, but this time, he wept.

The driver nodded, considering it a meeting of kindred spirits. "If today I were to accompany you to the underworld, it would indeed not be a loss." Zhuo Yang was momentarily perplexed, but ultimately smiled with clarity: "One must vow to die on the battlefield, and there is no need to dwell on the beauty of the past."

Zhuo Hanshu chuckled, saying, "I can still afford a free intern!" It is not that Editor Mo is stingy, but this serious newspaper is indeed facing operational difficulties, especially after declining several requests from well-connected corporate groups to invest. Newspapers on the Shanghai Bund often seek powerful backers. Those who are well-connected truly lack neither gold nor silver; they only need to lack virtue at the right time. Those who do not seek connections, apart from lacking virtue, genuinely lack everything else! Nevertheless, Editor Mo still pays Zhuo Yang's internship salary, which is two dollars a month. He appreciates Zhuo Yang's intelligence and talent. Being skilled in both art and photography, so young, yet possessing thoughts and grand ambitions, he is eager to assign him to better news stories. However, just after Zhuo Yang took on the task of covering a student protest, Zhuo Hanshu's phone call came again: "Old Mo, I only have one son!"

Mona said, "I heard that the rescue has already begun." Zhuo Yang abruptly put down the newspaper and said, "Let's go! I'm going." Editor Qin grabbed Zhuo Yang, saying, "You just got back; how can you have the strength?" Zhuo Yang had already started running out with Mona, leaving her no choice but to shake her head. She could hear the hurried footsteps of the two echoing in the empty corridor, "Thud thud thud," resonating with unease in the Shanghai evening. On this day, Zhuo Yang was so full of energy that he was unaware of it. People were pushed to their limits, compelled to act; everyone was forced to do so. She could only shake her head, listening to the hurried footsteps of the two echoing in the empty corridor, "Thud thud thud," resonating with unease in the Shanghai evening. On this day, Zhuo Yang was so full of energy that he was unaware of it. People were pushed to their limits, compelled to act; everyone was forced to do so.

The rumbling sound of cannon fire approached, signaling that danger was near. The defending soldiers rushed in solemnly. "Reporter Zhuo, the situation at Lujiacun is retreating; we must evacuate." Zhuo Yang's heart trembled as he asked, "Have we been defeated?" The soldier's expression was grave yet composed: "General Cai hopes that the reporters and medical personnel in the defense area will retreat to a safe zone first."

Gui Feng spent a long time preparing a meal, and when she brought out the pot and bowl, her eyes were bleary and swollen, barely able to open. The two exchanged silent glances. Gui Yun stepped forward to take the pot from Gui Feng's hands. "Miss Xie mentioned that Zhan Feng and the others have now been assigned to the emergency response team; she went to inquire about their whereabouts," Gui Feng said.

This battle is particularly arduous. If my parents were to know, they would undoubtedly be worried. Not long ago, my father made a statement to the newspaper: "If Zhuo Yang does not return home within ten days, I will publish a notice in the Morning News to sever our father-son relationship!" The reporters and editors at the newspaper exchanged glances, all commenting that this father manages his twenty-year-old son as if he were two years old.

How to vent sadness? Guiyun and Guifeng, with tears that seemed impossible to contain, could not even stop their own sorrow, nor could they console the two elders who were on the verge of collapse.

She knew what he wanted to do, but she could not reveal it, let alone encourage him. When she raised her eyes, she saw Gui Feng's resentful gaze, and she truly could not say anything. Gui Feng came and said, "What can we do? We must take good care of this family, we cannot let our elders be saddened again, we cannot let our elders suffer any more misfortunes. Haven't you always said that we should live together as a family?" As she spoke, tears fell, her tears flowed endlessly, and through her tearful eyes, she looked at Zhan Feng, "You must not go to such dangerous places anymore; fighting is the soldiers' business, you should not get involved. We— we can no longer endure this fear!" Zhan Feng made up his mind and said, "What can we do? We must take good care of this family, we cannot let our elders be saddened again, we cannot let our elders suffer any more misfortunes. Haven't you always said that we should live together as a family?" As she spoke, tears fell, her tears flowed endlessly, and through her tearful eyes, she looked at Zhan Feng, "You must not go to such dangerous places anymore; fighting is the soldiers' business, you should not get involved. We— we can no longer endure this fear!" Zhan Feng made up his mind, clenched his fists tightly, and focused on the ancestral hall, where his father's tablet stood solemnly. He stood up. Gui Feng pushed Gui Yun aside and said, "He has lost his mind, look, look!" Gui Yun lost her balance and fell to the ground. "Gui Feng—" Zhan Feng spoke to Gui Feng word by word, "My father was killed by the Japanese! This is a deep blood feud! Family hatred and national hatred!" His face bore an unusual calmness and determination, a resolve that could not be shaken after a wave of grief.

Guiyun set up a fire basin in the courtyard, with flames darting east and west, fiercely consuming the fragile silver paper. In the end, it turned to ash, scattered by the wind. Guiyun suddenly thought that she had never burned a piece of paper for her own father! Her father had a clear and bright face, always smiling, with gently curved brows and eyes. She had inherited this smiling face, which allowed her to always smile charmingly. This face had endured too much suffering and too many hardships, gradually aging. She had inherited this smiling face, which allowed her to always smile charmingly. This face had endured too much suffering and too many hardships, gradually aging. The smile faded, becoming sunken and stern, like the master of the troupe, who was her second father. In the fire basin, a double sorrow was being burned! With tear-filled eyes, she watched this face disappear into the flames. Tears flowed down again, rolling to her lips, scalding and salty, stinging her tear-dried face. The pain came from within. Tears flowed down again, rolling to her lips, scalding and salty, stinging her tear-dried face. The pain came from within.

Everyone feels that it is inappropriate, yet no one has the heart to say the word "no." Gui Feng gazes at Zhan Feng, looking once, then again. He stands there, not refusing. Her heart stirs strangely. The saddest moment for this family is, paradoxically, the moment closest to her longings. Amidst the sorrow and despair, a glimmer of light emerges; she looks at Zhan Feng, wanting to grasp this light. But the light is askew, revealing the memorial tablet of Du Ban Zhu. Gui Feng cannot help but feel a piercing pain; she awakens and steps forward to support Qing Gu: "Mother, please stop talking and go to sleep!" Amidst the sorrow and despair, a glimmer of light emerges; she looks at Zhan Feng, wanting to grasp this light. But the light is askew, revealing the memorial tablet of Du Ban Zhu. Gui Feng cannot help but feel a piercing pain; she awakens and steps forward to support Qing Gu: "Mother, please stop talking and go to sleep!"

Someone burst through the door, dirty in appearance, with a disheveled look, sweat-soaked, and a vacant gaze, frightening Gui Feng

Guiyun calmly explained to the paramedics: "His name is Lu Ming, originally from Zhabei." She was holding back tears. The paramedics nodded and recorded the information, preparing to assist Lu Ming. Suddenly, Lu Ming found the strength to open his eyes, staring blankly at the sky with no focus or hope. "Ah— they all— were trapped by the collapse of the waiting room, they couldn't escape— ah—" Guiyun stumbled back a step, and Zhuoyang supported her. Teacher He, a paramedic, rushed over, almost shouting: "The people buried under the waiting room, not a single one can be rescued, we can't move those bricks!" How many layers of hell are there? "Ah— they all— were trapped by the collapse of the waiting room, they couldn't escape— ah—" Guiyun stumbled back a step, and Zhuoyang supported her. Teacher He, a paramedic, rushed over, almost shouting: "The people buried under the waiting room, not a single one can be rescued, we can't move those bricks!" How many layers of hell are there? Guiyun fiercely pinched her arm, forcing herself to feel pain, because if she felt pain, she wouldn't collapse here. Too many people have fallen here; she cannot fall here! Zhuoyang tightened his grip on her hand, and she turned to look at him. It was him! How could it be him? She saw him witnessing her in such sorrow again.

In the darkness of the night, the flames in the brazier burned even more brightly. The twinkling stars in the sky were obscured by dark clouds, unable to emit any light; the brazier was the only source of illumination, casting two shadows. Zhuo Yang looked at the shadow of Gui Yun, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed. He longed to reach out and place his hand on her shoulder, to alleviate her loneliness. Yet, he merely moved his little finger slightly, then tightened his grip on the piece of paper in his hand, almost crumpling it. In the stillness of the night, only the faint sound of the flames hissing remained. The women upstairs, in utter despair, cried out once more, using the little voice and strength they had left to wail. Gui Yun continued to cover her face with her hands, tears streaming down; she did not know when Zhuo Yang had left. It seemed he had softly said, "Take care of yourself," and then departed. When she lifted her head, she did not even catch a glimpse of his silhouette.

Three people, each shedding tears in a sea of sorrow. Guiyun was the first to awaken, struggling to rise, determined to continue supporting her life. She first prepared a meal and sent the portion for Qinggu to her room. Qinggu asked anxiously, "Where did Zhanfeng go? He isn't going to the front line, is he?" Guiyun, unable to bear her sadness, shook her head, saying, "He went to the hospital to see Lu Ming." She fed Qinggu, who took a few bites but, still preoccupied with her thoughts, blurted out nonsensically, "Guiyun, don't blame Mother. Zhanfeng doesn't like you. I won't force him; whether he marries Guifeng or someone else, Mother will treat you as a daughter." Guiyun, hearing her repeat this sentiment, couldn't help but feel worried, so she comforted her, "Mother, you need to relax. I won't blame anyone, as long as you take good care of yourself!" Yet Qinggu remained anxious, her mind in disarray, leading her to act in the most absurd ways. That evening, she called Guifeng to Zhanfeng's room to deliver some clean clothes. Once Guifeng entered, she quickly locked the door tightly behind her. "Mother, what are you doing?" Zhanfeng, caught off guard, knocked on the door in a panic. Qinggu simply replied, "I don't trust you two; you must consummate your marriage tonight!" Guiyun, who rushed over upon hearing the commotion, was left dumbfounded. Qinggu glared at her, threatening fiercely, "This is the only way to secure Zhanfeng's heart; he won't be able to escape!"

How many hours did he sleep? One hour? Or two hours? Opening his eyes, he saw that he was in a simple and ancient Buddhist hall, where the Buddha statue smiled benevolently, overlooking all beings. Aside from that, everything was quite chaotic. Tattered mats were strewn everywhere, and the window frames were precariously open. A gentle breeze flowed in, and Zhuo Yang could see the dense underbrush outside the window. He remembered that this was the transit station in the defense zone of Luodian, and he had set out for this place yesterday morning. When he left, he told the editor-in-chief of the Morning News, Mo Hua, "If you don't go to the front lines, you won't have real works." He ran away quickly, while Mo Hua called out from behind, "You are supposed to take photos of the cotton tycoon Wang Qide today." He pretended not to hear; he wanted to go to Luodian. Out of frustration, he was determined to go. Zhuo Yang thought that his father had merely intended to train him in a roundabout way. He picked up the phone to call his former classmate, Editor Mo: "Old Mo, my son is interested in photography; do you have any tasks available?" Editor Mo laughed heartily: "I welcome you with open arms; my nephew can do whatever he likes, but I may not be able to offer a salary!"

The driver laughed heartily: "Good lad, this deal is well done." Zhuo Yang took out his camera and turned to say before shooting: "And it will definitely not be a loss." They were fully committed. Zhuo Yang adjusted the focus, aiming at the increasingly approaching bomber. He thought, just one plane, most likely for reconnaissance, but upon seeing an unidentified vehicle, it would still probe a bit. As long as they entered the farm and had some obstacles, they would find it easier to escape. He thought, just one plane, most likely for reconnaissance, but upon seeing an unidentified vehicle, it would still probe a bit. As long as they entered the farm and had some obstacles, they would find it easier to escape.

Zhuo Yang, however, believes that his father's adherence to tradition is not limited to calligraphy. This "Dushanzhai" merely means "to cultivate oneself in isolation"; the so-called cultivation in isolation is merely about benefiting his own family, Zhuo Han, and himself.

Both Teacher He and Mrs. He came up to help persuade, but in the end, they were also brought to tears. A room full of women only served to make the atmosphere more sorrowful

The face of Zhang Feng is weary and dazed, with a heavy sorrow, already numb. General Cai was still shouting 'Advance' at the end. Then came a sudden gust of wind, rustling the leaves in a flurry, wave after wave. It was solemn, a rising and falling, unceasing lament. Xiao Ding was bewildered; he limped over to the front of the vehicle and heavily threw the sugarcane onto the ground. His feet were firmly planted, chest held high. Due to the excessive force, a few drops of red seeped through the thick white gauze. Xiao Ding was bewildered; he limped over to the front of the vehicle and heavily threw the sugarcane onto the ground. His feet were firmly planted, chest held high. Due to the excessive force, a few drops of red seeped through the thick white gauze. But he did not care; he raised his right hand and saluted properly! He answered loudly, 'Yes!' Zhuo Yang nodded in acknowledgment. The general was covered with the flag of the Blue Sky and White Sun, but where is the blue sky? Where is the white sun? What seeps from that white sun is the blood of a Chinese general! The general was covered with the flag of the Blue Sky and White Sun, but where is the blue sky? Where is the white sun? What seeps from that white sun is the blood of a Chinese general! The sound of 'Wuwuwu' grew closer, urgent and pressing. The driver in the front seat of the car leaned out and said, 'Quick, find something to take cover behind.'

Not tired. The only thought in my heart is the South Station. The trees lining the sidewalk, one by one, swiftly disappear. Finally, it is near; the desolate ruins of broken walls loom ahead. The vehicle is blocked by the fallen brick walls, and the two ambulances are also stopped in the midst of the ruins, unable to advance any further. Members of the rescue team are desperately trying to save the injured while also attending to the deceased. They are racing against time to save lives and must also guard against potential airstrikes. The cries of mourning and groans fill the air! Those in the vehicle step out and are immediately thrust into a hell on earth, stunned on the spot. Looking through the gaps in the broken walls, what meets the eye are scattered corpses, lying on the ground, disheveled, and fragmented.

He left Zhuoyang with a single statement: "We have only two paths: either the enemy lives and I die; or I live and the enemy dies"

Editor Mo shook his head: "Although Lao Zhuo is rather pedantic, he does possess a sense of national righteousness!" He did not know, nor did he understand. Perhaps it was indeed the case. On the tenth day, the newspaper office received various photographs from Zhuo Yang depicting the active resistance against the enemy from both the front and the rear; however, ten days later, there was no receipt of Zhuo Hanshu's declaration to sever the father-son relationship. Zhuo Yang thought that perhaps his father had tacitly approved of his actions, and the slight fear he had in his heart eased a little.

Guiyun exclaimed: "Zhanfeng." Zhanfeng had already climbed and run all the way up the stairs. The room upstairs was stark white, and sitting on the floor was the limp Qing Gu. Zhanfeng stumbled and fell to the ground as well. Qing Gu raised her eyes, hazily looking at the person before her. She crawled over, her hands gripping Zhanfeng's collar tightly like chicken claws, burying her head and face into her son's embrace, weeping bitterly. "You are unfilial! You didn't come back to see your father off!" After saying this, she wiped her tears on her son's shirt, hitting and striking him, holding him tightly once more. Qing Gu raised her eyes, hazily looking at the person before her. She crawled over, her hands gripping Zhanfeng's collar tightly like chicken claws, burying her head and face into her son's embrace, weeping bitterly. "You are unfilial! You didn't come back to see your father off!" After saying this, she wiped her tears on her son's shirt, hitting and striking him, holding him tightly once more.

A white handkerchief was extended in front of her, and she took it. The one who handed her the handkerchief was Zhuo Yang, still in the same outfit, covered in dust, with the tips of his black leather shoes worn down and frayed, almost exposing his toes. Gui Yun covered her face with the handkerchief and sobbed, "Wuwu." Zhuo Yang took the paper offerings that Gui Yun had set aside and began to burn them one by one. Separated by a basin of fire, the two squatted silently, one buried in tears and the other focused on burning the paper.

Stepping out of the temple, I gazed up at the sky, which was vast and open, with a continuous sea of clouds. The terrain here may not be ideal, as there are two large farms and rice fields behind. The fields have been abandoned and are unsuitable for military fortifications. Fortunately, in front, there is an uncultivated area with uneven low shrubs, all densely covered with long weeds. Shanghai has no natural defenses to guard, and the Japanese army tends to attack in desolate plains. This place is no longer very safe; Zhuo Yang saw distant flames and smoke, which had not dissipated for several days. He could constantly smell the scent of gunpowder.

The neighbors looked on, sympathizing, shaking their heads and sighing, offering no more comforting words than "please accept my condolences"

The young soldier rushed over and asked Zhan Feng, "How is General Cai?" Zhan Feng's expression was grave as he lowered his head. Silently, he opened the back door of the car. Everyone's gaze shifted, and there lay a person in the back seat, covered with a flag. It was a straightened body, a face with closed eyes, generous in its stillness, a life that had already been sacrificed! The young soldier was stunned, staring at the flag and the person beneath it. There were bloodstains on the flag, mottled and as red as the glow of dawn. Everyone's gaze shifted again, and there lay a person in the back seat, covered with a flag. It was a straightened body, a face with closed eyes, generous in its stillness, a life that had already been sacrificed! The young soldier was stunned, staring at the flag and the person beneath it. There were bloodstains on the flag, mottled and as red as the glow of dawn.

Zhuo Yang had no words, yet his actions were composed; he was prepared. He knew he had to obey orders. The battle had begun again, and those evacuating were also rushing back at the risk of their lives. Zhuo Yang had a bicycle, but he stayed behind. The medical personnel, transport team members, and war correspondents numbered only about ten. The men protected the women, and the women cared for the wounded. A nurse was assisting a young soldier with his leg bandaged; the boy, with a freshly shaved head, was no more than fifteen or sixteen years old, leaning on a sugarcane as a crutch, limping along. He asked the nurse, "Brother Du should be back soon, right? I wonder how General Cai is doing!" The nurse replied, "General Cai is very strong; he must be making the enemy scream in terror." The young soldier turned his head towards the direction of the Lu family residence, feeling very unwilling: "I am too useless; I must heal quickly and join General Cai to fight at Baoshan." Zhuo Yang smiled, noticing the nurse's frail condition; he stepped forward to lend a hand, urging the young soldier to get on his bicycle. "Get on, let's go quickly." He was experienced; the distant rumbling sound was approaching. He thought that the position might collapse, his heart was in turmoil, yet his steps remained steady.

Qing Gu was supported by her, yet she turned to look at Zhan Feng. Zhan Feng kept his head down, remaining silent, which made her feel pitiful. She cautiously asked in a soft voice, "So, mother, have you agreed?" Zhan Feng still did not respond, and together with Gui Feng, he helped Qing Gu into the room. They all silently settled Qing Gu down to sleep without uttering a word. He could not bear to say a "no" to his mother's pleading. He could only look at Gui Feng, wanting to speak but hesitating. Sadness seemed to have paused; the east and west wing rooms and the living room of the Du family became eerily quiet. He could not bear to say a "no" to his mother's pleading. He could only look at Gui Feng, wanting to speak but hesitating. Sadness seemed to have paused; the east and west wing rooms and the living room of the Du family became eerily quiet. Zhan Feng avoided Gui Feng, and together with Gui Yun, they burned paper offerings on the terrace. These days, apart from the sounds of war, it was these paper offerings that kept burning incessantly. "Has mother already rested?" Gui Yun asked. Zhan Feng only lowered his head, letting the silver paper offerings merge into the flames. "We can only make a ceremonial grave for the master—" Before Gui Yun could finish, he saw Zhan Feng's hand holding the paper offerings frozen above the flames, the fire licking up. Gui Yun grabbed his wrist and pulled away the burning paper offerings. "Has mother already rested?" Gui Yun asked. Zhan Feng only lowered his head, letting the silver paper offerings merge into the flames. "We can only make a ceremonial grave for the master—" Before Gui Yun could finish, he saw Zhan Feng's hand holding the paper offerings frozen above the flames, the fire licking up. Gui Yun grabbed his wrist and pulled away the burning paper offerings. "Do you know how the soldiers on the battlefield fight? They use their bodies to block the enemy's gun barrels and blades, falling down, and the soldiers behind them fill in the gaps. " Zhan Feng still did not feel pain as he spoke to Gui Yun like this. "Do you know how the soldiers on the battlefield fight? They use their bodies to block the enemy's gun barrels and blades, falling down, and the soldiers behind them fill in the gaps. " Zhan Feng still did not feel pain as he spoke to Gui Yun like this.

People without heads, those who have lost their limbs, individuals with their entrails spilled on the ground. One lies over another, relying on each other in death, while there are others, isolated and alone, who never found support until their last breath. Mona was overwhelmed by the stench of blood permeating the air, bending over in a fit of violent retching. Zhuo Yang slightly opened and closed his mouth. He was lost, he was in deep pain, he felt helpless, and his heart was shattered. Too many emotions. He was lost, he was in deep pain, he felt helpless, and his heart was shattered. Too many emotions.

Zhuo Yang rushed over to grab a look; it was today's "Morning News." "Yesterday, the Japanese army bombed the southern train station of our city. At the time of the bombing, there were about three to four hundred elderly, weak, women, and children waiting for the train. Due to the blockade of the war, the casualties are unknown. Our city's medical rescue team will set out this morning to break through the fire line for rescue, but has been unable to approach the scene—"

Mr. He is the only man in this house, holding certain opinions. At this moment, he disregards everything else, resolutely taking charge. He picks up the brush to write the memorial tablet and instructs Guiyun to go outside to burn paper offerings, while asking Guifeng to prepare dinner in the kitchen, thus unraveling the collective sorrow that has coalesced into a lump.

Zhuo Yang woke up under the shining sun, feeling a sharp pain on one side of his face. He rubbed his eyes and propped his hand against his forehead

Zhuo Yang turned around, tightened his grip on the name card, and rushed in that direction. But he could not get close; he tightened his grip on the camera. He could not! What was he taking these photos for? Apart from capturing the moment's heroism, he could not retrieve anything else, nor could he determine the outcome! For days, he had been running amidst the chaos of war, taking many photos. He always wondered, could he save their soon-to-be lost lives? Could he ensure victory in this war? Zhuo Yang shut his eyes tightly. Everything was in vain. For days, he had been running amidst the chaos of war, taking many photos. He always wondered, could he save their soon-to-be lost lives? Could he ensure victory in this war? Zhuo Yang shut his eyes tightly. Everything was in vain. Unable to do anything, he had no choice but to flee southward. After countless difficulties, he returned to the newspaper office by evening, where Editor Qin was tending to a fire pit, burning paper. Editor Mo was not as rigid and conservative as Zhuo Hanshu, but after August 13, he set up a fire pit in the office and prepared large bundles of paper. He burned them every day, at all times. He said it was to send off the soldiers who had fallen on the front lines! In front of the fire pit, there were bamboo strips carved into tablets for offerings. "This time it was Shen Chonghai from the Second Air Force Squadron; he crashed into the 'Izumo' (a Japanese warship) over Hangzhou Bay," Editor Qin told Zhuo Yang. Zhuo Yang was already exhausted, and at that moment, his heart trembled again. Another aerial warrior who had crashed into the enemy's aircraft!

The young soldier was also aware, fell silent, jumped onto his vehicle, and the group hurried back. The wind was brisk, the sun was high, and everyone was drenched in sweat. A small team approached, driving a small car. The young soldier excitedly called out, "Brother Du." The vehicle abruptly stopped in front of them, and Zhuo Yang recognized a young man, Du Zhanfeng, who was beside Gui Yun.

The sorrow within the Shikumen is also doubling. Two recently widowed women embrace each other in tears, beating the walls and the ground, feeling utterly lost.

They still did not give up, searching among the survivors. Until they were forced into despair! Despair deepened into the night, and once again, the night would be sleepless. The Shikumen houses were packed with refugees, leaving no gaps whatsoever. Thick partition walls, thin partition boards, and the thinnest were merely curtains, with families closely huddled together. Sadness spread rapidly and widely. In the daylight, everyone knew that the male owner of the opera house had died at the South Station, and they could not even recover his body. Thick partition walls, thin partition boards, and the thinnest were merely curtains, with families closely huddled together. Sadness spread rapidly and widely. In the daylight, everyone knew that the male owner of the opera house had died at the South Station, and they could not even recover his body