Several days later, in Huichang City.
On the streets of a residential area in the city.
An elderly man with one arm stood at his door, his frail body hunched over, his slightly cloudy eyes staring at the old couplets on the door, washed gray by wind and rain.
He stretched out his one arm and began to tear apart the tattered old couplet.
After tearing off the lower half of the couplet from the door, he picked up the bench that had been prepared beforehand from beside the threshold and placed it on the ground under the door.
After confirming that it was stable, he carefully stepped onto it.
Once he had a firm footing, he began to tear off the top half of the old couplet.
Of course, it was also broken and pale, and even the brush characters on it were no longer recognizable.
He tore it very carefully and for a long time, but unfortunately there was one piece at the very top that he just couldn't tear off no matter what he did.
In his past, as a veteran of the battlefield, he stood straight and had an extremely strong back.
Now that I'm older, I just can't straighten my back anymore.
"call--"
He let out a heavy breath, tilted his head back, stood on tiptoe, and stretched out his withered, twig-like hands, trying to tear off the last piece of the old couplet.
Even so, it still falls short.
The bench began to sway, looking as if it was about to topple over, and the old man also swayed precariously, as if he would fall at any moment.
"Grandpa, you should rest."
"I'll take care of it."
A boy of about ten years old peeked out from the wooden door. Watching the old man struggling to tear the couplets, he said with a look of urgency.
"Alas, I'm getting old and useless."
The old man shook his head, lowered his hand, and was helped down from the bench by the young man.
The boy smiled, swiftly stepped onto the bench, and with a simple reach, easily tore off the old couplet.
He nimbly jumped off the stool, and while dusting off the debris and fragments of the couplets, the boy casually chuckled:
"Grandpa, just call me when it comes to tearing down and pasting up couplets."
"I'm not the same naive kid I used to be."
The old man sat on the bench, nodding with satisfaction, but muttering to himself:
"Logically speaking, your father should have come."
“In the past, he was always the one who went to Scholar Jiang to write couplets. Every time he went, he would bring some eggs, otherwise Scholar Jiang would not write them. Even if he did write them, Scholar Jiang would still put on airs.”
"So what if you studied a few more years and can write a few characters? Your father and I are heroes who fought on the battlefield!"
“How am I any worse than him? Don’t you think that makes sense?” The old man spread his right hand, expressing his grievances to the boy.
The young man sat calmly on the bench next to the old man, his head bowed, and gave a faint smile.
"Yes, she's no worse than him."
The old man kept muttering, "Back then, when we fought, we risked our lives!"
“My general is always running at the forefront. He is a general, but he is still so brave. He eats and sleeps with us every day. Your father is the general’s personal guard and he learns from him.”
"I was in logistics, and I advised him to cherish his life, to be brave when necessary, and to..."
At this point, he suddenly laughed:
"I told you that, but your father wouldn't listen. Later on, I ended up like that too, which is why I lost a hand."
The boy nodded, but his expression turned serious:
"Yes, if a general is not brave, how can his men follow him?"
After saying that, he raised his head and looked into the distance, in the direction of the city gate.
"Grandpa, another battle is about to break out in Huichang."
"A lot of soldiers have arrived these past few days."
The old man, head bowed, used his one arm to brush away the fragments of couplets clinging to his body. Whether he heard him or not, he continued to mutter to himself:
"Although I lost an arm, your father died in battle, and the general died, we still won."
"This is really not easy."
The boy's expression was grave as he continued:
"Yes, Grandpa, the people who came to Huichang this time are the ones who killed the general back then."
"He came with his troops, but this time, the people who came to attack Huichang were... no longer the same enemy forces as before."
The old man seemed genuinely not to hear; he continued talking to himself.
"Your father shouldn't have died, and the general shouldn't have died either. There were clearly reinforcements, but they just stood there and didn't move. What were they waiting for?"
"What are they waiting for? Are they waiting for us all to die before they come?"
When the old man spoke of his sorrows, sadness and a hint of anger appeared in his eyes.
But he no longer had the chance to vent his anger, and he had long since lost his youthful strength.
After the final battle, he had aged decades prematurely.
Who would believe that this aged body is actually only in his fifties?
"Waaah!"
Suddenly, the alarm horn sounded, breaking the silence and echoing throughout the city.
The boy stood up and helped the elderly man, who was somewhat deaf and had some dementia, to his feet.
"The wind is picking up, let's go home, Grandpa."
The old man suddenly looked up, his eyes filled with panic, and he shouted:
"The sound of horns!"
"The sound of horns!"
"The enemy is attacking!"
"Quick! Quick! Get the knife I keep under my bed!"
The boy looked at the excited old man with a surprised expression, seemingly finding it hard to believe.
But soon, he shook his head and said:
"They're not enemy troops, Grandpa."
"These are reinforcements."
"What was bound to happen has finally happened."
He picked up a bench with one hand and put his arm around the old man who was still shouting incoherently with the other, and stepped through the door, while the horn continued to sound.
"Waaah!"
It was so sharp, so urgent, as if announcing an extremely serious military situation.
My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
