Soon, the taxi stopped at the gate of the Martyrs Cemetery.

The driver left without asking for money.

It was winter now, the sky was grey and gloomy, with the howling north wind making the Martyrs' Cemetery right in front of us look even more desolate.

Despite the cold weather, people still come to pay tribute to these heroes every year.

There was a specialized flower shop not far from the door. Chen Ping brought Han Xiaoyu and Su Qin to the flower shop and bought many small branches of chrysanthemums.

As you step into the Martyrs' Cemetery, a solemn and dignified atmosphere washes over you like a tide.

The pines and cypresses in the garden are arranged neatly, like rows of loyal guards. Their branches and leaves rustle in the wind, as if whispering about their heroic deeds in the past.

Gray tombstones stand in rows, each carrying the story of a hero. On the cold faces are engraved the martyr's name, hometown and the year of his sacrifice. Behind the brief words is a magnificent life full of passion.

Chen Ping, Han Xiaoyu and Su Qin walked slowly forward, their footsteps heavy and slow, as if every step was stepping on the strings of history, emitting a painful hum.

In the distance, the Martyrs' Monument stands tall, like a sharp sword piercing the sky. On the monument, the scene of soldiers charging into the battlefield and bravely killing the enemy is clearly shown.

Those lifelike images, some shouting, some struggling, freeze the fearless moment and tell of the immortal spirit.

The cold wind blew, bringing with it a hint of sadness, gently ruffling the corners of our clothes.

Han Xiaoyu's eyes were already red with tears welling up in them, while Su Qin bit her lips tightly, trying not to let her emotions get out of control.

Chen Ping had a solemn expression on his face. His eyes swept across the tombstones, as if he saw the scenes of him and his comrades fighting side by side. Those vivid faces were now buried there.

Chen Ping, Han Xiaoyu and Su Qin stood silently on the path in the cemetery. It was so quiet that they could only hear their soft breathing.

Chen Ping's eyes were full of solemnity and concern. He gently patted Han Xiaoyu's shoulder and whispered, "Xiaoyu, it's just ahead."

Han Xiaoyu's body was trembling slightly, her eyes were fixed on the cold tombstone not far away, and her lips were slightly pale.

Her steps were as heavy as if they were filled with lead, and every step she took seemed to exhaust all the energy in her body.

When she finally stood in front of her brother Han Chong's tombstone, tears instantly blurred her vision.

The name on the tombstone became distorted yet clear in her eyes, and scenes of her past interactions with her brother flooded into her mind like a tide.

She stretched out her hand tremblingly, wanting to touch the cold tombstone, but stopped just before touching it, as if she was afraid of disturbing her sleeping brother.

"Brother... I'm here to see you." Han Xiaoyu's voice was choked with sobs, carrying endless longing and sorrow, echoing in this silent martyrs' cemetery.

The wind blew gently, blowing up the hair in front of her forehead, but it could not blow away the deep sorrow in her heart.

Han Xiaoyu could no longer control her grief. Thinking of her brother's voice, appearance and smile, her tears burst out.

Han Xiaoyu knelt straight in front of Han Chong's tombstone and cried out in grief.

"Brother, I'm here to see you."

"Brother, can you hear me?"

"Brother, I miss you so much. I miss you so much."

"Brother, don't worry, I'm fine."

"I will definitely do what I promised you."

Han Xiaoyu called Han Chong in a general way, her voice a little hoarse.

When Su Qin saw this scene, she burst into tears.

She did not dissuade Han Xiaoyu, she understood Han Xiaoyu's feelings.

What she was doing now was to quietly stay by Han Xiaoyu's side, allowing her to vent out the grief that had accumulated for a long time at once.

Chen Ping squatted in front of the tombstone, opened a glass of wine and lit one or three cigarettes.

놛 took the wine and toasted three times in front of the tombstone.

Three incense sticks were placed neatly in front of the tombstone.

Chen Ping stroked the photo of Han Chong on the tombstone, his eyes moistened: "Brother, I brought Xiaoyu to see you."

"Don't worry, Xiaoyu is fine. I promised to take good care of her, and I will definitely take good care of her."

"Brother, be at ease!"

Chen Ping's voice was choked with sobs. No one knew how much pain he was in.

After paying respects to Han Chong.

Chen Ping's figure appears lonely and resolute among the rows of tombstones.

놛's footsteps are heavy, and every step seems to carry the echo of time and endless longing.

In addition to Han Chong, there are 176 other brothers here. They were all teammates of Longyan who fought side by side with Chen Ping, and all died heroically in the battle of Sindhu.

They came to the tombstones of their brothers one by one, squatted slowly, and gently placed the wine and cigarettes in front of the tombstones.

놛's eyes were filled with complex emotions, including the passion of fighting side by side in the memories, the nostalgia for the passionate years in the past, and more of the deep sorrow and frustration. "Brothers, I'm here to see you." Chen Ping's voice was hoarse and low, as if it was squeezed out from the deepest part of his heart with difficulty.

He opened the bottle cap and slowly poured the wine on the ground in front of the monument. The wine seeped into the soil, as if telling of the unspoken thoughts and concerns.

The incense was lit, and the smoke rolled up and spread in this quiet martyrs' cemetery, as if the figures of the brothers in the past were looming.

Chen Ping's thoughts drifted back to the tragic battlefield of Sindhu, the hail of bullets, the air filled with smoke, the shouts and charges of his brothers seemed to still echo in his ears, but now only this cold tombstone is left.

I sat there quietly, letting the memories flood over me like a tide. In this place full of loyal souls, I had an exchange with my brothers that transcended life and death.

After Han Xiaoyu and Su Qin paid tribute to Han Chong, Xiaoyu cried and her depressed mood improved a lot.

Holding chrysanthemums in their hands, they followed Chen Ping and bowed three times in front of each tombstone to pay tribute to these martyrs whom they had never met.

The worship lasted until noon, Chen Ping, Su Qin and Han Xiaoyu laid flowers and paid tribute to the martyrs who died in Long Yan one by one.

At the same time, they also laid flowers for their comrades who died in the Martyrs' Cemetery.

When the sky gradually darkened, Chen Ping, Han Xiaoyu and Su Qin left and returned to the hotel.

This time, everyone feels very heavy.

After dinner, Chen Ping and the others decided to rest here for one night and return to Nanhai tomorrow.

After a night's rest, Chen Ping, Su Qin and Han Xiaoyu set out on the journey back to Nanhai.

The journey was long and we only returned to the South China Sea in the evening.

Three times a day.

The Chinese New Year is getting closer.

Su Qin has to work until the last two days before the Chinese New Year.

Chen Ping and Han Xiaoyu were fine. Chen Ping would often take Su Qin out to play while Su Qin was at work.

To make up for not spending enough time with Han Xiaoyu recently.

Chen Ping also enjoys this comfortable life, and now his relationship with Su Qin is better than that of husband and wife.

The two of them became very close, and Han Xiaoyu became more sensible and no longer cared about the relationship between Chen Ping and Su Qin.

A family of three, happy and harmonious!