Old Ke still remembers what he looked like back then. His hands trembled as he gently took his swaddling daughter from her swaddling clothes. Looking at her wrinkled but incredibly cute little face, his eyes were filled with the joy and tenderness of becoming a father for the first time.
However, this brief joy was quickly and ruthlessly shattered by harsh reality.
Old Ke looked around. The smoke from the battlefield had not yet dissipated, and the pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air. The soldiers around him were either groaning from their wounds or busy running around.
They lack food, clothing, and medicine, and face enormous challenges to their own survival. How can they provide a stable environment for their children to grow up in?
Looking at his infant daughter crying for milk in her swaddling clothes, Old Ke felt as if a thousand needles were piercing his heart, filled with helplessness and pain.
After a painful struggle, in order for their child to survive, they had to make a difficult decision—to entrust their child to a reliable fellow villager for help in raising.
The man was a farmer from a nearby village, his simple and honest face etched with the marks of time. Looking at the weary yet determined couple, and then at the small child in their arms, his eyes instantly welled up with tears. He nodded heavily, solemnly promising to take good care of the child.
With trembling hands, as if holding the most precious treasure in the world, Mr. Ke's wife handed the child to the villager.
Tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks as she sobbed, pleading with the villagers again and again, "Please take good care of their children. If we ever come back alive, we will repay your immense kindness..."
Despite the excruciating grief in his heart, Old Ke stuffed his meager savings—a few crumpled banknotes soaked with sweat—into the fellow villager's hand and, in a hoarse voice, begged him to treat the child well.
They watched as their fellow villager, carrying his child, gradually disappeared into the distance, his figure blurring amidst the smoke-filled battlefield.
It felt as if a piece of their hearts had been ripped out, leaving them so empty that they could almost hear the wind howling.
From then on, every day and night, the child's image would appear in their minds; that small figure was like a brand, deeply engraved in their hearts.
Finally, the long war ended, and the dawn of peace shone upon the land once more. Overjoyed and filled with anticipation, Mr. Ke and his wife embarked on the long journey to find their daughter.
They returned to the village where they had entrusted their child, but the scene before them plunged them into despair. The once familiar village was unrecognizable; war had destroyed everything.
The houses collapsed, and the ruins stood in the wind, as if telling the story of the cruelty of war.
The villager's home had long since disappeared. When they inquired around, the villagers either shook their heads and sighed or looked blank. No one knew where the villager had taken the child.
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