Chapter 190 Little Prince
Lin Lixiong, sitting at his desk, lowered his head, wiped the corners of his eyes, and let out a breath.
Even though he was in his eighties, his back was still straight and unbent.
He spread the coarse cloth in his hand flat on the table, and his hand with dark calluses on the knuckles fell on the word "Chuan" embroidered with black thread on the coarse cloth, rubbing it gently.
The heavy gaze fell on the word "Chuan" as if it fell on the cruel and desolate battlefield that would never be forgotten.
The mountains and rivers have changed dramatically, and the righteous path has undergone vicissitudes.
He looked out the window. The warm wind blew through the leaves, causing a faint rustling sound. His vague and long-lost memories gradually became clearer.
That day, on their way to evacuation, they met another team of logistics soldiers. They all carried large bags on their backs, and he could not remember how many people there were.
They spoke a dialect he couldn't understand.
"Be a fool, I'm going home soon."
"Go home to a warm home with my wife and children."
"I don't know if my mother is still at home."
Someone else replied: "It's good to go home, it's good to go home..."
"We three brothers came out together, and I'm the only one going home. Please tell me what to do..."
"Brother, my father and I came out together. He blocked a knife for me, and I don't even remember where he died. My mother asked me what to do."
From the passionate and loud conversation, the team gradually became silent.
The group of logistics soldiers sat on the ground, wiping their tears and crying.
“Dad…”
"Mom..."
Some people wanted to reach out and wipe their tears, but they found that they had no arms. They could only shrug their shoulders and let their faces be covered with snot and tears.
At that time, he was squatting facing the group of Red Army soldiers, watching a tall uncle bend down and put the little boy down from his back. He heard him say to the boy, "Guard, go play with that little kid."
The tall uncle pointed in his direction, and then he saw the little boy walking towards him. He looked to the side and saw the tall uncle taking a handkerchief from the cloth bag to wipe the tears of the armless Red Army soldier.
Then the uncle slowly stood up again, with tears in his eyes as he said, "You bastards, you must have eaten your fill, right? You're still a coward after the battle, stand up to me."
"Those who have someone waiting for them at home will be happy, while those who have no one waiting for them will go home and talk about their wives."
"After more than ten years of fighting, I can say that I have saved my life. I will live well for my fallen comrades."
"Isn't it, what a bastard?" The last voice was loud and high-pitched.
The Red Army soldiers sitting on the ground wiped their tears and cried, "Okay."
"Yes."
"Go back and tell your wife..."
He listened to them talking with a smile on his face. The little boy came over and took his hand. He was very thin and half a head taller than him.
Of course, I was also very thin. It was a blessing for the little kid to survive on the battlefield. There was not enough food, and most of them were malnourished.
He and the little boy looked at each other, their eyes searching each other, and he saw him move his lips as if about to speak.
Bang--
Bang--
Bang--
The successive gunshots made people's eardrums roar briefly, and the scene was in chaos.
He saw the uncle who had just said he was going home to talk about his wife collapse to the ground with his eyes wide open in disbelief, and red began to spread endlessly.
The little boy holding his hand pulled him away in an instant and he fell to the ground, his skinny little arms protecting his shoulders.
Shouts and messy footsteps were heard everywhere. He was too young at that time and his eyes were staring blankly at the blood-red battlefield in front of him.
He saw the tall uncle hunched over, rushing towards them through the hail of bullets. When he was almost in front of them, he was shot in the leg. He didn't care, gritted his teeth and climbed up, and in just a few breaths he reached them.
The uncle was very strong. He held the man and the little boy under his armpits, one in each, and limped forward with his bullet-infected leg.
He cursed the damn Japanese devils.
His head was tucked back under his armpits and was bouncing back and forth. He saw the blood on his uncle's leg trailing in the direction they were running. All he could see was a long red trail of blood.
After running for an unknown distance, the uncle put him and the little boy down together. The uncle hung the cloth bag around the little boy's neck. The uncle held the little boy's face. There was blood in the corners of his eyes, but his eyes were extremely clear.
He said, "Guwa, hide here, and don't come out no matter what happens."
He saw the little boy nod seriously, and then his rough palms pressed on his and the little boy's shoulders respectively.
The uncle looked at him and grinned: "This little kid is scared silly." Then he turned to the little boy and said: "You are the older brother, you must protect this younger brother, understand?"
The little boy nodded heavily, and the uncle pressed their shoulders hard and pushed them into the grass cave, picking up grass and dry branches to cover the entrance.
The uncle knelt at the entrance of the cave, his voice hoarse and drawn out: "Idiot...wait for the old man to come back." Then there was the sound of footsteps gradually fading away.
At that time he did not understand his uncle's intermittent words, but later he often thought back on them and realized that they contained a glimmer of hope while expressing his farewell to death.
He and the little boy squatted in the haystack. The faint shouting and fighting sounds gradually subsided. In the dark grass cave, the little brother hugged him tightly. Not long after, there was another sound of searching footsteps lingering outside the grass cave.
The little prince's arms around him began to tighten, and the voice outside was the familiar accent of the invaders.
Unprepared, a bullet shot into the grass cave. He felt the little prince's body tense and tremble. He felt something sticky on his head. Looking up, he saw that the blood from the corner of the little prince's mouth wet his hair.
The next second, the sharp silver Japanese knife pierced into the little brother's calf. A ray of light came through the grass hole. The Japanese soldiers outside laughed continuously. He saw the sharp knife in the little brother's leg stirring in circles. The dazzling red filled his eyes, and the sticky stuff on his head became more and more.
He looked up and opened his mouth to scream in fear, but the little prince spurted out even more sticky blood-red liquid on his face. The little prince covered his mouth and shook his head gently at him, his eyes clear and firm, fearless, not afraid.
With trembling hands, he opened the cloth bag his uncle had left him, took out a handkerchief, covered his eyes with trembling fingers, and pushed his body towards the innermost part of the grass cave.
With the last glimmer of his vision blindfolded, he saw the little prince spit out another mouthful of blood, which splashed on his face, body, and legs...
With his eyes blindfolded, he only had hearing left, but he didn't hear any sound from the little prince who was pressing close behind him, only the bloodthirsty and deadly sounds of invasion outside the grass cave.
Then there was another bang of gunfire, and he heard the sound of gravity falling to the ground.
After a while, the grass cave was dug open, and a familiar Red Army soldier was speaking.
"Hurry up, there are two little kids here."
"Hurry, this kid is injured. He was shot in the back."
"My leg was stabbed with a knife. It's terrible. The bones were cut."
"Slow down, be careful with your wound."
Then the cloth covering his eyes was opened, and he saw the little prince lying on a simple stretcher. He could no longer see his face, but only saw that the pupils of his bright eyes began to become unfocused and dilated.
He seemed to see the little brother curl his lips towards him, as if saying to his uncle, "Dad, look, I protected that little brother."
The cloth strip was stuffed into his pocket, and the reinforcements who came recognized him: "Isn't this the division commander's son, Axiong? Take him over quickly."
As he was being taken away, he heard the Red Army soldiers carrying the little boy say, "Whether this little boy lives or dies depends on fate."
He was taken by the Red Army to evacuate his father's local army, while the little brother was sent to the nearest treatment center for treatment.
At this point, he lost contact forever with the little prince who had only met him once and for the last time, without saying a word to him but who risked his life to protect him.
There is no trace of him anywhere in the world.
Two days later, he reunited with his father and begged him to go back to the grassland. He held on to the hope that perhaps the uncle was still alive.
My father led a team of Red Army soldiers back along the original route. Unfortunately, all the logistics soldiers he and my uncle's logistics unit were killed. When they found my uncle's body, his clear and tough eyes were still wide open, with five or six H Army sabers stuck in his stomach, and his legs and feet were chopped beyond recognition.
The father knelt in front of him and said: "Thank you, brother, for saving my child."
My father placed his palm on my uncle's eyes and gently moved them down. When he moved his palm away, my uncle's eyes closed.
My uncle's body was collected by my father and buried nearby. Later, it was moved to the current Kyoto Martyrs Cemetery for burial.
Every year on August 1st, the whole family would go to the Martyrs' Cemetery to sweep the tombs. The words "Unknown Martyr" were written on the tombstones.
Later, my father sent people to inquire about the whereabouts of the little prince, but found nothing. He moved to many places during the evacuation.
There is no trace of him in the vast sea of people.
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