Chapter 16
Li He remained silent. He had never imagined Jiang Er would become like that, nor had he imagined that Jiang Er would die first. He remembered Jiang Er talking about his sister, about the family's decline, how Jiang Er had taught him to write his name, and how he had said every day that he wanted to go home.
Jiang Er was the only person he could talk to, even if it was only a few words. He'd thought he could die at any moment, that he might never find the river or his home again, but he didn't think Jiang Er would end up like him. Jiang Er had been fighting for two or three years, and was stronger and bigger than he was. He knew where he was going and what he was going to do, and when Li He fell silent, he would remain silent, leading him in the direction of the formation.
Li He thought it was Jiang Er who mentioned Yumen, so he followed Jiang Er's support all the way west, to this city. He really shouldn't have felt that there was a vague sense of peace here. Such an illusion would only be worn away by defending the city again and again. But before that, Jiang Er's death had already shattered the whitewashed peace. He knew that he was defending an impenetrable city, and he also knew that here, human lives were used to block the city gates. They could not let the Hu people in, even if everyone here was dead.
His hands were still shaking violently. All he could think of was the blood-soaked figure. For a moment, Li He even thought it wasn't Jiang Er, but someone he'd never met. But he couldn't deny the truth: Jiang Er had indeed died that day. The ice on the snow was gradually melting, and the sun outside brought a long-lost warmth to the city. The heat from the tent provided a comfortable warmth. Li He shook his head and wiped his lower back with his hand. Blood dripped from his sackcloth. He braced himself to seek bandages from the military doctor, then returned to his own tent.
He didn't know where they would bury Jiang Er, probably somewhere outside the city. He didn't have the energy to ask the person who had just spoken, and no one would come forward to break his silence. Li He looked at his bloody hands, which still had Jiang Er's blood on them. He lay down, trying not to get involved in the knife wound on his back. His tent was not as noisy as before, and most people were crowded around the military doctor. Li He clenched his fists and pressed them to the ground, thinking about Jiang Er's words.
Yes, if I could ever go back, I'd help him visit his sister. Li He thought, he'd died before he'd even heard his promise. But he had no reason not to agree; he was just a little apprehensive. They'd just spoken a few days ago, Jiang Er teaching him how to write the word "he" on the city wall. When it snowed, Jiang Er had been saying that auspicious snow signified a good harvest, blending into the bustling crowd. Then, he was lying on the ground, blood gushing from his body. Li He exhaled heavily.
He wiped his face, the herbs on his back seeping into the wound, causing waves of pain. He closed his eyes, ready to face the exhaustion of the day. He felt he couldn't sleep. The moment he closed his eyes, he would think of Jiang Erlai and his instructions. Li He supported himself on the ground, his palms bleeding from the chafing of gravel. He nodded, wondering if Jiang Er could see him now.
He promised Jiang Er that if he could one day return home, he would help Jiang Er visit his sister. He didn't know exactly where Jiang Er's home was, so he would travel all over Longxi and even the north to find the sister Jiang Er had said treated him so well, to fulfill Jiang Er's long-cherished wish.
He thought again about fate's arrangements, but it was always too vague, and he was reluctant to acknowledge such an arrangement. If he had a choice, he would rather be the one lying in the ground. He would close his eyes and not ask anyone else for his wishes. If he died, he would always see his mother and the others, and perhaps his old man and his youngest son. After death, he would go to the underworld, and there would be a river of Styx for his soul to cross, and he would still hear the sound of the river flowing.
Yet he remained alive, lying down in the still-melting winter air. He felt overly tired, yet compelled to exercise caution. He had rarely cared about life or death; it simply didn't matter. Survival meant accepting pain and fear. Becoming a dead man lying in the wasteland meant he wouldn't have to gaze at the full moon all night long, feeling melancholy, or dream of a battlefield trapped in his tracks, unable to escape.
And now, Li He thought, he couldn't let Jiang Er down in his final words. He had to go and see his sister, the one he hadn't seen in two or three years. It would require a long journey, and he would have to stay alive. He began to hope that the war would end quickly, and he couldn't wait to fulfill this wish. From then on, this thought would pull him forward, forcing him to move forward and cling to hope.
He couldn't die here, couldn't die defending the city, he had to live, to walk home alive, and carry this instruction along with him. Li He thought about it, as if he was forcing himself to live. Jiang Er had really left him with a difficult problem, a problem that required him to change his mindset.
He sighed, closed his eyes, and fell into darkness, ready to fall asleep. He desperately wanted to stop dreaming. He was terrified of dreaming of his old friend, dreaming of the concrete image of fear and the endless wasteland filled with dead people. He decided to accept the request and began to change his mind. He had to be afraid of death while defending the city. He had to survive...
The snow and ice in the city slowly melted, leaving behind puddles of dirty water. Li He wasn't on night duty, nor did he have to personally drag the bodies of those who died outside the city walls. When he climbed the wall again, he could only see bloodstains on the sand below. It seemed as if the battle could only be fully remembered in his memories.
The drumbeats had been sounding more and more frequently recently. When his back injury healed, he joined the troops again. Furthermore, he sought instruction on how to draw a bow and release an arrow. If he was afraid of death, he could only try to stay high and avoid getting himself into the same predicament as before.
Li He took the initiative to break the silence, occasionally joining in their conversations. While drinking his porridge, he would sit a little closer to the fire and listen to them talk about military matters. They talked about how the defenders of the city had changed many times this year, the old guard dwindling, and how the old friends he'd once shared a drink with were now buried in the sands of Longxi. Sometimes they'd talk about the Hu people's horses and their scimitars, their words mingling with vicious curses and a sense of loss. In the eyes of the Hu people, they were no less bitter enemies. They'd also talk about the generals defending the city, how, through day after day of training, they would eventually make it through this year. Longxi had welcomed its first snow of the year, and spring wouldn't be that far off.
Li He was always the one who responded. Small in stature, he was usually inconspicuous among them. Most of the time, he just listened quietly, letting their words sink in his thoughts. The snow outside the city had melted into water, and it seemed like a long time had passed since Jiang Er's death. The wound on his back had begun to itch from the inside, leaving him unable to sleep all night. He would swap shifts with the others, silently guarding the city at night, a rare moment of quiet.
All he had to do at night was refuel. Sometimes he would drift off into a trance, writing with cigarette ash, then wake up instantly and gaze into the distance. The mountains in the distance merged with the night sky. The moon, hanging on the edge of the clouds, had passed its crescent and was slowly becoming fuller. Silver light shone on him, and the city wall was still bright.
Before I knew it, the New Year was almost here, and the nights in the city were bustling again. The lights were on all night, and the night watchmen’s calls were louder than before. Sometimes, on the city wall, Li He
You can also hear such sounds, which are lively sounds.
One evening during the journey, just as the sun was setting, the tents were filled with lively shouting. Li He lined up with his bowl. Tonight's porridge wasn't filled with weeds and vegetable roots, nor had it turned into a bitter, blackish-green porridge. It was meat soup. The aroma of oil wafted all the way out of the city. But calling it meat soup was a stretch; each bowl contained only a few slivers of minced meat and a nearly overflowing broth.
Li He held the bowl of scalding broth in both hands and returned to his usual corner. The watery broth was only thick with the aroma of meat and fat, but he couldn't tell what kind of meat it was. A number of people gathered around the fire in the middle, arguing about whether it was horse meat, chicken, or even pork. Most, however, had forgotten what meat tasted like and simply enjoyed their bowls of broth amidst the bustle.
Occasionally, those who wanted more food would be humiliated and told off, calling them shameless, saying the broth in their bowls was more than enough to satisfy them. They'd been on the march for so long, how could they have eaten meat this year? Li He thought silently, thinking he must have eaten meat before. He vaguely remembered that on the night of their first victory, they had cut down and roasted the dead Hu horses. Everyone could carve out a piece of meat to fill their stomachs, and no one cared if the meat was astringent, sour, or bitter.
Li He lay down. The wound on his back would no longer open. The flesh, almost healed, still felt a faint itch, but he could bear it. The wind had been stinging his face these past few nights, and it wasn't his turn to stand guard today. The smell of broth still lingered in the tents, and most people had gone to bed early, enjoying this rare luxury, or at least a luxury for them.
He closed his eyes, hoping against hope that tonight he wouldn't dream about the past. Perhaps, he thought, they could return in the spring. They could go back and see Jiang Er's sister, then return to his freedom and go to the places he had promised to go, or to the places he had counseled others to go. He wanted to travel all of Longxi and continue south.
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