Chapter 4 same heart

None of them wanted to be heroes.Age, knowledge, and ideals do not allow them to still indulge in the stories of "Wu Song Fights the Tiger" or "Going to the Meeting Single-handedly"; there was a time when they were indeed fascinated by such stories; The indifference, almost denying that this is his own experience, just like remembering that he stole a dime from his mother when he was young. None of them wanted to be traitors.Age, knowledge, and ideals do not allow them to kneel in front of anyone casually. However, they were trapped in the dead city.Between being a hero and being a traitor, there is only one gap left for them—put aside all the loyalty and the traitor, and bow your head to be a walking dead: eat and drink as usual, and you can drink two glasses of wine when it is extremely embarrassing. When he was done, he fell asleep with his head covered.It's easy, and it's almost safe.

Yes, there is indeed no way to get into this gap.In terms of strength, three people get together, but they can only lift one stone.What's the use of being able to throw a stone and just hit one enemy to death?Three people are absolutely no match for groups of tanks and heavy artillery.In terms of mentality, even if the three of them can plan a plan for salvation, the bayonet and pistol are always by their sides; the prisoner who is bound to the execution ground cannot use knowledge to save himself.It is simply impossible to imagine.Wang Wenyi is the strongest of the three.A year short of graduating from college; enemy fire shattered his dream of life.If he is willing to wait for the diploma and the title of bachelor, he must first admit that he is a subjugated slave.A slave bachelor may have the opportunity to study in Japan, when he has forgotten his ancestors and nation.He shattered a small mirror on the wall. The pair of big and bright eyes, the wide forehead, and the straight nose in the mirror will never be seen by him again until the day when the country is recovered.Forgot the motherland and nation?And forget yourself first!How can a man who is conquered by violence be a man?He doesn't want to be a hero, but only by sacrificing himself can he realize the responsibility given by this era.The significance of this era can only be explained with blood.

He found Fan Mingli and Wu Cong, both his classmates in the same grade but from different departments.Fan Mingli's physique was not as good as Wang Wenyi's, but he wasn't too weak either.The eyes are not clear and juicy, the lips are thick, honestly like a middle-aged teacher.Wu Cong is very thin, with a sallow face and narrow chest. He seems to have some lung disease; his eyes are bright and his voice is so loud that people can't bear to say that he is sick.His air was much more lively than his body. "Is there a solution?" Wang Wenyi didn't expect to get any satisfactory answer.Instead, he wanted to speak out about his decision.

Fan Mingli lowered his eyelids and turned the corners of his mouth slightly upwards, as a sign that he was inconvenient to say anything. "Shall we escape?" Wu Cong tried to say, his voice was not as loud as before, as if he was restrained by shame. "Escape?" Wang Wenyi asked in a low voice, and waited for a long time before shaking his head: "No, you can't escape! Where are you going? Why? Isn't this our land?" "I asked myself that too," Wu Cong's voice was a little higher, "I don't have to run away. I think this way: it's a pity for us to die here, and there is no good for us."

"Yes, we are highly educated, but it's a pity; the power of three people is too small to be beneficial." Wang Wenyi nodded.Suddenly, he stood up and raised his voice like an orator thinking of something fierce: "However, there is no hierarchy for subjugated slaves. There is no difference between a college student and a rickshaw driver. There are no ranks for those who are subjugated slaves, and their lives are the same. Blood is not high or low. When it comes to sacrificing for the country, whose blood is sprinkled on the ground is equally valuable. Whether you love the country or not is partly determined by knowledge and partly by decision In the duel for the survival of the nation, if we suppress our emotions, our knowledge becomes a tool for selfish gain. Protect yourself, and at this time, there is no shame. Stand outside the struggle , we lose the sympathy and empathy of the nation. To sacrifice is not just to be a hero; death is the duty of each of us, and it is not a special honor. Those who want to live say that death is the easiest, and those who decide to sacrifice People know the value of death. I will not escape, I will die here. The value of death is not determined by the size of the achievement, but by the will and reason of death, to determine the severity." "I understand what you mean!" Fan Mingli His thick lips seemed to be moving with great difficulty. "Death is not to end this life quickly, but to pass on the spirit of immortality."

"I'll say it again." Wang Wenyi's broad forehead glowed bright red: "I am not a hero, but I am honestly fulfilling the responsibility of the people. A hero takes the opportunity to show himself, and what he fulfills is to die with his compatriots. One piece, buried in one piece, not even a tombstone." "Okay," Wu Cong straightened his narrow chest, "tell your way! I am willing to accompany you to die!" "Let's swear first!" Both Wu and Fan also stood up. "Wu Cong, Fan Mingli, and Wang Wenyi are willing to die for the country and strive for the eternal independence and freedom of the nation; the bodies and names of the three of me will be destroyed together, and the spirit, justice and peace will live forever in the world!"

"Forever in the world!" Wu Fan responded in unison. A pure smile spreads on their faces, they feel that death is the sweetest, sacrifice is the most sublime beauty, and the blood all over their bodies is overflowing with fragrance like nectar.They discussed the practical method calmly.The most difficult decision—death—has been decided. They no longer need to shout passionately, but must show the highest wisdom, and use wisdom to cooperate with courage to walk on the road of eternal light.It was as if they heard subtle divine calls in their ears, and they were not afraid; their words had some of the most beautiful rhythms.As if responding to that call, the kagura of national revival trembled from the heartstrings.

*** At the mouth of Donkey's Alley, no matter winter or summer, there is always an old woman sitting.Dust didn't seem to have the guts to rush over, she was always so clean.Poverty has not conquered her, and in her eyes, which have sunken with age, there is always some kindness and kindness hidden deep in her eyes, and she has no choice but to reveal it to everyone.Her occupation is to mend worn-out shoes and socks for the poor; her eyesight is fine, but her hands are always trembling, and she can't do fine work.Her side job is to give a little smile to all passers-by, and for schoolboys, rickshaw drivers, remember who went south just now, or who didn't pass by here today, but went north when the sun was westward yesterday went.This side job is purely voluntary, and the only reward is that men and women of all ages call her "good mother".Some people say that her surname was "Hao".

After the fall of the city, there was no sign of a good mother at the entrance of the alley for several days.Everyone seemed to ignore this matter, because no one dared to come out; even if they had the courage to come out, who would care to pay attention to her: the country has been lost, so what is there to be surprised about the survival of an old mother? However, she was sitting there again.Everything was the same, but she could no longer greet people with a smile.It was still the same, but there was something more: the flags she knew changed color, the people she knew were still doing their business, those who pulled carts, those who sold vegetables, but with a smile on their faces. layers of shame.She hardly dared to greet them again.The boys and girls stopped going to school, walked around with their heads down, and stopped even singing the March of the Volunteers.There are still cars and horses on the street, but there is always the smell of going out of mourning. Although it is under the sun, it is obviously miserable and bleak.

In her sixty years of life, she has experienced many turbulences and hardships, but never once did she feel so resentful like this time, resentment overwhelmed her happiness, as sad as pressing her hands on her chest in a dream.She saw groups of tanks running on the road, formations of planes whirling in the air, whole truckloads of us young men and women bound to the enemy camp to eat bullets, and a large number of us strong men in their 30s and 40s were locked away... ... None of these things would be enough to arouse her anger, if there were no word "Japan" under these things.After living for more than sixty years, she doesn't hold a grudge against anyone, except Japan.She is illiterate, has no knowledge beyond food, drink, marriage, clothing, housing, and national affairs, but she knows how to hate Japan.Japan has always been in people's mouths, in her ears, and in her heart, it has been lumped together for a long time, as if it is so hateful.There is no reason, no explanation, she hates Japan.Only when she hated Japan, she felt vaguely that she still knew what was good and she was not a beast who only cared about three meals a day.Now, those who fly all over the sky, those who run around, those who kill people, and those who set fire are all from Japan, and she is no longer allowed to say the word Japan aloud, and can only squeeze it out from the lips between her teeth.Like cattle and sheep shedding tears when they go to the slaughterhouse, she intuitively felt uneasy and uneasy.

What made her most unhappy was the soldier standing guard on the other side of the road.She wanted to be kind to everyone, but she couldn't smile and nod to this soldier.His long bayonet was always attached to the gun, and it shone white and cold in the autumn sun. His feet were so wide and heavy, and he stepped on them with all his strength, as if he was afraid that the ground would run away.That is "our" land; a good mother knows nothing else, but she knows whose land it is, as clearly as a red circle on a white cloth is not the Chinese flag.She couldn't bear to look at the road any more.But it was useless not to look at it, the bright white bayonet and the heavy feet always shone in her heart, pressing on her. She gradually felt a little strange: why didn't we beat him?Beating people was something she had always opposed, but now she felt it was right to beat that soldier, the Japanese soldier.Beat him, everyone not only didn't beat him, but avoided him!Our strong boys have no heart, no ambition, no humanity!If she had a son who was going to beat up the soldier opposite, she would be happy, even if both mother and son had their heads beheaded for this, it would still be happy. She didn't want to sit there anymore, but she couldn't bear to leave: What if someone came to beat that unsightly thing while she was leaving!She sat there longer, and the thing seemed to absorb her.He was like a bedbug, hateful, and she would like to meet him-it would take a lot of talk to kill him with his fingers!The vitality of the nation flowing in her blood, and the root of national freedom and self-reliance hidden in her heart may make her so angry and hopeful.What's the use of killing this soldier?She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about it.She just felt that having him there was a humiliation, and the shame had to be washed away.Just like a little girl knows how to be shy when the time comes, this old woman is shy because of her nation and country—even though she can’t even say these two terms.Anyone who can come to kill or fight this soldier, she should call it - or she will say this - a hero.The hero in her mind doesn't have to be someone with red beard and indigo face, but those men who come and go on the street, as long as he dares to deal with that soldier.In her heart, in Wang Wenyi's heart, in the hearts of all bloody people, although the knowledge and vocabulary are different, they will sing a song similar to this at this time: "The milk of the land is in everyone's blood. The same enthusiasm, the same bright red; everyone loves his country like a loving mother, the cradle of the nation, and the grave of the nation. Driven out of the country, miserable by beheading; being a slave in the country, trembling all his life, it is the soul that is tortured, Ah, the soul is tortured! " Waiting, waiting for the hero, the ordinary hero who knows how to do his duty.Ah, that soldier changed shifts again, coming and going, always so vicious.Ah, the brigade marched from south to north, and the bayonets were like forests, shining the whole street.Ah, the plane is overhead again, and the blood-red round lights are on the two wings, insulting the blue sky.Why isn't our hero here yet?Still not coming?The hope and prayer of the old mother is the voice of the whole nation, right? The old mother waited for many days, but the hero still hadn't arrived.But she was not discouraged, on the contrary, her hopes were heightened, and she asked everyone she met in a low voice: "What's the matter with us?" Some of the rickshaw drivers and small businessmen who knew how to read newspapers told her some news.But those news were all made by the Japanese, either to capture here, or to hit somewhere.My good mother had never heard of those place names, but after listening to them, she seemed to have some understanding: "Our land is really big!" At the same time, she looked forward to the realization of that matter even more: "Why don't we go and beat him?" How about killing one of them first?" The tip of her needle followed the convenience of the thread and pointed to the side of the road. "Good mother, be careful!" they warned her.She rubbed her old eyes and said in a low voice, "He doesn't understand our words, he's a devil!" Good news!Wang Er, who was pulling the cart, took a pair of socks picked up from the garbage dump and asked his mother to tidy them up.Squatting next to her, he secretly said: "Good mother, I pulled a cart to Dongcheng this morning, and I couldn't get through when I reached the fourth archway. The devil soldiers blocked the street and didn't allow cars and horses to pass. I heard that we two young men, All their bomb carts have been burnt out, and five or six of their soldiers have been killed!" Wang Er hurriedly tucked his raised thumb into his cuff, glanced across the road, and put it away as soon as he touched the light of the bayonet return. "Neither of the lads took it," he said in a lower, but more forceful voice. "After dinner, I went back again. Passing people are not allowed there! I heard that the two young men ran into a small butcher's shop, but they disappeared after they went in. Good mother, there are really people in the butcher's shop." How dare you let the two boys go! We have bones, good mother?" The smile that the good mother hadn't used for a few days jumped from her heart to her face. "If someone dares to hit that thing over there, I will dare to help, believe it or not?" "Why don't I believe it? If I want a gun, I will dare to go there! Good mother, don't be too busy, let's take them all slowly." Clean it up! Once there is one person who is not afraid of death, then there will be ten, one hundred, one thousand, right, right?" Wang Er kept his voice low with great difficulty. "Look, there are eels in wooden basins in the fish market, and one or two eels must be put in. The eels are too lazy to move, and they will stink after a long time. The eels love to move, and the eels have to stretch their waists. I don't care. Those two boys are compared to our loaches, when they move, the big guys have to move. Good mother?" "Who says no! I'll wait here, maybe someone will beat him tomorrow." Following the word "he", the good mother pointed her needle outward again. "If he falls there, I'll be happy to die! I can't teach the little devil to control it!" The next day, the good mother came very early, and before she met her acquaintances, she had already handed her smile to the red Chaoyang. But until noon, there was no movement. "Sooner or later it will come!" she said to herself. It was almost time to collect work, and here came a young man with big eyes, a wide forehead, and a high nose.He doesn't look like a poor man, but he has a pair of torn socks in his hand.The good mother was about to get the needle when the young man stopped her. "I'll pick it up tomorrow. I'm not busy. It's getting dark. Are you going home? Let's go together? Come, I'll take the little basket!" They entered the donkey alley together, and the young man asked in a low voice: "This alley Is there a hallway in there?" The good mother shook her head, and then looked at him carefully.After watching for a long time, she smiled slightly: "I know you!" "Why?" The boy's eyes were frighteningly bright. "You are a good person!" The good mother nodded in praise. "Let me tell you, the tenth gate on the south side of the road here has a back door, but it can't go through the hall. It's someone's house." The boy said nothing.The good mother slowly figured it out: "Okay! I want to know when you will come, and I can ask Li Wu, who dumps the dirt, to open the door for you." The boy has not spoken yet. "Your heart is the same as mine!" The old mother looked up at him. "What's the meaning?" "I don't understand!" The good mother laughed. "Are you a student?" The young man nodded. "Then you should understand my words." The good mother's face suddenly became very serious: "Tell me, when will you come tomorrow? I will not sell you!" "I will come at eight o'clock tomorrow morning!" "Is that when the apricot tea seller comes over on Thursday?" "Okay! The apricot tea seller is here, that door has to be opened!" "that is!" "You know what I'm going to do?" "Know!" "what?" "I know! Your heart is the same as mine!" The next day, my good mother arrived early.She sat there for like a year, only to hear Thursday's shrill voice gradually approaching: "Myolie—tea." The good mother's hands trembled, her eyes fixed on the point of the bayonet—— Like a little white star. "Myolie—tea." Thursday was almost in front of her, and her eyes could barely move, as if stuck to the point of a bayonet.Suddenly, like a black shadow, it flashed from the sidewalk to behind a willow tree by the roadside, followed by a gunshot, one or two.The soldier fell to the ground.Sirens sounded from the south and the north.The black shadow flashed into the donkey alley.The soldiers who fell on the ground stood up and rushed across the road.The "posts" in the south and north also rushed to the alleys, like ants in battle, hurriedly passed a sentence, and rushed into the alleys.The good mother stopped breathing.After waiting for a long time, all the soldiers came back without the boy. She took a breath, picked up the pair of socks tremblingly, and refused to lift her head again. It was just four o'clock, she wanted to collect her work and go home, her heart was in a panic, and just thinking about it, the sock fetcher came!She could hardly believe her eyes!After a while, she handed the socks to him.He squatted aside, looked at the socks, and asked in a low voice, "Did I kill him this morning?" The good mother shook her head slightly. "He's pretending to be dead, and he got up after a while." "Ouch! We'll have to use a bomb next time!" As he spoke, he took out a one-dollar note: "Mama and Li, five cents." "Keep it for use, I don't want it!" Good mother waved her hand. "If you have a gun, give Wang Er one, and he is willing to do it." "There are plenty of people, Mom!" "What's your last name?" "I don't have a name for the time being," the boy stood up, stuffed the socks and the money ticket into his pocket, and thought for a while: "Ah, maybe there will be no name forever! Goodbye, mother!" "Hey, come back next time, be sure!" OK Mother's heart is no longer blocked. ＊＊＊ The three of them sat together again, reporting work to each other, and planning their future plans. Fan Mingli's thick lips seemed to be thicker, adding to his air of silence and fortitude.Wu Cong's narrow chest seemed to be unable to contain the heat, his thin neck was straightened out, and his mouth was slightly open, like a crowing chicken.He—unlike Fan Mingli—can't hold back his complacency, and the more he thinks about his achievements in the past two or three days, the happier he becomes.Wang Wenyi was neither proud nor disappointed, but criticized objectively: "It doesn't matter whether we succeed or fail. The only advantage is that it has stirred up the hearts of the undead. Our hearts, everyone's hearts, are not much different. We just did what we should do, and at most it was nothing more than It’s just a step ahead. Well, let’s discuss tomorrow’s matters; let’s strike the iron hot, and teach this city to become the enemy’s grave!”