Chapter Four: The Wounded Soldier's Request-Invincible God of War: War of Resistance Against Japan(Wang Cunye)

"Qingzhi, as we part ways today, who knows when we shall meet again? The situation in Nanjing is perilous. I hope you take care and survive this ordeal," Luo Cheng said, grasping Chen Qingzhi’s hands tightly, his voice somber.

"As soldiers, when our nation is in grave danger, it is our duty to lay down our lives if necessary, without hesitation," Chen Qingzhi replied with a smile. "Comrade Luo Cheng, what I fear may soon come to pass. The Japanese army is ruthless and cruel—they may well turn their violence upon the people of Nanjing. I hope our organization can do everything possible to evacuate as many civilians as we can."

"This task depends on you, Comrade Luo Cheng," Chen Qingzhi continued.

"Don’t worry. I will return to Nanjing at once, contact our comrades in the organization, and begin gathering civilians for evacuation," Luo Cheng nodded, then added, "But you, Comrade Qingzhi, the battlefield is fraught with danger—please look after yourself."

"If I survive this battle, I will go underground within the army. Unless I come in person, do not reveal yourself to anyone who tries to contact you. Remember this well," Luo Cheng said solemnly.

"Rest assured," Chen Qingzhi nodded. "Time is of the essence in Nanjing. Go quickly!"

"Take care!"

Luo Cheng nodded, and then, accompanied by two soldiers assigned to protect him, left swiftly.

Watching Luo Cheng’s figure recede into the distance, Chen Qingzhi’s face took on a grave expression. He murmured, "Comrade Luo Cheng, I hope you can save as many civilians as possible."

Chen Qingzhi had expressed his worries to Luo Cheng, and Luo Cheng, understanding the brutality of the Japanese army, agreed the danger was real. He rushed back to Nanjing to coordinate with the organization and prepare to evacuate the population. But Chen Qingzhi knew all too well: tomorrow the city would fall. To gather and evacuate all the civilians in Nanjing in a single day was an impossible task.

He understood not everyone could be saved, but in this life, there are things one must do and things one must not. If he could help even a few more escape, that might mean one less death.

Bound by his duty, Chen Qingzhi could not leave. All he could do was hope that Luo Cheng would manage to evacuate as many as possible.

Whenever he thought of that unprecedented massacre, Chen Qingzhi was overwhelmed with rage. That slaughter shocked the world—three hundred thousand civilians slain by the Japanese with monstrous cruelty, their acts utterly depraved.

He turned his gaze back to the position. All the soldiers were resting. Chen Qingzhi decided to inspect the lines. After making his rounds, as he was about to consult with an officer, he suddenly noticed a group of twenty soldiers huddled in a trench.

He hastened over, only to discover they were all wounded—most of them gravely so. Closest to him was a young man whose entire lower body had been blown off by a shell. The stumps of his legs were hastily wrapped in bandages, already soaked through with blood.

With wounds that severe, there was no chance of survival on the front.

The young man, pale and leaning against the trench wall, lips dry and cracked, tried to raise his hand in a salute when he saw Chen Qingzhi approach, though the movement was labored.

Chen Qingzhi rushed to his side, supporting him, and asked softly, "How are you holding up? Does it hurt?"

"It doesn’t hurt! Not at all, Commander," the wounded man replied, forcing a smile. His cracked lips split further as he spoke, and a trace of blood seeped out.

"Commander, just now on the battlefield, I killed two of those devils myself. If their shell hadn’t landed, I could have killed more!" A trace of pride flickered on the young man’s face as he spoke of killing two enemies.

He looked so young—barely more than a boy, with the down still on his cheeks. Eighteen or nineteen at most.

At that age, in peaceful times, he would be in school, courting girls, living out his youth. But here he was, fighting on the battlefield, locked in mortal struggle with a ruthless foe.

Hearing his words, seeing his age, and then looking at the ghastly wounds where his legs had been, Chen Qingzhi’s heart ached.

Seventeen or eighteen—this should be the most beautiful time in a person’s life.

Yet here they were, sacrificing for their homeland, losing limbs and lives.

Chen Qingzhi knew that this boy was not alone—across this vast republic, countless others his age, or even younger, had taken up arms.

This is war.

This is the agony war brings.

Killing—when spoken of so calmly by a teenager, how shocking it is.

"It is our failure," Chen Qingzhi said, his face filled with sorrow, "to have you sent to war at such an age. It is a disgrace to us as officers."

"Commander! Commander!" The wounded soldier, seeing Chen Qingzhi’s grief, grew anxious and said quickly, "Commander, the devils run wild, burning, killing, plundering in our country, guilty of every crime imaginable. Their deeds outrage both men and the heavens!"

"The Chairman once said: ‘Now that the war has begun, there is no distinction between north and south, no difference between young and old—everyone bears the responsibility to defend our land.’ Though I am young, I know that the fate of the nation is the duty of every citizen!"

"Commander, I am a son of the republic. Even if I die in battle, I will never live as a slave beneath a conquered flag!" The young soldier declared with righteous fervor. Then he coughed, blood flecking his lips, and, his voice faint, said, "Commander, I have one request."

"Speak. I will do all I can to grant it," Chen Qingzhi replied, seeing the pallor of the young man’s face and knowing he had lost too much blood. He had little time left.

"I know... I don’t have long. I may die soon. But I am not afraid. I killed two devils before I go—that’s enough," the soldier said, breathing heavily. He paused, then asked with difficulty, "Commander, I just want to know—can we hold our capital?"

"Can we save our country?"

"Can we drive the devils out?"

Three questions, uttered with difficulty, and then the young soldier looked at Chen Qingzhi, his eyes filled with hope.

Under that gaze, Chen Qingzhi felt a pang, as if pierced.

What kind of look was that?

In those eyes were a yearning for life, a hope for the future, and a deep hatred for war.

In the face of such hope, Chen Qingzhi did not know how to answer, but—

"We can!"

"I have always believed, and I am certain—we will drive out the devils and restore our homeland!" Chen Qingzhi met the young man’s gaze and answered resolutely.