Chapter 1

On November 5th, the 26th year of the Republic of China, it was overcast with occasional light rain. Winter was approaching, and it was already completely dark by early evening. Anting, a small, obscure town in the Jiangnan region along the Shanghai-Nanjing railway, was now bustling with people. The noise of mules and horses mixed with the weary breaths and groans of the injured, creating a sense of sorrow rather than liveliness, a mysterious solemnity and sadness. Under the twilight, a muddy flow of people surged westward along both sides of the Shanghai-Nanjing railway, stretching into the darkness. Behind the hurried figures, in the dark eastern sky, cold flashes of light occasionally burst forth, intermittently illuminating the gloomy clouds, accompanied by distant rumbling. There, in Shanghai, the city was enduring the ravages of the Japanese warships, making its final struggle.

Raindrops trembled on the railway tracks, carrying a heavy train that was speeding eastward with a strange howl. This was the 107th Division of the 67th Army of the National Revolutionary Army, which had been transferred from the North China battlefield to reinforce the Shanghai-Songhu area. Just over ten days ago, they had concluded a grueling battle on the Dacheng line in Hebei without receiving any supplies, and then received an order from the Generalissimo to hastily board the southbound train. Most of them did not know that the Shanghai defense line had already collapsed. They were the only unit advancing eastward along the Shanghai-Nanjing line, tasked with covering the retreat of hundreds of thousands of defeated troops. Their mission was to hold back the enemy, and they were about to face an unknown darkness.

More than seventy men of the 3rd Company, 638th Regiment, 319th Brigade, 107th Division, were crammed into a boxcar. Despite the cold wind constantly blowing in through the gaps and ventilation ports, the car was still somewhat stuffy. The floor was covered with a layer of dry grass, and most of the soldiers were lying or curled up, resting with the crisp sound of the wheels and tracks. There were two kerosene lamps in the car; one hung in the center of the ceiling, swaying rhythmically with the train's movement, casting a few patches of dim light that danced on the spotted walls; the other was placed on the floor at one end, with seven or eight people sitting cross-legged around it, and another dozen or so standing in a circle watching.

Several silver dollars were scattered in the middle. The second platoon leader, baring his large yellow teeth, picked up a cigarette, lifted the kerosene lamp from the floor, unscrewed the cap, leaned in to light the cigarette, took a deep, satisfying puff, and laughed, urging the man sitting opposite him: "Hey, company commander, why don't you hurry up and roll? I've got a pair of sixes, not three sixes. Why are you so scared?"

The company commander, a tall and strong Northeastern man with thick eyebrows and a square face, was sweating profusely from his losses. He raised his hand to unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt. "My last two silver dollars are on the ground. Can't I pray to the gods first? What are you rushing for?" He finished, clasped his hands together, muttered a prayer, shook the three dice in his hand, and threw them into the ceramic bowl on the ground. They clattered for a while, landing on one, two, and five...

"I'm not playing anymore, damn it. You're a cheat. Once we get off the train, I'll make your second platoon the main force, and let you have your fun." The company commander moved back, leaned against the wall of the car, and grabbed his wrinkled cap to fan himself.

The third platoon leader, Wang, was dark and thin with a face full of wrinkles. He looked like he was in his forties, though he was only in his thirties. He was the oldest in the company, with over ten years of military service. He was mild-mannered but a bit stingy, so everyone called him "Old Stingy Wang." This time, he didn't participate in the gambling because he had lost all his money three days ago and could only watch from the side. Seeing the company commander lose everything, he sat down next to him and offered a cigarette. "Company commander, I heard before we got on the train that an officer who made a mistake was going to be demoted to our company as a regular soldier. Is that true?"

"Huh? You, Old Stingy Wang, have good ears and eyes. Yes, it's true. He's still injured and was put in the car with the lightly wounded when we got on the train." The company commander fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a nearly empty matchbox, struck a match, and lit the cigarette Wang had offered, taking a puff and squinting his eyes. "Why are you asking?"

"Hehe, company commander, every time new soldiers are assigned, they go to the first platoon and then the second platoon, but never to the third platoon. This time, you should assign him to our third platoon."

The company commander looked at Wang's aggrieved face and chuckled. "Didn't I just assign a new soldier to your third platoon before we got on the train? Why do you want another one?"

Wang put on a wronged expression. "What? You mean that fourteen-year-old kid? He's shorter than a rifle, eats as much as anyone else, and neither the first nor the second platoon wanted him. It was you, the company commander, who forced him on me. Does that count as a new soldier? Let me tell you, the first platoon has forty-two men, the second platoon has twenty-five, and our third platoon? Four men! Including me, the platoon leader, and that kid. I'm not even as good as a squad leader."

"Old Stingy Wang, you old veteran, don't be ungrateful. Our company has been understaffed since we entered the pass, and the higher-ups haven't given us many reinforcements. What can I do? We've been in this company since we entered the pass, and you know how many times the first platoon has changed? How many first platoon leaders have there been? How did I become the company commander? Want to switch with the first platoon leader?"

Wang looked around, seeing that no one was paying attention, and said sheepishly, "Look, look, you start arguing as soon as I say a few words. I'm not a young man anymore. My body is weak, and I'm dizzy and have poor eyesight. I can't be the main force, but I can help on the sidelines. This time, there's only one new soldier. If he goes to the first or second platoon, it won't make much difference. If he comes to me, I'll have a full squad. Isn't that fair?"

The company commander thought about it. Wang hadn't complained about the lack of men in the third platoon in North China, but now that one man was being reassigned, he was suddenly eager to get him. This wasn't normal, not at all! Before they got on the train, the battalion commander had mentioned that the new soldier was the captain of the enforcement team who had released several deserters at Linluo Pass, was demoted, and removed from the enforcement team. The higher-ups decided to assign him to this company as a regular soldier, and the company commander hadn't asked many questions. It didn't seem strange, but could it be because the new soldier was from the enforcement team? Could Wang want to use his connections if he wanted to desert? No, that couldn't be it! If Wang really wanted to desert, he would have done it long ago. There must be something else. This old fox, no matter what his plan is, since he came to me, I'll have to get something out of him.

Deciding on a plan, the company commander flicked the ash off his cigarette and laughed. "Old Stingy Wang, I remember you found a pocket watch on the battlefield a while ago. Did you pawn it?" ...

Hu Yi leaned against the corner of the car for the lightly wounded, his legs stretched out, half-lying on a thick layer of dry grass, covered with a dirty, greasy blanket, and closed his eyes to rest. He had ridden a train when he entered the pass, and at first, it was exciting, but once the train started moving, he realized how uncomfortable it was. The military trains were not like passenger trains with seats, windows, and toilets; they were all freight cars. Boxcars were considered good because at least they protected from the sun and rain. The worst were the open freight cars and flatbeds for supplies, where the wind could turn a person into a raisin. Before getting on the train, Hu Yi received a notice to report to a new company. When he passed the boxcar designated for the lightly wounded, he claimed that his old wound had flared up and refused the doctor's examination, staying in the car. Later, he learned that the 3rd Company was also in a boxcar, but he didn't regret it. At least the car for the wounded had a thick layer of dry grass, was quiet, had fewer people, and more space. Each person also received a military blanket, though it was small and worn.

The unit left Xinxiang on October 30th and arrived in Xiaguan, Nanjing, on November 2nd. After a brief rest, they moved east onto the Shanghai-Nanjing railway. Today was November 5th. Despite the regular clatter of the wheels and tracks, the creaking of the car, and the howling wind, Hu Yi was still acutely aware of the faint rumbling hidden behind these sounds. This sound was too familiar, like a spell. Even in his sleep, he could distinguish it and immediately become alert, feeling a strange numbness and headache. As the rumbling grew clearer, Hu Yi knew they were approaching the battlefield and would soon disembark. Even though they were in Jiangnan, the sound was the same.

Clang—As the heavy sliding door of the car was pulled open, the cold, damp air woke everyone in the car. Under the gloomy night sky, the dim platform was occasionally filled with the white steam from the locomotives, spreading in large clouds. In the distance, a messenger shouted, "All of the 107th Division, disembark! Stand by in place! No noise! Stand by in place... No noise..."

Old Stingy Wang threw away his cigarette butt, stretched lazily, looked at the wet platform, and glanced around. He slung his 7.92mm rifle over his shoulder, walked out of the crowd of the 3rd Company, tore off an old poster from a nearby wall, folded it a few times, and sat down against the wall. The three soldiers looked at each other and followed, leaning against the wall for shelter from the wind. The four soldiers' shadows were cast against the cold, mottled wall, forming the 3rd Platoon. The tallest and strongest of the three soldiers was called Big Guy, who was honest and hardworking; the average-sized one was called Zhao Yong, who often complained; and the shortest, a fourteen-year-old boy, was a beggar from the Xinxiang train station who joined the unit for food.

"Platoon leader, did you really give the pocket watch to the company commander?" Big Guy asked, blinking his eyes.

"Yes, I did. It's something you can't take with you when you die, so it's useless to keep it."

Hearing this, Zhao Yong chuckled and interjected, "Did I hear that right? You, Old Stingy Wang, who never does anything without a profit! How does that sound coming from you?"

"I'm getting old, and I've seen things differently. I've changed. What do you know?"

Zhao Yong looked at Wang's calm demeanor, pursed his lips, and thought for a moment. "Platoon leader, I don't understand. He's just a demoted enforcement team captain. You actually gave up the pocket watch for him. Besides, I've seen the enforcement team before. They can only stand at attention, stand at ease, and beat deserters. What good are they? And he was just a small officer. Do you want to worship him as an ancestor? I think you're getting senile. Uh, I'm not saying this, but that's what everyone in the company says."

Old Stingy Wang ignored Zhao Yong's words and stared at the people hurrying past outside the platform. Each time the eastern sky flashed, the distant figures would suddenly become clear, then fall back into darkness, appearing like gray ghosts wandering in hell.

Was Old Stingy Wang really senile? Of course not. He was willing to give up the pocket watch because he knew who the person was. Hu Yi: from a young age, he was a bandit (in Northeast China, bandits were called "huzi"), joined the Northeast Army at seventeen, graduated from the Northeastern Military Academy, and served as the company commander of the machine gun company of the division, with the rank of major. During the battle on the Tianjin-Pukou railway, his heavy machine gun company was wiped out, and he was the only survivor. The higher-ups believed his command and deployment were inadequate, leading to the annihilation of the heavy machine gun company, so he was demoted to captain and reassigned to the enforcement team. He then released several deserters on the battlefield, resulting in the loss of all his rank and position, and was reduced to a regular soldier. Old Stingy Wang knew this because a friend of his was in the machine gun company and had mentioned their company commander, Hu Yi, during a drinking session. Of course, this friend also died in the machine gun company. Knowing this, Old Stingy Wang paid more attention to the news.

Old Stingy Wang was neither a bad person nor a good person. After over ten years in the military, he was just a veteran. He knew nothing but how to carry a gun, and if he left the army, he would surely starve to death. In Beijing and Tianjin, he had seen students shouting about the nation and the people, but he didn't understand or care. His only hope was that the bullets on the battlefield would stay away from him, and each day he survived was a blessing. Although he couldn't read, Old Stingy Wang wasn't stupid. Bringing Hu Yi into his 3rd Platoon wasn't out of admiration for a hero or a desire for power. Hu Yi, despite his current fall from grace, was still a phoenix, with far more experience, insight, and skills than Old Stingy Wang. In a critical moment on the battlefield, this fallen phoenix might save his life. This was the real calculation in Old Stingy Wang's mind.