War Photographer's Notebook

Chapter 1993 Proofreading: A Deadly Battle for Leftovers
At Juyong Pass, the increasingly close sounds of gunfire made the three people waiting on the cart calmer. Dong Weixin steered their conversation toward the new Great Wall and bricks that Wei Ran had mentioned earlier.

On the earthen bed in the thatched hut, Wang Bingchu, who hadn't slept all night, snored loudly. Zhao Shouxian, on the other hand, seemed to be sleeping on a hot plate, turning over and looking out the window at the slightest noise.

Around two or three o'clock in the afternoon, the sounds of gunfire and shouting grew louder, and they also heard urgent whistles.

Before the three people sitting on the cart in the yard could even stand up with difficulty, Zhao Shouxian had already run out of the thatched hut, across the yard, and to the roadside.

Wang Bingchu followed closely behind and ran out as well.

In fact, without the two of them even asking, the surrounding crowd shouted out the information they wanted to know—the Japanese devils had invaded, the Japanese tanks had invaded!
They didn't even need to listen; they could see the tanks and Japanese soldiers rushing in from afar along the street. Wei Ran, standing in the last row, had already raised his gun-style camera and quickly snapped a photo of the Japanese soldiers in the distance.

Just as he put away his pistol-style camera, Zhao Shouxian subconsciously reached for the Mauser pistol tucked into his waistband.

Suddenly, Wang Bingchu, the "Constitutional Defender," said, "Why am I starting to feel dizzy? Please help me!"

"What's wrong?" Zhao Shouxian panicked and quickly helped Wang Bingchu, who seemed about to fall.

"Oh!"

Wang Bingchu, who was originally unsteady on his feet, struck Zhao Shouxian hard behind the ear with a Mauser pistol the moment Zhao instinctively grabbed his wrist.

"you"

"You're still too green, kid."

As Wang Bingchu spoke, he helped the unconscious Zhao Shouxian onto the cart.

Without any communication, Feng Huotou had already untied Zhao Shouxian's leg bindings, tied his hands and feet together, and then untied the other leg binding, rolled it into a ball, and stuffed it into his mouth.

"I'll hitch a ride and take you out of town."

Wang Bingchu reattached the Mauser pistol to his belt and said, "Brother Feng, I'm entrusting them to you."

"What offerings do you want for the four seasons and eight festivals?" Chef Feng asked, loading a bullet into his Mauser pistol.

"The head of the Japanese devil, the wine of my hometown."

Wang Bingchu laughed heartily as he led over the large mule and quickly harnessed it to the cart. As he picked up the whip, he pulled out the fish knife from his pocket and stuffed it into Shouxian's pocket. "That cart driver's knife was left to me by my father when I went out to fight the Japanese. It's a keepsake. When he wakes up, I'll have him give it to Yimo."

As they spoke, Wang Bingchu had already sat on the carriage shaft, cracking the whip lightly as he said cheerfully, "Let's be deserters again today!"

"I have to be a deserter this time."

As Feng Huotou spoke, he turned to look at Wei Ran and Dong Weixin, and then at Zhao Shouxian, who had been knocked unconscious.

But then he said nothing, and simply loaded the Mauser pistol he had pulled out with bullets.

"drive!"

Wang Bingchu yanked the reins hard, urging the mule cart to run again, heading in the opposite direction from the invaders' attack.

"This time, we're the ones who voluntarily deserted."

Feng Huotou gently stroked Zhao Shouxian's sweaty head, "But if the three of you can survive, it will be worth it. If you survive, you won't have to worry about not being able to defeat the Japanese."

Upon hearing this, Dong Weixin opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything. Instead, he clenched his fist tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white and his fingernails almost scratched the skin of his palm.

Wei Ran didn't say anything either. He was sitting at the back of the car, using his weight to help relieve the pressure on the hardworking mule. At the same time, he made no attempt to hide it and took out his gun-style camera, extending the lens into the distance.

As the mule cart jolted along, he aimed his camera at the Japanese tanks that had already stormed into Juyongguan Pass, and at the soldiers and civilians who were charging at the tanks with grenades, Mauser pistols, and even broadswords and kitchen knives.

"boom!"

With the explosion of the grenade, the tank finally came to a stop, but its weapons continued to reap the lives of soldiers and civilians in the city, and behind it, more tanks gradually emerged.

And so, with each click of Wei Ran's shutter, a new round of desperate, death-defying charges began once again.

Finally, as the mule cart drove further and further away, the buildings behind it blocked the battle at the town gate, but Wang Bingchu shouted for the mule cart to stop and yelled at the two laborers carrying the wounded on stretchers, "Quick! There's still room! Let him get on!"

Upon hearing this, the two laborers immediately lifted the wounded man, who appeared to have just undergone amputation, onto the stretcher, and then rushed towards the front line without saying a word.

"drive!"

Wang Bingchu, expressionless, forcefully shook the reins, urging the mule to run again.

On this short journey out of the city, Wang Bingchu stopped again and again, letting the seriously wounded get into the vehicle each time.

Finally, the fully loaded mule cart left Juyongguan Pass along with the fleeing crowd.

At that moment, Wang Bingchu, who was driving, handed the reins to Feng, the cook.

"Where is the cenotaph located?" Chief Feng asked as he took the reins.

Bury me next to my parents.

Wang Bingchu responded nonchalantly, while patting the unconscious Zhao Shouxian on the shoulder, and said with great satisfaction, "This kid! Yimo is definitely not at a loss following him! Alright! Brothers, see you at Yama's bedside!"

"Wait a moment when you're reincarnated!" Before Feng Huotou finished speaking, Wang Bingchu had already jumped off the mule cart.

"Take this!"

Suddenly, Feng Huotou took the Icanta camera, which used 116 film, out of Zhao Shouxian's pocket and tossed it to Wang Bingchu.

"If we can survive, we should," said Chief Feng loudly. "Once we drive the Japanese away, we'll go back to Xifengkou and take a trip!"

"Alright! Back to Xifengkou! Nie Zhang!"

Wang Bingchu responded loudly, and under the watchful gaze of Wei Ran's raised camera, he stood by the roadside with a smile on his face and gave them a rifle salute. Then he waved his hand, and resolutely turned and ran towards Juyongguan, which was about to fall.

Will he survive?

As Wei Ran put down the camera, he asked himself the same question, but he had no answer at all, and no white light appeared before his eyes.

So what happens next?
Wei Ran put down his camera, looked at the almost overloaded mule cart, and also at Feng Huotou, who was in charge of driving.

"drive!"

Suppressing his emotions, Feng Huotou vigorously shook the reins, urging the big mule to quicken its pace.

"Is that young man going to his death?" asked an old soldier who had lost a leg, sitting on the cart.

"Yes, they're going to their deaths."

Feng Huotou said with a smile, "We guarded Xifengkou together back then, and we survived. This time, he doesn't want to run away."

As he spoke, Feng Huotou pointed to Zhao Shouxian, who was being helped beside him, and said, "This silly boy is his son-in-law, you know."

As he spoke, Feng Huotou pointed to Dong Weixin, "He's a college student who survived guarding Nanyuan."

"Whoa!" The wounded soldiers in the vehicle exclaimed in unison.

“We can’t let this precious gem die here,” one of them said. “Killing ten or a hundred of them would be a loss.”

“Exactly!” another wounded soldier agreed. “You wouldn’t even get a chance to join the queue with these student soldiers.” “This…”

Feng Huotou patted Wei Ran on the shoulder, "He's also an educated guy. Back then, he guarded Xifengkou, Wanping City, Nanyuan, and Nankou. If he survives, he'll at least be able to wear a slanted leather belt."

"Alright, man, that's enough!"

On the cart, a man with one arm said, “There are too many people sitting on this cart. I still have all my legs. I’ve never been to school, but I have the strength in my arms.”

I wasn't planning on running away from you guys anyway. I'll go down first and set an example for you.

Without waiting for Chef Feng to stop the car, the man jumped down, then stumbled to his feet and gave a gun salute with his only severed arm.

"This brother has given us a ride. Whether we fight or flee, let's start from here."

A soldier with blood-stained cloth wrapped around his eyes said, "Those of you with good legs who can walk, I'll set an example for you."

As he spoke, he jumped off the cart without hesitation, then stumbled to his feet. When Wei Ran hurriedly raised his camera again, he raised his arm and gave a rifle salute.

"thump"

"thump"

"thump"

Before Chief Feng hurriedly stopped the mule cart, wounded soldiers, whether they had leg problems or not, either jumped off or rolled off the cart.

"Did you see that?"

Feng Huotou sighed, and without turning his head, said to the dumbfounded Dong Weixin and Zhao Shouxian, who had just regained consciousness and was struggling, "You must live on, live on for these people, fight the Japanese for them, and live until the day the Japanese are driven away."

"you."

"We won't live to see that day."

Feng Huotou gave a rifle salute to the people on the roadside, just as Wei Ran solemnly took a picture of them with his camera.

"drive!"

Feng, the head cook, yanked the reins and almost coldly urged the animals to pull the three of them and the remaining few listless, seriously wounded men along the way, saying, "Just like when we were sitting outside, Brother Wei said he was building that new Great Wall."

We are just scraps left over from when the bricklayers were building the city wall.

"Don't do this"

"Even if we, these scraps, are just filling a crack, or even if we can stop a single bullet from the Japanese, it's still a profit."

Feng Huotou said with exceptional clarity, "I can't recognize more characters than I can read on my fingers. These broken bricks are left here to be used for laying the foundation."

"Only when we've laid a solid foundation can you, building in neat blocks, construct that new Great Wall."

"Brother is right."

A severely wounded soldier with an abdominal injury said weakly, "Let me down, you guys hurry up."

“You all have to survive too,” Wei Ran said. “You’re not just scraps.”

Whether it is or not is unimportant.

Feng Huotou didn't want to discuss this with Wei Ran. "If you survive, survive and fight the Japanese, and survive until you drive them away, we'll be satisfied."

"Do you all have to die here?" Dong Weixin held down Zhao Shouxian, who was struggling. "You also have your value."

"Young man"

A wounded soldier, missing a leg, struggled to raise his hand and patted Dong Weixin on the shoulder. "Our value is to keep you whole bricks alive, to build a wall, and to hold back the Japanese devils."

"Can"

Dong Weixin clearly disagreed with this statement, but Wei Ran could no longer hear what he said next.

Just as he pressed the shutter to photograph the remaining wounded in the vehicle, a white light swept in, engulfing everything he wanted to hear.

When the white light faded, he found himself back on the farm in Clara's dream.

I habitually glance at the girl still busy in the window not far away.

Wei Ran withdrew his gaze and looked back at the metal notebook in front of him.

At this moment, lines of blood-red text had already been written on the pale yellow paper:
Act IV

Character: Photographer Wei Ran
Return mission: Take no fewer than three photos, including at least one group photo, and fight to the death.

As Wei Ran trembled, the white light rushed towards him again, and he saw the usable item once more.

Mauser bayonets, Rolleiflex double-lens reflex cameras, anti-Japanese broadswords, Pelikan pens, as well as Long March carrying poles, camera cases, personal flasks, British army canteens, suitcases filled with clothes, PPK pistols, and the biting horse.

As he waited in silence, the white light faded, and he gradually smelled the aroma of food, as well as the scent of earthy soil covered in rainwater.

A moment later, as his vision returned, he gradually saw everything clearly and heard the faint noise of rain.

Looking around, I realized I was sitting by a window in a building.

Outside the window, the drizzling rain washed over the streets and pedestrians.

Inside the window, this appears to be the second floor of the building. Less than three meters to the left is a wooden staircase leading downstairs, and five other tables to the left front are empty.

Looking at himself in front of him, there was only a pot of tea, three white porcelain teacups, and a plate of unidentified pastries on the octagonal table.

A black top hat sat on the corner of the table, but a small section of the gun butt was sticking out from the corner of the hat.

Gently lifting the top hat, sure enough, was the PPK pistol from the metal notebook.

With his left hand resting on the pistol, the metal notebook was successfully retrieved, and Wei Ran finally had time to examine himself.

He wore a long, drab gray robe and cloth shoes with thick soles, but his black trousers were tied with leggings.

I pulled open the collar and peeked inside; it was a gray cloth jacket with a front opening.

Clearly, he could take off his long gown at any time and become a laborer.

After glancing out the window again, Wei Ran took out the Mauser C96 and the PPK pistol and checked them over.

Fortunately, both guns were fully loaded with bullets.

But where am I? What time is it? What am I supposed to do here?
And what kind of death battle? What are we fighting to the death for?
Just as more and more questions were swirling in his mind, footsteps came from the corner at the end of the stairs.

He put away his gun and turned to look. A young man dressed similarly to him walked up step by step, holding an oil-paper umbrella in one hand and a wet top hat in the other.

yes.
Wei Ran's eyes widened in shock. It was Wang Bingchu! He was still alive!

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