My era, 1979!

Chapter 119 "The Box of Hope" (3) (Celebrating the 80th Anniversary of Victory)

[The eve of the assault on the main peak of Songshan in 1944]

Da Niu crouched in the shell crater when the black box popped out a message of hope: "Brother Da Niu! The history teacher said you won the Battle of Songshan! The Japanese were driven away! I drew what Songshan looks like now, with roads and trees, and no more trenches!"

On the back of the letter, Hope drew a colorful picture: under the blue sky and white clouds, the road winds around the green mountains, and several children are flying kites on the grass. Five-pointed stars are drawn on the kites.

Da Niu stared at the painting, tears falling onto the letter paper.

At that moment, an American reporter in a suit walked over with a camera, squatted down next to him, and asked in broken Chinese, "How old are you?"

"16."

Da Niu folded the letter neatly and stuffed it into his pocket, then touched the rifle.

He grew a bit taller that year, and finally he didn't need to use stones to prop up his gun anymore.

"Do you miss your family?" the reporter asked again.

Da Niu looked down at his chest, where black-and-white photos of his parents and a letter of hope were pasted: "They are dead."

Do you think China can win?

Da Niu raised his head. In the distance, the outline of Songshan Mountain resembled a reclining lion in the twilight. His voice was soft but firm: "China will definitely win."

The reporter stared at his figure, which was half a head shorter than a gun, and asked again, "What do you plan to do after China's victory? Get married, have children, and continue serving in the army?"

Da Niu was silent for a while, then reached out and touched the black box, as if he could touch the kite in the painting of hope.

He smiled, revealing his missing front tooth: "I was already dead then."

The reporter's camera clicked, capturing his smiling face.

"Brother Niu, can you please not go? You'll die."

“Brother Xiwang, our village is gone, our whole family is gone. My life was given to me by the platoon leader, the squad leader, and the deputy squad leader. They have already gone before me, now it’s my turn.”

At night, the bugle call for the final assault sounded.

Da Niu, carrying a satchel charge, charged toward the Japanese pillbox. As he charged, he didn't forget to touch his chest; the letter of hope was still there, and the blue sky and white clouds in the painting were still there.

As the flames from the bunker illuminated the night sky, he seemed to truly see the children in the painting of hope flying kites. The kites soared high, like the future that he and his comrades hadn't had time to see.

He left as a young man, and returned as a man of sixty years.

The mountains and rivers remain unharmed, but the majestic walls stand as a final resting place for loyal souls.

[Xin Xiwang's home in Harbin, 2027 (at his desk)]

I hope that when I receive Da Niu's last letter, the envelope will be stained with brown marks, the letter paper will be only half-finished, and the charcoal handwriting will be crooked and messy.

“Brother Xiwang, I’m going to launch the final assault. I might not live to see victory, but I know what you said is true. There will be roads in Songshan, and children will be flying kites. You must study hard and see that day for me…”

At the end of the letter was a small five-pointed star drawn in blood.

He wanted to put this half-finished letter together with his "first in the grade" certificate, and then he lay on his desk and cried.

He understood that the "bravery" he was referring to was the ordinary act of doing homework by the stove; while Brother Da Niu's bravery was knowing he would die, yet still rushing towards the flames with a bomb in his arms.

He picked up a pencil and wrote next to Da Niu's letter: "Brother Da Niu, Songshan really does have a road now, and lots of flowers will bloom in spring. Children will fly kites on the grass. I will study hard and see every mountain and every road in China for you."

The dim light illuminated the certificates of merit on the desk, the half-written letter stained with blood, and the light in the eyes of hope.

That was the light about the future that Brother Da Niu and countless others like him lit with their lives.

One star is not enough to dispel darkness, but countless stars certainly can.

(ending)

"Hopefully, the headmistress will tell you that an uncle will bring you back some things from your father later."

"I hope you're already an eight-year-old big kid."

"I hope you'll be brave!"

My father's colleague stood at the door, holding a black box that looked a lot like the one I hoped for.

With a solemn expression, he said to Xiwang and the principal, "Xiwang, this is Comrade Xin Lei's belongings. He... sacrificed his life while on a mission. He said that if he didn't come back, he would give this to you."

(Due to space limitations, the above is a summary)
"

Looking up at the sky of history, our love for our country and our people shines brightly.

Across time and in different contexts, the sentiment of patriotism remains constant.

This novel is called "The Box of Hope".

Xu Chengjun chose to leave the ending blank. In the process of hoping for growth, he chose to reveal future technology through a childlike perspective.

AI, smartphones, projectors, high-speed rail, manned spacecraft
In this era, it is undoubtedly equivalent to science fiction.

At the same time, Xu Chengjun hopes that his interactions with Huang Siyuan, Li Changcun, and Liu Daniu, especially with Liu Daniu, demonstrate his growth.

The contact process relies on a fictional box, which, if you have to categorize it, could be called fantasy.

Soft science fiction, soft fantasy, realism.

Xu Chengjun wrote until after 5 p.m.

I originally intended to write it as a novella, but it took me 40,000 words to finish the story of the Korean War.

If I were to finish writing it, it would probably be over 100,000 words, which is close to the length of a novel.

He really liked this story.

It's not outrageous, but it breaks the mold of contemporary literature.

Popular or serious?
None of it matters.

The important thing is where the roots are.

No matter how serious the wording,
However, some people believe in the saying "A year of master's degree in the UK, a lifetime of love for Britain" or "The sky in America is bluer than in China, so the moon in America is rounder than the moon in China."

That would be a waste of time.

Feeling hungry at noon, Xu Chengjun ate a bite of the dry food biscuits in his bag with some plain water.

As darkness fell, a young man of medium build entered the dormitory.

"Hello, comrade!"

The voice was very soft, clearly because Xu Chengjun was writing something, and the speaker deliberately lowered his voice.

Xu Chengjun had a pretty good first impression of his roommate.

"Comrade, hello! I am Xu Chengjun."

Xu Chengjun extended his hand to the man, who quickly shook hands with him: "My name is Lin Yimin, I'm a local from Shanghai, my home is in Zhabei District, not far from the school. Comrade Chengjun, if you have any questions about Shanghai, you can ask me anytime."

Xu Chengjun laughed and said, "That's great, Comrade Yimin. I'm not very familiar with Shanghai and need a local to show me around. I'm from Fengyang, Anhui, and I was a sent-down youth."

Lin Yimin was somewhat surprised by Xu Chengjun's standard Mandarin. These days, apart from a few counties in Hebei, the birthplace of Mandarin, few people speak Mandarin so standardly.

Even he spoke with a slight Shanghai accent.

But upon further inquiry, Fengyang? A sent-down youth?
Xu Chengjun?
Lin Yimin looked at Xu Chengjun with surprise: "Comrade Chengjun, I wonder if you have written a novel called 'The Fitting Mirror'?"

He was also a literature enthusiast. After finishing the college entrance examination and losing the pressure of studying, he "crammed" on popular literary magazines, especially "Harvest" which he read several times. There was no other way; these days, top journals are bimonthly, and there wasn't much content to read.

In Harvest, he particularly liked "The Fitting Mirror" in the fourth issue. He keenly captured the avant-garde nature of the novel and greatly admired the author, both in terms of its ideas and writing techniques.

"That's right, I wrote it. It was just published in Harvest last month. I hope Comrade Yimin will forgive my poor writing."

"Please excuse me? Comrade Chengjun is joking. Anyone who dares to laugh at this novel would be showing a real disrespect to literature. This novel resonates with me more than many other works I've read. It doesn't depict the grand tides of the times, but only the desire of a person to wear a new outfit, yet it is still so moving. Not to mention, the writing style of this novel reminds me of Foucault."

Xu Chengjun was a little surprised; this classmate did have some knowledge.

"Comrade Yimin is very sensitive to literature. I believe you will be able to write an even better work than 'The Dressing Mirror.' Let's work together. The development of Chinese literature requires the contribution of each and every one of us."

"Learn from Comrade Cheng Jun."

Xu Chengjun also tidied up the paper, pens, and other miscellaneous items on the table, pondering where he would take Xu Xiaomei and Su Manshu for a meal that evening.

Unexpectedly, Lin Yimin was even more enthusiastic than he had thought: "Comrade Chengjun, haven't you had dinner yet? Let's go to the canteen for a meal together. It's on me. Let me show you some hospitality."

Lin Yimin still had excitement in his eyes. His family was wealthy, and both his parents were politicians with high ranks, so they didn't care about the cost of this meal.

As a literature enthusiast, such opportunities to dine and discuss with popular writers are rare.

Not to mention that she shares a dorm room with him.

Of course, we should actively communicate and try to find a strong ally!
Xu Chengjun hesitated for a moment.

"Comrade Yimin, I have a younger sister and a friend who are also on the Fudan University campus. How about this, you come eat with us, and I'll treat you to this meal?"

Lin Yimin also hesitated.

The main reason is that he doesn't have the habit of asking others to treat him to meals.

There aren't many people whose family is better off than his.

(End of this chapter)