Special forces soldier demobilization: Starting from the county government compound, a meteoric rise

The spring breeze in March makes people feel a little sleepy.

Liu Ming was squatting under the grape trellis in the yard, clumsily tying knots in the newly sprouted vines with a piece of hemp rope in his hand. Xi Wanqing was taking a nap inside, and Tank had taken his brothers to the back mountain to hunt two wild rabbits to improve their meals. The whole courtyard was so quiet that only a few occasional birdsong could be heard.

"Tap, tap."

The courtyard gate was gently knocked on, with a strong rhythm. It sounded like someone who had been in the system for a long time, and even their knocking had a meticulous quality.

"The door's unlocked, come in," Liu Ming shouted without turning her head.

The door opened, and an elderly man with meticulously combed hair and gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose walked in. He carried two boxes of exquisitely crafted writing implements. Upon seeing the "old farmer" squatting on the ground with his hands covered in mud, the old man was clearly taken aback for a moment before tentatively speaking.

"Old Liu...?"

Liu Ming brushed the dirt off her hands, stood up, and looked at the other person with some suspicion: "Who are you?"

"Oh my, it really is you!" The old man stepped forward excitedly, handing over a business card with both hands. "I am the editor-in-chief of the National Publishing House, my surname is Xu. I apologize for disturbing your peace and quiet, Mr. Liu."

Liu Ming took the business card, glanced at it, and casually stuffed it into his pocket. He pointed to the small stool next to the stone table and said, "Editor-in-Chief Xu, please sit down. What can I do for you, this retired old man? If it's about policy, you've come to the wrong person. I can't even handle the dog that went missing from Old Wang's house at the village entrance these days."

Editor-in-Chief Xu quickly waved his hand, his expression solemn yet earnest: "Mr. Liu, you are joking. I am here on behalf of the publishing house, and even more so on behalf of our readers and younger generations, to ask you a favor."

He paused, his tone becoming extremely serious.

"We would like to ask you to write a memoir. Your life, from fighting on the border to governing a region, and finally reaching the pinnacle, is a microcosm of the most magnificent and turbulent decades. If it is not recorded, it will be a loss to the entire nation!"

After hearing this, Liu Ming was first taken aback, then burst into laughter.

He walked to the water vat, scooped up a spoonful of cool spring water to rinse the mud off his hands, and said casually, "Writing a memoir? Old Xu, you think this old man is too idle and want to make me suffer a bit?"

"Mr. Liu, I'm sincere." Editor-in-Chief Xu caught up with him, his eyes almost pleading. "You can name your terms. We can even provide you with a top-notch team of secretaries. You just need to say a few words, and we'll take care of the rest."

Liu Ming did not refuse immediately.

He sat back down on the stone bench and lit a cigarette. In the swirling smoke, he subconsciously unbuttoned his shirt collar and rolled up his sleeves.

Under that sunlight, the skin that should have been pampered was instead covered with a crisscrossing network of old scars.

Some are long and thin like centipedes, left by the knife attack in Ningzhou High-tech Zone late at night; some are sunken like pits, marks left by a sniper bullet from the Golden Triangle; and there is a suture line on the chest that runs almost halfway across the body, the aftershock of an explosion he endured to save his comrades.

Liu Ming looked down at the scars, her eyes becoming somewhat deep, as if she could see through the spring light before her and return to the Qingyun County Party Committee compound in the pouring rain.

"Writing a memoir, huh..."

Liu Ming exhaled a smoke ring, his voice much lower, "Old Xu, it's not that I don't want to write. It's just that my life has been too complicated. So complicated that even when I look back at it occasionally, it feels like an unreal dream."

"I remember the old man in Qingyun County who was hunted down for protecting his diary. I still remember his blind eye."

"I'm reminded of those young people in Shanghai who stood in the pouring rain all night waiting for affordable housing."

"I remember Mr. Lin holding my hand before he left, his grip was so strong it felt like he was passing on all the regrets of his life to me."

Liu Ming flicked his cigarette, took a drag, and gave a self-deprecating laugh.

"These things, if written down, would be even more exaggerated than those wish-fulfillment novels sold on street stalls. Do you think young people today would believe them? Would they really think that someone in this world would dare to single-handedly overthrow an entire comprador group? That someone would really dare to slam the table in front of a vice-state-level tiger inside the Forbidden City?"

Editor-in-Chief Xu was both alarmed and excited. He said urgently, "They'll believe it! As long as it's written by you, they'll definitely believe it! That's true power!"

"If I were to really write it, how many words would it take?" Liu Ming gazed at the distant, rolling mountains and said softly, "From the time I left Tsinghua University at the age of twenty-two until I signed my last document, I want to record every day, every battle, and every fallen comrade-in-arms. If I were to lay it all out, it would probably take millions of words to even get started."

Editor-in-Chief Xu slapped his thigh and exclaimed, "We'll publish even a few million words! Even if it's just a series, I'll make sure it takes up an entire shelf in the National Library!"

Liu Ming fell silent.

He thought of the names that had become cold inscriptions in the martyrs' cemetery, and of the brothers who had fought alongside him and were now old and gray.

If we don't write it down, perhaps that passion and faith will truly fade away in the dustbin of history as this generation grows old.

"Mr. Liu, please consider this... leaving a light for the younger generation." Editor-in-Chief Xu's last words completely opened Liu Ming's heart.

The cigarette in Liu Ming's hand had burned to the end.

He stubbed out his cigarette, stood up, and walked into the simple yet bright study.

On the desk, the brush, ink, paper, and inkstone were already prepared. These were the brushes Xi Wanqing used for practicing calligraphy, and the Xuan paper emitted a faint fragrance.

Liu Ming picked up the large wolf-hair brush that was already somewhat forked and dipped it in thick ink.

His hands were very steady.

Just like pulling the trigger on the battlefield back then, just like signing the name that concerns the fate of the nation on official documents back then.

Editor-in-Chief Xu held his breath and followed closely behind.

With a steady hand, Liu Ming's brush moved swiftly and powerfully. Four bold, vigorous characters, even exuding a sense of fierceness, appeared on the paper.

[Quan Lu Guoshi].

He finished writing, the ink still wet.

These four characters seem to bear the weight of thirty-eight years of vicissitudes, and a lifetime of military campaigns and political maneuvering.

Liu Ming looked at these four words, breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to look at the dumbfounded Editor-in-Chief Xu.

"Old Xu, I've decided on the title."

Liu Ming pointed at the Xuan paper, a familiar yet sharp smile curving her lips.

"We'll work out the rest slowly. But let me make this clear: there are a lot of deaths and tears in my story. If you dare delete a single word, I'm going to flip the table."

Editor-in-Chief Xu was so excited that his face turned red, and he nodded repeatedly.

"Mr. Liu, it's such a joy that you're willing to write! Don't even mention not deleting anything; I'll use the thickest gold leaf to cover this book!"

Liu Ming laughed and called out towards the door.

"Tank! Stop messing around with rabbits in the back hill, get back here right now and grind some ink for me!"