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

The late autumn sun shone on the brand-new synthetic track, reflecting a dazzling light.

This is a typical morning at an experimental primary school in Beijing. The air is filled with the scent of ink and the sweet fragrance of osmanthus blossoms. On the large screen at the school gate, an authoritative announcement just released by the Ministry of Education is being displayed:

The new edition of compulsory education history and social studies textbooks has been officially launched nationwide, comprehensively covering major historical processes related to the technological resurgence and the rule of law in the new era.

What seemed like an ordinary sentence has triggered a major earthquake in the education and cultural sectors.

A redesign is not unusual.

What's unprecedented is that, in the past, history textbooks almost never included the specific life stories and achievements of living figures, in order to avoid controversy before a final conclusion was reached. But this time, the council personally intervened, and hundreds of top historians and social science experts from across the country unanimously approved it, breaking this decades-old ironclad rule.

For just one person.

A man who walked into the temple of history alive.

……

The classroom of Class 1, Grade 6 was bright and clean.

Fifty children wearing red scarves sat upright, holding a brand-new textbook that still smelled of fresh ink.

The homeroom teacher standing on the podium was a man in his fifties, wearing thick reading glasses. As he flipped through the textbook in his hands, his fingertips began to tremble uncontrollably when they stopped on the page of Unit 8.

That page featured a large, two-page color photograph.

The photo shows a young man in a black trench coat, with a stern expression but eyes that seem to hold the stars, standing with his hands behind his back in front of the pine forest in the martyrs' cemetery.

Beside it, the chapter titles were printed in bold, vigorous black font:

—Lesson 18: Rebuilding the Backbone: Technological Breakthroughs and Pioneers of the Times.

The old teacher looked up, took off his glasses, and secretly wiped his slightly moist eyes with a handkerchief.

He survived those difficult times step by step.

He remembers the feeling of not having enough to eat, the tragic scene of ordinary people crying in the streets for a few hundred yuan in resettlement compensation, and the humiliation and helplessness of the entire nation when Western embassies were bombed and aircraft carriers sailed to their doorstep.

He knew better than these children who grew up in luxury how this man in the photo, with eyes as sharp as knives, had single-handedly pulled this decadent civilization back from the brink of collapse.

"Students, please turn to page seventy-eight."

The elderly teacher cleared his throat, which was slightly choked with emotion, and his voice echoed in the quiet classroom.

"Splash—"

Fifty children turned the pages of the book at the same time.

"Wow!"

A burst of childish exclamations instantly filled the classroom.

"Teacher! Who is that person? He's so handsome!"

A little girl with a ponytail and round eyes pointed at Liu Ming in the photo and couldn't help but shout it out.

"Teacher, what's that little black knife hanging around his neck? Is it a toy?" A chubby little boy next to him also craned his neck, his face full of curiosity.

The old teacher walked to the little boy's side, gently patted his head, and looked serious and solemn.

"That's not a toy, that's the 'Dragon Fang' military dagger, a feat he honed in the blood of his enemies amidst piles of corpses on the southwestern border."

The old teacher turned around, picked up the chalk, and wrote two powerful characters on the blackboard, stroke by stroke:

[Liu Ming].

"Class, in today's lesson, we won't talk about ancient people or those distant legends."

Looking into the clear eyes of the students below the stage, the old teacher's tone became lower and more affectionate than ever before:

"The people we're talking about are the real heroes who have protected each and every one of you, allowing you to sit here today enjoying air conditioning and a nutritious lunch."

"Thirty years ago, our country did not have its own chips, and we even had to rely on foreigners to make the parts for a mobile phone. At that time, our factories had to work for others and earn a pitiful amount of hard-earned money."

"It was this Uncle Liu Ming who, single-handedly, tore up the unequal treaty and fought his way from a small mountain village in Qingyun County to the capital."

"He uprooted those corrupt officials who were sucking the blood of the common people."

"He led scientists to create our own 'artificial sun' in the desert, 800 meters underground."

"It was he who made aircraft carriers all over the world bow down and beg for peace outside our territorial waters."

"It was he who planted our flag on that red land of Mars!"

The old teacher spoke slowly, but every word was like a heavy hammer blow to the hearts of these innocent teenagers.

The children listened intently, their eyes wide open.

They don't know what capital operation is, nor do they understand what geopolitics is.

But they could glean a breathtaking power from those brief yet striking words in the book:

[...Comrade Liu Ming, Chief Advisor for National Strategic Technology, overcame all opposition and implemented new policies in a crucial battle that determined the fate of the nation, completely shattering the economic and technological strangulation by external forces...]

Throughout his life, he sought no personal gain and formed no factions. With the integrity of a national hero, he dedicated himself to protecting the peace and well-being of countless families.

"Teacher! Is he still alive? Where does he live?"

A little boy raised his hand high, his face full of enthusiasm and longing.

"He's still alive."

The old teacher smiled, his gaze passing through the window to the ancient red walls and green tiles deep within the capital.

"He is right beside us, perhaps in some ordinary alley, drinking a large bowl of tea and playing chess. He turned down all the glory and wealth, leaving us only a prosperous era."

"Come on, students, stand up!"

The old teacher suddenly straightened his back.

Fifty children stood up in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized.

"Read the last paragraph of the text with me."

The old teacher pointed at the textbook and took a deep breath.

In the classroom, dozens of children's voices suddenly mingled together, clear and melodious, as they read aloud:

"The heroic spirit of heaven and earth remains awe-inspiring for a thousand autumns."

"The peace and tranquility we enjoy is because someone has cleaved through the darkness on their journey."

"We should take Liu Ming, a national hero, as our role model."

"Strengthen our land! Fortify our national defense! Though there be millions, I will go!"

The child's voice was tender and childish.

But in those eyes that sparkled with starlight, a seed called "faith" had been quietly planted, taking root and sprouting.

……

At the same time, in Nanluoguxiang, in that quiet courtyard house.

Liu Ming was wearing a faded gray old man's shirt and holding a large pair of scissors, intently pruning the pomegranate tree in the yard.

The twelve-year-old eldest son, Liu Nian, burst in after school, carrying a huge schoolbag and covered in sweat.

"Dad! Dad! Big news!"

Liu Nian, panting heavily, pulled a brand-new book, still smelling of fresh ink, from his bag and slammed it onto the stone table, his face showing utter disbelief.

"Dad! Look! What are you doing in our textbook?"

"In class today, the whole class was reciting your name! Even our principal stood in the back row and cried!"

"Didn't you tell me you used to just serve tea and water to people at the National Development and Reform Commission?"

Liu Ming paused for a moment with the scissors in her hand.

He turned his head, looked at his son who was covered in sweat, and then at the open book on the table.

I happened to flip to his chapter.

The photo shows him looking spirited and menacing.

And now, he has a scruffy beard, holds a pair of pruning shears in his hand, and wears a pair of old Beijing cloth shoes that cost thirty yuan.

"These people from the Ministry of Education are just making a mess of things."

Liu Ming laughed and cursed, then reached out and flicked Liu Nian's forehead with a loud thud.

"Ouch! Dad, why did you hit me!"

Liu Nian protested, covering her head.

I hit you because you were ignorant.

Liu Ming put down the scissors, picked up the teapot on the stone table, and took a sip of cool boiled water.

"What's written in books is history; those are memorial tablets for the dead."

He looked at his son with no trace of the domineering and authoritative presence that was often portrayed in the public eye, only the tenderness of a father looking at his successor.

"The thing I'm most proud of in my life isn't reading this lousy book."

"What's that?"

Liu Nian rubbed her head and asked curiously.

At this moment, Xi Wanqing carried the washed fruit out of the kitchen, Nangong Yao was in the inner room calculating the latest space fund report, and Lin Xiaoxiao was wiping a training wooden sword in the corridor.

Liu Ming glanced at the courtyard filled with the warmth of everyday life, then looked at her son's clear eyes, and a heartfelt smile appeared on her lips.

"What I'm most proud of is that the world has become more peaceful. You bunch of little brats don't have to risk your lives like I did back then."

Liu Ming patted her son's schoolbag.

"Go, wash your hands."

"Tell your mom to serve the rice; we're having noodles with soybean paste today."

The sun is just right, the breeze is not dry.

From the distant school, the sound of students reciting their lessons echoed throughout the streets and alleys.

In this small courtyard, the man remembered by the entire nation is bowing his head, continuing to carefully prune that ordinary pomegranate tree.

This is true peace, the peace and stability he earned through a lifetime of bloodshed...