Cangmang Asks the Way 1: Guardian of the Lamp

A series of hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, interspersed with the clatter of canes. The sounds stopped in front of the ward door, which was then pushed open.

Cang Lifeng looked up and saw three people standing at the door. The one in front was an elderly man with gray hair, wearing an old military uniform with a military overcoat over it. He was very tall, but his back was somewhat hunched. His face was deeply wrinkled, his brow bones were high, and his eyes were cloudy, but his gaze was sharp. He was leaning on a wooden cane, the paint on the tip of which had been mostly worn away.

Behind the old man followed Shen Weiguo and a young man in military uniform. The young man was about twenty-four or twenty-five years old, with cadet epaulets on his shoulders. He was as tall as Shen Weiguo, and the features of his face had not yet been hardened by the years. His eyes were very similar to Shen Jingyi's, large and bright, but with an added sharpness of a soldier.

Shen Jingyi stood up from the bedside, her eyes reddening, and quickly went to greet her grandfather, gently taking his arm and calling out, "Grandpa."

Shen Zhongguo turned his head and glanced at his granddaughter, his eyes full of love. He gently patted the back of her hand and said, "Child, you've been frightened." Then, leaning on his cane, he walked step by step towards the hospital bed. When he reached the bedside, he stopped, lowered his head, and looked at the pale face on the bed.

Cang Lifeng stood up and took a half step back. He didn't know the old man's identity, but judging from his aura, he was probably no ordinary person.

Shen Zhongguo stared at it for a long time. So long that the air in the ward seemed to freeze.

Then he reached out and gently placed his hand on Cang Xiangrong's, murmuring, "Yuanzhi's nephew... he's Yuanzhi's nephew. Just as fearless as Yuanzhi!"

Standing at the door, Shen Weiguo saw this scene and understood that his father had come to the hospital not only to see his granddaughter, but also to see the descendant of an old friend!

"Who are you?" Cang Lifeng asked.

Shen Zhongguo turned around, looked at him, and asked, "Young man, what's your name?"

"Cangli Peak".

"Who is Cang Yuanzhi to you?"

"Second Uncle."

Shen Zhongguo's lips trembled slightly, as if something was stuck in his throat. He stared at Cang Lifeng's face for a few seconds, then suddenly said, "You're Lifeng? I've seen you in the newspaper. Well done."

Cang Lifeng paused for a moment, then lowered his head slightly: "You flatter me, sir. How do you know my second uncle?"

Just as Shen Zhongguo was about to speak, he suddenly heard Shen Weiguo at the door say, "Xiuzhi, you're here. Dad's inside."

Shen Jianjun and Shen Jingyi called out in unison, "Mom."

Cang Lifeng also called out "Dean Li". At this moment, he already knew that the person who performed the surgery on his brother was the dean of this hospital.

Li Xiuzhi nodded and said, "I've come to check on the patients." She went to Shen Zhongguo and called out, "Dad, what brings you here?"

"I've come to see my granddaughter." He paused, then pointed to Cang Xiangrong lying on the bed and said, "I've also come to see my granddaughter's savior, who is also the nephew of an old friend."

Li Xiuzhi was somewhat surprised; she hadn't expected that her daughter's savior would have such a deep connection with the Shen family.

She bent down to check on Cang Xiangrong. She saw Cang Xiangrong's eyelids twitch, then he slowly opened his eyes.

He saw many concerned yet unfamiliar faces, young and old. Among them was a face he knew all too well—Brother Lifeng. He thought he was dreaming, so he closed his eyes and opened them again. It wasn't until Cang Lifeng called out to him in surprise, "Xiang Rong," that he was certain it wasn't a dream.

He called out, "Brother," his eyes glistening with joyful tears.

Shen Jingyi stepped forward and called out, "Brother Xiang Rong, do you remember me? Do you know my name?"

Cang Xiangrong smiled and said, "Hello, Shen Jingyi!"

Shen Jingyi leaned down, looked intently into his eyes, then straightened up, turned to her mother, and said in a trembling voice, "Mom, he's conscious and his answers are relevant. He should be alright."

Li Xiuzhi nodded and gently patted her daughter's hand: "Yes, it's alright. Don't disturb him, let him rest."

After saying that, she bent down and examined it carefully.

After Li Xiuzhi finished her examination, Shen Zhongguo stood up from his chair, walked to the bedside, sat down on the edge of the bed, and gazed at Cang Xiangrong, saying, "Child, I am Shen Jingyi's grandfather, and also your second uncle Cang Yuanzhi's comrade-in-arms. Our Shen family owes you two generations a debt of gratitude!"

"Grandpa, please tell us your story," Shen Jingyi said.

"Alright. Perhaps this is fate's arrangement. Let me tell you younger generations this long-buried story."

Shen Zhongguo looked at Cang Xiangrong lying down, then at Cang Lifeng standing up, and said, "Your second uncle, Cang Yuanzhi, joined the Volunteer Army when he was 16 years old, hiding it from his family and claiming he was 2. He followed me for two years. That winter, the company was surrounded."

We lost contact with the regimental headquarters, and there were no reinforcements or supplies for three days and three nights. The reconnaissance platoon obtained intelligence—a map of the enemy's defensive line. It had to be delivered to the regimental headquarters. It was fifteen li (about 7.5 kilometers) away, requiring us to cross the enemy's blockade line. To make matters worse, that blockade line was completely open and flat. Moreover, it was snowing at the time, a vast expanse of white, making it virtually impossible for anyone to cross. Who could possibly accomplish such a daunting task?

The old man paused for a moment, as if to decide whether he should say what he was about to say.

"I thought of Cang Yuanzhi. That boy is clever, agile, determined, and a quick learner. I found him and told him my plan. I thought he would hesitate, but to my surprise, he readily agreed. I asked him, 'Yuanzhi, this mission is extremely dangerous, aren't you afraid?' He said, 'No. If I were afraid, I wouldn't have come to Korea.'"

"He was indeed not afraid. To avoid being discovered by the enemy, he often operated at night. With each step, he would smooth out his footprints. During the day, he would bury himself in the snow for more than ten hours without moving. Halfway there, his right calf was cut open by a sharp piece of iron buried in the snow, and blood flowed incessantly. He washed it with snow water, tore off strips of cloth, bandaged it hastily, and continued limping. He walked like this for three nights and lay in the snow for three days. Finally, when he delivered the blueprints to the regimental headquarters, his injured right leg, cut by rusted iron and buried in the snow for so long, had been chilled to the bone by the cold. The muscles in his right calf were completely damaged, and amputation was necessary. His leg saved the lives of the entire company. I owe him a leg, and all the soldiers in our company owe him a leg."

His voice choked as he spoke.

Cang Lifeng stood there, listening, his hands unconsciously clenching. He remembered his childhood, his second uncle chopping wood in the yard with his cane, wood chips flying everywhere, and him squatting beside him watching. He asked, "Second Uncle, where's your leg?" His second uncle paused for a moment, then laughed and said, "I lost it in North Korea." At that time, he didn't understand what "lost" meant. Now he understood—lost meant to split a life in two, leaving one half for the family and burying the other half in the snow.

"Later, we wanted him to get a prosthetic leg. But he refused. He said that getting a prosthetic leg was too much trouble, and that he could walk as fast as he could with just a cane. Actually, we knew that he didn't want to cause trouble for the country."

"Later, he transferred to civilian work and I heard he became the deputy director of the commune. We lost contact for ten years. Until three years ago," he looked at Cang Lifeng and said, "he called me about your matter. That's when we reconnected."

Cang Lifeng then realized that his second uncle's phone call back then was actually to the old man in front of him.

Shen Zhongguo sighed and said, "Yuanzhi is just too stubborn. No matter how much suffering or injustice he endures, he is unwilling to cause even the slightest trouble for this country or for us old comrades who owe him a leg."

He then looked at Cang Lifeng and said, "That year, if it weren't for you, your second uncle might never have made that call to me, even until his death. Child, I should thank you!"

He turned to look at Cang Xiangrong, who was lying on the bed staring intently at him, and said, "Child, I also want to thank you! Not only because you saved my granddaughter, but also because you made me see the shadow of your second uncle once again. You and Lifeng both have the spirit of your second uncle. Perhaps this is the spirit of your Cang family, and also the spirit of our nation!"

As he said this, the old man's cloudy eyes filled with light.

Shen Jianjun stood behind his grandfather, his lips pressed into a thin line. He had never heard his grandfather talk about these things before. After four years in the army, he thought he understood what a "soldier" was. Now he realized he knew far too little. He whispered, "Grandpa, you've never told me any of this."

Shen Zhongguo didn't turn around, but said in a low voice, "Some things are not that we don't want to talk about them, but that we can't bring ourselves to say them."

Cang Lifeng recalled his grandfather, Cang Houde's, words. His grandfather said that his second uncle's leg was lost for the country. He was young then and didn't understand what "for the country" meant. Now he understood. "For the country" meant someone lying in the snow for three days and three nights, exchanging one leg for over sixty lives. It meant saying "I don't regret it" after losing a leg. It meant living on crutches for over forty years without complaining or crying out in pain.

Shen Zhongguo's loving gaze swept back and forth between Cang Xiangrong and Cang Lifeng's faces.

Then, he slowly stood up. Shen Jianjun and Shen Weiguo wanted to help him up, but he waved them off. He straightened his slightly hunched back, leaned his cane against the bedside, and then slowly raised his right hand to give a standard military salute to Cang Xiangrong, who was lying on the bed, and to Cang Lifeng, who was standing straight with tears in his eyes.

This single action stunned everyone present. The ward fell completely silent.