Hou Liangping arrested a hawkish general, and his father-in-law panicked

Zhou Shoujing turned around slowly. He didn't sit down, but just stood there like a silent sculpture.

On his pale face, his eyes were frighteningly bright, as if two flames were burning.

He didn't need to yell anymore, nor did he need to question anymore.

That shadow was the sharpest knife, which had cut open the chests of everyone present, allowing them to see the thing called "conscience."

"Now,"

Zhou Shoujing's voice sounded again, very light and slow, but with a tremendous weight, falling down word by word.

"tell me."

"Who is betraying them?"

Zhou Shoujing's question was like an ice spike, piercing the heart of everyone present.

"Who is betraying them?"

No one answered.

The air was frozen, and even breathing felt guilty.

In this suffocating silence, the black screen lit up again.

This time, there is no ice, snow and gun smoke.

What comes into view are magnificent mountains and rivers.

The camera looks down from ten thousand meters in the air. The mountains are continuous, like the backbone of the earth; the rivers are rushing, like silver blood vessels.

The sunlight penetrates the clouds and shines on this quiet and vast land. Everything seems so peaceful and full of vitality.

The tense nerves in the conference room seemed to relax a little with this magnificent scene.

However, this relaxation lasted less than ten seconds.

The camera suddenly dropped down, passed through the sea of ​​clouds, and locked onto one of the lush mountains.

As the camera moves forward, the outline of the mountain becomes clearer and clearer.

It's that mountain.

It was the snow-capped, hellish mountain they had just seen in the video, stained red by artillery fire and blood.

The screen is divided into two.

On the left, there is a peaceful scene filled with greenery, birdsong and flowers.

On the right is a black and white, noisy historical film.

Same angle, same ridgeline, but it was covered with ragged, stumbling figures.

The soldiers of the 20th Army marched with difficulty in knee-deep snow.

They carried old rifles and heavy ammunition boxes, and every step they took exhausted all their strength.

Their faces were frozen purple, their lips were cracked and bleeding, and the white breath they exhaled instantly turned into frost on their eyebrows and eyelashes.

But their eyes, through the blurred shadows, were still as firm as nails, firmly fixed on the direction of progress.

Not a single slogan, not a single complaint.

Only stepping on the snow "crunch, crunch"

The sound of the voice, and heavy and suppressed breathing.

This silent march is more impactful than any shout.

This sharp contrast was like an invisible hammer, hitting everyone's heart hard.

It turns out that every inch of peaceful land under our feet has been measured by such footsteps.

Suddenly, the two images merged into one, and history swallowed up reality.

The sharp bugle call sounded again, more shrill and resolute than before!

The camera was pulled to a position halfway up the mountain.

It was a real meat grinder.

The shells tore through the sky with a teeth-grinding shriek, and each explosion sent dirt, rubble, and human limbs flying into the air.

The flames from the heavy machine gun spewed out madly, weaving a web of death.

"Come on—!"

A hoarse roar sounded.

An officer who looked like a company commander, waving a Mauser pistol, was the first to jump out of the bunker.

The bullet hit his chest instantly, and he fell backward like a felled tree.

But he did not fall down. He used his gun to support himself on the ground and stood up again. Using his last bit of strength, he pointed forward, still shouting silently.

More warriors rushed past him.

They were like tigers descending from the mountains and torrents bursting through the dam, charging fearlessly towards the net of death.

A young soldier, holding a bag of explosives in his arms, rolled and dodged nimbly in the artillery fire.

He was less than twenty meters away from the enemy bunker when a bullet hit his leg.

He fell forward and could not stand up again.

Without any hesitation, he supported his body with his elbows and crawled forward bit by bit with difficulty.

On the ground was a shocking bloodstain.

The enemy's machine gun changed direction, and bullets rained down on the snow around him, splashing up clouds of white dust.

He pulled the fuse.

The firelight illuminated his childish face, which was full of determination.

He smiled, revealing his white teeth, and then suddenly rolled his entire body, along with the sizzling explosive pack, into the enemy's bunker...

"Boom——!!!"

The earth is shaking and the mountains are shaking.

At this moment, the picture turned blood red.

The deafening roar still echoed in the conference room.

The Parker pen in Gao Yuliang's hand fell on the smooth table with a "click", rolled a few times, and then stopped.

He was completely unaware and just stared at the screen. For the first time, the eyes behind the lenses lost that calmness of strategizing.

His Adam's apple rolled up and down, as if he wanted to swallow his saliva, but he found his throat was very dry.

Li Dakang's fists were clenched so tightly that the knuckles turned white.

He was not gritting his teeth, but grinding them. The muscles in his cheeks were twitching violently, making a slight "crackling" sound.

His chest heaved violently, like a beast trapped in a cage, his eyes burning with anger, grief, and...

Powerlessness.

Sha Ruijin slowly closed his eyes.

This time, he didn't force himself to open his eyes.

He was afraid that if he continued watching, he would lose control on the spot.

The explosion not only shattered the enemy's bunker, but also shattered the dam called "calmness" in his heart.

As Handong's highest decision-maker, he felt for the first time that the burden on his shoulders was so hot and so heavy.

This burden is carried by countless people of flesh and blood.

The blood-red picture gradually faded away.

The noisy battlefield disappeared.

The camera slowly pulls away, and it's still the same mountain.

But at this moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

On the hillside, a group of children wearing red scarves were chasing and playing, and their clear laughter could be heard from far away.

On a bench not far away sat a white-haired old man.

He was wearing an old military uniform that had been washed out. His chest was not covered with medals, but only a small commemorative badge with an indistinct pattern.

He didn't look at the lively children, but just stretched out his hand covered with age spots and old scars, and tremblingly stroked the cold metal over and over again.

His eyes were cloudy, yet they could penetrate time and space as he looked at the hills that he had once guarded with his life.

He didn't shed tears, but every wrinkle on his face was filled with stories, filled with sacrifices that no one knew about.

The mountains and rivers are safe.

These four words are of great weight at this moment.

The picture finally freezes on the old man's weather-beaten face, and then slowly fades to dark.

A line of white text appeared on the screen: [Have we preserved the peace our ancestors sacrificed their lives for?]

There was dead silence in the conference room.

This silence was longer than any other time before.

Suddenly, a burst of suppressed sobbing came from the seat of a young cadre in the back row.

He covered his face and shook his shoulders violently, trying to stop himself from crying out loud, but it was in vain.

This sound, a signal.

More and more people can no longer maintain their composure.

Some older cadres took off their glasses and wiped their red eyes vigorously with the backs of their hands.

Even the municipal party secretaries sitting in the front row lowered their heads and no one spoke.

Qi Tongwei sat in the corner, his head lowered, letting the shadow cover his face.

He thought of Lone Eagle Ridge, the anti-drug team, and the comrades who fell in his arms.