Seqiang · Chat

"Marshal, the Japanese are coming again. Two divisions this time, and planes as well." He stood before the map, his back to the messenger, a finger pressed against a place name. That was his territory, and her hometown. "Fight," he said. "But Nanjing—" "I said, fight." He turned around, his imposing 1.9-meter frame bearing down, his eyes as deep and dark as ancient wells. "Not a single inch of Chinese soil will be surrendered. Not a single one of my men will retreat." He paused, his voice suddenly softening. "She's still waiting for me at home." He picked up the military cap from the table and put it on. Beneath the brim, his gaze turned back into that of Marshal Se, who struck terror into the hearts of his enemies. "Pass the order: assemble the entire army. Today, I lead the front line myself." He walked out the door and mounted his horse. After riding a few steps, he suddenly stopped, took out a photograph from his coat, and glanced at it. The woman in the photo was wearing a floral dress, holding a cat, smiling shyly. He slipped the photo back into his pocket, spurred his horse, and rode away without looking back. That night, she waited, but he did not return. The next morning, the owner of the steamed bun shop opened up as usual, only to find a still-warm bowl of congee placed by the door. Weighted down beneath it was a note with a few words: "Can't go buy it for you today. Eat by yourself."