Chapter 2799 The Second Letter

"Press here, quick!" Tan Shuangxi ordered the soldier to apply pressure while he freed his own hands. There was no time to undo Guo Dapeng's clothes or turn him over, so he shoved the fabric upward with both hands, feeling for the wound. He started from the waist, expecting the exit wound to be somewhere on the right side of the back, but before his hands could reach that far, the middle finger of his left hand sank into flesh. The wet, slick sensation made him recoil. He yanked his hand back and shouted, "The wound is here!"

Another hole gaped in the lower right back. This wound was much larger—the lead shot had exited sideways, tearing a gash an inch wide. It must have struck a rib inside and changed direction. The soldier beside him passed over another first-aid packet. Tan Shuangxi unfolded it and bound it in place. Before he could finish tying it off, the medic arrived, felt Guo Dapeng's neck, and said flatly, "Don't bother. He's already dead." His tone was resigned, defeated.

Tan Shuangxi looked up at Guo Dapeng's face. He had long since stopped breathing. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide open but empty, staring at nothing. From the moment that terrifying cannon blast erupted from the bushes to the cessation of his labored breathing—those desperate "Oh! Oh! Oh!" gasps—only a few dozen seconds had passed.

He had expected to feel rage, murderous intent. Yet he felt neither. The pitch-black night, the cold mountain wind, the crack of guns and boom of cannons, the roars of men in battle, the wailing of the dying—all of it filled his heart with a crushing sense of powerlessness. Fear gripped him, robbing him of the strength to stand.

"...To tell the truth, I was terrified at that moment. Absolutely terrified. My legs wouldn't stop trembling, and my heart kept sinking. It felt like a hand was tearing at my chest." Tan Shuangxi's own hand trembled around the wine glass. "Don't laugh at me. I'm a veteran—I've seen combat dozens of times and been through plenty of big engagements—but I'd never been so scared I couldn't move. Not until that night."

"And then?" Zhang Laicai pressed.

"It took a while before I felt 'alive' again. And when I did, all I felt was rage. I wanted to poke the ambushing bandits full of holes right then and there. But there were no enemies in front of us—only abandoned corpses and two firelocks. They must have lit the fuses and fled. The forest was dense and the grass tall; walk a few steps in and you'd lose all sense of direction." Tan Shuangxi wiped his eyes. "Old Zhang, you know what? When we fought so fiercely at the Battle of Chengmai—moving corpses, transporting the wounded, repairing fortifications on those earthen embankments—I wasn't scared at all. But after this... every time we marched near the edge of a forest, my heart seized up. I kept feeling like a cannon blast would ring out at any second."

"Did you send out point men?" Infantry drill manuals require scouts in front and on the flanks of the main body during marches. When encountering complex terrain like forests, they must search as they advance. This is a basic combat requirement.

"You know why Guo Dapeng didn't even get a 'Three Excellents' commendation in the end? Because he was the point man, and he thought it was too hard to walk through the forest in the dark..." Tan Shuangxi let out a rough breath, threw his head back, and took another deep gulp. "Can't really blame him either. From enlistment to death, he only served half a year."

"New recruits die fast. The ones who survive become veterans." Zhang Laicai drank until his eyes were red. "Look at our platoon—more than half are new faces."

"Once the wounded and sick return, we'll be over strength."

"Isn't that why they say we're reorganizing?" Zhang Laicai said. "Probably expanding again. I heard we're going to fight a major war against the Imperial Court. Fight straight to the capital and sit on the Dragon Throne!"

"Sitting on the Dragon Throne is only a matter of time. But do emperors really take turns? There are several hundred Senators."

"Probably works similar to how things are now."

"How many years can a person live? I wonder how many Senators are secretly unhappy about it." Having drunk his fill, Tan Shuangxi grew bolder and voiced the doubts hidden in his heart.

"What are you saying that for?!" Zhang Laicai sobered instantly, glancing around nervously. "Do you know where we are?!"

Tan Shuangxi realized he had misspoken and quickly resumed drinking. By unspoken agreement, neither mentioned the matter again. They turned instead to the next day's business.

"Tomorrow we're delivering to Hu Weide's family." Tan Shuangxi sighed. "He and his wife were very devoted to each other, and they were newlyweds too. I'm afraid she'll cry herself blind tomorrow."

"I heard he was a live-in son-in-law?"

"That's right. He was a Fulao, a 'Shooting Plough' settler. His father-in-law is a local—a minor landlord, even."

"If he was a live-in son-in-law, surely he had no brothers at home. How could he come out and be a soldier?"

"Originally he didn't need to be," Tan Shuangxi sighed. "There's a policy. Naturalized citizens with a Class B diploma can be promoted to candidate officer after serving as a volunteer for one year, so he enlisted voluntarily. If he hadn't fallen, he'd be at least a second lieutenant by now. Sigh!"

"What a pity!" Zhang Laicai agreed.

"He was a fool about it too. With that Class B diploma, he could have done anything—passed the civil service exam, the military academy entrance, gotten into a factory. He qualified for all of it. Yet he ran off to volunteer as a soldier. Lost his little life in a muddle. Probably didn't even leave a child behind."

Despite their sighing now, neither Tan Shuangxi nor Zhang Laicai had liked Hu Weide much while he was alive. Zhang Laicai's dislike was simple: Hu Weide was a Fulao, and most locals didn't care for outsiders. Tan Shuangxi's dislike ran deeper: Hu Weide loved to brag about his wife. He bragged so incessantly that the whole company knew how a penniless drifter had managed to marry into a minor landlord's family in Botang Village as a live-in son-in-law. That alone showed how insufferable the man could be. Even more insufferable was his habit of boasting about vaguely romantic affairs—until a few soldiers who had been bachelors since birth gave him a thorough beating, which finally shut him up.

But orders were orders, and out of respect for the dead, Tan Shuangxi and Zhang Laicai still had a duty to fulfill on Hu Weide's behalf.

Early the next morning, they set off from Fushan. Along the way, they stopped at several other locations to deliver death notifications. It was nearly noon by the time they headed toward Botang. But Botang Village wasn't near a railway station, and no public carriages ran through the countryside. The two men had to rely on the iron legs trained into them by army life, asking for directions as they walked the country roads. They arrived in the afternoon.

They had walked the entire way. There were no markets along the road, so they had only grass rations to stave off hunger. By the time they reached Botang, they were exhausted and famished. At the village office, they learned that Botang was a large settlement with sixteen paijia under its jurisdiction. Hu Weide's home was in the Eleventh Jia, still nearly five li from the village office.

"I'll get someone to guide you. It's not easy being on official duty," the village head said, then asked, "From the looks of you, I'm guessing you haven't eaten yet?"

"We really haven't." Tan Shuangxi was past caring about politeness. "Is there a food stall around here? We'll eat a meal before moving on."

"Where would a countryside place like this have a restaurant? Besides, you're here on official duty—how can we ask you to spend your own money?" The village head called over a half-grown boy. "Go tell your mother that comrades have come to the village on official business. Make food for two and bring it here!" Then he turned back to them: "Comrades, sit and rest a while. The food will be ready soon!" He brought out a large teapot and poured herbal tea for both of them.

Normally, discipline would have required them to decline. But burning with hunger as they were, they couldn't be bothered. They sat down and waited for the food.

While waiting, Zhang Laicai inquired about Hu Weide's family situation. They knew very little about this comrade-in-arms, after all. Aside from the wife he had so vigorously bragged about, he had never mentioned anything specific about his home life.

"His family," the village head began. "His father-in-law is named Fang. The Fang clan is a major family in this village. His father-in-law was originally a landlord—owned dozens of mu of land, farmed it himself, and hired a few long-term laborers. He's prospered greatly these past few years and is considered a model household for the Heaven and Earth Society."

"So the family is quite wealthy..."

"Wealthy, certainly, but the old man is stingy as they come." The village head laughed. "Hu Weide was originally a long-term laborer in his household. He was presentable, could read, and knew his numbers. Before long, he had the Fang girl so charmed she refused to marry anyone else. At first, Father Fang looked down on him—first because Fulao folk have no roots, and second because this young Hu seemed a bit too slick, and the old man worried he was unreliable. But the daughter insisted on the match. So although he let them marry, he never had a kind word for the boy."

"Any children?"

"None." The village head sighed. "He went off to be a soldier only three months after the wedding. Father Fang cursed him thoroughly for it, said he was running off to seek his own death... And now—sigh, sigh, sigh! Poor Fang girl, widowed so young."

Tan Shuangxi understood. Nine times out of ten, the father-in-law had nothing but harsh words for him, so Hu Weide signed up for the army in a fit of defiance, hoping to earn a future for himself and hold his head high.

But unexpectedly, he had lost his life just like that.

No need to guess much—the Fang girl would likely recruit a new husband within a year or two at most. And Hu Weide would ultimately lie forgotten in the Chaozhou military cemetery, remembered by no one.

The thought lodged like a stone in Tan Shuangxi's chest. He couldn't help but let out a heavy sigh. Then something occurred to him. "Does Little Hu have any other relatives?"

"He was a Fulao who came to Hainan as a 'Shooting Plough' settler. Where would he have relatives locally?" The village head shook his head. "I heard him say once that his family used to get by well enough, but later met with misfortune. Things got so bad that the whole family sold everything, and the siblings each took some travel money to find their own way. That's how he ended up in Hainan. It's been over ten years now, all told. The family is probably long scattered."

"Since he's from Fujian, do you know exactly where he was from?" Tan Shuangxi pressed, unwilling to give up.

"No idea. Who keeps track of such things?" The village head smiled. "Ask the Fang girl when you see her. She probably knows."

As they were talking, the half-grown boy came carrying a large bamboo basket, calling out, "Officers, please eat!"

"Eat, eat." The village head opened the bamboo basket and took out two large bowls of fragrant rice noodles—white strands topped with shrimp and vegetables, looking very appetizing indeed.

(End of Chapter)