Something happened. This is not going to be bloody.

Wang Keshan looked at Zhou Leng warily and asked:

"This is where?"

The man's voice was a little hoarse. He remembered that he charged forward in the artillery fire and died together with the enemy in the bayonet fight. He clearly died in pain and exhaustion. How did he end up here? Where is this place? Do people really still have consciousness after death? Is this hell, heaven, or the legendary place where souls reside?

"China."

Zhou Leng's voice was very clear to Wang Keshan's ears. He walked a few steps forward to the edge of the rooftop. He looked at the bright lights coming from the tall buildings in the distance, the dazzling halos and signboards, the floating Chinese characters and the speeding vehicles on the road.

After a while, Wang Keshan looked at Zhou Leng in confusion and asked again:

"Huaguo? Where in Huaguo is so prosperous?"

Zhou Leng replied:

"The capital of China, this is the China you were thinking of, the China you once protected with your lives, so you are Wang Keshan?"

"I am Wang Keshan. Are you a god? Or Meng Po? Did we win the war? Is my hometown Sichuan Province doing well? Have I come back from the dead?"

The man had a lot of questions. His eyes were bright and hopeful. He hoped that all the good endings he thought of could come from the mouth of that strange woman.

Zhou Leng looked back at those bright eyes and answered:

"My name is Zhou Leng. You are here today because of Yan Xiaosong. You still remember him, right? He used his soul to exchange for your coming. This is China 80 years later. The Anti-Japanese War was won. Your hometown is great. You did not come back from the dead. Now you are a ghost like me."

Wang Keshan was stunned. These few sentences contained a huge amount of information and he was unable to react for a while. Fortunately, he had plenty of time to calm down.

Half an hour later, Wang Keshan asked again: "Xiao Songzi? That silly kid is still alive. He is so lucky."

The tone was teasing, but the man's face was full of smiles.

Zhou Leng briefly talked about Yan Xiaosong's situation, including the news that he had passed away today.

Wang Keshan's smile froze on his face. Today's society was no longer the world he was familiar with.

The man who was keeping vigil in the mourning hall was already drowsy. Suddenly he shivered as if he felt cold. The man woke up with a start, looked around and looked at the lights that were still on, then forced himself to continue kneeling straight.

The strange and aging face in the black and white photo had completely lost the youthful look that Wang Keshan was once familiar with. The image of the other person's young face firmly gripping the bayonet was so clear, but the two faces could not be overlapped at all.

Wang Keshan looked at the photo carefully, trying to find a trace of the past.

"I didn't know he lived so long. He was blessed, and I was lucky to be with him. But I don't recognize him when he's old."

Zhou Leng did not answer. She could understand Wang Keshan's feelings. To love a piece of land is to love the people born on this land and to love the culture derived from this land. But now the familiar people are no longer there.

Zhou Leng bowed and worshipped, then waited at the door.

Wang Keshan did not come out of the mourning hall until daybreak when he walked out the door and asked Zhou Leng:

"It's daybreak, so we shouldn't hide. Aren't we ghosts afraid of the sun?"

"No need, we are souls, not ghosts. Let's go out and take a walk."

The two men walked out of the mourning hall and looked at the busy people and the bustling streets. Wang Keshan straightened his clothes somewhat uncomfortably, even though others could not see his attire.

It was May now, with a gentle breeze and willow catkins flying. Walking on the streets where everyone was wearing a sun hat and thin clothes, Wang Keshan truly felt like a ghost wandering in the world. After all, his clothes were thick but he did not feel the heat at all.

The two 'wandering ghosts' sat on the benches at the bus stop and watched people coming and going. Zhou Leng asked softly:

"Is there any place you want to go? I can accompany you to see the unchanging mountains and rivers and the world today."

Wang Keshan looked at the passerby curiously and replied, "I want to go home and visit my hometown, Sichuan."

"It's not realistic for us to float back this time. We can only take a plane back."

"Plane? Everything now seems like a dream. Our country is really strong now!"

Zhou Leng answered seriously: "Without you, there would be no strength today, and without you, there would be no prosperity today."

Wang Keshan wanted to say something, but he remained silent. He couldn't say a word on behalf of his dead comrades.

At this time, two young men came to the bus stop. One of them was holding a mobile phone, and the volume of the speaker was a little loud. The man's deep voice came into their ears:

"Everyone knows that without Sichuan, there can be no army. But who knew that every family in Shu wore mourning clothes, hung white silk, and nine out of ten families had no sons. More than three million Sichuan soldiers risked their lives to leave Sichuan, but only 130,000 returned home..."

Wang Keshan's eyes suddenly turned red as he looked towards the source of the sound. The small screen of his mobile phone seemed to show the soldiers bravely fighting to leave Sichuan. He murmured, "130,000! Only 130,000?"

Wang Keshan turned his head to look at Zhou Leng, and asked in a pleading and anxious tone: "Only 130,000?"

Zhou Leng nodded.

The man lowered his head, covered his face with his hands, and uttered in a broken voice: "Yes, Xiao Songzi is the only one who survived in our company. Our division was broken up. I can die, but I hope they can all live."

Zhou Leng reached out and patted the man on the shoulder and said:

"You protected your country, as did the Guangdong Army, the Hunan Army, the Wolf Army, the Yunnan Army... The military and civilian casualties during the entire war were 35 million. The heroic spirits will never fade away, and their spirits will live forever."

Wang Keshan did not answer, but his shaking shoulders and suppressed cries were expressing the sadness in his heart. His comrades died, his relatives died, and he came to the country eighty years later, a country of peace and prosperity with long lifespans. There was both comfort and loneliness that belonged to him alone.

The sound of the bus's brakes covered up the crying beside her ears. Zhou Leng saw the two people holding their cell phones with red eyes, typing on the keyboard to express something, and then hurriedly got on the bus. She just waited silently, waiting for the men to calm down.

The sun at two o'clock in the afternoon is hotter than at noon. The dryness and glare of the capital reach their peak at this moment. The light reflected from the glass of office buildings is so dazzling that people can't open their eyes.

"Let's go. Take this bus to the airport, and then find another flight. We will be able to reach your hometown tonight."

Wang Keshan nodded and followed Zhou Leng into the car in silence. He was not used to his identity as a ghost, so he walked into the car step by step and stood beside Zhou Leng. Fortunately, it was not the peak period, otherwise their figures would overlap with others, which would make the scene weird.