Anti-Japanese War: My strategist joins the game and awakens the small map!

Pudong.

As night falls, a drizzle begins.

On the wet streets, figures were running quickly before nightfall.

Pudong has never been at peace since the arrival of the clear-code telegram from the Tiger Guards Brigade, and the long-suppressed emotions erupted at night.

Gunshots, explosions, and roars have become the norm in Pudong at night.

The demonstrations during the day and the actions of patriots at night kept the reporters in the concession filming, and at the same time they could feel that Pudong’s control was becoming increasingly weak.

In Han Qingmo's studio, the shop door had already been closed, and Han Qingmo was holding a newspaper tightly in his hand.

"Shengjing is back..."

One after another, the black and white photos turned into colorful colors and danced in Han Qingmo's eyes. It was as if he saw the Shengjing City, with countless soldiers charging forward, corpses everywhere, and a wall of flesh and blood.

The snow is vast and the blood is bright red.

Beneath the broken eaves and walls, blood and flesh were baptized, and in the collapsed buildings, numerous enemies were buried.

Han Qingmo sat in front of the desk, looked at the newspaper, finally put it on the table, and picked up a Qi pen that had been passed down from generation to generation.

The tip of the brush is pointed when the bristles are gathered together, and the ends of the bristles are even when the brush tip is flattened. The brush body is made of jade, and the brush is taken from the yellow wolf tail of Changbai Mountain.

Holding the pen, Han Qingmo looked at it for a long time, and his eyes gradually became firm.

Three long and one short knocks on the door brought Han Qingmo back to his senses.

The side door opened and a thin, short man walked in.

"Master Han, how are the preparations going?"

"Ready."

Han Qingmo looked at the bag that had been prepared beside him. At the age of thirty, he was mediocre, obeyed his family's orders, and established his foundation.

The black and white photo made him determined to add a stroke to the vast mountains and rivers. Perhaps this stroke was insignificant, but the mountains and rivers are originally two colors, while the world is full of colors.

Today, Han Qingmo puts this paintbrush passed down from generation to generation in a brocade box and ties it with a red rope.

This concludes my writing.

"Let's go."

Carrying his bag, Han Qingmo followed the Qingyun Gang members who had stayed in Pudong and walked towards the back door.

It was drizzling and freezing cold, but the weather was not chilling to the heart.

Under the cover of night and the guidance of stars, figures gathered at a pier in the dead of night.

"Painter Han, if the boss knew that you also went to the north, he would definitely be happy." Awen walked along the dock, his eyes alertly looking around from time to time, and said in a low voice.

"Is Boss Xu really in the three northeastern provinces?" Han Qingmo heard this with a look of curiosity.

"Yes, if you meet the boss, please tell him that we brothers are waiting for his triumphant return!"

Before Han Qingmo left, Awen pulled him and spoke in a low voice.

"Sure." Han Qingmo nodded vigorously.

It was clearly seen that under the night sky, people were pouring into a ferry. Many of them had young faces and were thin, and everyone's eyes were full of anticipation.

"You will take the sea route and disembark at Jingmen... Then the rest of the journey will be up to you..."

"it is good."

Han Qingmo nodded and got on the boat carrying the package.

He is not afraid of a fierce life, but only strives for a stable future. Now he has embarked on this path.

Living in this era, since the appearance of the Japanese devils, various war reports once made Han Qingmo think that his country would be destroyed.

There were defeats everywhere, and I witnessed the failure of the Pudong Campaign with my own eyes.

The word hope is just a useless word.

But now he has rediscovered hope. The future of his country and family lies in the hands of the people of this era, a road paved with blood and flesh by the Tiger Brigade.

So what if there are more people than follow?

"Painter Han, let's go, we are all family." Awen said in a low voice.

Bu Zi took Han Qingmo into the cabin, but at this time, a hurried figure appeared in the distance, which made his expression tense instantly, and his hands reached into his arms. Many people were also alert, with fierce eyes.

"Old Han." Wu Fu's face gradually became clear in the dark streets. After seeing Han Qingmo, he immediately called out in a low voice.

"Mr. Wu? You..." Han Qingmo gestured to show that he knew him.

The professor from the Academy of Fine Arts has already bought the boat ticket to Daying. Logically, he should already be on the boat to Daying.

Han Qingmo's strange look did not change Wu Fu's expression. He picked up the bag, his eyes full of calmness.

"All the students have gone north. How can I, as a teacher, stand behind them? You're right. My country is broken, but at least it's a home. Can you take me with you?"

Wu Fu spoke calmly, looking at Awen for the last sentence.

"Of course." Awen reached out and pulled Mr. Wu onto the boat.

Standing still on the rocking boat, Mr. Wu exhaled lightly.

Putting down the pen and picking up the gun at the waist, this was the student's choice, and now it has also become his choice.

This journey may lead to life or death, but so what? Death is not a pity if it means I can live a peaceful life in the future.

He had indeed longed for a life abroad, but he knew in his heart that in the concession, no matter how well he painted, he could not escape his own identity.

Looking back...more than five thousand years ago, they were still the center of history and culture hundreds of years ago.

Ceramics, paintings, writing, silk, systems... from food, clothing, housing and transportation to military and national politics, they are at the top of the world.

Now that he is just ill, he wants to use his own strength to create a stable creative environment for future generations of art.

Perhaps he and Han Qingmo chose different arts, but now, they have reached the same destination.

The cold wind blew across everyone's shoulders and gently caressed their bodies.

Wu Fu and Han Qingmo looked back at Pudong. Once upon a time, the prosperous Pudong, which was as bright as day at night, had become lifeless.

As the ship sailed away, the moonlight scattered on the sparkling sea, and the faint light refracted and shone on every young and tender face on the ship.

Looking from afar, home is getting farther and farther away, but the boat is still heading towards an unknown direction.

But at this moment, the direction of these figures on the boat had already taken root in his mind.

After all, it is the north, where all nightmares begin. Now they have to follow the Tiger Guards Brigade to face the nightmare, and may never return to Pudong.

But the country is in ruins, why should we cherish this head?

For the sake of future generations' peace, I have no regrets even if I die.