The weapon of the country

In the senior nursing home of the hospital directly under the military, in the turbulent night rain, the young colonel walked into the corridor.

It came in such a hurry that the rain dripped from his cape. He took the cape off, put it on an arm, handed it to the medical staff, and rushed to his mother's suite.

The lights in the corridor illuminated his face, and the moment that beautiful face was illuminated, it was like a sharp sword drawn from the rain.

He pushed open the door, and the frail woman inside the door seemed to wake up from a dream, and asked in a daze, "Ozawa?"

Zhuang Ye stood beside her bed with moist eyes, "Mom, it's Xiaoye."

"You've grown up..." She forced a smile, stroked his hair, but moaned in pain because of the movement of her body.

Zhuang Ye looked at her legs, which were fixed under the soft eiderdown quilt.A few hours ago, she climbed to the roof of the nursing home and tried to commit suicide by jumping off the building, but fell on the wisteria trellis and broke her calf.

From the first time he came to visit his mother, Zhuang Ye made it clear to Lieutenant General Fei that he should be the first one to know about his mother's situation.

When he received the emergency communication, he was not surprised, but instead asked, "Is this the first time?"

The medical staff on the opposite side were shocked by his calmness, and said hesitantly, "Mrs. Zhuang has always been suicidal, especially when she is sober..."

When she thought she was only in her teens, not yet married, and still the young Miss Sunny, she didn't want to die; end her life.

Maybe at Zhuang Ze's funeral, she wanted to do this.

Everyone said Mrs. Zhuang was crazy.

Her father's subordinates, the family's helpers, and everyone kept it from her, and kept her from knowing that Zhuang Ze had gone to the front.Then one day, she was suddenly told that her son had died, that the body would be home on a certain date, and that the funeral and farewell would be on another.

At the funeral, she pushed away tables and chairs, smashed flower baskets, pointed at her husband and asked, "Why do you let my child die?"

Commander Zhuang pressed his wife's shoulders and said heavily, "If I don't send my son to die, why should I order someone else's son to die?"

"You never stayed with him, never fed him, never changed his diaper once..." The woman struggled in front of everyone, her hair was disheveled and her arms were dancing, "How can you feel at ease that he is your property? "

The scene at the funeral got out of control more and more, the nanny kept her mouth shut and took Zhuang Ye away.The boy heard his mother hiss as she was being taken away, "Do you want to send your son to die so that others will not talk about you behind your back and you can sit in the commander-in-chief seat at ease?"

Zhuang Ye quietly went to see his brother's body that night.People picked up severed limbs and heads on the battlefield and stitched them together. The level of the mortuary makeup artist was so good, the little boy looked at his brother covered with the military flag ignorantly, wondering why he was lying on the military flag.

Many years later, the little boy understood that it was a farewell and should be sad.After a long time, he realized that it was already a privilege to have the corpses back. Those soldiers who did not have a commander-in-chief as their father never made it home.

Zhuang Ye sat beside her bed, pulled up the thin blanket for her, and asked softly, "Do I remind you of my brother?"

His mother didn't answer, but talked about some little things in her memory.During the period, the medical staff came to refill the painkillers once. The doctor had a private conversation with Zhuang Ye and asked him to pay attention to the valve of the painkillers must be closed tightly, otherwise he could increase the dose at will, and an overdose of painkillers would be fatal.

After the medical staff left and left the mother and child alone, Zhuang Ye lowered his head, stabilized his breathing, looked at his trembling hands, and asked, "Mom, what is death to you?"

He heard his own breathing, hoping to get an answer that he couldn't convince himself.Adding his other weight before his mom replied, "I know you want me to retire, that's not possible. But anything else is fine, I promise you, I can get you out of here, you can live with me Together, or if you want to live by yourself, I will come to accompany you as soon as I have a holiday-"

With a thin hand over his mouth, his mother said, "It's freedom."

It's not relief. Liberation means she's stuck in pain, and I can always find a way to make her feel better, to tell her that life will get better and it will become worth living.But to her, death is freedom.How could he not give his mom the freedom to end her life?

Zhuang Ye stood up slowly and opened the painkiller valve.

He saw her mother's eyes light up. Although it was difficult, as long as she endured the pain and moved her body, stretched out her hand, and pressed the pain pump, the painkiller would continue to increase.

Zhuang Ye turned around and walked out the door.

"Xiaoye." He heard his mother calling him.

"You are very similar, after all, you are brothers..." Zhuang Ye realized after a moment of delay that she was answering the previous question, whether she thought of her elder son when she saw her younger son.

Zhuang Ye turned around and heard her say, "Never take yourself as a substitute for Ozawa, never. You are not only my son, that person's son, Ozawa's younger brother, but also yourself. Never forget, be yourself."

She smiled at Zhuang Ye, and Zhuang Ye was suddenly hit by a memory from another time and space. He remembered his mother, who wore a red skirt when she was young, with dancing shoes hooked in her fingers, and ran over barefoot to kiss before the prom. His cheek, saying "When mom comes back, I'll bring you a cake".

The only difference is that she left this time and will never come back.

In the corridor, Zhuang Ye turned on the communicator and dialed the number he knew by heart.

The other end quickly picked up, "Colonel Zhuang?"

He didn't speak, he couldn't speak, his chest was rolling hot, burning his heart with severe pain.The other end of the communication seemed to understand something, the deep voice said, "Zhuang Ye..." and then said, "I'm here."

That night, Zhuang Ye stood in the dimly lit corridor, listening to Shen Han's breathing, refusing to let himself hear the sound of his mother pressing the pain pump in the room.

Shen Han accompanied him without asking any questions, but it relieved Zhuang Ye's unbearable pain.He recalled the terrace where they were connected, and recalled the way Shen Han was talking, handsome and calm, with a cheerful smile.Recalling the first conversation on the rooftop, the agreement in the memorial hall, recalling him patting himself on the shoulder, hugging himself, his reliable chest, his arms, his eyes, his lips...

Zhuang Ye stood quietly for a long time, until he was sure that the amount of painkiller added exceeded the lethal dose, and he also missed the best time for rescue.

At three o'clock in the morning, Colonel Zhuang pressed the emergency button of the suite and apologized to the medical staff who came.

"It's my fault, I went out to get some air... forgot to close the valve."