【Mi Ying】that side

"Ding dong."

As soon as he changed his police uniform, he received a message from Alfred. After reading it quickly, Arthur put his phone back into his pocket with a smile.

Matthew, who was changing clothes beside him, asked curiously, "Mr. Arthur seems to be in a good mood, did anything good happen?"

"The aircraft cabin project that Alfred was working on a while ago, just got the permit." Arthur paused, and added shyly, "He invited me to be the first to visit."

"That would be great," Matthew smiled sincerely, "If you don't mind, I'll give you a ride?"

The Canadian youth was as gentle as ever, and Arthur no longer tried to evade, he nodded gratefully.

Matthew's driving style is the same as his own, smooth and cautious, but it makes people feel relaxed.Arthur sat in the passenger seat, the scenery outside the window slowly passed by his eyes, and soft light music echoed in the car.

Entering the northern suburbs, the vehicles on the road became scarce, and the buildings and landscapes on both sides gradually became desolate.

It turned out that this is the scenery Alfred usually sees, Arthur couldn't help but sigh with emotion.It has been more than half a year since he came to the town, and this is the first time he has set foot in the northern suburbs—as a policeman, this may be considered a dereliction of duty.

The scenery along the way was repeated boringly, and he turned to ask Matthew: "Speaking of which, I saw photos of you when you were young at Alfred's apartment."

"Ah, is it the one where we played baseball together?" Matthew looked straight ahead with a smile in his voice.

"Hmm...I didn't expect you two to know each other since childhood." Seeing that he guessed right, Arthur inevitably felt awkward.

— "To my dear Alfred Foster Jones."

The Englishman remembered again the words and the blurred signature on the back of the photograph.His throat was inexplicably tight, and he swallowed hard a few times to suppress the discomfort.

"The two of us... it should be said that it is a bad relationship." Matthew stepped on the brake slowly and nodded to the British, "It's already here, Mr. Arthur."

Arthur looked out the car window.He has been curious about this aerospace university located in the northern suburbs for a long time.Indeed, as Alfred described it, the soaring gray facade looks lifeless, and it is hard to think that this is a technological university.He poked his head out, and he could see the school gate with cast metal railings, and on the side there seemed to be a pedestrian passage for magnetic cards to enter and exit.

Really tight management, Arthur thought.

He thanked the Canadian, got out of the car, walked a few steps, turned back, leaned against the window and asked, "Matthew, do you remember that photo of you when you were young... who took it?"

It seemed that he didn't expect Arthur to turn back, and Matthew was obviously taken aback.He pondered for a moment, with a smile still on the corner of his mouth, but he lowered his head slowly: "He is... a person who is very important to us."

Arthur seemed to have seen such an expression from a Canadian youth before, as well as the helpless and sad tone.It should be in the spacious old-fashioned manor, and they sat talking in front of the burning fire.They wore the same uniform, which he vaguely remembered was a stately shade of red...

"Alfred is over there."

The Canadian reached out and patted Arthur on the arm, then pointed behind Arthur.The British followed the trend, and the American youth was standing not far away waving at them. When he met his eyes, he ran towards this side.

"Go, Mr. Arthur." Matthew restarted the engine and slowly rolled up the windows.

The slightly shaking car made Arthur stand up straight and take two steps back. Matthew's attitude was confusing. He wanted to ask more questions, but Alfred had already run all the way to him and stood still.

The American knocked twice on Matthew's car window to thank him, and then took Arthur's hand: "Let's go!"

The structure of this aerospace university is really special.

Follow Alfred to enter by swiping the card from the side door, bypassing the seemingly well-regulated library and teaching buildings, and what is presented in front of you is an unbelievably spacious open-air square.The square is roughly divided into several areas by metal fences, and civil aviation aircraft, fighter jets, complete fuselages or incomplete wreckage are scattered in different areas.Some are directly placed in the open air, while others are partially covered with canvas.The blue or green lights are projected obliquely upwards from the ground, and the shadows drawn make the square after dusk look solemn.

Alfred held his hand, walking half a step faster than him.Seeing the broad back of the American young man leading him to the mechanical jungle, he felt an indescribable sense of familiarity—this was obviously his first time here.

"arrive."

The Americans led him all the way to the west side of the square, and he put his hands on the huge canvas-covered building in front of Arthur, "This is my masterpiece." He looked smug.

Arthur moved forward slowly, stepped on the metal tripod, reached out to caress the canvas, and then looked at Alfred with questioning eyes.Under the eyes of each other's approval, they tore off the dark canvas together.

Against the backdrop of the night and blue lighting, the small aircraft with a dark gray shell has a metallic luster, and the polished four-blade propeller makes a "creaking" sound with the cold wind blowing. .

It was a very old fighter jet.

"You mentioned repairing the cabin earlier, I thought it would be a more common model." Arthur had seen the interior drawings of the cabin on the workbench, but out of respect for his lover's studies and private space, he never asked in depth .

"Hey." Alfred also stepped on the tripod, and he proudly raised his hand to knock on the metal fuselage, "Because it is a fighter jet that has been retired for many years, it is very precious to get this project."

"I always feel..." The British murmured as he touched the rusty aircraft body with his fingers, "It feels very familiar."

"Really?" Alfred looked at Arthur with a little surprise, "I also felt that this plane was very special and nostalgic when I was repairing it." He thought for a while and added, "Maybe because I stayed in the army Right. When I served in the Air Force, there was an aircraft cemetery in the base, and there were many types of decommissioned aircraft in it.”

Arthur stared at the sharp-edged profile of the American, feeling a little dazed for a moment.

He turned his gaze to the cabin in front of him—not so much the cabin as the cockpit of a fighter jet.The main driver's seat is quite spacious, but there is a wonderful space in the rear that can only accommodate a large suitcase, which feels incongruous.It was hard for him to imagine the physique of the Americans, what kind of posture was used to restore this crowded space.

"Do you want to sit in?"

"This kind of seat can't fit two people." Arthur looked at the seat hesitantly. "At least that's what I saw on TV."

"A specially modified seat is fine, but it's a bit cramped."

The American looked at Arthur with encouraging eyes, and gently pushed the British to the rear space with his hands. He bent down and got into the driver's seat to sit firmly, and then turned around with a slightly awkward movement, explaining to Arthur The functions of the instruments on both sides.

It was expected to be crowded, but fortunately it was not a completely enclosed space - the canopy on top of them was not closed.

Arthur looked up at the sky outside the cabin, the sky was overcast and the stars were almost invisible, and the wind became colder.Not far away, thickly colored clouds gradually moved in. They were dark clouds.

A storm seems to be coming.

Arthur doesn't like rainy days, not only because the bad weather will hinder the daily patrol work, but also a kind of rejection from the heart.That wet touch only made people feel frustrated for no reason.

Directly in front of him is the back of the young American, separated only by the back of the driver's seat, which is not very thick, and the distance that can be touched without raising an arm.

Alfred's explanation was very careful, but Arthur felt a ringing in his ears and a pain in his temple.

A drop of rain hit his eyelids, and he closed them reflexively, then opened them again.

The sky above was like a dark ocean, with surging clouds, and the cloudy and cold wind seemed to be caked and spilled from the depths in patches.

Fearfully, he reached out to reach the American in front of him, only to find that he was wearing an American Air Force jacket with a thick fur collar at some point, and black gloves on his hands.The young man still turned his head sideways to adjust the positions of the auxiliary instruments on both sides.

He looked down at himself—this time he could see clearly—he was wearing a dark green military uniform, the metal buckle on the belt was full of stains and rust spots, and he was wearing an air force jacket similar to the man in front of him. Why is it full of scars.He stroked his chest, the metal of the medals on his chest was hard and cold to the touch.

A moment ago he still felt like he had a splitting headache, but now he was so awake that it was unbelievable.

The cabin cover above his head had been closed long ago, and he looked out with wide eyes.

"Da da, da da da da da da da da—"

The irregular shooting sound makes the hair stand on end.He was in the middle of a hail of bullets.Outside were soldiers wearing similar costumes to him. One second they were running wildly with guns in hand, and the next second their heads were bleeding, and their ruptured internal organs were flowing everywhere.The screams and cries one after another were mixed with the screams of bullets and the loud noise of shells, hitting his eardrums one after another.

In such a scene, it seems that he is a soldier and is currently on the battlefield.He even knew how to pilot the fighter jet under him so that he could fight with the blond youth in front of him.

How could he get into the cockpit of this fighter with that man?

The moment before, the moment before, should have been, a different scene——

He saw the young man stepping onto the ground in front of him.

The young man's blond hair was covered with dust, his brown military uniform was stained with blood, and his air force jacket was billowing in the wind.He walked calmly and vigorously amidst the smoke from guns and guns, as calm as if he was unscathed.

The man walked through the miserable scene step by step, the upturned corners of his mouth and blue eyes were still clear in his dusty vision.What a confident look it was - creepier perhaps than death, yet one that brought hope and light.

The strong young man quickly spotted him in the crowd and ran towards him.

Then he called out to him: "Britain!"

--"U.K"?

Then how did he pay back...

By the way, he replied, "You're too late...America you stupid, bastard, brat."

"Okay, okay. I finally found you, hurry up, get on the plane." The other party's lips opened and closed quickly, and the tone was urgent and unquestionable.

He called him "America".

Yes, America.

The young man was as powerful as ever, lifting him up with one hand, and then he ran quickly.After getting into the narrow cockpit one after the other, he was out of breath.

However, this is not the time to show cowardice.

He then held his breath and responded with feigned indifference: "America, you idiot. Don't always be so rampant."

He called him "America".That young man who looks exactly like Alfred.

Cloudy skies, muddy ground, and the almost smell of gunpowder smoke in the air.In this way, they squeezed into the messy and crowded cockpit with awkward postures.

The American—no, "America" ​​himself—sat right in front of him.There was only the back of the seat that was narrow and empty between them, and the man skillfully fiddled with the buttons on the instrument panel.

The young man's expression seemed calm, but the hot air still forced sweat to seep from his forehead, slide over his tanned cheeks, then roll up and down his Adam's apple, and seep into his tan air force jacket.

He guessed that he was probably more embarrassed than the other party now.

The young man looked back at him, restrained the corners of his mouth, and said in a calm voice, "You are very brave, Britain. You fought for freedom and dignity, and the honor belongs to you and to your people."

He looked up at the face, so familiar, tough, young face.The blue eyes under the glasses seemed to be wrapped in flames.

He bit his lip, still unable to restrain the corners of his mouth from twitching.

The young man didn't wait for his answer, and whispered, "Sit tight, it's taking off."

The fighter jets slid quickly on the runway, and after a moment of weightlessness, they vacated smoothly, and the human voice gradually faded away, replaced by the roar of the motor that made him unable to bear the tension - he couldn't help but be familiar with it, it was the Ar234 bomber of the German army.

The young man was skillfully dodging rear and side attacks, but he could only raise his hand and grab the back of the seat in front.

How could he forget.

This is not a huge fighter jet, but the "P-51 Mustang" he is proud of.He loves it second only to the Spitfire—the heroic soldiers who drove them through the flames of battle and achieved great success in that great war.

"Kangdang—"

There was a loud noise under him, and the oil pipeline shot by the enemy bomber burst instantly, and the dark liquid sprayed inward, dyeing his dark green military uniform a greasy dark color.Flames flashed between the metal splints of the cockpit, the glass dome overhead began to be clouded with smoke, and the fuselage began to sway and spin out of control.

"It's too late to send an emergency signal to the ground!"

The tall young man bowed, stood up, removed the umbrella bag next to the cockpit, smashed the canopy above his head with astonishing force, and directly pulled him up from the seat.

Then the United States hugged him tightly and jumped out of the burning fighter jet.They fell quickly, and the whistling wind in his ears hurt his face.

The distance between life and death seemed shorter than the time it took for wires to sizzle, and the flames and smoke were only a millimeter away from his temple.The deafening sound of gunfire almost shook their souls out of their bodies-if they even had souls.

With the sound of "Boom!", a large shadow opened above their heads, and the parachute successfully opened in midair.

The United States moved his hands from side to side to manipulate the umbrella surface. He clung to the opponent's arm tightly, looking down at a sea of ​​gunpowder smoke and flames.The sound of machine gun fire on the ground was approaching again.

But he wasn't that scared.He could feel the heat of America, and he was clinging tightly to each other.

—He really doesn't need to be afraid.Even if he is shot by a bullet, he will not die.There were bullets passing through his body, and some bullets were embedded somewhere in his bones or subcutaneous tissue, tearing his clothes and flesh and leaving some marks. Soldiers who die like that don't die.

At that time, some soldiers looked at him with terrified eyes, and before they could express their fear with their voices, they were shot through their helmets and heads by enemy machine guns.Some officers gritted their teeth and crawled forward, their hands and feet were shot off by stray bullets, and the entire forehead or jaw of the medical soldiers was blown off during the rescue.

—and he was different.He was embarrassed and desolate, but he was still alive.

They landed without incident in a grove that had been badly bombed.America unloaded the parachute equipment, then hugged him close to his side, and crawled forward.

He looked up at the sky, and the dark clouds with thick colors had gathered above his head. After the sound of thunder and lightning, the rain gradually dripped down and formed a rain curtain, covering the world around them.

It wasn't until the sound of the fighter jet engines overhead that the United States let out a long sigh.He bowed his head and said to him, "It's a blessing in misfortune, England." The voice was as soft as a sigh.

He rushed into the battlefield alone, and led him out of the tragic battlefield with a calm face.He said, I'm here to save you, important ally.

The British are not afraid, but their eyes are hot.Hot liquid poured out from the corners of his eyes.

America America.

That's the United States of America, and me.

I.

A curtain of rain covers the world around them.The rain came unexpectedly.The water droplets on his face kept falling, the water came from the sky above his head, and also from his hot eyes.He weakly grabbed the young man in front of him, weeping uncontrollably.

Alfred bowed and wiped the moisture off Arthur's face in a panic: "Arthur! What's wrong with you?"

Arthur held back his warm hand, the rain clouding his vision.He couldn't tell what he was feeling at the moment, emptiness, sadness, and the twitching pain - "panic".

He finally understood what those fitful hallucinations were.

All the hallucinations he saw, all the dreams he experienced, all the people he thought he knew, belonged to the memories of England.

The endless grassland, the icy heavy rain, the ringing bells and lively fireworks, the timely rescue amidst the roar of war—the innocent child, the determined boy, the blond youth standing at the top .

All the same person.The man looked like Alfred, but it wasn't Alfred.

U.S.That person is called America.

And the boy who was looking for the blond child was England.The person who wrote the name "Foster" on the back of the photo is England.The young man with an arm injured and sitting in the rain in embarrassment is England.That gaunt young man who vomited blood as the bell rang was England.

The young soldier who couldn't help crying in the flames of war was Britain.The self who is crying so hard at this moment is also Britain.

That's all me.

...I am England.