Chapter 224: The Past

In the courtyard of Gongde Lin, the phoenix trees have already sprouted tender green new leaves.

Li Yuxuan sat on a stone bench, holding a copy of the People's Daily from five days ago. The paper's edges were already slightly curled, and he read very slowly, word by word, as if conversing with the people behind those lead characters.

"The large‑scale launch of the campaign to liberate Hainan Island…"

His finger brushed the headline lightly, his gaze lingering on the three characters "Hainan Island." That place had once been where he briefly recuperated after the third Battle of Changsha; he still remembered the salty, damp sea breeze, remembered the guerrillas of the Hainan Detachment—back then they were still enemies, now they had become the main force liberating Hainan.

"Jing Gong, you're here."

A familiar voice came from behind. Li Yuxuan did not turn around.

"Director Liu." Li Yuxuan closed the newspaper and gave a slight nod.

Liu Guangzhi sat opposite him, glanced at the newspaper in his hand: "The fight over Hainan isn't easy. We have little experience with amphibious operations."

Li Yuxuan lifted his eyes to look at him, silent for a moment: "The narrowest point of the Qiongzhou Strait is only about thirty kilometers, but the wind is fierce and the waves high. Back then the Japanese also couldn't hold a foothold on Hainan, largely because the supply lines were too long and sea transport was difficult."

His words stopped abruptly, as if he suddenly realized he had said something he shouldn't have.

But Liu Guangzhi didn't mind; instead he nodded and said, "Indeed, that's why the Fourth Field Army has been preparing for a long time. Modified wooden sailing ships turned into gunboats, night crossings, and I've heard your students are involved…"

Mid‑sentence, Liu Guangzhi also fell silent.

The atmosphere was somewhat delicate.

Li Yuxuan looked toward the sentry post on the distant high wall, the sun shining on the guard's rifle barrel, reflecting a dazzling glare. His students—numerous Huangpu‑trained General Officers—were now on opposite sides of the strait, each commanding the same battle.

Liu Guangzhi gave no reply, just listened quietly.

From outside the courtyard wall came a broadcast, intermittent and indistinct, but recognizable as a propaganda piece celebrating Labor Day.

"Today is May 1st," Liu Guangzhi said, "the city is bustling; the parade marches from Chang'an Street all the way to the Overpass."

Li Yuxuan nodded. He recalled the first May 1st he spent in Berlin in 1908, when he was a teenager, cramped in a corner of a workers' rally with a few classmates studying in Germany, listening to the impassioned German speeches, half‑understanding them, yet his blood boiled with enthusiasm.

"The First National Economic Defense Work Conference also opened in May," Liu Guangzhi continued, "Huaxia needs to stabilize prices and curb speculation; these are new challenges."

"Shifting from wartime to peacetime economy has never been easy," Li Yuxuan said.

As he spoke, his tone was flat, as if recounting a history unrelated to himself. Yet Liu Guangzhi knew that this "Jing Gong" had only a thin personal connection with Roosevelt—during the 1938 Battle of Wuhan, it was Li Yuxuan's private contacts that allowed the first batch of U. S. aid to China to arrive so quickly.

"Your experience is valuable," Liu Guangzhi said sincerely.

Li Yuxuan waved his hand: "Experience is a good thing, but also a bad thing. Those with too much experience tend to cling to preconceptions and fail to see the vitality of new things."

At that moment, footsteps sounded in the distance. A few prisoners in uniform were led out by disciplinary officers for exercise; when they saw Li Yuxuan, they all nodded from afar—some whispered "Director," others shouted "Jing Gong."

Li Yuxuan returned each salute, moving calmly, without a hint of embarrassment.

"That person called yesterday," Liu Guangzhi suddenly lowered his voice, "asked about your recent situation and said if convenient, he'd like to come by at the end of the month."

Li Yuxuan's eyelids twitched slightly.

"He's always like that," he said softly, "nostalgic."

"The boss also said, once Hainan is liberated, he wants to invite you over, have some tea."

"Director Liu," Li Yuxuan suddenly spoke, "I want to write a letter to someone."

"According to regulations, all your correspondence must be reviewed."

"I know. I want to write to him through official channels."

Liu Guangzhi was startled for a moment: "Go ahead."

"I would suggest that after Hainan's liberation, the Kuomintang military dependents on the island be properly settled, especially the elderly, the weak, women and children. Hainan has been isolated overseas for years; many families have lost their men in battle, and the survivors…" he paused, "are all Huaxia people."

Liu Guangzhi remained silent for a long while before saying, "I will forward this to my superiors."

"Thank you."

Time was up. Li Yuxuan stood, brushed the dust from his trousers, and headed toward the dormitory. The sunlight stretched his shadow long, casting it onto the mottled brick wall of Gongde Lin.

At the doorway he suddenly halted, turned back to Director Liu and said, "By the way, if there are any extra copies of the Marriage Law's propaganda material, could you give me one? I'd like to see it."

Liu Guangzhi looked at him in surprise.

Li Yuxuan rarely smiled: "My name 'Jingxing' was given by Duan Zhiquan, taken from the Book of Songs line 'The lofty mountains are revered, Jingxing proceeds.' If the old man knew that today's Huaxia is promoting marital freedom, monogamy, he would surely remark how truly the times have changed."

That night, Li Yuxuan, under the dim yellow light, carefully read the newly promulgated Marriage Law.

It abolished the feudal marriage system of forced arranged marriages, male supremacy, and neglect of children's interests, instituting marital freedom, monogamy, and gender equality.

His gaze lingered on the four characters "one husband, one wife" for a long time.

He thought of many people.