Chapter 13: Will Kill People, Will Kill Many

Jiang Anguo again took some food from his backpack and placed it before Xiao Zui, saying, "Girl, you don't have to be formal with me. I once met your brother at the Songhu Battlefield; he asked me to look after his sister, which is why I just remembered— their Sichuan Army Corps is truly remarkable."

"You met my brother?" Chen Xiaozui's eyes widened and lit up.

Jiang Anguo's gaze wavered a bit, he nodded and said, "Yes, at that time my combat area was close to your brother's, we saw each other once, but the troops behind moved away, so I don't know where they went."

Chen Xiaozui's eyes dimmed again; she was like the veterinarian— one searching for a son, while Xiao Zui was searching for her brother.

"Then do you know where my brother went?" Xiao Zui asked.

Meng Fanle, standing nearby, didn't know what to say, but upon hearing that Chen Xiaozui's brother was in the Sichuan Army Corps, Meng Fanle wished he could crawl into a hole.

People are looking for their brothers, yet he swindled away their last five dollars and the vermicelli, sinking into the mundane world.

He's simply a beast.

"Sigh, girl, look, war is everywhere now, the units are in disarray, I can't reach my superiors; if I ever meet your brother later, I'll be sure to pass a message," Jiang Anguo said loudly, though in fact his own brother should have perished on this very land.

That battle was so terrible that an entire division thrown into the field was wiped out within an hour.

In three months, over three hundred thousand people died, perhaps even more, and countless civilians also perished on the battlefield.

"Girl, look, I'm just a lowly soldier and don't know any better; if you have nothing to eat later, go to the street and I'll treat you."

Jiang Anguo, fearing Xiao Zui might think him a bad person, continued, "Rest assured, as long as I'm in Chanda, no one will dare to bully you. Meng Fanle, you're silent— why don't you come over and apologize?"

Meng Fanle finally lifted his clumsy foot, stepped forward, and said, "I'm sorry."

He was clever enough to realize that Jiang Anguo had just said that borrowing money is all a scam, just bullying a little girl; if you truly don't repay, then he'll have no face to live as a person for the rest of his life.

He chatted with Xiao Zui for a while longer, and the young girl became cheerful; the courtyard didn't seem to belong to her— from outside you could see inside, there was nothing valuable, but the girl had tidied it up neatly, and some vegetables were planted in the yard.

Jiang Anguo didn't understand— with so many broken soldiers, hadn't anyone thought of clearing nearby farmland to grow something, even potatoes or pumpkins; they shouldn't be starving to this degree. Though they can't eat enough, it shouldn't be a meal‑to‑no‑meal situation.

"Little sister, in a moment I'll have Meng Fanle call you for a meal," Jiang Anguo said with a smile.

Xiao Zui shyly nodded; life was hard, everyone had nothing to eat. Though Xiao Zui grew some vegetables, it only barely fed one person, barely half a stomachful.

At Xiao Zui's age, she was already a grown girl.

This time Meng Fanle walked behind Jiang Anguo, and the two remained silent until Meng Fanle broke the quiet.

"You clearly know her brother is already dead," Meng Fanle said, how could Meng Fanle not know about that battle, only a few who went up survived.

The war has raged to this point, fighting and retreating continuously; the soldiers have lost count of how many rotations there have been.

Jiang Anguo turned, stared at Meng Fanle, and shouted, "Yes, his brother definitely died, but he died on the battlefield. How dare you say that— go, go tell Xiao Zui that her brother died five years ago, go say it!"

"His brother at least died on the battlefield, what about you lot!"

"Where do you plan to die— in Chanda, or at the next Shelter? There's nowhere left, no retreat! The Japanese have already reached Myanmar and are about to hit Yunnan Province; is there any place left for you to fall back?"

"Useless."

Jiang Anguo's voice grew louder as he kept speaking.

"Me." Meng Fanle, for the first time unsure how to retort, felt embarrassed to speak to Xiao Zui; it was his first time seeing this young girl, and regarding attraction between men and women, Meng Fanle liked her.

But a full stomach mattered more than affection, as did his own leg; he was an Intellectual, and even though Xiao Zui was beautiful, he felt she was beneath him— perhaps a matter of matching social status, which has existed since ancient times.

What Meng Fanle didn't expect was that he stole the little girl's only five dollars, nearly leading him to commit that act.

He was that close; the girl's whole life would have been ruined.

"How did you know?" Meng Fanle asked.

"If you want the ghost not to know, you must not do it yourself."

"People will die," Meng Fanle looked up at the officer who had suddenly appeared in Chanda, and all that he brought with him.

Jiang Anguo, however, wore a solemn expression and said slowly, "The dead— in war there's no fighting without death; you all have already become a bunch of dead people."

From somewhere, like a magic trick, Jiang Anguo pulled out a cigarette, took one out, and struck a match with a crack.

He didn't know how to smoke and choked instantly, but he held it in, lest he look even more embarrassed.

"Yes, it kills people, it kills many," Jiang Anguo said, then tossed the Camel Brand Cigarette in his hand to Meng Fanle and walked away alone.

Meng Fanle was right; people will die, and many will die in foreign lands.

If he didn't take this step and fled abroad, he could survive, but countless Huaxia people, Chinese, would die.

In this war, he could choose to evade, but he wanted to try, to see if he could change anything.

If there were no system, Jiang Anguo would shrink back, because he had never killed a person, at most chickens or ducks; he didn't know what killing a human felt like.

Meng Fanle caught the cigarette; it was a good thing.

He understood that the officer was trying to win hearts, but these broken soldiers weren't so easy to sway after so many defeats.

He returned to the courtyard.

The veterinarian was washing dishes; today he felt especially happy. Everyone knew he had never saved a life, but this time he was determined to. He looked at the instructions in the Medical Pack and injected quinine into several wounded soldiers suffering from malaria.

Some who had been shot developed inflammation; without surgery, the bullets couldn't be removed, so the veterinarian could only use Penicillin.

He swore he had never seen so many good things in his life: Penicillin, Sulfonamide, quinine, Hemostatic Powder, Yunnan White Medicine, Panicillin, morphine.

If only he knew surgery; unfortunately he practiced Chinese medicine and only half‑understood Western medicine. If you asked him to take a scalpel to remove a bullet, he wouldn't dare.

Otherwise, with morphine, surgery would be possible.

Meng Fanle returned to the courtyard, found a spot to sit, and the veterinarian was right beside him.

"What, lost your spirit?" the veterinarian said, looking at Meng Fanle.

"Is this still the old Xiao Taiye?"

Meng Fanle said nothing; the veterinarian clutched the Medical Pack tightly—it was too precious.

The veterinarian slung it over his chest; even without its contents, the Medical Pack itself was far better quality than his ragged bag.

Truly, poverty is terrifying.