PTM 92

Extra 1: IF Story from the Perspective of a Soldier

I was born in the mining region of Wo Province.

The men in my family made a living by mining for generations. My grandfather did, and so did my father.

There are no seasons in the mine, only heat and cold. Sometimes it’s so stuffy that it feels like someone is covering your mouth and nose, and sweat and dust are stuck together and you can’t wipe them no matter what you do; sometimes it’s so cold that your fingers are so stiff that you can’t hold the pickaxe, and you can only barely keep feeling by constantly swinging your arms.

My father died of tuberculosis when I was ten. He coughed for more than half a year, and in the end, all he coughed up was black blood. After his death, I inherited his position in the mine. The salary was meager. After the monthly settlement, it was enough to buy a bag of coarse grains and a few candles.

My mother supplemented the family income by mending clothes for others, and sometimes she could exchange them for a few eggs.

When I was twelve years old, one day, I came out of the mine and was wiping the dust off my face with my sleeve when a group of soldiers suddenly rushed into the mine entrance.

They were wearing gray standard military uniforms. They pointed their guns at the miners one by one and made us stand in a line.

“What are you doing?”

“What have we done? Why are you arresting us?”

“Let me go!”

No one answered.

We were crammed into the back of the troop carriers, stuffy and airless, and transported out one after another. The journey wasn’t long; after about half an hour of bumpy travel, the vehicles stopped.

They herded us into a warehouse.

The warehouse was empty. Instead, there were rows of silver, coffin-like machines.

The adults didn’t know what it was; they whispered among themselves and looked at each other in confusion. But I did.

Last year, when I went to town to buy salt for my mother, I saw this thing on a huge billboard on the only main street with streetlights. A neuro-navigation pod. The most fashionable toy for the rich; one machine cost enough to keep everyone in our mining area busy for a year.

People in white coats took a handheld device and punched each of us on the back of the neck. It felt like stamping Read onlivestock; it hurt, but was very brief. If you touched it, you could feel a slight bump under the skin.

“One machine per person, behave yourself.”

A man in military uniform with rank insignia walked slowly among the neuro-navigation pods, his hands behind his back.

“Anyone who doesn’t cooperate…” He patted the gun at his waist, “…I’ll be the first to give them a bullet!”

We knew nothing, understood nothing, and were just stuffed into those silver machines one after another.

The moment the hatch closed, everything went dark. My heart was pounding. Then, a cold, sharp pain pulsed through the back of my neck like an ant bite.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself standing in an open field. The sky was gray, the air was full of dust, and there were mines stretching as far as the eye could see. It was the mining area of ​​Wo Province.

We looked at each other wondering how this was possible. Then, a voice, seemingly from the sky, rang out. It told us that we were in a simulated world, and all we had to do was mine and transport ore as usual. We didn’t need to know anything else.

We stayed in the warehouse for three days. Nothing happened for the first two days. Every day we were sent in to swing pickaxes in that fake mining area, then ejected back to the real warehouse to eat a simple meal and sleep on the ground next to the pods.

But on the third day, everything changed.

That day, we were working in the virtual mining area as usual. Suddenly, the roar of engines came from afar. At first, it was far away, but the sound quickly grew closer and more intense, and the ground began to shake.

Many, many cars poured in from the highway between the mines.

They would crash into us as soon as they saw us.

Without honking or warning, the cars turned the steering wheel and drove straight into the crowd.

There was blood everywhere. People around me fell one after another, run over by the wheels, or thrown into the air by the front of the cars. I saw with my own eyes an uncle whose body was smashed in two, his upper body still struggling to crawl forward a few meters before stopping.

I ran for my life. But there were no houses, no walls in the mining area; there was nowhere to hide. How could two legs possibly outrun four wheels?

Finally, I was knocked down too.

My entire body flew out. I first hit the hood of a car, then bounced up and fell to the ground.

I was in so much pain that I couldn’t ​Read on​make a sound, and my consciousness was becoming increasingly blurred.

At that moment, a man came into my view.

He had silver hair like moonlight, and his eyes… his eyes had two colors, green and blue, like the River Pine stones we dig up every day. He was a Penglai person.

He picked me up from the ground, and he looked like he was in a lot of pain.

How strange! In my daze, I actually saw compassion on the face of a Penglai noble.

Then, I knew nothing more.

When we woke up again, we had all been thrown back into the mine.

The dim, cold cave was filled with painful groans. There were no visible wounds, yet the pain was pervasive.

I might die.

I lay on the cold, stone floor, staring into the dark ceiling of the mine.

But what about Mom?

She must be very worried about me. I had been taken away for three days; she must had searched the entire mining area for me.

I couldn’t die.

I turned to the side, braced myself on my elbows, and began to crawl towards the cave entrance. The stone ground was icy cold, and sharp pebbles scraped my palms, but I couldn’t care less.

I crawled for a long time. Maybe a few minutes, maybe more than ten minutes. When I was almost at the cave entrance, I saw a pair of shoes.

The black leather shoes were spotless.

“Take these people away for treatment quickly. Be especially gentle with the children, don’t hurt them.”

A group of people came in, people from Penglai, and carefully helped me up and put me into the hovercar outside the mine.

They said they were working for “Mr. Zong”.

We received excellent treatment, and the pain disappeared in just two days. Later, they took us back to the mining area.

The moment the hovercar stopped, I saw my mother through the window. As soon as I got out, she hurried over and hugged me.

“My child… I was so worried…my child…”

My mother held me and cried for a long time. All around us were the sounds of women crying, and everyone was overjoyed to be able to see their loved ones again.

Soon, the name “Jiang Man” spread throughout Wo Province.

He is the Wo people’s hero. He abandoned the competition for the Wo people, and he also saved Wo children from the Penglai nobles… Although I didn’t know the specifics, everyone talked about it, and everyone praised him.

Every now and then, other miners would come up to me and ask if I had seen Jiang Man. I knew the other miners who had entered the neuro-navigation pods with me, those adults, they liked to boast, and some even said they had spoken to Jiang Man. But I never said that; I would always shake my head. If I hadn’t seen him, then I hadn’t seen him.

Jiang Man was the pride of the Wo people; he was the idol of all the children. But occasionally, the eyes of that Penglai man flash through my mind, those eyes full of compassion.

Everyone says the people of Read on Penglai are demons, accomplices of Bondor. But if they are accomplices, why did Mr. Zong save us?

In the months that followed, everything happened suddenly. It was so fast that before you could even process what was happening, the next thing would hit you.

First, Bondor died. The great warlord who had ruled Wo Province for twenty years was killed. Everyone applauded, and even my mother said it was good he died.

Then, news of Jiang Man’s death reached Wo Province.

The people of Penglai killed our hero! They used despicable poison to kill an upright and kind hero!

The mining area was in an uproar. Everyone stopped working, they grabbed picks, shovels, and anything else they could carry and ran into the streets. Men shouted slogans, women cried, and children ran after them.

I went too. But I was too short, and I couldn’t see anything in the crowd. All I could hear were waves of angry roars coming from ahead.

Not long after, Wo Province declared independence. The new governor, sent by the people of Penglai, was dragged out of his residence and bound by the rebels less than two months after taking office.

My mother cried, not because of Jiang Man, nor because of independence. She began to worry that everything would go back to when she was a child, when the country of Wo was in turmoil, and her father and brothers died in the chaos.

“Every day when I woke up, all I could smell was the stench of rotting corpses.” She rec stolen content alled as she wiped away tears.

I was also conscripted into the rebel army. But because I was young, they only let me stay in the rear and do odd jobs.

That year, although my mother was always worried that the war was out of control and told me to be careful every time I went out, I felt that being a soldier was much better than mining. I would have a hot meal, clean clothes, and a decent salary.

At that time, my entire understanding of war consisted of the daily routines of patrols and drills, and the occasional distant sounds of artillery fire coming from the front lines.

The commander leading the uprising changed from someone surnamed Yu to someone surnamed Jin.

I heard this news from the adults I was on patrol with. They whispered among themselves, saying that Commander Yu had gone mad, and that Commander Jin was an even more ruthless character.

I went back and told my mother about it. She sighed after hearing it and put down her needlework.

“When will life be peaceful again?” she cried and wiped away her tears again.

After the one surnamed Jin came to power, the war suddenly intensified, and wounded soldiers were transported back to the rear every day. The air began to smell that rotten, fishy stench that my mother remembered.

Four years passed, and then I turned sixteen.

I had grown a bit taller, and my shoulders were broader. The face in the mirror was no longer that of the small boy from the mining area, but every time my mother saw me going out in my military uniform, her eyes would still turn red.

One day, I was assigned to guard a newly captured “prisoner of war”.

They say that man was a nobleman from Penglai, a particularly despicable person. Our hero and saint was killed by nobles like him. They told me to keep a close eye on him and make sure nothing goes wrong.

I said yes.

Then I went to the place where prisoners of war were being held.

The moment I opened the door, I froze.

The “criminal” was chained to a cross-shaped rack, his clothes torn to shreds from whipping, his body covered in bloody welts, a complete bloody mess. Yet I recognized him at a glance; he was none other than “Mr. Zong” from back then.

He was much thinner than he had been four years ago. His cheekbones were prominent, his jawline was sharply defined, and the veins on his neck were visible beneath his skin.

He wasn’t a bad person.

I knew.

But I couldn’t help him.

I could only secretly feed him some water when no one else was looking.

There were a few children younger than me who were guarding him with me. They liked to burn him with small hot irons or sprinkle salt water on his wounds. The adults watched with amusement. They not only did nothing but also clapped and praised them for doing a good job.

“Look, this is what happens to the Penglai dogs!”

“One more time, one more time!”

Mr. Zong never screamed or cursed the children. He just kept his face down and silently endured it. If it weren’t for the fact that his muscles would still tremble and tense, I would have doubted whether he felt pain.

On the night of the fourth day, the order came from above.

The execution would take place publicly tomorrow morning.

That night, I took some glucose water and went to see him one last time.

There were only the two of us in the torture chamber. I brought the water to his lips and fed him little by little. He laboriously swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Each sip required all his strength.

After feeding him the water, I withdrew my hand and turned to leave.

“Th-Thank you.”

This was the only thing he said to me in the past four days.

He weakly lifted the corners of his dry, cracked lips, revealing a weary smile.

“No, no need to thank me,” I said in a muffled voice. “It’s something I owe you.”

I didn’t explain, I stuffed the remaining glucose water into my pocket, turned around and walked out of the torture chamber.

I held back my tears the whole way home, and as soon as I got there, I threw myself into my mother’s Read on arms and cried my heart out.

“He is not a bad person.” I repeatedly assured my mother that he was definitely not a bad person.

“I know…I know…” Mom stroked my head, “This is war, child.” Her voice was very soft, “It doesn’t distinguish between good and bad people…”

“Only enemies.”

“Only death.”

The next day, I used the excuse of being sick to avoid escorting Mr. Zong.

Later I heard that they cut off his head, sent it back, and threw his body into the wilderness outside the city to be eaten by hungry wild animals in the winter.

I tried to find his remains. During my day off, I went into the wilderness alone. But the snow was too heavy, a vast expanse of white, and I couldn’t see anything. I walked through the snow for most of the day but found no trace.

It was probably already taken away.

Two weeks later, the heavy snow was still falling and winter was not yet over when a miracle occurred, Jiang Man was resurrected!

He walked through the snowstorm on the border of Wo Province, took off his hood, revealing a face everyone recognized. He said that Jin Ke was a disgrace to the people of Wo Province, and that he would lead us to victory in this battle.

The commander-in-chief was replaced again.

This time, it was Jiang Man who took the place.

We no longer hold our ground in the south, but instead took the initiative to attack northwards, towards the capital city of Penglai.

Before I left Wo Province, my mother’s eyes welled up with tears, and she repeatedly told me that I would come back safely and return to her side.

“I will definitely come back.” I hugged her and whispered with a smile, “Make some corn cakes and wait for me to come back.”

She finally smiled. She raised her hand to wipe her face and nodded vigorously.

Jiang Man was like an omnipotent god.

In every place we went, no matter how fierce the resistance, we always won in the end. Sometimes it took three days to capture a city, sometimes ​visit our site​a week, and the longest battle lasted three months, but we still won.

I was finally transferred from the rear to the front lines.

At first, killing was a difficult thing. They were not animals; although they were people from Penglai, they were living, breathing human beings just like me, and I found it hard to bring myself to do it.

The night I killed someone for the first time, I vomited. I squatted by the trench and vomited up everything that was left in my stomach, except for bile.

But gradually, I became more and more adept at killing. Just like my mother said, “there are no good people or bad people in war, only enemies.” If I didn’t kill them, they would kill me.

I didn’t want to die, so they had to die.

After each battle, we cleaned up the battlefield. We searched the fallen for those who are feigning death, and loot their belongings. Ammunition, food, and occasionally some gold and silver.

Sometimes, I would find photo pendants in the pockets of corpses.

I never opened them to look.

I had one of these pendants myself. It was made of tin, polished to a shine, [unauthorized copy]and had photos of my parents inside.

I was terrified that if I opened it, I would find wife, children, and mother inside.

That way, I would hesitate next time I picked up a gun. But on the battlefield, every second of hesitation could mean the difference between life and death.

Therefore, I couldn’t look.

After each city was captured, orders were always issued to execute a group of local dignitaries. The executions took place in the city square, with the prisoners kneeling in a row, their backs to the gun barrels.

Sometimes I would be assigned to be an executioner. Some of my fellow executioners would often make fun of the pathetic, trembling state of those who died, repeating it over and over again.

I never participated. At times like these, I always think of “Mr. Zong.” But only for a very brief moment. I couldn’t think about it too much; if I did, I wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger.

Another city had fallen.

That afternoon, I received another order to be one of the executioners.

As the procession entered the square, I saw Jiang Man, our saint, our commander-in-chief.

He stood in the square, dressed in black, with a black eyepatch over his right eye. His only remaining red pupil coldly and without emotion stared at the row of prisoners kneeling in front of him.

The wind blew the hem of his clothes. He was so thin that he gave the impression that he could be blown over at any moment.

I stood behind the prisoner I was in charge of, awaiting orders.

“Prepare!”

Upon hearing the executioner’s voice, all the shooters raised their guns and aimed them at the back of a prisoner’s head.

At that moment…

“Grandpa!”

A child’s cry rang out from the crowd, and then a small figure broke free of the human wall and stumbled toward the execution ground.

She was a little girl, about six [visit our site]or seven years old. She had silver hair and blue eyes, and looked like a noble child.

She lunged at the prisoner kneeling before me. He was an old man in his sixties, with a white beard and silver hair, and was trembling.

“Duoduo!”

Behind the girl, a beautiful woman from Penglai rushed over. Her clothes were still elegant, but they were wrinkled, and her hair was disheveled. She grabbed the girl and pulled her back with all her might.

The guards pointed their guns at them.

“Let’s go, let’s go right now!” The woman was terrified, and she pulled the girl towards the door.

“Grandpa… I want Grandpa…” The little girl cried. Her little feet kicked the ground desperately, refusing to leave.

“My beloved granddaughter…” the old man in front of me choked, his body trembling, “Don’t look… don’t look…”

“Execute him.” At this moment, Jiang Man gave the order softly.

He didn’t glance at the girl once; his gaze remained fixed on the nobles unauthorized copythe entire time. His face was cold and indifferent.

“Ready!” the executioner shouted again.

Everyone returned to the standard posture.

“Fire!”

A series of gunshots rang out, accompanied by the little girl’s piercing scream. Heavy bodies collapsed to the ground, one after another. The old man in front of me fell forward. A puff of warm blood mist gushed from the bullet hole in the back of his head, splattering some onto my boots.

Blood flowed slowly down the rough stone floor tiles, eventually pooling at Jiang Man’s feet.

“Bad guy! Bad guy!!” the little girl cried, but the woman quickly covered her mouth.

She looked at Jiang Man with a mixture of fear and pleading: “The child doesn’t know any better, please..… please be magnanimous…”

Jiang Man glanced at them. His shoes stepped over the thick, vibrant red stain, and walked away without a word. His retreating figure reminded me of a bare, leafless tree in winter, thin and lifeless.

I knew I shouldn’t overthink it. The saint was fighting for the people, to overthrow tyranny. This war was just and reasonable; I couldn’t question it, nor did I have the right to.

But ever since then, I couldn’t help but wonder: whose husband, whose father, whose son was this man from Penglai whom I killed today?

These thoughts were like weeds, they keep growing back after being pulled out.

Then, I hesitated.

That day, in street fighting of a small town, I turned around a wall with my gun in hand and came face to face with a soldier from Penglai.

He was wearing a government army uniform, about my height and age. He already had a gun in his hand, the muzzle pointed at my chest.

I also held a gun, pointing it at him.

We stared at each other, less than ten meters apart.

He had a fresh scratch on his face, running from his forehead down to his left cheek. His eyes were blue, and his lips were trembling.

He was afraid.

We were both afraid.

In that instant, I thought of things I shouldn’t have. My index finger rested on the trigger, but I couldn’t pull it.

The next instant, his gun fired first.

Bullets rained down on me.

I don’t know how many times I was shot. But when I fell, I didn’t feel any pain.

I lay on my back on the muddy ground. The sky was low and dark, like the ceiling of a mine.

Something cold landed on my face.

It was snow.

“Mom……”

Something warm, salty, and fishy welled up in my mouth. I started to have trouble breathing.

“Mom…Mom…”

I think I heard her voice.

What is she saying? Is she telling me to come home for dinner? Is she warning me to be careful?

I can’t read. My mother can’t read either. Did she receive all the letters I had someone write and send back this year? Did anyone read them to her?

I miss her so much.

I really want to eat the corn cakes she makes.

The flour was coarse, mixed with a little salt and chopped scallions, and pan-fried until golden brown on both sides. They didn’t look appealing, but they smelled delicious. One bite, and they were still soft inside, piping hot.

What will she do in the future?

She’s lost her father, her brothers, her husband, and now even I…

My mother…what will she do…?

My field of vision was getting narrower and narrower. Snowflakes fell into my open eyes, and I couldn’t blink anymore.

A blurry black shadow appeared above me.

It was that soldier from Penglai.

He looked down at me with a panicked expression. The muzzle of his gun trembled slightly as he slowly raised it and aimed it at my head.

I didn’t have the strength left to speak, and there was nothing more to say.

If possible, I just hope that when he searches me… he won’t open my photo pendant.

“Bang!”

***

Author’s Note

If everything had happened as usual, this soldier would have died. But thankfully, war didn’t break out. He and his mother would live a good life in Wo Province, without experiencing separation and death.