Chapter 1263: Epilogue: The Night Before the Great Battle

The day known to the world.

AM, far away in the South at the nation’s border.

Zhang Guoqing, just out from the frontline command headquarters, lit a cigarette and looked up, gazing across at the enemy nation.

A mountain breeze swept over the wilderness before dawn, allowing his tense nerves throughout the night to slightly relax, and his mind felt clearer.

At this moment, he could still hear the radio operators around him, constantly transmitting the orders, instructions, and missions from the higher-ups using coded language.

Mixed within were updates and new developments from the frontline scouts reporting from enemy forward positions.

Some of this intelligence might come from the squad led by his three sons.

He had been here for several days, yet still hadn’t seen his three sons.

At this moment, his sons might be on their way back, or perhaps still hiding in the enemy territory.

He dared not think whether the children would encounter danger, and even more, he dared not think about his wife in distant Beijing.

With the enemy ahead, personal desires had become unimportant.

The battlefield changed rapidly.

If history were to suddenly turn with unexpected changes, he would join the battlefield—not for so-called justice or high rank.

At this moment, he was simply a soldier and had to be one first.

Zhang Guoqing, pinching a cigarette between his fingers, watched the spark glow as white smoke endlessly burned, gradually shortening the cigarette, and the pain in his fingers woke him.

Inside, just like his duty-bound comrades outside.

All the officers and soldiers had bloodshot eyes.

Perhaps the intense mental stress caused the brain to remain in a state of excitement.

No one was sleepy at this moment.

Everyone was waiting for that moment to arrive.

Waiting!

Waiting in extreme silence...

The clock rotated forward, second by second, minute by minute...

Countdown finally began!

A few commands rang out...

Soon, a series of shells flew swiftly forward, piercing the sky at the crack of dawn.

The self-defense counterattack, meticulously arranged, fired on time!

—Initially sustained attack on the enemy’s forward positions, targeting depth for half an hour.

The enemy’s frontline positions in the distance became a sea of flames, with smoke filling the air, and the thick smoke from the burning trees rising straight into the sky.

The entire China-Vietnam border sky was illuminated by raging fires.

In the past, confined to novels, movies, televisions, Zhang Guoqing was only experiencing now that this was a real war.

No maritime, land, air operations commenced; no fighter jets filled the sky—it was straightforward infantry advancing, carving out a prosperous era with human lives.

This was his first face-to-face encounter, and to say his heart wasn’t affected and amazed would be dishonest; his mind was far from calm on the surface. Suddenly he recalled a saying.

—Better to be a peaceful dog than a chaotic person.

At this moment, Zhang Guoqing was astonished that these ten words came to his mind.

Compared to previous skirmishes, now that the battle had commenced, it meant advancing, please advance, then please advance again... For the homeland behind, even more, for the nation’s glory.

Infantrymen hidden hundreds of meters from the enemy’s frontline positions waited for the artillery to attack the enemy positions for half an hour, then they began their assault.

To seize enemy positions, fight the enemy army to the end, and facilitate deep vertical penetration, they opened paths with blood and flesh!

This day’s battle lasted all the way until nightfall.

The entire battlefield gradually quieted, leaving sporadic gunfire, and after occupying the enemy positions, another fierce battle followed the next day.

On the first day, two days... time passed.

Zhang Guoqing didn’t know how many people fell on the frontline; he was busy coordinating supplies, squeezing out a little time for smoking, seeing wounded everywhere in his sight.

These were lightly wounded warriors.

Usually suffering from broken skin and torn flesh, head injuries from shrapnel, limbs fractured. The bandaged wounds soaked with black-red blood stains.

Previously, Zhang Guoqing had heard a saying: lightly wounded do not leave the frontline; seriously wounded do not enter hospitals.

These warriors with so-called light injuries only truly lived up to the saying as long as it didn’t affect their physical action—light injuries do not leave the frontline.

Seriously wounded do not enter hospitals?

The seriously wounded had long suffered blood loss, almost none with open eyes; they were like having sacrificed, they couldn’t avoid hospital rescue.

But he believed that if they could endure, they would still hold the frontline until the last moment.

According to the command center, the battle was going smoothly.

Yet how smooth could it matter?

The fallen heroes would never awaken again.

Many remained overseas and on the border between the two nations; they were undoubtedly great, but how could the families behind them bear such immense pain?

No nation, no home—this sentence was too heavy.

Its essence was threaded by a line of young, respectable lives.

Did heavens grieve for these fallen young lives? It began weeping, raining harder accompanied by flashes of thunder.

The fierce battle continued...

Zhang Guoqing met his three sons on the twelfth day upon arriving here.

Watching his three sons walk toward him, watching Ping’an with a bandage wrapped arm...

At this moment, Zhang Guoqing found himself not feeling heartache, only filled with complete joy, more of a relief that the children returned alive.

In his moment of being lost, he realized perhaps he had witnessed this battle, understood a bit—that being able to walk off the battlefield alive was victory.

After re-bandaging the eldest son’s wound and applying medicine for the pair of younger sons, Zhang Guoqing tightly hugged his sons one by one.

Watching the fallen soldiers one by one, reviewing the organized report of casualties, Zhang Guoqing didn’t know what to say, nor could he say anything.

He had a multitude of words he wished to express to the children.

Yet in the end, he opened his mouth but closed it again.

A thousand words eventually distilled to a sentence: you must come back alive.

Yes, here. Now he didn’t hope for his children to return unscathed; as long as they could breathe back, he would thank heavens and earth, even if it meant shortening his lifespan by decades it wouldn’t matter.

With those martyred heroes, he couldn’t, and couldn’t selfishly stop the children’s advance, nor clip his sons’ wings.

Which home doesn’t have high elders above, his sons are sons, but whose sons aren’t sons?

Ping’an Brothers solemnly saluted their father, "Wait for our return."

Watching the children hurriedly eating a few buns and a can of vegetable, issuing a satisfied sigh, Zhang Guoqing didn’t dare to think what they had eaten recently.

Dusk’s sunset spilled from the horizon.

Night was about to fall!

Watching the three sons preparing to set off again, Zhang Guoqing dared not ask them about their next mission.

As a vanguard squad, the weight on their shoulders was always as if extracting teeth from a tiger’s mouth.

He didn’t ask for much.

Only hoping the three brothers could return safely, only hoping this campaign counters with success soon, dare no more victories fetched with human lives.