heard

In the chilly spring, through the gaps in the old wooden windows of the college, the noise of chalk quickly rubbing against the blackboard, leaving a few clear and vigorous white characters: General History of China, Chen Xu.

The middle-aged professor in a blue-gray cloth robe on the podium turned around, and before he could speak, he bowed deeply to the students: "My lord, Chen Xu, will teach the course of General History of China from today, and I will live on the three-foot platform. , I don’t dare to say that I have profound knowledge, I just want to discuss with you.” After finishing his speech, he paused slightly, his eyes passed through the thick lenses, and he scanned a dark blue student uniform deeply and sharply, “Before the class starts, I would like to ask you all. I would like to ask a question: Why do you sit here, study here, and devote yourself to this place in your prime years?"

Sparse discussions sounded from the audience, and some people were eager to get up and answer.The gray-robed professor seemed to have expected it a long time ago, and raised his hand to signal everyone to be quiet: "Don't rush to reply, I want you to keep your answers in mind, and when you finish your studies in the future, no matter what kind of job you do or what position you are in, you will still be safe." I can remember it all the time. Okay, class starts now."

In the spring of the 21st year of China, the new culture has spread in this ancient land for nearly two decades. Beizhou Sanguan has been reduced to Dongyi’s guns for more than half a year.The young man who lost his parents in the accident and was sent to the boarding house of Shanghai National University by his elder brother urgently needs to find a meaning for his long life.

This year, the boy's elder brother had already completed the course of economics ahead of schedule, and he himself had just stood in front of the threshold of historiography, asking himself, why should he study history at this precarious time?It is nothing more than "knowledge" and "knowledge", knowing the past and learning from the present.The country, the nation, and the thousands of years of history have come to this day, why are they here, and where are they going to find a way out.So when you think about it, this is probably enough to call it meaning.

However, in just six years, artillery fire by the Jade Lion Bridge smashed through the city wall of Pingjing, but in January, the Battle of Jinkou broke out.The small country that used to follow suit, under the same upheaval, caught up in less than a hundred years, and recklessly turned around and trampled on this almost dead thick soil.Countless people who fled, teachers and students who moved from the school, and the wounded who were evacuated from the front line passed by the railway transit point, and all kinds of news flew over the old city.The walls of the school are full of youth and enthusiasm. How can the new students who grew up listening to democracy and science and self-improvement and strengthening the country be able to sit still.

There is family hatred first, and then national hatred.Since ancient times, there has been a saying that "under the overturned nest, there will be finished eggs", trying to figure out the truth that children still know, but anyone with aspirations can't turn a blind eye to it.

But what have you done?After six years of hard study, the young man thought he had laid a fairly solid foundation for historical research, but in this troubled world, there is no scholar's voice. A well-known professor of literature and history at Tianjin University who met once, was trapped in the crowd of fleeing refugees, like all the helpless ordinary people in the city.

——So what can these people who claim to read history wisely, know the past and learn from the present, do?

- Nothing!

"Useless learning!" A scolding in the dank cell, like a bone-cutting knife, will wrap the depths of the chest, and dissect all the hidden impulses and hesitation, naked/naked on the table, "Look Your classmates, they are either helping in the rear or already on the battlefield, what about you? Can you carry guns to fight or take care of the wounded? Can you transform guns or play with the economy? Besides flipping through books and writing a few old feudal stories, carrying slogans and shouting What else can you do with a few moaning/groaning slogans!"

There was a musty smell of death in the single cell, and every yell from the top of the head hit the four walls forcefully, echoing in the silent space, endlessly saying: "Don't mention the history as a mirror, how many warehouses have the historical materials piled up in the big country, How? The ancestral graves have been picked up! The things of the ancestors have long been outdated and useless! You are just making excuses for cowardice. You don’t even have the guts to face the enemy. You are only worthy of hiding in the corner and watching the country die! "

The young man suddenly raised his eyes, and what caught his eyes was a middle-aged man with a medium build, gloomy and capable, dressed in a yellow-green military uniform.He looked at himself condescendingly, with a deep voice, as if surging out of a thick ground: "Your brother is one of us." The man's words stopped, leaving a deathlike silence, "He is an unknown warrior, The news sent through his hand can destroy the entire ammunition depot of the enemy, and can save the lives of countless soldiers of our side—"

"But he's dead." The young man in a difficult situation interrupted him with a calm voice, as if the person the other party was talking about was so strange that he didn't look like a relative who was connected by blood.His elder brother died. On the way to the camp for interviews in an enemy vehicle, he was shot through the head by an anti-Japanese fighter who did not know the truth, and his body was abandoned by the roadside.The military did not bring back his body, but threw the news of his death in front of his only brother without any tenderness.

The young man looked at the man in military uniform looking down from the top of his head, and in his eyes he saw himself shining brightly: "What do you need me to do?" The prison room in winter was filled with the smell of dampness, and Zhou Za was so silent that he could only smell his breath.The man paused every word, like stagnant water dripping from moss: "Succeed him and reconnect the broken message chain. You are his younger brother, and you are the most suitable candidate."

A shadow passed by the edge of the unclosed lacquered mahogany window, and Shigeyoshi Hisakawa, a reporter from Konahi News Agency who was resting at his desk under the window, suddenly woke up.There were news materials on the table that were ready to be sorted and edited. He rubbed his still not very sober mind, turned his face away, and poked his eyes out of the window.The sky was bright, and the newspaper compound was as quiet as a sleeping baby.In the spring of the 27th year of Zhonghua, the gate of Jiangkou was already in the pocket of Dongri, and the blood of soldiers and civilians in Changhua, thousands of miles away, had not yet dried up. At such a time of turmoil, there should not have been such a warm spring/light.

Shigeyoshi Hisakawa turned his gaze away from the outdoors, and when he brushed past a pot of lush young evergreen plants on the window sill, he paused without a trace.The pot of green plants was placed against the window, one side was slightly curled up due to long-term obstruction, and now the curly leaves are facing the seat, apparently someone moved it without realizing it.It was noon, and there was no one else in the room. Shigeyoshi Hisakawa looked around, reached into the bottom of the stacked leaves, and sure enough found a strip of cigarette paper in the soft soil.

The note was rolled backwards into a section about the width of a knuckle, and when it was spread out, it was a blank sheet of paper.If you don't look carefully, it's hard to find that it is actually covered with a series of creases of different lengths.Hisakawa Shigeyoshi rubbed the surface of the roll paper with his fingertips, meditated for a moment, then turned around and went to the incense altar dedicated to Amaterasu God in the house, set fire to burn the paper, and carefully stirred the embers and incense ash. Only then slowly took out the new incense and replaced the old fire that was almost exhausted in the altar.

Wisps of smoke rose up, entering the edge of the copper-green sleeve of the Great God, and there was no trace.No second person will know. Just now, a piece of Morse code carrying a message from afar came through seemingly inadvertent actions:

····——···—····—·|·—··—·——————·······|—·—······—··— ——··—···|—···|—···——······

(Happy spiders are exposed, be careful. ——Boss)

It has been more than three months since the chief of the intelligence section of the second district disappeared. Now that such definite news comes from above, it can only explain one thing: Xizhu's body was found. He was probably under Dongri's control some time ago. He was tortured by inhuman interrogation.Under torture, the body is the most absolute challenge to the spirit, and those engaged in intelligence work will not believe in loyalty.This means that the entire Jinchang intelligence network will face the danger of being hacked at any time.

Usually at this time, the intelligence officers on the relevant line must immediately send a letter to the "home" to report their situation, and then abandon all original communication methods, keep silent, and prepare to accept threats from the enemy or censorship from their own side until A new order is issued.But it's different here, if he withdraws, Lao Sheng will completely become an isolated island in the sea, so this nail must be firmly wedged unless it is absolutely necessary.However, no one in the entire Jinchang contact network knows who the old student is, and Jiuchuan Shigeyoshi is no exception.

The world only knows that the two special reporters from the Xiangri News Agency have a close relationship with the East Japan military. Elegant and elegant, he loves to read, even when he is marching and fighting, he does not forget to set up a convenient bookcase in his room.

But few people know that Shigeyoshi Hisakawa, who was inspired to succeed his brother Shigehito in journalism because of his death in a foreign country, is actually the same as his predecessor. Private pockets; not to mention that no one will know that every time they meet each other, Shigeyoshi Hisakawa carries with him, and in the camera that he turns over to the Military Staff Section to ensure that the information of the troops is not leaked, there will be an extra photo of the books in Beijing's office .

Those books filled the entire bookshelf, varying in size and thickness. At first glance, there was no order at all. Even if such photos were published in the newspaper, they would not arouse suspicion.But Shigeyoshi Hisakawa knew that the core news of the 23rd Brigade of the Dongri Infantry would be converted from these bumpy albums into radio waves or creeds, and flow through his hands to the rear of the Chinese army that was constantly being eroded and retreated.

There was a slight click of the latch tongue outside the house, and the boy in a neat shirt at the door bowed and said, "Jiukawa-san, まだbusyしいででですか?" He was very immature, but his voice had become deep and deep, vaguely revealing the shadow of a mature man.Hisakawa Shigeyoshi turned around, returned the gift, and said with a smile: "この时间の原文ををに刚したから, Ruyoshi-kun, editor-in-chief へよろしく." ("The manuscript for this issue has been completed, Ruyoshi-kun, please trouble You pass it on to the editor-in-chief.")