Chapter 62 The Great Wall

"The officers on the opposite side are also singing?"

"Quiet and listen to what they are singing?"

"Drums, don't stop!"

. . . . . .

"The Chinese people who have been sleeping for hundreds of years are gradually waking up.

Open your eyes and look carefully

Who wants to be a captive?

Because of timidity and tolerance

People's arrogance is growing day by day

Open your mouth and scream loudly.

Here is the whole country with troops

Robbers have always wanted to invade

Will eventually die

The Great Wall will never arrive

Thousands of miles of Yellow River water is surging

..."

"The Great Wall will never fall, and the Yellow River is surging!" Tantai Mingyue softly recited the voice coming from the distant building, and two lines of tears fell down her face.

Yes, although those dark blues have no melody, at this moment, those sounds are so moving, and have penetrated into the deepest hearts of all the Chinese people present.

Although they are mortal bodies, aren't they the Great Wall of China for all Chinese people here?

I don’t know how many Chinese people present were moved to tears by the words of the dying Chinese soldier: “The Great Wall will never fall.”

But the protagonists of today's battlefield are destined to be not just the Chinese and Japanese soldiers fighting on the battlefield, nor just the men standing behind the war drums.

The crowd suddenly surged, and many people looked back in surprise.

In the alley, several women suddenly walked out, wearing Chinese cyan cheongsams, Chinese buns, red scarves tied around their necks, and no makeup on their faces.

The women were all graceful, and they looked like they were not ordinary women, but they all walked towards the river bank with determination.

Then, with solemn expressions, the group bowed towards the building.

The people were a little confused. What do these women want to do?

Although most of the crowd are refugees who have fled, there are also knowledgeable people, and upon closer inspection, they can't help but be surprised.

One of these women is actually a pillar of Songhu's largest theater, the Big World, and a famous character in Songhu's entertainment circle. She can appear once a month, which is considered good. Even some big bosses see them and talk to them. Everyone has to be polite.

Unexpectedly, today I would show up and come to this dangerous place without applying makeup.

Those who dare to stand here certainly know the dangers here. They are now beyond the scope of watching the fun, but are helping the Chinese defenders to fight against the Japanese. Once the Japanese are frustrated and angry, the artillery shells may not dare to come over. But the bullets are uncertain when they will come.

Didn't you see that the concession soldiers didn't even stay at the fortifications on the river bank now? They all hid further away.

“Dear fellow villagers, since before March, the Japanese pirates fired the first shot at the Marco Polo Bridge, from the North China Plain to the south of the Jinxiu River, the Japanese pirates’ iron hoofs have been within their reach, and our Chinese rivers and mountains have been robbed.

Even in the boudoir, the little girl was tossing and turning and could not sleep at night. Unfortunately, the little girl did not have the strength to tie the chicken and could not lift the sword to kill the Japanese pirates on the battlefield.

Today I am happy to hear that our soldiers are fighting against the Japanese pirates on the battlefield. The little girl has no special skills, but her singing and dancing skills are acceptable, so I come to sing and dance a song, hoping that our soldiers will bravely kill the pirates and restore our country! "The leader, a woman with a face as bright as the bright moon and a graceful figure, roared crisply.

Nearly a thousand people were silent for a moment, then burst into applause: "Okay!"

For these women who are involved in the entertainment industry, they, who are mostly from the poor class, can't say they have a good impression, but they can't say they have a dislike. In fact, the two are living in parallel lines. If it weren't for the war, they would basically not Any communication takes place.

But at this moment, they have a common identity - Chinese.

The same identity is doing the same thing, cheering for the Chinese soldiers on the other side who are fighting the Japanese invaders.

"Sir, can I borrow the drum?" The woman smiled slightly at the middle-aged man who was already sweating profusely.

"Of course you can!" The middle-aged man greeted him with solemn hands.

He planned to hand the drumstick to the woman, but the woman did not take it.

Instead, the woman prayed to everyone again and asked in a crisp voice: "Who can play the drum with me?"

"Let's!"

A group of young students, about eight in number, came out, carrying the drum on their shoulders.

"Help me play the drums!" The woman took off her shoes and socks, stepped barefoot on the ground, and shouted softly.

Several women gathered around, lifted it and placed it on the drum head, and then stood in awe around the big drum.

The woman got on the drum head, stamped her feet a few times with a pair of snowy feet, and followed the "dong dong dong!" The drum sounded muffled and shouted: "Today, our Chinese army fought a bloody battle with the Japanese invaders on the battlefield, and we did not hesitate to sacrifice ourselves. Then I will wait for you. The people of China use men as drums and women as mallets to return the songs you sang, even if they are still alive."

"After sleeping for hundreds of years, the Chinese people are gradually waking up..."

The woman's singing voice was originally melodious, but she sang with all her strength, like a lark weeping blood. While singing, she stepped on and kicked the drum. In the background was the smoke-filled but still standing Sixing Warehouse building 300 meters away.

This strange scene was not only deeply engraved in the hearts of all the Chinese people present, but also touched the heart of a French Empire reporter named Edward.

Edward wrote this in a manuscript sent to newspapers on the other side of the ocean: I have lived in China for five years. I originally thought I knew this nation very well. The vast majority of them are poor and ignorant and have no idea what modern civilization is. I despise their insensitivity, especially when they bow to me and call me a foreigner!

But today, I discovered that I was wrong, very wrong.

Especially when the beautiful woman in traditional Chinese cheongsam and traditional oriental bun danced and sang on a big drum, I have to admit that I fell in love with her. Because of her, I fell in love with this nation that I had despised.

I must admit that I despised them because I didn't understand them at all.

This nation is weak because they are still immersed in the glory created by their ancestors. They are just still sleeping.

And when they wake up, just like today, they wake up and stand up.

God! They have 400 million people. If they can stand up and face the guns of the invaders like now, I can hardly imagine who can defeat them, including my most beloved French Empire.

Yes, please forgive me, that's what I think.

Especially when I saw the building that stood firm in the artillery fire and the beautiful lady who stepped on the drum and sang in front of it in the camera lens, I finally understood what "the Great Wall will never fall" means.

The Great Wall is not a city, nor a building, but their hearts! "

The deeply moved French journalist not only sent out the text that shocked the entire French Empire, but also left behind the famous battlefield photo.

The unyielding Chinese soldiers and their fortresses that had been lit up by artillery fire and filled with gunpowder smoke, the people standing on the edge of hell, and the women singing with all their might, stood on both sides of a river that could not be called an obstacle, facing each other across the river...

And his romantic article has always been used as a commentary to the photo cited as a classic photo of the anti-corruption war, describing to countless people in the future the story that happened on the afternoon of that day in China, a land that began to burn with war.

"Pop!" A gunshot shattered everything.

The shutter of the French journalist's camera froze.

Blood flowers bloomed on the most beautiful flowers in his eyes.