The Holocaust: I Witness Every Death

I am a young reporter from Jinling City, my name is Li Mubai, and my life is so frustrating. No one reads the manuscript, no one signs the novel, and life is tight, just like this dilapidated alley on a rainy day, damp and stuffy, with no end in sight. Until I dug out my grandfather's dusty bronze mirror in my old house. As soon as I touched my hand, my eyes went dark, and then I opened my eyes again - in Jinling City in December 1937, hell had opened. The mirror is like a cold-blooded roulette. Every time I travel, it throws me into a certain death situation and gives me a heart-rending memory: This time, I was the one carrying the corpse, and the one who was cold under my feet was none other than the girl next door who called me "sir" with a smile just yesterday... This time, I was a father, using my last strength to stuff the crying baby into the pyre. The sound of the Japanese's boots was right outside the door... This time, I even became a child, hiding in my mother's increasingly cold arms, watching the cold light on the bayonet getting closer and closer... Every time he travels through time, it is a journey. Every death is the temporary end of suffering. I returned to modern times with the memories and miserable screams of countless people, and I still seemed to carry the smell of blood and burnt blood that wouldn't go away. In the past, I wrote to earn a living. Now, when I pick up the pen, I feel like countless ghosts are staring at me from behind. In the past, I was afraid of being poor and that no one would look up to me. Now, I'm just afraid that what I wrote is not true enough, not ruthless enough, and I'm sorry for those "me" who died over and over again in front of my eyes! This mirror is not a gift, but a curse. It is also a bloody will. I don't want to be a hero, I just want to stand up for those who can no longer speak. Ask: "Do you dare to remember?!"