We survived.
Ah Si and I, as well as two other brothers, crawled out of the smelly sewage pipe, dragging our wounds and ten boxes of penicillin.
However, Chang Shu and the others, together with the entire comrades of the liaison station, a total of twelve people, stayed that night forever.
In the safe house, the atmosphere was so oppressive that it was breathless.
I sat on the edge of the bed, smoking one cigarette after another. Ah Si's arms were hung with gauze, and his eyes were as red as rabbits. No one spoke.
Lin Xiaotian is back.
He came back early the next morning. He was soaked and covered in mud and blood, whether it was his or the enemy's.
He didn't look at us, he walked straight to the corner, curled himself up, and remained motionless, like a lifeless statue.
He didn't cry or speak.
I walked over and wanted to say something to him. I want to tell him that it's not his fault, the enemy is too cunning.
But I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
What can I say? Say it doesn't matter? Twelve lives, how could it not matter.
I could only silently put a piece of dry clothes and a cup of hot water next to him.
He didn't touch it.
