Mountains and Rivers, 1937: My Game Is Reality

[I'm just a gaming streamer, so how did I become a renowned anti-Japanese general?] A game that Jiang Yanzhou couldn't delete appeared out of nowhere on his computer: Shanhe 1937.

The graphics were meticulous, the details astonishing, even the sound of raindrops hitting the city bricks seemed real. He thought he'd found a treasure: he could issue precise commands, set up defenses, stockpile supplies, and give orders to an entire city through the screen. Viewers asked what game it was. "A new release. It's insane."

He had no idea: every pixel on the screen was a real person's blood. He selected a company and clicked "Advance." At Lugou Bridge, the soldiers of that company shouted, "Heaven bless Longguo!" and charged into a hail of bullets.

The walls of Beiping fell and rose again; the waters of the Yangtze grew murky, then ran clear. City after city rose and fell in step with the arrows on his screen. He thought it was just game progress and casually opened a save file.

Later, he pulled an "NPC" out of the line of fire. A message came through a covert channel:

"Comrade, it's raining outside. We've delivered the umbrella."

Jiang Yanzhou stared at the screen, lost in thought. Raining? The sky was clear where he was.

He never found out who he was. Forty million people knew: the unseen commander was called "Kunlun."

The land remains at peace because someone bears the burden for you. Every unsung hero deserves to be remembered.