"You still look down on me so much."
"Of course I look down on you, and I don't want to look down on you."
A fire broke out in the brazier, and he and he faced each other across the fire. The manuscript paper was burned in the fire, and the past turned into ashes. Finally, Tong Jiamu seemed to have figured out something. He pressed his forehead and shook his head. Then he let go of his hand and looked up at the sky. His long gown seemed to have been splashed with mayonnaise, and his shadows fell on the ground.
"The whole life that belongs to me has been in the fire. The remaining one does not belong to me. I give it back to you."
"When you have nothing to do, go and take a look at the Xifu Begonia in the yard. No matter what, I won't see it blooming next year."
These were the last words Tong Jiamu left to Cheng Jiang. Half a month later, a prison van rolled through the plum blossom snow and creaked into the Shanghai Hunan District Prison.
That day, there were suddenly a lot of jackdaws on the trees. Cheng Jiang walked out of the office, with the first snow falling on his hat. He raised his head and saw that the glazed tiles on the "Concorde Summit" in the office were gray, the clouds were falling, and jade flakes were flying. The spring of 1937 had arrived.
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This is a second work based on the song "Winter of the Nineteenth Year of the Republic of China", a song I like very much.
According to the author's preference, the background is reset to Shanghai before the Songhu Battle in 1937.
Above.
Intention: I love him, I just want him not to know whether he lives or dies.
