I traveled back in time to 1935, when the Red Army was on its Long March. There was a lack of food and clothing on the snow-capped mountains. The group leader looked at my round face and assigned me to the cooking class. Coke, fried chicken, ice cream... None of these. There are only a few big pots and the old, weak, sick and disabled who take the blame. I am an egoist, lazy and greedy, trying every possible means to survive. I didn't want revolution or sacrifice until... I also had the same belief and was willing to sacrifice my life for it.
