I transmigrated back to 1935, onto the Long March with the Red Army. On the snowy mountains, we were short on food and clothing. The regiment commander took one look at my round face and assigned me to the mess squad. Cola, fried chicken, ice cream… none of those existed. All we had were a few big pots and a bunch of old, weak, sick, and disabled men to lug them around. I’m a selfish person, lazy and greedy, and I did everything I could to stay alive. I didn’t want a revolution. I didn’t want to make any sacrifices. Until… I came to share their faith and was willing to give my life for it.
