The Japs' Nightmare: Long Yuan

In Peiping in 1937, the July fire was like a poisoned iron, so hot that the dust under the city walls was smoking. "Come on! Get away!" Rough scolding ripped through the stuffy air. Three Japanese soldiers in khaki military uniforms were dragging a girl in a blue student skirt deeper into the alley. The girl's schoolbag fell to the ground, and several books fell out. One of them, "The Scream," was trampled to pieces by a Japanese soldier. "Help... Someone help me..." The girl's cry was soft and desperate, like butterfly wings wetted by the rain. "Baga! Flower girl, come with us!" The leading Japanese soldier raised his hand to tear the girl's collar. The tip of the bayonet scraped the fabric with a "stab" sound, revealing a small piece of white shoulder. It was this sound of cracking silk that was like a key that opened something in Long Yuan's bones. His movement of putting down the burden was as light as a fallen leaf, and the next second, the people were blown into the alley like a gust of wind. "Let her go." The voice was not high, but it was as cold as a mountain stream.