Youth Under the Boundary Monument

I was a failed student who once hung out in an Internet cafe. I joined the army for my grandfather's pledge to defend the border. From the recruit camp on the southwest plateau, to the Blade Company on the snowy border, to the blue helmet camp on the African continent, I have spent twenty years in the military and witnessed how an ordinary person transformed into the backbone of protecting the country. There is no system, no cheating, just five kilometers of sweat, perseverance at the boundary monument, trust among comrades, and grandma's jar of always warm plums and vegetables. I have guarded every inch of the country, protected every compatriot, and understood the weight of the word "peace" in the smoke of gunpowder.