Fireworks on the Other Side of the Trenches

Lin Wan, a graduate student in history, touched a bullet-pocked steel helmet at a museum commemorating the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression.

When she woke, she was in a trench in 1940.

The person who saved her was named Chen Xiaoman.

Seventeen years old, thin as a bamboo pole, his uniform hanging loose on him,

yet when he smiled, he looked like a carefree child.

He didn't know he had only a few weeks left to live.

He didn't know his entire company would perish in this battle, with no survivors.

He didn't know that more than eighty years later,

his name would be printed beneath a photograph in a museum.

Lin Wan knew.

She used modern medicine to save one wounded soldier after another,

but she alone didn't dare tell him the truth.

"What will China be like in the future?" he asked, his eyes shining.

"There'll be no war. Everyone will have enough to eat, and every child will be able to go to school," she said, holding back her tears.

"That sounds wonderful," he smiled. "I wish I could see it just once."

On the day of the final assault, before rushing out of the trench, he turned back and smiled at her:

"You take a good look at that brighter day for me."

"Set off a firework for me."

"Just pretend I set it off."

Later, Lin Wan returned to 2026.

On National Day, fireworks filled the sky above Tiananmen Square.

She held two roughly carved wooden fireworks, tears streaming down her face.

Beyond the fireworks, she seemed to see a young soldier in uniform,

smiling at her.

"Is it beautiful?"

"Beautiful."

"Thank you."