webnovelfull Chapter 943 Forever
Chapter 943 Forever
"The Japanese are coming. They should be coming for the blueprints." He pulled out a Browning pistol from his arms. "I'll lead them away in a while. You take the blueprints and go out the back door." The gunshots were particularly harsh in the rainy night. Su Mingyuan ran into the rainy alley, holding the scroll. Behind him, Gu Yunzhou's figure flickered in the neon lights and gunfire. His shooting posture was neat and resolute, completely different from the gentle scholar just now. In the days that followed, Su Mingyuan followed Gu Yunzhou on the road of escape. They pretended to be a couple and traveled through the water towns in the south of the Yangtze River. On the black-sailed boat in Zhouzhuang, Gu Yunzhou taught her to recognize the code on the map; in the inn in Xitang, he bandaged her arm that was scratched by a stray bullet. Once, when they were passing a stone bridge, Su Mingyuan saw him staring at the green mountains in the distance and asked softly, "Mr. Gu, where do you want to go when the war is over?" Gu Yunzhou turned his head to look at her, with stars in his eyes: "I want to go to the West Lake and watch the kites flying in the sky, just like my mother took me there when I was a child." He paused, "When that time comes, I will personally make the biggest kite for you." However, the peaceful days did not last long. In the ancient town of Nanxun, they were betrayed by a traitor. When the Japanese army surrounded the inn, Gu Yunzhou stuffed the drawings into the lining of Su Mingyuan's cheongsam: "Mingyuan, live. Remember, the direction of the kite is the direction of hope." The moment Su Mingyuan was thrown into the river by the window, she heard fierce gunfire behind her. She swam desperately in the cold river, and the uppers of her shoes embroidered with gold thread gradually sank to the bottom of the water, just like the unspoken feelings between her and Gu Yunzhou. Three years later, news of the victory of the Anti-Japanese War came. Su Mingyuan returned to Suzhou, and the wisteria in the Humble Administrator's Garden was in full bloom. She stood at the place where the kite was buried, and dug out an oil-paper package - it was the water conservancy map that Gu Yunzhou had protected with his life, and an exquisite bamboo kite with a lotus flower painted on it. "Mingyuan!" A familiar voice came from behind. Su Mingyuan turned around, tears welling up in her eyes. Gu Yunzhou leaned against the door frame, blood seeping from the bandage on his chest, but his smile was brighter than the spring sunshine: "I said I would take you to West Lake to see kites." By the West Lake, Su Mingyuan released the kite with the lotus flower painted on it into the sky. The spring breeze blew, and the kite flew higher and higher, blending with the green mountains in the distance and the nearby lake. Gu Yunzhou held her hand and whispered: "Mingyuan, look, where the kite flies is our Jiangnan." Time passed, and many years later on a Qingming Festival, the white-haired Su Mingyuan sat in a rocking chair and told his grandson about the war-torn era. Outside the window, young people were flying kites of various shapes, and their laughter echoed over Jiangnan. She stroked the faded kite, and seemed to see Gu Yunzhou standing under the wisteria trellis again, the kite in his hand flying against the wind towards the eternal blue sky.
In 1919, in Beijing, the cold wind wrapped in fine snow fell on the blue bricks and gray tiles of Liulichang. Gu Yanqing curled up behind the counter of the "Song Mo Zhai" calligraphy and painting shop, and the white breath he exhaled condensed into frost on the rice paper. He stroked the sheep's hair brush on the desk. The inscription "Seeing the words is like meeting you" on the pen holder had long been worn away by time - it was carved by his father holding his hand three years ago before his death. "Boss Gu, is this copy of "Lanting Xu" really priced at thirty dollars?" The rich lady in a fox fur coat knocked on the counter with her gold-studded nails, "The imitation from Rongbaozhai in the east of the city is only five dollars." Gu Yanqing forced a smile and unfolded the scroll: "Madam, please look at the flying white of the word 'zhi' and the dry and moist changes in the ink color. It is absolutely not comparable to the craftsmen in the market." Before he finished speaking, the door of the shop was suddenly knocked open, and the cold wind rushed in with flyers. A girl in school uniform rushed into the store, her hair on her temples was stained with snow, and half of the New Youth magazine in her arms was exposed. "Sir, please buy a progressive publication!" The girl slapped the flyer on the counter, "The diplomacy of the Paris Peace Conference has failed, and the Beiyang government is going to sign a traitorous treaty!" Gu Yanqing picked up the flyer and his eyes swept over the words "fight for sovereignty abroad and punish traitors at home." The girl suddenly lowered her voice: "There is a reading club in the back alley of Songmozhai tonight. If you..." "Get out!" Gu Yanqing suddenly crumpled the flyer into a ball, "Our store only sells calligraphy and paintings, not politics!" The girl looked at him in astonishment, and when she turned around, the handkerchief embroidered with orchids fell to the ground. Gu Yanqing looked at her back as she disappeared in the wind and snow, picked up the handkerchief, and found that the three words "Shen Zhixia" were embroidered in gold thread on the inside. At midnight, Gu Yanqing somehow found his way to the back alley. In the dilapidated attic, in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, Shen Zhixia was reading "The Victory of the Common People" passionately: "Look at the world in the future, it must be a world of red flags!" She looked up and saw Gu Yanqing at the door, and her eyes suddenly lit up: "Mr. Gu, you are here!" Since then, Gu Yanqing often hid in the corner of the reading club, listening to young people talking about Marxism and the October Revolution. Shen Zhixia would always secretly give him mimeographed progressive books. When her fingertips touched, he could feel the thin calluses on her palms - those were the marks left by holding the pen. One day, Shen Zhixia brought a piece of yellowed rice paper: "Mr. Gu, this is the last word my father wrote before his death. Can you help me take a look?" The eight words "The mountains and rivers weep blood, and the scholars should die" on the rice paper were so strong that they penetrated the back of the paper, and the edges of the ink were stained with dark red marks. Gu Yanqing's heart trembled. He recognized this kind of staining, which was written with cinnabar mixed with blood. The situation was completely out of control in the thunder of May. When the student parade passed through Liulichang, Gu Yanqing stood at the door of the shop, watching Shen Zhixia holding a banner that read "Give Me Back Qingdao" and being whipped by the military police until she was bleeding. He rushed over to protect her, but heard Shen Zhixia whisper in his ear: "Mr. Gu, help me send this list to the Red Building of Peking University..." Late at night in "Song Mo Zhai", Gu Yanqing hid the list in the interlayer of the scroll of "Cold Food Post". Suddenly, the door of the shop was kicked open, and a dozen black-clad spies rushed in with guns: "Someone reported that you were in collusion with the rebels!" Gu Yanqing picked up a paperweight and threw it at the spies, but was hit on the forehead by the butt of the spies' gun. Before he fell into a coma, he saw the spies rummaging through the boxes and the remaining pages of "Cold Food Post" flying in the wind. When he woke up again, Gu Yanqing was lying on a bed in Union Hospital. Shen Zhixia sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes red and swollen from crying: "They closed down Song Mo Zhai, saying you are a communist." She took out a half-broken pen from her bosom, with the word "Yan" engraved on the pen cap, "This was found in the ruins, you..." "Don't say anymore!" Gu Yanqing turned her face away, "Song Mo Zhai, which my father exchanged his life for, is gone just like that. I'm just a down-and-out scholar, what can I use to fight them?" Shen Zhixia stood up suddenly, the orchid on the handkerchief swaying in the wind: "Gu Yanqing, look out the window!" She opened the window, and the night sky of Beiping City was torn apart by flames, "Those who shed blood for their ideals, their ink marks will be forever engraved in history!