Han’s Son is Not a Slave

In the smoke of the war, several cavalry soldiers galloped into Daijiazhuang.

"Yu Duzhi, commander of the army!"

A messenger with a dusty face handed the military order to Yu Shizhong. Yu Shizhong took it and glanced hurriedly, then raised his head and said to the messenger: "Please report back to the commander, I am Yu Shizhong, and Daijiazhuang is here!"

"Order!"

A few messengers gave Yu Shizhong a military salute, and without a moment's delay, turned on their horses and ran out in the smoke. Looking at the military order in Yu Shizhong's hands, Li Kuangming asked, "Brother Yu, the military order?"

"The commander said that if Dai Jiazhuang is going to be lost, he wants my head."

Yu Shizhong handed the military order in his hand to Li Kuangming, then rushed out with a knife, and said to the soldiers: "Tell those thousands and hundreds of households that they can't keep Daijiazhuang, and the commander wants my Yu Shizhong's head. , I want their heads Yu Shizhong!"

Looking at Yu Shizhong's back in the smoke, Li Kuangming smiled bitterly and turned his head to look southeast. After a long time, he withdrew his gaze, raised his sword and rushed in the direction of the fierce battle.

Not only his father and brother Yu Shizhong died in Hunhe, but also my father, Li Kuangming!

......

There is a chastity archway in the north of Daijiazhuang. According to legend, it was built by the Yangzhou government for a widow in the village during the Chenghua period. After more than 100 years of wind and rain, this archway is not corrupt at all. With the changes of Daijia Village for more than 100 years, it has witnessed the aging of the people in this village and the new generation of new generations. Now, this century-old archway has witnessed the bloodiest scene in this village in more than 100 years.

The rest of the Fifth Town A Brigade, under the leadership of the brigade commander Yunjie, fought **** battles with thousands of Qing troops to the end. In the end, they were outnumbered and suffered heavy casualties. At this moment, there are corpses everywhere under the archway. The Taiping Army and the Qing Army, the corpses were piled up and entangled with each other, and many people's eyes were staring at the boss, it was dead.

In the pile of corpses, if you look closely, you will find that the fingers that are stretched out are moving slightly, and the corpse is shaking. That is the last futile struggle in this world for those who are unwilling and unwilling to die.

The living people stepped on the dead bodies one by one and continued to fight to the death. If the dead are finally freed, but the living are enduring that long, hellish nightmare, perhaps, they also want to be freed.

When the last soldier shouted desperately and rushed towards the Qing soldiers, there were only two people sitting under the archway.

One is an officer and the other is a soldier.

Shangguan Yunjie was seriously injured and his body was full of arrows like a hedgehog. He was sitting there, coughing continuously, each cough brought out a lot of blood, making blood all over his nose, mouth, and face.

Next to Shangguan Yunjie, sits veteran oilman Zhang Erhu. He is from Guizhou, and he has no hobbies on weekdays, so he just smokes dry cigarettes. He shakily took out the dry smoke pot tied to his waist, then took out the fire stick and lit it on fire. When the fire was lit, his hands trembled so badly that he failed to ignite the fire several times in a row. The cigarette pot was finally lit, Zhang Erhu took a big gulp, and the smoke came out of his mouth and nose, making his face full of satisfaction. He greedily took another sip, and let out a long smoke ring. In the smoke, countless Qing soldiers were walking down the archway.

If you often walk by the river, how can you not wet your shoes, that's all, you deserve to die ten years ago, and you live another ten years, what's not to be satisfied with? Do you want to be like a coward all your life, live cowardly, and survive by pretending to be dead? Anyway, I still have a hang in my crotch, and I'm still a man. It's a man, shouldn't he die on the battlefield? So many people have died, what's the point of me being alive?

Zhang Erhu smiled self-deprecatingly and turned to look at Yunjie, the Brigade Commander next to him. This is a high-ranking official. He thought about how he would die, but he did not expect a high-ranking official to accompany him when he died. Is this **** worth it? Well, let's do it.

The Qing army was getting closer and closer. When they found out that there were still two Taiping soldiers alive, and there seemed to be a high-ranking official among them, a green battalion leader had his eyes glinted, and he shouted to his men to arrest them. However, not far away, a high-ranking Manchurian official immediately whipped his horse whip, and "Guagua" said a few words, so the Qing troops stopped advancing one after another. Seeing this, the general had no choice but to press his mind to grab the credit, and stared at the two Taiping bandits who couldn't move.

It was Mo Luohong who ordered to stop. He didn't mean to persuade him to surrender, because the two Taiping bandits didn't live long at first glance. He just wanted to see what the two Taiping bandits who were about to die would do before they died. . Despair or suicide?

Seeing the Qing soldiers stop and looking around at them, Zhang Erhu cursed in a low voice. Shangguan Yunjie, who was beside him, didn't scold anything, but took out a piece of white paper tightly wrapped in a tarpaulin from his arms with difficulty. There seemed to be words written on the white paper, but what, Zhang Erhu didn't know, he couldn't read.

During the period of the Taiping Army, when the envoys of the An Army were teaching character recognition, Zhang Erhu was not in the mood to learn. He always thought that literacy was a scholar's business. He was a soldier who was rationed to learn what to do. Could it be that he would not be able to take an examination for a scholar if he did not fight in the future? It's not a good thing to be a scholar. If you haven't heard that a scholar meets a soldier, you can't make sense. So it's better to be a soldier, and to be able to reason clearly.

Shangguan Yunjie squeezed the paper tightly with his blood-stained hands. The paper was dripping with blood from his mouth, flushing red.

It's all like this, Zhang Erhu is naturally not afraid of death, anyway, he is going to die soon, but Lord Qianhu stared at a piece of paper like a baby, but it made him curious. If he didn't understand the reason, he would probably die.

Mo Luohong and a group of Qing troops were very curious when they saw Shangguan Yunjie's actions. Mo Luohong was particularly interested, wondering if someone should grab the paper and see what was written on it.

Shangguan Yunjie answered the doubts of the last soldier under his command. He turned his face slightly and said to Zhang Erhu, "You know what? I am from Mizhi, Shaanxi, and my hometown is by the Yellow River. The mother-in-law in our place is as beautiful as water, very beautiful...cough...beautiful..."

Zhang Erhu was stunned when he heard it, but he didn't interrupt Lord Qianhu~www.wuxiamtl.com~ because he knew that Lord Qianhu still had something to say.

Sure enough, Lord Qianhu continued to say the words in pain: "This is a song written by Dashuai... Dashuai wrote me, he... He said that the song is called "My Daming"... Cough cough..." Because of talking too much, the lungs were injured, and there were more and more blood blisters in Shangguan Yunjie's mouth.

"This song...the commander taught me to sing it, it's...good...listen..." Shangguan Yunjie's breathing became more and more difficult, but he still wanted to say, no, he wanted to sing.

"A...a big river with waves...wide, the wind blowing the fragrance of rice and flowers...cough...my...my family lives on the shore, I'm used to hearing the stern's horn and seeing the white sails on the boat... .This is the great Ming of heroes, where I grew up..."

The singing stopped.

Zhang Erhu's head also drooped down early, and the dry smoke pot was hanging on the ground.

A piece of blood-stained white paper fell from his fingers, fluttered in the wind on the corpses, and finally scraped on the face of a Manchu soldier.

(To be continued.) Enable new URL