Rise from eight hundred

Chapter 63 The Great Wall
"The officers on the opposite side are also singing?"

"Be quiet, listen to what they're singing?"

"Drums, don't stop!"

. . . . . .

"The people of the country who have been sleeping for a hundred years have gradually woken up.
Open your eyes, be careful
Who is willing to admit himself

Because of cringe and forbearance

People's arrogance is rising
Say it, say it loudly

This is the whole country

Robbers have always invaded

In the end
The Great Wall will never

Thousands of miles of the Yellow River surging

"

"The Great Wall will never fall, and the Yellow River is surging for thousands of miles!" Tantai Mingyue softly read the voice from the distant building, and two lines of tears fell on her face.

Yes, although those dark blues have no tune, at this moment, those voices are so moving, they have been hitting the deepest part of the hearts of all the Chinese people present.

Although they are mortal bodies, aren't they the Great Wall of all Chinese people here?

I don't know how many Chinese people present were moved to tears by the saying "The Great Wall will never fall" by the Chinese soldiers who were about to die.

But the protagonists of today's battlefield are destined to not only be the soldiers of the Chinese and Japanese armies fighting on the battlefield, nor just the men standing behind the war drums.

The crowd suddenly surged, and many people looked back in surprise.

In the alley, there suddenly appeared several women wearing Chinese-style blue cheongsam, with Chinese-style hair in a bun, a red scarf tied around their necks, and no makeup on their faces.

The women are all graceful, and they are not ordinary women at first glance, but they all walk towards the river bank with great determination.

Then, with a solemn expression, they bowed down to the building.

The people were a little puzzled.What are these women trying to do?
Although most of the crowd were refugees who had fled, some of them were knowledgeable, and upon closer inspection, they could not help but be surprised.

One of these women turned out to be the pillar of Songhu's largest theater, the big world, and a famous character in Songhu's entertainment circle. It is not bad to appear once a month. Even some bigwigs see them and talk to them. All have to be polite.

Unexpectedly, today she came to this dangerous place without showing her face.

Those who dare to stand in this place, of course, know the danger here. They are now beyond the scope of watching the fun, but are helping the Chinese defenders fight against the Japanese. Once the Japanese are frustrated and angry, the cannonballs may not dare to come. But the bullets are not sure when they will sweep over.

Didn't you see that the gang of concession soldiers didn't even stay at the fortifications on the river bank now!They all hid farther away.

"My fellow villagers, since before March, the Japanese pirates fired their first shots at the Lugou Bridge. From the North China Plain to the south of our splendid Jiangnan, the Japanese pirates' iron hooves have robbed me of the rivers and mountains in China.

The little girl is equal to the boudoir who also tossed and turned and couldn't sleep at night. It's a pity that the little girl and others have no strength to hold the chicken, and they are unable to carry the knife to destroy the Japanese pirates on the battlefield.

Today, I am delighted to hear that the soldiers of our country are fighting against the Japanese pirates on the battlefield. The little girls have nothing to do with them, only the skills of singing and dancing are acceptable, so I came to present a song and dance, and hope that my soldiers will fight bravely to kill the pirates and restore my rivers and mountains! "The leading woman with a face like a bright moon and a graceful figure roared crisply.

Nearly a thousand people were silent for a moment, then burst into applause: "Okay!"

For these women in the entertainment industry, most of them are poor people, they can't talk about favoritism, but they can't talk about hatred. The two are actually two parallel lines of life, if there is no war, basically not any communication takes place.

But at this moment, they have a common identity - Chinese.

The same identity is doing the same thing, cheering up the Chinese soldiers who are fighting hard against the Japanese invaders on the other side.

"Sir, would you like to use a drum?" The woman greeted the sweating middle-aged man slightly.

"Of course you can!" The middle-aged man asked solemnly.

He planned to give the drumstick to the woman, but the woman did not take it.

Instead, the woman made a blessing to everyone again, and asked in a crisp voice: "Who can drum up with me?"

"Let's!"

A group of young students came out, about eight people, carrying big drums on their shoulders.

"Help me play the drums!" The woman took off her shoes and socks, stepped on the ground barefoot, and roared softly.

Several women surrounded it, lifted it up on the drum surface, and then stood solemnly around the big drum.

The woman got on the drum face and stomped her feet a few times with a pair of snowy feet. With the muffled sound of the drum, she roared: "Today, my Chinese army and the Japanese invaders are fighting bloody battlefields. The people of China will use men as drums and women as hammers, and return the songs sung by the king, and they will not hesitate to do so.”

"After a hundred years of sleepiness, the people of the country have gradually woken up."

The woman's singing voice was originally melodious, but she sang with all her strength, like a lark weeping blood. She stepped on the drum while singing. The background was the Sihang warehouse building 300 meters away that was billowing with gunpowder and still standing tall.

This peculiar scene was not only deeply engraved into the hearts of all the Chinese present, but also struck the heart of a French Empire reporter named Edward.

Edward wrote in the manuscript sent to the newspaper on the other side of the ocean: I have lived in China for five years. I thought I already knew this nation very well. Most of them are poor and ignorant and do not understand what modern civilization is. I despise their numbness, especially when they bow to me and call me my lord!
But today, I found out that I was wrong, very wrong.

Especially when the beautiful woman wearing a traditional Chinese cheongsam and a traditional oriental hair bun danced and sang on a big drum, I have to admit that I fell in love with her, and because of her, I fell in love with her. For this nation that I had despised before.

I have to admit, I despise them because I don't know them at all.

This nation is weak because they are still immersed in the glory created by their ancestors, they are only still sleeping.

And when they wake up, like today, wake up, stand up.

Oh, God!There are [-] million of them. If they can stand upright and face the muzzle of the invaders as they are now, I can hardly imagine who else can beat them, including the French Empire, which I love most.

Yes, forgive me, that's what I thought.

Especially when I was in the camera lens and saw the building standing still under the fire and the beautiful lady singing drums before it, I finally knew what 'the Great Wall never falls'.

The Great Wall is not a city, nor a building, but their heart! "

The French reporter, who was completely moved, not only sent the text that shocked the entire French imperial society, but also left the famous battlefield photo.

The unyielding Chinese soldiers and their fortresses that have been lit with gunfire and filled with gunpowder smoke, the people standing on the edge of hell, the women who are struggling to sing, are on both sides of a river that cannot be called an obstacle, facing each other across the river.
And his article full of romanticism has always been used as an annotation to the classic photo of the anti-*** war, describing to countless people in the future that afternoon of that day, this area of ​​China began to burn. A story that happened in a land of war.

"Crack!" A gunshot shattered everything.

The French reporter's camera shutter froze.

Blood flowers, blooming on the most beautiful flowers in his eyes.

(End of this chapter)