allonlinenovel Chapter 1015 Save the child! The child is dying!
Chapter 1015 Save the child! The child is dying!
This trek was not just a matter of physical exhaustion; every step felt like stepping on an invisible blade, cutting through his already numb nerves, and even more like repeatedly rubbing his already battered heart against rough gravel, subjecting it to a slow, agonizing torture.
His arms, numb from prolonged tension and cold, were now held tightly by a mechanical, bone-deep obsession, clinging to the small, dying body in his arms.
His daughter, Xiao Juan.
Through the tattered cotton-padded coat, he could barely feel the child's body temperature, only a chilling coldness that gradually spread through him.
This chill was more terrifying to him than the biting wind.
At the edge of his consciousness, two completely different images flashed uncontrollably, like ghosts, tearing at his chaotic thoughts:
One scene is from yesterday, when he miraculously found Xiao Juan, who had been missing for many days, at the entrance of the military police station.
It was a young Japanese officer who, in front of everyone at the entrance of the military police headquarters, in a manner that seemed extremely strange, almost "gentle," in that violent and bloody environment, held Xiao Juan's hand.
The action lacked the usual shoving and roughness; instead, it carried a condescending "calmness," as if examining an object.
Even before taking Xiao Juan away, he gestured to the military doctor next to him to give the child's wound some basic treatment.
Another scene was Xiaojuan lying tragically in front of him, those feet trampling without hesitation, those distorted faces...
These two images, at this moment, in this desperate situation, are twisted and intertwined, becoming a deadly, illusory straw of "hope".
Like a drowning man, Li Shouren desperately clung to this tiny clue, constructing an absurd logic within his mind to combat the immense despair that was about to engulf him:
"He...he didn't hurt Xiaojuan back then...he even bandaged her up...that means...that he cared whether Xiaojuan lived or died..." This thought made his stomach churn, and he felt a surge of intense humiliation and nausea.
To regard one's own daughter as a "possible object" that may have value in the eyes of others is itself the most thorough trampling on the dignity of a father.
However, this humiliation and disgust seemed so insignificant when compared to the faint, seemingly lifeless breathing of the daughter in his arms.
He lowered his head and looked at Xiao Juan's pale, bloodless face, her lips were a horrifying bluish-purple, her eyelashes were covered with tiny frosty flowers, and her breath was so weak that he had to put his ear close to hers to barely hear it.
A more primal, more powerful force—the instinct of paternal love mixed with endless regret, hating himself for not protecting his daughter—overwhelmed all rational thought and human dignity.
It was my fault for not keeping a close eye on Xiaojuan, which led to her being separated from us in the crowd.
Now, because of me again, Xiaojuan's life is in danger.
"As long as Xiaojuan can live... as long as she can survive..." He seemed to be chanting some kind of desperate incantation, his voice hoarse and broken, carried away by the wind: "Even if in the future... even if I lose her forever... forever... and never see her again... I accept it... I accept it!"
Hot, turbid tears welled up uncontrollably again, streaming down his frostbitten cheeks and dripping onto Xiao Juan's cold face, mixing with the dried, blackened bloodstains to create a desolate, damp stain.
He knew perfectly well that he was not heading towards hope, but rather knowing that what lay ahead was a purgatory that would devour everything, yet he was willing to offer up his daughter with his own hands, just to exchange for that faint glimmer of hope.
This action is like a dying candle, using its last bit of strength to throw itself into the flame that could instantly consume it.
Tragic, yet incredibly sorrowful.
The wind picked up, and the swirling snowflakes blinded him. He looked up, squinting as he peered out.
The grim, Western-style outline of the military police building became increasingly clear in the heavy twilight, like the lair of a giant beast crouching in the ruins, ready to devour its prey.
Several glaring Japanese flags fluttered listlessly on the roof and at the doorway, like eerie markings on a giant beast.
The surroundings were deathly silent, except for the howling wind, the heavy footsteps of his own, the sound of his heart pounding wildly in his chest, and the suppressed gasps that seemed to come from deep in his throat.
The closer he got to that place, the tighter his heart clenched, as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.
That hope, which relied entirely on the invaders' momentary "whim" and was a form of "charity," appeared so illusory, fragile, and pathetic in the deepening darkness and biting cold, as if a gentle touch would shatter it completely, dragging him and the child in his arms into an abyss of no return.
But he did not stop, nor could he stop.
A dying candle has only one path left: to burn itself out.
He held his daughter tightly, facing the colossal building, moving step by step, with difficulty yet with extraordinary determination, toward what might be their shared final fate.
Dusk completely swallowed the last glimmer of light in Nanjing, leaving only a murky, suffocating dark blue in the world.
The cold wind howled, swirling up snow and ashes from the ground, lashing against our faces like icy whips.
Li Shouren, carrying Xiao Juan, staggered around the last street corner, his heart pounding in his chest.
Ahead, the eerie outline of the military police building, illuminated by a few dim searchlights, resembled a giant beast crouching in the darkness, exuding a chilling aura.
Before the gate, the sentry in his khaki military overcoat stood frozen like a sculpture in the cold wind, while a patrol of military police, their flashlight beams like the wary eyes of a giant beast, mechanically swept across the ruins and streets, piercing the deep night.
The curfew has started.
Li Shouren's heart skipped a beat. A chill ran from his feet to the top of his head, more biting than the winter wind. He instinctively quickened his pace, practically dragging his leaden legs forward, wishing he could reach the door in a single step.
However, his appearance immediately alerted the patrol team.
"Stop!"
A sharp, metallic shout in Japanese rang out like thunder in the deathly silent night.
Then came a series of rapid and synchronized bolt-pulling sounds!
The military police reacted extremely quickly, instantly spreading out in a fan shape. Several Type 38 rifles with gleaming bayonets flashed coldly in the dim light, all aimed at the uninvited guest who dared to appear during curfew!
A tremendous fear gripped Li Shouren, and he abruptly stopped, nearly falling to the ground due to inertia.
He held Xiao Juan tightly in his arms, as if she were his only support in the raging storm.
Driven by an overwhelming will to survive, he disregarded his fear and, with all his might, hoarsely shouted towards the blurry, hostile figures:
"Sir! Sir! Please have mercy! Help! Save my child! My child is dying!"