The trucks moved out before dawn broke, curving through the empty bumpy tracks, leaving the village for Shang Yu town. It would be another three days before their arrival, yet the soldiers' faces were hardened like steel, and they gripped their weapons tightly till their knuckles turned white; prepared to shed the enemy's blood at any given moment. Prepared to put their lives on the line for the greater good — for all of China, whether in the present or future.

The Red Army passed by five villages: two abandoned, three cramped with people. All the villages were the same; there were mostly children running about, and old men sitting under tree shades playing card games to delay. The young men of those villages were nowhere in sight, but there was quite a beautiful set of young women roaming about. Some winked and giggled at the soldiers as the trucks passed by, and some hurried off with fright in their eyes.

Eventually, three days had passed, and the Red Army trucks pulled along the roadside highway three miles off Shang Yu, pressed between thick forested trees in the early morning hours.

One by one, the soldiers dismounted the trucks.

When Wang Yi's feet touched the ground, he shivered a bit while squinting his eyes, trying to get a clearer view of his surroundings. However, the morning mist was as thick as clouds, and there was not much he could make out. If he had known the mist would have covered these parts during the early morning, he would have planned an attack beneficial to them. Although a complete album of photographs was delivered to him by Lieutenant Xie Yang from Nanjing, he had never visited Shang Yu — nor these parts before.

All this was strange to him, and despite his previous victories, there were always doubts about whether he was leading his army into a slaughterhouse.

By noon, the sun came out in a scorching flare.

Frowning, Yi's back had been pressed alongside a parked truck. In his hands, he held a large white paper sheet, a blueprint of Shang Yu town. Wen Han had scribbled the routes of the town using the photographs — yet he had done a terrible task. Two of the streets were all wrong – misplaced from what Yi could remember while scanning through the photographs last night. Although he would not want to bash the loyal soldier for the mistake; a mistake like this could cost them their lives.

Yi clicked his tongue. "Wen Han wants to kill us all," he mumbled in irritation to himself before he peeled his eyes from the blueprint, searching for Wen Han. He needed to scold the incompetent soldier — they were all going slack on him lately.

It was then, from the corner of his eyes, that he caught a glimpse of Xiao Fang, seated in the front seat of one of the trucks — he had been there all morning, refusing to step outside.

Xiao Fang's saddened eyes wandered out the window, watching some of the soldiers huddling in a circle, their rifles curled around their fingers while bickering amongst themselves.

The doctor seemed lost in thought; or lost entirely, Yi could not point a finger at it. And yet, it caused his heart to ache. What was going through Xiao Fang's mind? Was he worried? What was he worried about? Xiao Fang had cried on his shoulder back in the village, fearing he would lose Yi — fearing Yi would die. Ah, Xiao Fang; his fragile heart was not fit for war.

Sometimes, it still stuck Yi knowing he fell in love with a man.

Sometimes, mostly during the night, he wondered if his intentions, or desires were merely passing phrases, but when morning came, and Xiao Fang greeted him with a smile only meant for the heavens, he crumbled those thoughts and hid them far off; they no longer mattered.

"Commander Wang, may I have a word with you?" Zichen showed up in front of Yi, clutching a rifle in his hand. "Is..." He looked over to the parked trucks and scrunched his eyebrows at the sight of Xiao Fang. "Are we taking the prisoner along with us?"

"No," Yi answered in a stern voice, focusing back on the blueprint in his hands. "I don't think it's wise for Xiao Fang to go along with us. He's staying here; he'll be of no use to us when the fighting starts. We need him afterward... Not during."

"But what if he tries to escape?" Zichen gritted his teeth.

"You see those trees?" Yi asked, pointing at the trees surrounding them. "We'll tie him to one of those, Zichen. He's not going anywhere."

"Uh-huh," Zichen narrowed his eyes at the trees skeptically. "But Commander –"

"Do I make myself clear?" Yi questioned, finally looking Zichen in the eye; challenging the soldier.

"Yes, Commander," Zichen faked a smile before he throttled off, bickering to himself.

Yi tsked, waving a dismissive hand. He could clearly hear Zichen's ranting. Although throughout the years, Zichen had proven himself to be one of the most capable, trustworthy soldiers in Yi's battalion. The man loved the Communist Regime, and he would bend over backward like a loyal dog. However, sometimes the darn man failed to know his place; always insisting or claiming to know the best. It tended to get on Yi's nerves at times, but he trusted the man as much as he trusted Wen Han, so he let it slide.

Yi ruffled his fingers through his overgrown hair before he went back to scanning the blueprints. Bloody hell – this would not do. "Where the hell is Wen Han?" he called out, his eyes boring daggers at the soldiers walking about. "Where the fuck —"

"Yes, Commander?" Wen Han came running over.

"What the fuck is this?" Yi slapped his hand against the blueprint sheet.

"Um..." As Wen Han tilted the paper backward slightly, he looked confused. "The blueprint to Shang Yu, Commander Wang?"

"No, this. What the fuck is this?" Yi bit out, pointing harshly at the wrong street lines Wen Han had scribbled out of Shang Yu town.

"...I believe those are the streets where we'll be attacking from, Commander Wang."

"The streets we'll be attacking from," Yi gritted before thrusting the blueprint to Wen Han's chest. "These are the wrong streets. Do you want us to walk in a death trap? Those bloody soldiers are in those streets — ­armed to the fucking teeth. We can't afford to make mistakes like this — go fix it."

Wen Han tilted his head. "I'm sorry, Commander Wang — I'll go get it fixed right away.

"...And when you're done," Yi said. "Gather the men around. I need to speak to them before we leave."

"I..." Wen Han cleared his throat. "And... what about... Xiao Fang?"

Again, with the questions about Xiao Fang — what was going on?

Yi lifted a questionable eyebrow. "What about him?"

"What will we do about him?"

Yi sighed, looking at Xiao Fang. As much as it pained him to admit; his lover was a prisoner, and he needed to be treated like one — or his men would get suspicious and start questioning his intentions. "Get the ropes," he ordered, not taking his eyes off Xiao Fang.

Wen Han narrowed his eyes at him. "Commander?"

"You heard me," Yi gritted.

"Yes, Commander."

++++++++++

"I'm really – really sorry, Fang-ge," Yi muttered from where he stooped down, twisting the rope in a slightly tight knot around Xiao Fang's wrists from behind the oak tree. "I know you won't try to run away — right? Of course, you won't... But if the soldiers see I'm not treating you like a prisoner... You know how it gets."

Xiao Fang had been sitting motionless on the grassy ground for the past ten minutes with his back pressed against the tree bark; listening to Yi's pathetic attempts at calming him. However, when he rolled his eyes before he twisted around, trying to glare daggers at Yi from behind, Yi bit back a creeping smile.

"How many times do I have to tell you — it's fine?" Xiao Fang widened his eyes at him.

"Is it though?"

"Yes, Yi," Xiao Fang sighed exaggeratedly.

Yi took a step back, analyzing the rope around Xiao Fang's wrists; he could have sworn he hadn't tied the darn thing tight. "It still looks tight," he mumbled to himself before he quickly loosened the binds. "Look, I'm not going to tie it too tight, okay?"

Xiao Fang bonked his head against the tree bark and spread his legs wide open. "...Yi?"

Yi ignored him, focusing on the ropes. Since Xiao Fang stopped working in the fields, his pale complexion was coming back, so Yi hoped the ropes would not sully his lover's perfect skin. "How about I tie it a little loose — in case you get into trouble, or –"

"Yi?" Xiao Fang dragged out a sigh.

"What?"

"Be careful when you go there," Xiao Fang said, his tone much calmer, more meaningful. "Don't get yourself killed. And... Come back in one piece."

"Fang -ge — you don't need to worry about me. I'm strong as steel."

"Yi!"

"Okay — Okay." Yi chuckled a bit, finally finishing off tying the ropes before he moved in front. He took a seat in front of Xiao Fang, looking at the older man. "I promise I'll return in one piece, Xiao Fang," he said, pinching Xiao Fang's nose, only to start laughing at how red his lover's face burned.

"Stop that." Xiao Fang hissed, and despite his words having no venom to them, he tugged forth, seemingly wanting to bite Yi's face off. Thankfully, since his wrists were bound, he could only glare, and pout, and glare some more when Yi's laughter failed to die down.

"You're such a tease, Fang-ge."

"Yi — I'm being serious." Xiao Fang angrily kicked a foot in Yi's direction, aiming for his chest. He missed, thankfully. "You have to be careful — I'm not laughing."

Xiao Fang sounded serious — too serious.

Seeing tears prickling in Xiao Fang's eyes, Yi cursed in his mind; how could he be so dumb at times? Obviously, Xiao Fang felt hurt. And concerned. And — oh no. It just struck Yi; what if something would happen to him? What if he died? Then, what would happen to Xiao Fang? He would also die! The soldiers would kill him in a heartbeat.

"Xiao Fang?" he spoke in a soft tone.

Xiao Fang looked at him, still pouting. "Mm?"

"If something happens... If I die in Shang Yu –"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Xiao Fang narrowed his eyes sharply at him, and his breathing picked up. "Wang Yi — you're not going to die."

Yi leaned forth, placing both hands over Xiao Fang's shoulders till he stopped squirming. "If I do..." he said, tone deep, and serious while he looked Xiao Fang in the eyes. "I want you to leave here — run away, and don't let anyone — any soldiers from the Red Army find you. Do you understand?"

Xiao Fang gulped down. "I understand," he whispered.

Good; Yi nodded. "And promise me one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Go back to Chongqing," Yi said. "Leave the war, and don't return to it. Go home... Cover your yard in all the sunflowers your heart desire. Go and be a doctor... Help save lives, and... Stop taking them. Blood doesn't look good on your hands, Fang-ge."

Xiao Fang's jaw tightened in rage. "Stop it — bastard. You're talking like you're going to die," he argued. "Why are you talking like this?"

He gripped Xiao Fang at the sides of his face, "Please, promise –"

"No!" Xiao Fang struggled, fuming while he twisted helplessly against the tree bark — refusing to listen. "I'm not promising you anything, Yi. You have to come back."

Yi looked at him, wondering; why the fuck could this man not just accept that he might die. He wanted to argue back — really, he did. Instead, his head dipped in a defeated bow. "Alright..." he breathed. "I will."

++++++++++

At precisely 10:54 p.m. the Red Army trucks rolled into the main street of Shang Yu.

Immediately, they were met with resistance.

The Kuomintang soldiers guarding the front line started firing shots toward the Red Army's trucks, attempting to stop them before they could enter the main square of the town. They were plenty of soldiers. More than Yi had imagined, and they were only at the front line. The soldiers also had plenty of weapons — two, and three, strapped on their backs.

As dozens of the communist soldiers dismounted from the backs of the moving trucks, they fired shots at the Kuomintang soldiers while separating themselves into five groups before dashing off in a different direction to seek cover.

Some soldiers took the southern side of the residential area, some the northern. Some took the western side where the Kuomintang soldiers formed a housing unit, and some the eastern.

Amongst the echoes of gunfire, Yi clutched his rifle between his fingers, following the first batch of soldiers through the main street, heading to the Kuomintang housing unit. They cut through the corners of the streets, ducking and dodging bullets while firing back shots at the Kuomintang soldiers.

The rifle burned inside Yi's palms, and his heart raced.

A loud explosion coming from a distance some five yards away blasted Yi and his ten comrades off their feet. It took a great amount of willpower for him to get up. Yet, through the ringing in his ears, he staggered off the ground and fired shots at the approaching Kuomintang soldiers. About twenty or so Kuomintang soldiers fired back in his direction without mercy, and Wang Yi truly believed he would die tonight.

"Dammit!" he shouted, heaving hard. "Seek cover!" he ordered his men.

He waited until his comrades were on their feet, running off to seek cover before he abandoned his firing, and followed them. They made it into a cross-section — a small street, squeezed between two shop houses. There, it was quiet. However, another explosion made him shut his eyes and clasped his palms over his ears. When he looked back up, his comrades had already left.

Xiao Fang's words screamed in his ears: You have to come back.

His eyes wander about; the streets in the cross section were an unfamiliar place despite the pictures he spent hours studying. The doors from the side of the shophouses were shut, and the windows were closed. He wouldn't dare vent off in the residential homes. So, through haggard breathing, he shuffled a hand inside his pocket and fumbled a couple of bullets out.

The gunfire coming from the main street sounded like the crackles of lightning, and the explosions were like thunders. It seemed, this time, he had underestimated the Kuomintang army. The Kuomintang soldiers had more weapons and more manpower. It seemed; they would lose this battle.

"I might not be able to keep that promise, Fang -ge," Yi said, laughing a little to himself.

He took out the pistol he kept strapped to his waistband. He had two weapons. A rifle, a pistol — three grenades, and a useless hunting knife. This felt like the last moments of his life. Dammit, he should've brought a bottle of those imported wines he kept hidden in the drawers of his dorm room to celebrate his death tonight. Or he should've kissed Xiao Fang a little harder before he left.

With a deep inhale and exhale, Yi ventured off.

He could not find the main square. Instead, he stumbled upon a second street. The street was a residential square, a side he sought to avoid. There were food carts lining the corners, and dimly lit lights from three street poles. Not many soldiers were there in the second street... About seven or eight, shuffling about in the middle of the street holding rifles in their hands.

None of them noticed Yi approaching from the corners, so he opened fire, shooting at them like a deranged person, starved for blood before the soldiers dropped dead. However, one soldier shot at him, barely grazing him in the left leg before he escaped.

The soldier clutched his injured arm, and he raced for cover behind a food cart.

Yi staggered in his steps. Still, he walked up to the cart, firing several shots. He had only one thought in mind; kill the bloody bastard. So, he pulled the trigger, and fired; one time, two times, three times. He wanted the Kuomintang soldier seeking cover to die. He wanted him to taste his pent-up fury. He wanted to steal his life, and gloat afterward.

He heard the soldier scream, a pathetic wail before the soldier fired back at him.

Once, twice... And then there was silence.

As he clutched his injured leg, Yi walked up to the food cart, bypassing the lifeless soldiers laying on the ground. Only for a moment, he wanted to see the bastard who shot him. Instead, what greeted him behind the food cart, inside the shielding arms of the lifeless soldier, lay a young boy child, nine or ten. Covered in rags — possibly a street child, the boy bled through the open wounds on his chest, gasping his last breath, before he took a glance at Yi, and sealed his eyes shut. Dead.

The rifle slipped from his fingers, and a harrowing sensation squeezed Yi's chest.

For a moment, the noises around him seemed to disappear, replaced with an eerie quietness. And it seemed a weight latched itself on him, dragging him to the floor. Yet, he stifled the heaviness of it all, and rushed forward, sliding on his knees next to the boy child. "No – No – No," the words fell from his mouth.

Despite his trembling fingers, Yi dragged the lifeless child on his lap, searching his innocent face for life. When he found none, a blood-curdling, stifled wail slipped from his shuddering lips.

What had he done?

"I'm sorry," he chanted over, and over, like a broken record. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry."

What had he done!?

He screamed another wailing, deafening thing.

Although he had done plenty wrong all his life; snatching the lives of countless men; some innocent, some not. Their deaths never lingered on his mind for too long; some never lingered at all. Yet, this child — this innocent child. If his heart had never bled before, it poured now — choking him until he could not breathe.

As more bitter tears fell, blinding Yi's vision from the dead child he gripped, clutching to his chest in one arm, his fingers curled around the pistol trigger in his other hand while thousands of voices shouted his name, calling him despicable, a lost soul, a child murderer.

He felt sick of himself, and it was not because of the bile rising in his throat; bitter, burning, forcing him to lean to the side, and heaving the nasty contents from his mouth. No. It was because he was more than a monster... He was outright evil.

A cold-blooded killer: the newspapers, the radio stations, his superiors — they all praised him for that. Would they still shower him with those praises if they found he killed a child? Slaughter an innocent soul? Snatched his young life away?

As Yi petted the child's blood-soaked hair while struggling to breathe, he believed no one could save him. Not his dead mother, not Xiao Fang — not even himself.

Xiao Fang.

What would he think? What would he say? What would he do!?

Another deafening scream burst from his mouth, but the sounds were drowned out by the shouts of men coming far off. At this point, he did not think it mattered what Xiao Fang would think. Nothing mattered. Nothing. And he could do nothing, too. Or he could.

"I'm sorry," he squeezed his eyes shut, kissing the child on his forehead before he lifted himself off the floor, and stumbled into the street to get some fresh air.

While he dropped to his knees in the middle of the street, he still could not breathe — he should not breathe.

Taking a long look up at the night skies, Yi wondered; Would his lover forgive him?

He hoped so.

Without a second thought to ponder, he lifted his pistol and jammed it under his chin; his eyes never left the night skies. Xiao Fang had taught him the stars were beautiful balls of fire; a place where souls go to rest. He hoped to go there. He hoped to shine down on Xiao Fang and light a path for him to walk until he turned old and grey. He hoped during the lonesome nights, Xiao Fang would look up at those stars, and feel comforted, knowing Yi shun there, twinkling for him — just for him.

As he squeezed his eyes shut, ready to pull the trigger and end his awful life. "What are you doing!?" His lover's panicked voice echoed in his head. It felt surreal. Xiao Fang could not have been here. Yet, the pitter-patter of footsteps thrummed forth, and Xiao Fang appeared from the street corner where Yi had earlier come out from.

"Ahhh –" Yi's red-rimmed eyes snapped open after he dropped the gun. "Xiao Fang!?" he looked to the side, searching for his lover's face.

What was Xiao Fang doing here? How did he get here? He must have escaped the binds... But how could Xiao Fang have possibly found him? So many questions, yet he cared little for any answers.

Xiao Fang's eyes doubled the closer he approached, looking at Yi in confusion.

"Didn't you hear the whistle?!" Xiao Fang questioned, running up to him. "What are you doing? Get up — we don't have much time. We must get out of here. Your battalion is retreating, Yi. The soldiers here are stronger, most of your men are dead — get up!" Xiao Fang pulled him on the arm.

So, his men were retreating? They left him... A bunch of fucking cowards. He looked at Xiao Fang with big doe eyes, wondering, why was he still there. Since everyone was leaving, he should leave too! Go back to his people. Leave him to die, dammit!

He deserved to die... He deserved to die.

When Xiao Fang tugged at his upper arm, "No!" he barked, hunching himself off Xiao Fang's grasp. "Leave me — let me die!"

"What —" Xiao Fang's mouth parted, and his eyebrows twisted. "What are you talking about? — What did you do?" Xiao Fang asked, still trying to get him off his knees. However, he remained motionless, refusing to budge.

"Let them kill me."Yi cried, his voice cracking.

"Wang Yi — get the hell up!" Xiao Fang lashed out in frustration.

Yi shoved him off, refusing to look in Xiao Fang's direction after Xiao Fang stumbled a step back. "Get away!" he yelled in a broken tone.

Xiao Fang sucked his teeth. "Fuck off," he cursed, pulling Yi to his feet as if he weighed nothing. Xiao Fang was a lot stronger than he seemed. "I'm getting you out of here."

Yi struggled against Xiao Fang's strong arms. "Xiao Fang — leave me, bastard!"

"No! — I'm not letting you die," Xiao Fang screamed in his face before he picked Yi up, tossing him over his shoulder. "Ahh — fuck, you're heavy."

"Xiao Fang," Yi whimpered. "Why can't you just leave me?"

Xiao Fang ignored his pleas, taking quick steps back to the cross street. "I'm getting you out of here — everything's going to be all right, Yi."

Yi hung his head low against Xiao Fang's back and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't make out the gunshots, or Xiao Fang's voice. Yet, the noise — the screams inside his mind, numbed him, and made him want to scream, too.

Xiao Fang wanted him to return in one piece... But he felt broken... Empty, even.

"Nothing is going to be all right," he whispered, mindlessly wishing for death.

Nothing was ever going to be all right.

Never again.