Chapter Thirty-Four: The Death of Xiang Ting

Ma Yuan had lost count of how many times he had trekked back and forth across the battlefield. The relentless roar of artillery had numbed his senses, leaving him to move with a hollow, mechanical obedience as he helped carry the wounded.

Only when night fell did this brutal war draw a temporary curtain. The walls of Huizhou City were shattered and battered by cannon fire, and the air—both inside and outside the walls—was thick with the acrid stench of scorched earth and corpses. Under the cover of darkness, the Chaowei Army once again organized search parties to comb the battlefield for survivors, bringing back the wounded one by one for treatment.

It was then that Ma Yuan spotted a man on a stretcher who looked like Xiang Ting. Since the Forward Army students had begun their rescue efforts, they had been scattered; many of those students would remain in Huizhou City forever. Pushing past the swarms of medics and soldiers, Ma Yuan finally reached the makeshift cloth stretcher where Xiang Ting lay. Because there were so many casualties, men like Xiang Ting were countless, and the fact that he had found a place to be treated at all was a grim stroke of fortune.

What met Ma Yuan’s eyes was a figure charred pitch-black by an explosion. He barely recognized his friend. Xiang Ting’s left arm was gone, the severed stump devoid of blood, cauterized completely by the heat. Ma Yuan knelt, trembling, tears streaming down his face. He did not even dare to touch the man, his expression frozen in disbelief.

"Xiang... Xiang Ting, is that you?" Ma Yuan’s lips couldn't stop quivering.

The injured man struggled to open his eyes, the effort agonizing as the blood had long since crusted over. Yet, he managed to make out Ma Yuan’s face.

"Ma... Yuan," Xiang Ting whispered, as if he had spent the last of his strength just to speak the name.

Ma Yuan lifted him, disregarding the soot and grime, and began to wipe the filth from his face. "Xiang Ting, Xiang Ting, how are you?"

Breathing was a labor for Xiang Ting now, yet he reached out his right hand with immense effort to grip Ma Yuan’s. "Ma Yuan, I... I can’t go back. I can’t go home. I’m afraid... I’m so afraid..."

Ma Yuan clutched that right hand, desperate to ease the terror in his friend’s heart.

"Tell me, tell me, what do you want to say?" Ma Yuan offered comfort, yet he knew he could not quell the fear consuming Xiang Ting.

After a gasping breath, Xiang Ting spoke slowly, "Ma Yuan, I... I want to... please... after you go back, please... send word to my parents. I... I won't be able to... to honor them anymore."

"I... I wanted so much... so much to live, to go back home."

Ma Yuan nodded frantically. "No... no, you will... you will live. We will go back... together. It won’t be like this... it won’t."

Xiang Ting shook his head. "No... no, I know. And... and there’s one more thing... please, I want to entrust you... to tell Zeng Huixiang... I... I won’t be able to stay with her. I... I..."

Before he could finish, a large mouthful of blood surged from his mouth. After the coughing fit, he could no longer speak, but his hand kept a desperate, shaking grip on Ma Yuan’s. Ma Yuan nodded repeatedly, understanding everything his friend wanted to say, yet unable to offer any aid other than returning that same tight, final grasp.

Slowly, Xiang Ting’s arm went limp, his breath faded, and the coughing ceased.

Ma Yuan let out a cry of agony. "Doctor! Doctor, please save him! Save him... I beg you!"

Amidst the throng of moving people, no one heard his plea. Only a nurse walked over, checked Xiang Ting’s pulse, and shook her head. "It’s too late. My condolences."

She hurried off to tend to the next wounded soldier. Upon hearing her words, Ma Yuan suddenly felt the grief drain away, leaving a void. The tears were still wet on his face, but he knew for certain now that Xiang Ting was dead. His heart felt hollow, and he did not know what to do.

His body continued to tremble, betraying the true depth of his pain. He laid his friend down, smoothed the cloth shroud, and gently wiped the remaining stains from Xiang Ting’s face, straightening his tattered, blackened clothes.

Ma Yuan wrapped the cloth around Xiang Ting. He knew that in this theater of war, a proper burial was an impossible luxury. Back in his hometown of Huixiang, it was said that "returning to the earth" brought peace, a way of saying that fallen leaves return to their roots. But the circumstances forbade such dignity. There were many others like this—some soldiers hastily tidied their fallen comrades, and the other slain students met the same fate.

Time allowed for no sorrow, especially in war. Ma Yuan soon received word: the enemy would launch a new offensive at dawn the next day. They had been assaulting Huizhou for a long time, and the command estimated this would be the final push. If they failed to take the city, they would retreat.

Commander Wu Qiong of the Chaowei Army issued a call to arms, ordering every soldier capable of holding a rifle to the front lines for a final stand. The proclamation included a small note of encouragement for the student-led Forward Army, calling them the hope of the younger generation. It acknowledged the cruelty of the war but emphasized it as a rare trial, urging the students to protect themselves while witnessing the harsh reality of the battlefield.

By now, few remained of Ma Yuan’s original unit; even Wang Xian was gone, and Ma Yuan did not know if his friend was dead or alive. But he could not dwell on it. Their squad leader, Xu Ze, gathered the remaining dozens of students to receive their orders: they were to transport ammunition to the front lines during tomorrow's battle. Because of the vast quantity of supplies, they were assigned to the southwest sector of the city defenses.

For tomorrow’s fight, the Chaowei Army had abandoned all thoughts of medical evacuation. Every soul was to charge the battlefield. The medics were ordered to retreat to Qinzhou, and if Huizhou fell, Sun Hanmin was ordered to evacuate everyone from Qinzhou. It was clear: Commander Wu Qiong had steeled himself for a fight to the death. Either they would hold the city and drive back the enemy, or they would perish with the walls.

As these tidings reached the students, none felt fear. Instead, they were filled with a feverish, desperate excitement; each one wanted to contribute their share to the struggle.

That night, Ma Yuan found a moment to see Zeng Huixiang and deliver the news of Xiang Ting’s death. Afterward, he sought out Liu Shishi. Ma Yuan was terrified that he would end up like Xiang Ting—that once he stepped onto the field tomorrow, he would never return. Beyond his parents, Liu Shishi was the person he held most dear in this world.