Chapter Twenty: Old Chen’s Past

"Chu Feng, come sit by me," said Old Master Chen after Chu Feng had seen Wang Dongliang off.

"Sir, it's getting late—almost eleven o'clock. You should get some rest. Whatever you want to discuss, we can talk about it tomorrow." Chu Feng glanced at the clock, hoping the old man would rest; after all, he was advanced in years, and late nights were not good for his health.

"I'll sleep in a while. Before I was hospitalized, I never went to bed before two or three in the morning," Old Master Chen refused Chu Feng's suggestion.

"Come, sit here. Let me tell you a story." Old Master Chen motioned for Chu Feng to sit on the sofa beside him. Chu Feng sat down, waiting patiently for the story to begin.

"It was 1952 when I joined the Volunteer Army. That October, I followed the army into Seoul. I was only seventeen then, but I reported my age as two years older."

"After we arrived in Seoul, our battalion commander assigned me to logistics security. I didn't want the job, so I secretly swapped with another comrade. He took over logistics, and I went up to the front lines."

"Luck must have been with me. I survived three battles without a scratch. Later, when our battalion was ordered to cover the retreat, we were surrounded. That's when the commander realized I’d sneaked onto the battlefield. But he didn't blame me; instead, he made me his orderly."

"After we were surrounded, the commander kept leading the battalion, launching two assaults in hopes of breaking out. But the American firepower was too fierce—we failed both times. When they saw we wouldn't surrender, they brought in the air force to bomb us."

"Our commander organized the men to dig an air-raid shelter big enough for two hundred people, just to escape the bombing. Once, when the planes came, I happened to be fetching ammunition and didn't make it to cover in time. Several bombs exploded right by me."

"At that moment, the commander rushed over and threw himself on top of me. When the explosions ceased, I found he had died, shielding me from the blast, and I was wounded by two pieces of shrapnel in my side."

Old Master Chen paused, wiping tears from his face. He had never imagined that sneaking onto the battlefield would cost the commander his life. Though it had not been his fault, guilt had haunted him ever since—he had always believed he was the cause of the commander's death.

"After the commander fell, two regiments of the Volunteer Army broke through and drove off the Americans who had surrounded us. I was hospitalized in Seoul because of my injuries. That's where I met my wife—she was a Seoul native."

"Given the poor medical conditions at the time, the two pieces of shrapnel were never removed. Once I recovered, the war was still at a stalemate. I wanted to return to the front and avenge the commander, but my superiors refused. Instead, they kept me behind to manage supplies for the soldiers at the front."

"Because I was in charge of supplies, I often saw my wife, Junhee. After the war, she was already carrying our child."

"For various reasons, people from Seoul couldn't enter our country. But before I left, I secretly brought her back with me."

"Not long after, our child was born—a boy we named Chen Jianguo. Soon after his birth, the army found me and asked me to participate in a top-secret mission."

"I didn’t tell Junhee about it. I left her a letter for our son and went with the military."

"That mission lasted thirty years. In all that time, I had no contact with my wife and had no idea how my child was faring, until the mission finally ended and I returned home."

"Our neighbor told me Junhee and our son had both died—she from illness because they couldn’t afford treatment, and he died a soldier’s death in a counterattack on the battlefield."

"I went to the army to learn more. My son had joined the military the year the counterattack began. The next year, he was killed in action."

"Because I worked in a secret unit, the army hadn't known where to find me, so they buried my son in the Martyrs’ Cemetery."

"Since Junhee was from Seoul, the authorities sent her body back there. To this day, I have never visited her grave."

"Afterward, I returned to my old unit, working in weapons research and development—work I’ve done ever since."

By the end of his tale, tears streamed down Old Master Chen’s face. In all his years, he had never recounted these events to anyone—not even to Old Jin or Old Wang.

Chu Feng sat silently, deeply moved and at a loss for words. He didn’t know how to comfort the old man, but he resolved then and there to do everything in his power to cure his illness.

"Sir, your commander would not blame you. You should not burden yourself with such guilt. And as for your years in the secret unit, you served for the sake of our nation’s progress. No one would ever resent you. If anything, it’s we of the younger generation who should thank you."

"If not for the sacrifices of your generation, ours would not enjoy the safety we have today." Chu Feng was not a sentimental man, but he possessed a burning heart. Men like Old Master Chen were worthy of the highest respect—for the sake of national defense, they had forsaken family for the country.

"Ah, I’m old now. I can’t keep these things bottled up forever, so I wanted to share them with you. Don’t think me a tiresome old man," he sighed, a sound filled with resignation and sorrow.

Old Master Chen had given his entire life to the country. He was a true hero.

"Enough—let’s not dwell on this. Go sleep." Unburdened by finally voicing the secret he’d carried for decades, Old Master Chen felt a weight lift from his heart.

Chu Feng quickly rose, helped the old man into bed, and tucked him in. Then he returned to the sofa, deciding to make do there for the night. Tomorrow, he’d ask Old Wang to bring a small bed.

Lying on the sofa, Chu Feng soon drifted off to sleep.

At seven the next morning, a young nurse entered, pushing a little cart. She was surprised to see a young man sleeping on the sofa.

Of course, the nurse knew who was assigned to this room. But she had no idea who this young man was or why he was sleeping here.