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Huaqiang Novels

Huaqiang Novels (Novel)
Other Name: 花腔小说

Genre: novel, history
Author: Li Er
Year: 2021
Chapter: N/A
Related story:
Read More: [Ebook] [Translate]

Introduction:
Bai Shengtao, Zhao Yaoqing, and Fan Jihuai have been looking for a person named Ge Ren. In the face of history, Ge Ren had no choice but to sacrifice himself. In the process of searching for him, Bai Shengtao, Zhao Yaoqing, and Fan Jihuai all hoped to rescue him successfully through their own methods. The three of them wanted to save people, but they just didn’t trust each other. In their hearts, the other party was the one who wanted to put Ge in death.

Free Reading Highlights:
I took out the letter. After a long time in the pants, it has a bashful smell. I put it to my lips and blew it before handing it to him. This is the second time I put it on my lips. The first time was when I was wearing a panty. I kissed it just as if I had kissed my relatives. When Dou Sizhong reached out to take it, I swore that I hadn’t seen it before, otherwise the sky would be thundering.

He smiled and nodded. Afterwards, he opened the letter and glanced at it and said, “Don’t mind, it’s just a rule. It’s people who have to abide by the rules. You didn’t see it, it means you are very disciplined and a good comrade. You should also take a look. Well, all of this is your kind words.”

As he said, he took out a piece of paper and handed it to me. I said I would not watch it, but he insisted on letting me watch it. I saw that there was only a string of Latin letters on it, and I quickly spelled out its meaning: “Bai is my hometown with No. 0, trustworthy.” The signature is “Tian”.

Then, he wiped a foreign fire to burn it. Because of the flood of foreign fire, I wiped it several times, but I didn’t wipe it. I smelled the red phosphorus again, and I couldn’t help being surprised. At this time, a piece of ashes and a light smoke floated between me and Dou Sizhong. There is nothing lighter than ashes, but when the ashes floated in front of me, I couldn’t help but hide.

Dou Sizhong sat cross-legged beside the kang, and asked what the chief had told me. I kept it as it was and relayed what Tian Khan had said to him. After hearing this, he didn’t say anything, as if the matter was irrelevant.

Afterwards, he turned the topic to my husband, saying that before going to Dihua, he had advised the organization to take off my husband’s landlord hat. He also asked about my son. Now my waist can stand up. I said, “Reporting chief, my son is already in the army and is fighting under General Peng Dehuai.” He shook my hand and said, “I really am a hero.” What’s more, even though it was a polite remark, I almost shed tears.

After a while, I eagerly asked him about Ge Ren’s current situation. He said: “No. 0 is in Baipi Town, Dahuang Mountain. You will see it soon.” He also said that like me, he also cares about Ge Ren and respects him very much. “He arrived in Yan’an and gave up high officials. I am willing to translate and provide theoretical basis for the revolution. This is incredible.”

He took out a picture of Ge Ren from his pocket, “No, I keep all his pictures.” He held that one. I looked at the photo for a while and let me take a look. That is a profile portrait of Geren, taken in front of the cave dwelling. If I remember correctly, it was taken by an American journalist named Snow (Note: now translated as Snow). He also said that Ge Ren had a poem called “Who Was Me?”

He had read it many years ago and he couldn’t put it down. He asked me if I knew. I said of course I know. I didn’t dare to say much because I was worried that more words would be lost. Then he began to recite, his voice was dumb, and occasionally there was a bright tone, like a shovel shoveling over a rock. Moreover, when reading aloud, he would suddenly make a wave of forward motion, which was frightening. I think if Ge Ren was present, he would be confused by him, and would definitely not admit that it was his own poem. I remember that when talking about the word “little brook”, Dou’s tone resembled the Japanese “yoxi”. More often, he cuts the sentence into small pieces, short and powerful, like shooting.

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