Chapter 2: Welcome to the Battle of Songhu

During the War of Resistance, many ancestors were drafted into the army and, often just after learning how to shoot, were hurriedly sent to the battlefield due to the intensity of the fighting. At that moment, they were little more than farmers or small craftsmen who had just learned to handle a gun. They lacked any tactical training, not even the most basic skills in concealment. This resulted in staggering casualties in every battle.

Yet, despite such horrific losses, we gritted our teeth and persevered for eight long years until we finally wore down the invaders. Otherwise, would our descendants be forever subjugated and treated as less than human? — Excerpt from Hu Biao’s diary collection "Nonsense."

Hu Biao, 29 years old, unmarried. He graduated from a third-tier university in a fourth-tier city and currently works odd jobs in Majuqiao, a neighborhood in the outskirts of the sprawling city known as Forty-Nine City. Yes, the very place where the saying goes, “The wealthy don’t live in Tiantongyuan, and the down-and-out must brave Majuqiao,” situated beyond the Sixth Ring Road, reputed to be the largest hub for day laborers in northern China.

He often worked a day to earn just over a hundred yuan, then spent three days playing around. Now, how did Hu Biao end up in this damned world? Frankly, he had no idea himself.

The only thing certain was that after several days of continuous labor, he unexpectedly had amassed a sizeable sum of over a thousand yuan, prompting him to lie low for a few days to reward himself. One evening, after eating his fill and drinking happily, he didn’t rush to sleep. Instead, he lay on the bunk bed of his temporary rental, sipping soda and reading an online military novel.

The novel’s protagonist, also named Hu Biao, was a delivery guy chosen by a system to travel back to the battlefield of the Second Sino-Japanese War, undertaking various missions filled with passion and hardship. He read until just past three in the morning, his phone’s battery below 20%, before drifting into a hazy sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself standing in a large open space, the sun just risen overhead, and beneath his feet were worn cobblestones. Around him stood dozens of men with honest or somewhat dull expressions, loosely gathered. There were about 130 of them in total, many suffering from malnutrition, short in stature, and frail in build, all clad in coarse, familiar-looking military uniforms, their feet in new cloth shoes.

Ahead of the group stood an old, stage-like building. On the platform were several men in long gowns and a captain in uniform, quietly exchanging greetings.

Hu Biao shook his still groggy head vigorously to clear his dizziness and quickly realized from the attire of those around him that they resembled soldiers from those patriotic war dramas about the National Revolutionary Army during the Anti-Japanese War.

The crucial question then was: how had he come to be here? Was this some kind of dream? Instinctively, he pinched his thigh. The sharp pain confirmed it was no dream.

Could it be that some friend was playing a prank, bringing him to a film set while he was unconscious and dressing him in such garb? No, absolutely not. He had been drifting around Majuqiao for over a year and knew plenty of people; they were all poor, like him, with neither the means nor the inclination for such a prank.

Soon, as a fan of online novels, Hu Biao deduced something: he had likely transmigrated, transported back to the Republican era as a mere cannon fodder soldier in the Nationalist army.

If there were a reason for this transmigration, perhaps it was triggered by a sarcastic comment he made before sleeping: “Damn lousy writers pretending to know everything, just making stuff up. Those devils are hated, sure, but that was almost a hundred years ago. Nowadays, who still gets so fired up to risk their life fighting them? Does the war hinge on you? Wouldn’t the victory have come without you by ’45, making you seem all that special?”

That casual gripe must have been overheard by some mysterious, powerful entity, which then dumped him here—to teach him a lesson?

At first, Hu Biao was not particularly panicked upon realizing he had transmigrated. Instead, he felt a strange sense of anticipation, silently calling out words like “system,” “space,” and “mission” in his mind. After all, transmigrators almost always have some kind of “golden finger” to help them survive. Every loser from the modern world who ended up here usually thrived thanks to such gifts.

For example, the novel he had been reading featured a protagonist named Hu Biao who, by completing system-assigned tasks, could return to the modern world. The system rewarded him handsomely, strengthening him continuously and allowing him to bring back valuable loot, turning his fortunes around.

But soon, Hu Biao’s heart sank. No matter how quietly he called out, there was no response—no attribute panel, no system, no missions, no shop. The harsh reality struck him hard: he had no golden finger at all.

Surviving the chaos ahead would be a struggle for a military novice like him, and worse, it seemed there was no way back to the modern world he had so often cursed as miserable and hopeless.

Just as Hu Biao was overwhelmed by panic, a worse blow came. The people on the platform had stopped their exchanges, and an elderly man dressed like a private tutor shouted at the soldiers:

“Comrades! Those devils from the four islands, greedy after seizing our capital city, Tianjin, now have sent massive troops to invade our ‘Magic City’…”

The old man’s voice trembled with emotion, his hair standing on end, conveying a wealth of passion and urgency.

But Hu Biao barely listened beyond that opening phrase. With his limited knowledge of modern history, he picked up on keywords like “capital city,” “Magic City,” and “devils,” realizing the brutal reality: he was about to face the Battle of Shanghai, dubbed the Eastern Stalingrad during World War II.

That battle saw nearly three hundred thousand casualties among the Nationalist forces, with elite troops under their bald commander suffering grievous losses. This led to the weak defense during the subsequent Nanjing Defense, culminating in horrific massacres and a series of hellish disasters.

For a military novice like Hu Biao, being thrust into such a merciless environment was a matter of life and death.

“I must find a chance to escape. Even if I’m gone, this war will still be won,” was Hu Biao’s instinctive and honest thought at that moment.

******

Still, it’s not that Hu Biao lacked humanity entirely. On one hand, he knew this war would not fail because of his absence. On the other, he was, at heart, just a modern-day young man who had long since given up and surrendered to despair. Not for lack of trying, but because every effort only deepened his hopelessness.

For example: after years of study, he earned a university degree, only to find it difficult to land a job paying even 3,500 yuan a month in his field. Such a salary was worse than working on a factory line right after high school, which would have saved him years of detours.

Some factories wouldn’t even hire him knowing he was a graduate. He eventually found a job but the meager salary barely covered living expenses. Owning a home, buying a car, or getting married were dreams out of reach.

He bravely tried starting a business, franchising a trendy snack shop, but in less than six months, he lost his parents’ entire savings and accumulated massive debts, wrecking his credit.

No effort meant no future; effort only led to worse outcomes.

In despair, Hu Biao abandoned all his dreams and embraced a life of idleness. In recent years, he drifted aimlessly, cutting ties with relatives, friends, and classmates. He survived day by day, working odd jobs when out of money, working one day and playing three.

Over time, he had become nearly useless.

What Hu Biao didn’t know was that among the hundred or so Nationalist soldiers gathered there, besides him, a few others also came from the modern world.

These unlucky souls might have arrived for different reasons, but they shared one common decision: to secretly find a way to escape…