The reason why Liang Daya was trembling all over was not because of the muscle spasm caused by the exhaustion of his body after fighting for a whole day.
This situation occurred entirely because of the strong inner excitement.
Even because I couldn't believe the truth, my voice became very hoarse after I spoke: "Baby, what are you guys doing?"
After hearing this, Hu Biao looked up and immediately saw a lot of fiery eyes.
Mo Mingde felt a little guilty. After organizing his language a little, he began to explain in a way that they could understand, half truthfully and half falsely:
"I plan to write something before I die, what can I say? It's a letter from home, I guess.
With the Tibetan army currently surrounding us, of course we cannot send out the written letters, but we can find a place to bury them first. If anyone survives, we can also dig out these family letters and send them back, so as to leave some souvenirs for the family.
think.
Or maybe he could take some of his hair back and bury it in his hometown, so he would not be considered a lonely ghost who died in a foreign land.
If all of us die, we may be dug up by well-meaning people a few years later, and they will take them back to Guanzhong and hand them over to the court.
He also knows how people like us died, and we are not cowards."
While explaining the above content absentmindedly, Hu Biao did not notice one thing:
After hearing the two words 'letter from home', it was like a bolt of lightning struck. Dozens of old soldiers on the nearby city wall were shocked and were speechless for a minute or two.
Until Hu Biao adjusted his mood and decided to continue writing.
Liang Daya's voice full of pleading sounded in his ears:
"Hu family dolls, could you please write us a letter from home? The last time I heard news from my family was 36 years ago.
It was said that my mother was seriously ill and she always wanted to see me.
Since the fall of the Beiting Protectorate 21 years ago and the complete separation of the Anxi Protectorate from the Tang Dynasty, it has been difficult to ask people to bring family letters back, let alone people."
"Okay~" Hu Biao agreed, with an indescribable firmness in his tone.
He could think that maybe 36 years ago, after Liang Daya heard the news brought countless times, his mother might be gone...
The blood-stained index finger was writing stroke by stroke on Liang Daya's temporarily torn piece of clothing. Each word seemed to weigh a thousand kilograms and he was written very slowly.
Not only is Hu Biao used to writing simplified characters, but he also has to think about how to write many more complex characters in traditional Chinese.
The more critical reason is that Hu Biao is recording the last words of Liang Daya, a wanderer who has been away from home for fifty years.
In the mouth of this vulgar killing man, even at this last moment, he was speaking in plain language, even a little nagging and nagging because of nervousness.
But the sincere feelings and power contained in it shocked Hu Biao's soul.
"Stone, Shuanzi, I am your eldest brother Liang Ping'an.
Over the years, caravans have been sent back and forth one after another to bring home letters and money. I don’t know if they have been delivered? I don’t know if you have sent me letters home. Anyway, I haven’t received any.
As the old saying goes, seventy is rare in ancient times. I joined the army and left home when I was seventeen, and now I am sixty-seven.
I don’t know how many years it will be until this letter from home arrives, but I think my parents are no longer here. If you receive this letter from home, remember to kowtow a few more times in front of my parents’ graves for me.
Tell them that the children are unfilial and do not provide for them until they die.
By the way, I buried a little bit of my hair in front of their graves; since I couldn't fulfill my filial piety in front of them during my lifetime, I should spend more time with them after my death.
If the government's pension is distributed, 20% of it will be used to repair the tombs of my parents, and you can divide the rest equally, which can be regarded as a little thought for my incompetent eldest brother."
When Hu Biao wrote this, because every word in the blood book could not be written too small, a piece of clothing was already covered with blood-red writing.
Liang Daya took out a short knife from his waist and cut off a handful of white hair.
With a much gentler movement than usual, he put the hair in his purse and handed it over to Hu Biao.
At the same time, he added solemnly: "Please write it in the family letter. Please send this letter and your hair to Liang Laoshi's home in the middle of the village in Liangjia Village, Qishan, Fengxiang Prefecture, Guannai Road."
The money in the purse is very small, even if it means a little kindness to help you, I will send you a letter home. As long as I send the letter home, I will tie a grass ring in my next life to repay this kindness."
Under Liang Daya, who is not afraid of heaven or earth, he is humbled like never before.
After Hu Biao added the above content, he carefully put away the clothes full of blood words and the money bag, and tied them up carefully.
I originally wanted to say something to comfort this old guy.
But when he finally spoke, his heavily nasal voice turned into: "Next one~"
The voice just fell. Zhang Tiezhu and another Tang army came over carrying an old soldier with a spear stuck in his belly, and said hurriedly:
"Hurry up, the lame cow can't hold it much longer."
Even as a complete rookie, Hu Biao could see that the spear in Niu Laizi's lower abdomen must not be pulled out, otherwise the blood spurting out would not be stopped at all.
If he hadn't pumped, the old soldier wouldn't have been able to hold on for much longer due to blood loss.
Immediately, Hu Biao cut off a piece of clothing from the Sogdian corpse and began to record it in detail.
The lame cow's voice was so soft that Hu Biao had to prick up his ears to hear it clearly:
"I'm sorry to bother you, but please write this family letter for me first and give it to a woman named Zhang, Xiu Niang. She works as a cook in Guiyifang, Chang'an City, in the home of Bachelor Liu of the Hanlin Academy.
We agreed that after I achieve my third rank in the military, I will go back and marry her in a glamorous manner..."
After hearing such a statement, Hu Biao suddenly hesitated.
In fact, when he wrote a letter home to Liang Daya just now, Hu Biao thought of one thing: the average life expectancy in the Tang Dynasty, and the wars such as the Anshi Rebellion that broke out in the past few years.
Are the recipients of these letters that the veterans miss so much still alive today?
There is a very high probability that these people are no longer alive, and it is unclear whether their descendants have survived.
And their family letters can be discovered after they are buried, maybe a thousand years later.
And the chance that the person who finds it will be kind enough to take it back is extremely slim, so what’s the point of such a family letter?
However, after seeing clearly the happy light on Niu Laizi's face when he was telling the story, Hu Biao felt that the above worries were actually not important anymore.
It would be quite beautiful to let these people die with the last glimmer of hope and happiness.
So, don't destroy this beauty and interrupt the narration in the mouth of the lame cow.
It is a pity that Hu Biao still failed to finish writing this letter to his family. When he wrote the sentence "that year", there was no sound on Niu Laizi's face.
The old soldier was already dead, with a face full of complex emotions such as apology, sweetness, and yearning.
After taking a deep breath, Hu Biao ignored Zhang Tiezhu's actions of dragging the lame cow aside and placing him with his fallen comrades.
After staining his hands with a little blood, he continued to write on his clothes. After finishing the letter from home, he added a sentence at the end:
I respectfully ask the passing gentleman to be righteous and send the letter home. The Anxi army should remember the kindness...
The above situation did not happen to Hu Biao alone; it happened to everyone around netizens, many times.
Because after I heard that there are people here who can help write family letters, and theoretically it is possible to take them back.
Not only the people in Xuange Camp, but also the old soldiers on the wall farther away also lined up silently to wait.
Looking at the masters who were supporting their bodies with their weapons and their eyes full of expectation, how could they say no?
And none of these veterans who have been stationed in the Western Regions for fifty years, thousands of miles away from home, does not have a sad story.
In short, as they wrote, not only did their fingers tremble a little, but their souls began to tremble.
But they didn't realize that the above scene caught the eye of Guo Xin and Guo Shuai, and they waited until they sent their personal guards to figure out the situation.
Guo Xin, an old man with titles such as the Prince of Wuwei and the Observer of the Four Towns, could not help but burst into tears.
At this moment, he thought of too many things, such as: His Majesty the Emperor made him the Prince of Wuwei, the great trust and honor of the Jiedushi of the four towns, the glory of the family, and the responsibility of guarding the territory of the Han family.
However, the most significant one was in the first year of Shangyuan Dynasty, when he led a large army to patrol Hexi, Anxi and other places under the emperor's order.
At that time, not only he, Guo Xin, but also all the soldiers under him were in their prime of youth.
When they set out from Chang'an and crossed the Ba Bridge and the Weishui River, each one of them had a wicker pinned to his lapel. They were so high-spirited that no one can describe.
But fifty years passed in the blink of an eye, and the brothers were all old, and it was time for them to die.
In the end, he made a decision that he had never thought about in his heart. He shouted to the few personal guards around him: