Marrying My Bestie's Ferocious Brother - He Calls Me His Baby!-Chapter 276 - 275: A Painting That Made the Old General Cry, the Navy Commander Delivered Lavish Gifts Overnight

Chapter 276: Chapter 275: A Painting That Made the Old General Cry, the Navy Commander Delivered Lavish Gifts Overnight

The old general’s sobs, like a rusty knife, sliced through the stagnant air of the activity center.

"Old chief!"

Director Qian was the first to react, rushing to support the wheelchair.

The guard was flustered, wanting to pat the old general’s back.

As he extended his hand halfway, he froze.

He did not dare.

Dozens of grey-haired old men all stood up.

Those playing chess toppled the chessboard.

Those playing cards threw away the cards in their hands.

Those listening to the radio turned off the squeaky sounds.

Everyone faced that wall.

Faced the painting.

Faced the one-legged general sitting in a wheelchair, crying like a child.

"My soldiers..."

The old general’s body trembled violently.

That wrinkled and age-spotted hand tightly clutched the wooden armrest of the wheelchair.

Veins bulged and twisted.

As if wanting to crush the hardwood.

"Squad leader..."

He lifted his head, and murky tears streamed down his furrowed cheeks.

"Squad leader!"

"Mr. Chen!"

Director Qian was anxious, turning back towards the crowd to shout.

"Quick! Call the doctor!"

"No need."

The old general, referred to as Mr. Chen, suddenly raised his hand.

He stopped Director Qian’s actions.

His head slowly, ever so slowly, turned to look at the painting.

"It’s him."

Mr. Chen’s voice was hoarse as if scraped by sandpaper.

With that hand shaking uncontrollably, he pointed to the young soldier in the painting, carrying a tattered flag.

"It’s him."

"Old chief, you..."

Director Qian didn’t know what to say.

"That silhouette..."

Mr. Chen choked up.

"Back at Changjin Lake, my leg was blown apart."

"It was him, my squad leader, who carried me, walking in the snow for two days and nights."

"He covered me with his only cotton coat."

"He told me, Little Chen, you’re only eighteen, you must live, to see the new China."

At this point, Mr. Chen’s voice broke.

He lowered his head to look at his empty right pant leg.

"He carried me to the position."

"But he himself froze to death less than a hundred meters from the position."

"When he was found, he was still in the posture of crawling forward."

"On his back... just like in the painting..."

"On his back, he carried this flag."

Director Qian was speechless.

He looked at the painting again.

That blood-like red, the icy blue mountains.

That was no longer just a painting.

That was life.

It was a life exchanged by one young soldier for another’s life.

"Nonsense!"

Suddenly, a loud voice erupted from the crowd.

An equally cane-leaning but full-of-energy old man squeezed through the people and walked out.

"Old Chen! You got it wrong!"

He pointed at the painting, spitting in all directions.

"That’s clearly my soldier!"

"Menglianggu!"

"In the seventh company third platoon, only me and the signalman were left, trapped in the mountain pass!"

"It was him! Xiao Wang from my command! Carrying the radio, he diverted the enemy’s main forces!"

"When he rushed out, it was precisely in this posture!"

"He turned back and gave me a grin!"

"I’ve remembered it all my life!"

"No!"

Another elderly man, sitting quietly in a corner, stood up.

"That’s during our crossing of the grassland."

"It’s my instructor."

"He gave me his last mouthful of fried flour."

"He’s my comrade!"

"He’s my platoon leader!"

The entire activity center was in chaos.

Dozens of old revolutionists with an average age over seventy, like children fighting over candy.

They surrounded the painting.

Pointing at the mountain, the soldier, the red flag in the painting.

Arguing until their faces turned red.

Each saw their own people in the painting.

Saw memories engraved in their bones, unforgettable for a lifetime.

Director Qian stood by, watching this chaotic scene.

He did not intervene.

He looked at these old comrades, who usually couldn’t walk steadily, spending their remaining days listening to the radio.

At this moment.

Each of them, their faces flushed, their chests heaving.

Their lifeless gloom was whisked away.

Replaced.

With fire.

The kind of fire that could burn through everything on the battlefield.

This painting...

Director Qian turned to search for that figure in the crowd.

Lin Wan Yi had long since vanished.

Gu Yanshen had quietly left with her when Mr. Chen began speaking.

This matter, like it had grown wings.

By the afternoon, it had spread through all the courtyards in Beijing.

Rumors had changed into various versions.

Some said the Gu Family’s daughter-in-law was an immortal descending, capable of summoning spirits.

Others said the painting was made with the martyr’s blood, hence its redness.

But the core of all rumors pointed to one fact.

"The daughter-in-law from the Gu Family, who came from a capitalist background, is something else."

"With just one stroke, she captured the spirit of our generation."

The Gu Family.

It was just after dinner.

The phone at home rang.

It was an old-fashioned rotary phone, with a shrill and urgent ring.

Gu Zhen Guo was reading the newspaper, frowning at the noise.

He walked over and picked up the receiver.

"Hello!"

His tone was sharp.

"Old Gu! What are you doing still reading the newspaper!"

A loud voice came from the other end of the line.

It was Political Commissar Li from the General Political Department, an old colleague of Gu Zhen Guo.

"You have a great painter in your family, and you don’t even know?"

Gu Zhen Guo snorted.

"What great painter, just kids fooling around."

He said so, but the stern face that commanded respect couldn’t help but soften.

"Fooling around?"

Political Commissar Li shouted from the other end.

"You call drawing a piece that moved General Chen to tears ’fooling around’?"

"Let me tell you, Old Gu, this afternoon, some of the old guys in our institute nearly got into a fight over your daughter-in-law’s painting!"

"You, as the father-in-law, must host a banquet!"

"No, you must have your daughter-in-law paint another piece! To hang in our General Political Department’s activity center!"

"You..."

Before Gu Zhen Guo let him finish, he hung up the phone.

"Chatterbox."

He cursed.

Turning back to his newspaper.

But could not focus on a single word.

He got up and paced the room.

After two laps.

He stood in front of the dressing mirror.

Adjusted his collar.

And straightened his back.

The commander of the military district in the mirror stood three points straighter than usual.

His face, unable to hide his pride.

On the other side.

In the small home of Lin Wan Yi and Gu Yanshen.

The atmosphere was somewhat heavy.

"This has blown up."

Lin Wan Yi said softly, looking at the draft of the painting on the table.

She didn’t expect this outcome.

Gu Yanshen was peeling apples for their two children.

He didn’t look up.

"It’s fine."

"I am here."

Another simple statement of two words.

Lin Wan Yi’s heart settled.

She knew that even if the sky fell, this man would hold it up for her.

She was just about to say something.

"Knock knock."

There was a knock on the door.

Unhurried, rhythmic.

Gu Yanshen put down the fruit knife and went to open the door.

Outside.

Stood a young soldier in a brand new navy blue uniform.

Standing tall, like a flagpole.

Upon seeing Gu Yanshen, he immediately saluted with precision.

"Is this the home of Battalion Commander Gu Yanshen?"

Gu Yanshen nodded.

"I am."

"Good day, Commander!"

The young soldier saluted again.

"I am here under Navy Commander Liu’s order to visit Mr. Lin Wan Yi."

As he spoke, he handed over a long package wrapped tightly in oilcloth.

The package was heavy.

Gu Yanshen did not take it.

"What’s this about?"

The young soldier did not feel awkward.

He directly carried the package inside, placing it carefully on the octagonal table.

"Our Commander heard about what happened at the old cadre activity center today."

"The Commander said that Mr. Lin Wan Yi’s painting captured the spirit of the fierce tiger on land."

He paused, a characteristic pride in his voice.

"Our navy also has a spirit."

He said, unwrapping the oilcloth.

Inside.

Was an entire roll of cloth.

In the dim light, the fabric shone with a soft and bright luster.

Not a single wrinkle.

It was imported Dacron.

And the rarest white kind.

In this era, when even buying a yard of cotton cloth required cloth tickets, such a whole roll of imported fabric was invaluable.

Even money couldn’t buy it.

"This is a token of our Commander’s appreciation, to have some clothes made for Mr. Lin."

The attendant’s voice was respectful, yet carried an unmistakable insistence.

"The Commander has only one request."

"He wishes for Mr. Lin to paint an ocean for our navy."

After saying this, the attendant saluted again, turned around, and left.

Decisively.

In the room.

Only Lin Wan Yi and Gu Yanshen remained.

And the roll of dazzling white Dacron on the table.

Lin Wan Yi looked at the roll of fabric.

It was like a burning fire, and also like a cold, hard iron.

To accept, or not to accept?

This was a question.

A question that could drag their family into a deeper whirlpool.