Chapter 20: Suicide by Gun

  Marshes, all devouring lives; thorns, full of tearing flesh; snakes and ants, hiding in the dark, waiting to harm the strong body. Tall trees, covering the sun and moon, making you forever trapped in a damp hell. I'm running for my life, like a poor stray dog...

  Night fell unknowingly, I stumbled to a creek, drank some water, and lay down on the ground, exhausted. At this time, I was mentally and physically drained, and my heart was full of confusion and pain. Thinking about my current situation, it's similar to when I parachuted into the tropical jungle after our special forces team encountered danger. Why am I always running for my life? Is my fate doomed to be like this?

  I lay on the ground, looking at the faint starlight in the sky, feeling hopeless. "If only I had died with my comrades or with Jie back then, it would have been better than living like this!" I said to myself, feeling extremely desperate. I picked up my rifle, put the muzzle in my mouth, closed my eyes, and lightly pulled the trigger.

  "Comrades of the special forces team, Jie, wait for me..."

  Just then, a weak and old voice came from somewhere. The voice was very weak, but it still made me shiver on this quiet night.

  "Who's there?" I reflexively raised my gun, pressing my voice to ask, while searching for the source of the sound with my eyes.

  "Don't look for me, I'm over here..." As I looked around, I saw an old man with white hair lying in the tall grass, a single-barreled shotgun beside him. The old man seemed to be seriously injured.

  I approached the old man, still holding my gun, not daring to relax my guard. When I reached his side, I saw that one of his feet was pierced by a sharp tree branch, and the blood had already started to congeal slightly. It seemed he had been injured for over 10 hours.

  The old man looked at me with my gun pointed at him and scolded weakly, "You young man, I'm just an old man who's injured, I won't harm you. If you're not in a hurry to die, help me first."

  I put down my gun and squatted beside the old man, asking, "Old man, are you okay?"

  The old man looked at me and sighed, "You can see that I'm not okay."

  I asked him, "Do you need me to do something for you?"

  The old man looked at me and said, "You're a foolish child, don't you know what to do? First, help me get up and remove the 'thorn' from my foot."

  I didn't understand why the old man called me foolish, but I felt that he was not simple. I helped him up, and he winced in pain.

  "Ah! Be gentle...my foot!"

  I apologized and carefully observed the tree branch that had pierced the old man's foot. It was actually a small broken tree that had been snapped off at the base, with the remaining part sticking up at an 80-degree angle. The old man must have accidentally stepped on it while running.

  I used my bayonet to carefully cut off the "small tree" from the base and helped the old man sit back down. I then gripped the "thorn" tightly and pulled it out. Strangely, the old man didn't make a sound, even though I thought he would be in great pain.

  I asked him, "Old man, you must be in a lot of pain?"

  The old man forced a smile and asked back, "Foolish child, what do you think?" He then closed his eyes weakly.