Time flies, years pass swiftly.
A month later.
Lingjin City has fully embraced winter.
A snowstorm quietly arrived.
Nowadays, everything in Lingjin City has returned to its usual tranquility.
Whether it's pedestrians on the streets, white-collar workers in the buildings, or street vendors, all exude a sense of confidence.
This is a confidence ingrained in their bones, bestowed by this country.
Qingyuan River Plaza.
The once spacious plaza is now densely covered by one Monument of Heroic Spirit after another.
The names of millions of fallen Martial Guards are etched here one by one.
The snow is like cotton, and the cold wind is like a blade.
Bouquets of flowers, delivered here, have not wilted.
Almost every day, people come to deliver the freshest bouquets.
Guarding the Monument of Heroic Spirit are several elder Martial Guards who volunteered for this duty. They stand in the wind and snow like spears, unmoving.
A gust of cold wind swept through.
