Longing to Return

(At last, I’m finally returning home. No matter where you are, no matter how far you roam, the direction of your heart will always be the land that gave you life and raised you! Next, I need to carefully plan the beginning of the second volume! At midnight on November 1, we’ll meet again! I won’t promise a massive outpouring of chapters, but I swear as long as I have breath, I’ll keep writing. Tonight, I’ll write until two in the morning, and tomorrow night I’ll continue to update furiously. Since the story will be released soon, let’s write to our hearts’ content! Tonight, shamelessly asking for your support!)

Every bird that yearns for the sky and freedom will beat its wings and fly forward with all its strength, choosing death over captivity in a cage. For a soldier returning from the battlefield, death is merely an unremarkable word, but there are things more terrifying than death.

No matter how high a bird soars—

It still fears a cesspit!

Ugh!

Bleh—

Ugh—

On a secluded stretch of beach just a few kilometers from the border of Misurata, several men, including Li Changjiang, lay at the water’s edge, retching dryly for more than ten minutes. Li Changjiang felt as if his entire body reeked—from the tips of his hair to his heels, not a patch the size of a fingernail was free from that sickening sour stench.

If not for the briny freshness of the sea air, he might have vomited up his very bile.

After a few more minutes of dry heaving, all of them, Li Changjiang included, collapsed exhausted onto the sand, letting the sea breeze wash over their faces. At that moment, aside from breathing, they had no strength left; even a weakling could have captured them all with ease.

They lay there until dusk began to fall once more, and only then did Li Changjiang feel life returning to his body. He stripped off his clothes and plunged into the sea, scrubbing himself fiercely until the stench finally began to fade.

Taking advantage of the night, they headed west along the coast. The east was under rebel control—out of the question. West led to Tripoli, which was hardly preferable.

But aside from crossing Tripoli to reach the neighboring country of TNS, there seemed no better option. The situation throughout the Arab world of North Africa was tense and uncertain.

TNS had only just emerged from internal strife, which hadn’t entirely subsided. The country was tense, fear hung in the air. Venturing into TNS was fraught with risk, but compared to falling into Libyan hands, it was a risk they were willing to take.

But events always move faster than plans.

The next day, before dawn had fully arrived and only the faintest light glimmered, they pressed on through the night, exhaustion clutching at their bones. If not for the few remaining bars of chocolate in Li Changjiang’s backpack, which gave them a meager boost of energy, reaching the border would have been all but impossible.

Suddenly, Nicholas approached.

“I’m sorry, Li. I can’t leave Libya with you.”

“Why?”

Li Changjiang was stunned.

But what shocked him even more was yet to come.

“I won’t be leaving Libya either. I belong here. Since I joined the French Foreign Legion ten years ago, I’ve belonged only to the battlefield,” said Shi Junqiang, his voice sounding nearby.

That rascal exchanged a glance and a smile with the Russian, then both looked at Li Changjiang, as if waiting for his decision.

There was no doubt that, though unspoken, they had all tacitly acknowledged it during the journey out of Misurata: Li Changjiang was fit to lead them.

The battlefield has no place for the weak; only the strong earn respect and trust.

Calmness.

Boldness.

Attention to detail.

Great strength, and even a bit of luck—these qualities had earned Li Changjiang his place as their leader in battle.

But did he truly belong to the battlefield?

At that moment, as the question Williams had posed long ago resurfaced, even Li Changjiang hesitated.

“Do I really belong on the battlefield?”

“Hey, man, stay with us! Stay, and let’s give the Libyans a surprise. Those bastards—I won’t let them off so easily.”

“Must you really go back? They said your father has already made it home safely; there’s no danger to his life. As for what you’re worried about, unless he talks, no one will ever know he took those things. The Russian’s right—stay here! You’re a born warrior. You belong on this battlefield.”

Shi Junqiang’s words carried a strange allure, as if only those who had survived war and found pleasure in it could see such terror as something to be savored.

And Li Changjiang truly hesitated.

He didn’t know if he belonged here, or on the vast continent behind him, but he knew nowhere else made his blood race like the battlefield did.

The sea breeze carried a tang of salt.

Not far away, a few white seagulls, wings spread wide against the wind, circled endlessly in the first light of dawn.

That was the taste of freedom! The scent of the sky and the sea.

But the sharp cries of those birds jolted Li Changjiang awake.

“No, Nicholas. I don’t belong here, nor to Libya. I belong there—that’s where I should go.

Do you know? That’s where my beloved family is, where I was born and raised, my homeland, my country. Even if I die on the battlefield, let it be for my country, not here.”

He pointed toward the boundless sea behind him.

He couldn’t say for sure he was pointing toward China, but in his heart, that was China—the place he was going home to.

Nicholas and Shi Junqiang looked disappointed, but they hugged him nonetheless.

“That’s where I’m headed next. If you ever change your mind, come find me. Good luck!” Nicholas slipped something quietly into Li Changjiang’s hand, gave him a brief hug, and stepped aside.

Shi Junqiang was less restrained, pounding him hard on the back.

“Brother Qiang, where are you going?”

“Libya! Wherever there’s fighting to be done. From now on, I’ll be with the Russian. Honestly, if you ever change your mind, come and find us. Without you, the battle won’t be the same.”

“Maybe. But I’m never coming back. Good luck—just don’t let me see your names in the obituaries. Be careful!”

“To die on the battlefield would probably be the best end for me! You too—be careful going home. That man is dangerous,” Shi Junqiang replied, glancing at the two Chinese men resting some distance away. Li Changjiang nodded.

“Hey, Elisa, I’m sorry—”

But before Li Changjiang could finish, Elisa threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. There was a trace of dryness, and the taste of chocolate—bitter, yet sweet.

Beautiful things are always hard to leave behind.

Libya was like that. Elisa was like that. But somewhere far away, even more beautiful things awaited him.

The two embraced for a long time, not separating until the dawn was bright and clear, then watched as the three Russians disappeared beyond the Libyan border.

At that moment, Li Changjiang’s heart yearned for home more than ever.

Because now, nothing could stand in the way of his return to China.