Chapter 2: The Hero’s Tomb of the Red-armed Lady (II)
"What's there to envy about this knife in your hand?"
Lao Wu said, "It reminds me of my childhood. When I was a child, I worked in the fields with my parents. I once dug up a bronze sword. I don't know what dynasty it was from, but the villagers were very fond of it. They said it must have a history of at least several hundred years. Think about it, a sword may not be worth anything in the eyes of its owner at that time, but hundreds of years later, in the eyes of others, it is a good thing. And if we are dug out hundreds of years later, we will be nothing but a pile of dead bones. In the eyes of others, we are not as good as a pile of dead wood and have no value." After saying that, he pulled out Lao Wang's knife, threw the scabbard aside, and dug a pit with great effort.
The soldiers around him did not speak, watching Lao Wu, watching him dig a pit several feet long and wide, watching him put his knife into the pit, watching him cover it with soil, but it seemed that Lao Wu was burying them.
If you bury it today, who can bury me tomorrow? It is not a bad thing to die at this time.
If he died at this time, his comrades would cry, his fellow villagers would feel sorry, and the last person to die might have his head cut off in exchange for a reward, and from then on, his head and body would be separated.
Old Wang sighed and said, "I miss home."
"The sound of Chu disperses the Chu soldiers, and I can play the six musical notes. I am not a Xu, but I am a Danyang resident, and I am not a Zou, but I sing in Yanshi..."
From the depths of Old Wang's broken gong-like throat, the song from the Han army camp also came out.
First one or two sounds, and then slowly, everyone around started humming.