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On that war-torn battlefield in a foreign land, tens of thousands of warriors were buried, tens of thousands were wounded or missing.
They used their flesh to withstand the enemy's barrage of more than 300,000 artillery shells, enduring attacks of such scale over seventy times. Time had blurred many things, but the years of combat on that battlefield were unforgettable from beginning to end.
The men who came down from the battlefield often searched for their comrades in arms in their dreams at midnight, that bond forged in battle, surpassing all else.
Qin Jian nodded, "Yes, indeed. If you had not left the battlefield, assuming you didn't shed this uniform, you would have probably held a rank not lower than mine. Don't call me chief anymore in the future."
"It's a habit," Cheng Yu said with a smile.
An Hao rarely saw Qin Jian talk so much with a woman, so their shared past must have triggered an emotional resonance.