As the soldiers wrestled through the fallen arms and shriveled leaves disposed of by the monstrous crooked trees of Chosin Reservoir, Zhao Fengli’s mind seemed to remain persistent in reminding him of his unspeakable mistake. Even though his puffy rough skin nearly covered his tired but cold ash eyes, and the fired bullets sinking into his blood dry skin carried excruciating pain, Fengli felt he could not punish himself enough. There it was again, where even the pure white flakes of snow could not be seen in the pitch blackness, Fengli saw his dead son, an enigma indeed. He saw a happy man and boy, hand in hand, laughing as they dealt cards for dou dizhu with his son’s friends in their old shikumen. Last time, they were fishing for rainbow trout in Weishan lake. 

    Wake up Fengli, you are not in Zhouzhuang. And your son is not waiting for you there either. He is dead. He is gone. You failed. He is dead.

    “Xiānshēng,’’ saluted one of his comrades, otherwise known as his friend, Huang Sicheng. “I’m afraid we have spotted a bit of a-”

    No further words were needed to describe their quaint little challenge as he looked past his comrade’s bulky shoulder, to a small, dirty figure leaning against one of the grotesque trees. A boy nonetheless, if one could look past his cadaverous appearance. 

    Sicheng continued to babble as he scrunched his hair with his palm, a habit he often did when he was almost having a ‘breakthrough’. “He appears to be, er, Cháoxiǎn, I mean, North Korean. I insist we take care of him immediately as we can not leave a child roaming around in such hazardous conditions. I 

would suggest the Korean Red Cr- ahem. Xiānshēng?”

    Fengli still was not bothered to respond to his 

friend, for he can only go so far to deal with his 

maddening behaviour.

    “Xiānshēng?”

Xiānshēng?

“Did you not learn enough English?” Fengli turned his back to the boy as he scolded Sicheng in a furious manner, though he knew he was digressing, “Xiānshēng, Xiānshēng,” he mimicked angrily, “I am your friend, and you know I did not choose to be a lieutenant, you know that. So who told you to address me as sir so respectfully? I may no longer be a mere soldier, but I am not worthy of leadership, nor a medal for saving lives. You and I are both here because our blood is unclean brother. Especially mine.”

And with that, Fengli continued to subconsciously ignore his comrades bantering and facetious remarks as he looked at the boy with mild curiosity, unsure whether to leave him there and disobey Sicheng’s request or allow him to be accompanied by the troop to a nearby camp. 

Why am I debating on this unwanted matter in the first place?

Fengli kicked the boy aside, along with his emotive thoughts, and cried for his troop to move along, stealing a quick glance at Sicheng, whose head weighed down low, but visible enough to see the shame and anger curdling in his eyeline as his fists remained clenched and ready for battle. But before Fengli could finally move his numb feet across the muddy grounds, a small, fragile hand grabbed his rough patched boot. He looked down to find the boy crawling around again, a mere annoyance. Instead of getting angry, sorrow and sympathy pervaded him as he gazed into those innocent eyes, leaving him with the question of how children’s eyes resembled each other so well. The boy’s eyes carried the same weak, innocent aura as his own son, the same wish for a chance to live. Why, though he failed to keep his son alive, could he really not help this boy live as well? The question echoed through his mind, but was fading by every second Fengli looked at the defenseless boy.

“Lieutenant, shall we continue? Why have you stopped?” yelled one of his other companions, sharing the same tone of annoyance as Fengli.

Rènhé, forget it.

In a quick instant, Fengli abruptly took the boy’s shriveled hand, yanked him towards his tall, padded figure, and hollered, “Yes, but change of plans. Let us head to the nearest Korean Red Cross.”

The boy looked at him in surprise, as if he understood him despite the language barriers, and Fengli felt another feeling he had not met for a long time, affection. The boy gave him a sense of duty, a realization that he is now responsible for protecting this boy’s life. 

Boy, Boy. Why not name him something different? 

One name did come to mind, and he winced as the grief invaded his small happiness yet again. But an abrupt yell, shortly followed by a loud bang, chased all feelings out of his mind as the color drained from his already pale white face. 

U.N Soldiers. They’re here.

“EVERYBODY AIM FIRE. MAKE GENERAL SONG SHILUN PROUD.” Fengli yelled, as his first instinct was to take the child to hide in a far away cave they had passed not long ago.

”Dòuzhēng!” His unit cried in unison, holding up their rifles in preparation to charge at the so called U.N ‘ Wéihé rényuán’.  

Good fortune indeed my brothers. He thought. Let us fight against these pretentious peacemakers.

As Fengli took the boy in his hands, later finding it more convenient to carry him on his back, he saw Sicheng and decided he did not want to die without clarifying his intentions.

“Sicheng, I-”

“No need to say more brother, how would I continue to live if I take everything uh-um, see-see-”

“Seriously,” Fengli finished for him with a small smile, relieved to see Sicheng responded the same. But of course all sweet moments come to an abrupt stop.

“Sicheng, I will take the boy to hide quickly, I promise I will return to fight the battle with our comrades.”

”Understood Xiān-er, Fengli. Now go.”

Fengli responded with a grateful nod and held the boy in his hands once again, in case he were to get shot from the back. With the boy crawled up against his chest, Fengli runs with full force despite the blazing cold winds and slushy grounds. The boy should not have to deal with frostbite either, Fengli decided as he covered the boy's head gently with his right hand. As they ran, the hollow twigs managed to clung onto his boots even though he expertly avoided the thorns and thistles that embellished the ground. But finally, though the sky remained dark and broody, Fengli remained persistent, finding the cave and hiding the 

boy inside.

”Stay here, Kai-” Fengli stopped quickly in disbelief. His tongue had failed to obliterate, or at least incarcerate the name. It was already enough that his brain had not already confined it in a murky place unknown to his mind. 

No. No more running. Say it, get used to it, feel the loss of his presence, and overcome it.

“Kaiyoung,” he muttered softly, falling to his knees as he brushed his finger across the boy’s hair. Water pierced his eyes and made it impossible for him to blink away, but there was no need. Where his mind saw tears of sorrow and hurt, his heart saw happiness and pride. Fengli pressed his palm against the edge of the boy’s face, Kaiyoung’s face, and rubbed off the smudge of dirt as he willingly allowed the tears to cascade down his pale red cheeks.

“Kaiyoung-a, I’ll be back ok?”

    The boy immediately nodded, as if he responded to that name throughout his short life. Fengli smiled as he stood up, relieved to find his knees were not cramping, and made sure to wave goodbye. Fengli rushed through the night once again, the snow harshly building up on his clothes and revisiting places of old frostbite. Even in these dreaded hours, the warmth that resonated with him defied the cold darkness.

“Sicheng! Sicheng, comrade, how many men are down?” Fengli immediately asked once he sneaked back to the brutal site, his brows furrowed and muscles tightened.

”Èr, Comrade Houlin and Renqi,” Sicheng tried to match the same amount of toughness, but the slight despair and sorrow was heard in his shaky 

voice.