The pause between changing magazines, the sound of gunfire ceased for a moment.
Emaciated cheeks, short-haired Chongying People swarmed into the battlefield in front of the outpost defense line, each hunched over, heads lowered as they moved through the destroyed shelters, even daring not to lift their eyes to look at the hole in front as if there were some ancient beast inside.
He Jie grabbed the heavy machine gun with one hand, the hundreds of kilograms felt weightless in his hands.
"Got any cigarettes?"
Wen Biao searched up and down for a long time, eventually pulling out a shriveled cigarette box, slapping his thigh in regret like a reprimanded student, "I should've brought a pack up here; I'll go fetch it now!"
"No need."
