(Artist: Every pioneer deployment has been a monster that the world tolerates)

My name is Chenxi, and I'm a wandering painter.

I don't know what age it is, we are like the victims of the disaster in the city, and from time to time someone will come to drive us away.

Although he can barely make ends meet with his skills, it is a shameful luxury to want to be like those generals or soldiers who don't need to eat and sleep in the open.

"Hey, do you have any extra steamed buns?"

This person's name is Han Liang, and he is also a wordless person, I opened my dirty package, and handed him one of the three steamed buns that still had residual warmth.

The big white steamed bun turned black as soon as it arrived in his hand, but he didn't care about the dirt on his body, and swallowed it in a big gulp.

"When is this kind of day the end?"

"Gollum, Gollum."

Han Liang sighed, picked up his water bottle and poured it into his mouth, and there was a sound of swallowing.

I shook my head, the brush in my hand had not been stained with ink for a long time, and during the war, there was no need to paint, not to mention that my painting skills were not very distinctive.

The remaining two steamed buns in my arms, as well as a roll of bamboo rolls, are already all my belongings.

"If they can't get in, one day they will see peace and prosperity."

I said as I hugged my bag, and Han Liang smiled, his dirty face full of noncommittality, neither replying nor rebutting.

"You guys, who can draw."

The person who spoke was a general, wearing heavy armor and a black iron mask on his face, and the whole person looked cold.

Han Liang tugged at my patched sleeves and motioned for me not to stand up, I shook my head and handed him the two steamed buns left in my bag, then stood up and said softly:

"General, the grass people will have some."

"You come with me."

In the troubled times, only martial arts can show a skill, and piano, chess, calligraphy and painting or something, it is not worth mentioning, and if the world is stable, it will be reversed.

So although I was called away, I didn't have any sense of joy, and it was precisely because of this that the cold pulled me away, and this departure was a blessing and a curse.

"Can you fix it?"

The general blindfolded me and led me to a strange room, in which there was no light, and soon the torches were lit, and then I saw something on the wall, which was a peculiar battle flag, very broken, and the flagpole was stained with blood.

"If you can finish this painting, at least we will have enough food and clothing, and we can keep you worry-free."

As for what will happen if I can't finish it, they didn't say much, but I also knew very well in my heart that if this flag could complete its color, even if I spent my whole life, I would never be able to finish it.

"How much time do I have."

There is no turning back when the bow is opened, not to mention that in this period of war and chaos, if you can't show your value, then you will definitely not be compared to the corpse trampled by thousands of people outside.

The general looked at me for a moment, then thought about a stick of incense for a while, and replied:

"Up to a month, if you need anything, you can tell him, and he will try his best to satisfy you."

As he spoke, he gestured to the guards guarding the doorway.

I nodded, took the ink and strange paint he handed me, and carefully repaired the natural picture scroll on the wall.

Soon a soldier handed me a piece of meat, two steamed buns, and a portion of water, and after I had eaten and drunk my fill, I picked up a brush and dotted it on the red paint, carefully polishing the scrolls on the wall.

It's an impossible task, but if I can get a month of stability, it will be enough to meet my heart's needs at this moment.

I commanded one of the soldiers to pick up the paint for me and the other to pick up the ink, and I was very careful, but I also noticed a lot of strange things.

For example, if you put paint of other colors on the red flag, the color of the flag will not change in the slightest, and if you use paint to cover up the cracks on the flagpole, but after half a burn of incense, the cracks will return to the same as before, which is very weird.

When I came to my senses, I had run out of paint, and I learned from the soldier at the door that it was already late at night.

"You, sleep here."

He led me to a thatched mound in this strange chamber, and told me that it was my dwelling, and that there was a small latrine beside it, which was sufficient for daily needs.

I nodded, lay down on the thatch, and then extinguished the candle, and in my sleep I had a lot of thoughts, how long had it been since I had been so stable, and if the cold knew about the situation here, it would have been a mixed blessing.

He has always been indecisive, although he has missed a lot of opportunities, but he has also avoided many crises, where should he be at this moment?

I opened my eyes and looked around, the secret room-like place was very closed, there was no exit in sight, I closed my eyes, and fell asleep in a daze.

"Wake up, go on."

There was no washing, no tidying, but for displaced people like us, we were used to it.

I picked up the pen and ink and repeated yesterday's movements, and although it felt like I was doing useless work, there was no better choice.

The brush had not been polished for a long time, and the tip of the brush was a little sharp, and before I knew it, I cut a huge bloody hole in my hand, and the blood dripped on the painting on the wall, and my consciousness began to blur.

A soldier caught me before I fell unconscious, and that was all the memories I had before I fell unconscious.

"You shouldn't be here."

In the real scene, someone said to me.

I looked at the place not far away where there was still gunsmoke, and my expression was a little confused, the path was full of yellow sand, and I could faintly see three dark red on the sand, but this did not allow me to judge where I was.

The voice came again, and I looked in the direction of the sound and saw a man, a man with a battle flag and a foot in the sand.

As that person stood there, there was a boundless battle intent, and he seemed to be ready to meet thousands of troops at any time.

"Who are you?"

I looked at the brush in my arms, the previous brush was gone, and I don't know where the bag was lost, shook my head, no longer thought about this question, and asked the person in front of me:

"I don't know why I'm here."

Hearing my reply, the man frowned, and a chill suddenly came from the bottom of my heart, and my body couldn't move, but as a homeless person, sleeping in the open is the norm, and being bullied is just ordinary, and there won't be much sense.

I don't know how long time passed, the coolness gradually faded, and the man finally put away his temperament, and said quietly:

"That's it, since you're here, I'll give you a choice."

Two strange cards appeared in the man's hand, one of which was blank, and the other had an inexplicable aura, although it was far away, I could also feel the comfort coming from it, if that token was in my hand, it seemed that repairing that picture scroll would not be as difficult as before.

He was silent for a moment, then spoke:

"The first one will erase the memory of your coming here, and then you will feel like you are just sitting in a dream and waking up without remembering everything in the dream..."

Speaking of this, he paused a little, and I asked after a pause:

"Well, what about the second one."

The man finally spoke, his voice was low, clear, unquestionable, but with a hint of loneliness, which made people like seeing flowers in a fog, unable to see clearly.

"This one will strengthen your painting skills to the limit, then you will be able to complete the scroll, but if so, you will have to answer my call in the future and go to that path that is almost lifeless."

"Give me a second one."

I smiled, if those of us who have a precarious life can establish a meritorious career and leave a glorious figure for the future, even if we die, it is not worth pity.

"I hope you remember your choice."

When I woke up again, I really felt a strange blessing, and the picture scroll no longer became hideous and terrifying in my eyes, and I could even feel an inexplicable affinity.

"You, can you continue?"

The general said coldly, but there was not much persecution, as if if I felt tired now, I could thirst for a rest.

I shook my head and picked up the paint in my hand, not in a hurry, and in a flat tone:

"Not necessarily."

The paint on the brush filled in the gaps in the flagpole of the scroll, and although it was still restored this time, it was also restored with a trace that was imperceptible to the naked eye, and although I was surprised that my eyesight had suddenly been strengthened several times, I did not seem anxious.

In the blink of an eye, half a moon has passed, the crack on the flagpole has been restored to its original state, and the damage of the flag does not seem to be so easy to repair, and there is a trance in my heart, if it is cold, where is I now.

"Your painting skills are not bad."

A soldier patted me on the shoulder and sighed.

The other soldiers seemed indifferent, this one was a newcomer, and he didn't know anything about this place, but he heard that the food in the army was good, so he came over.

But apparently he was trusted, and if he hadn't been trusted, he wouldn't have been put here.

I smiled, the paint in my hand not paused, but I took the time to reply:

"Life in the army is hard, I hope you can stand it."

He smiled, there was not a trace of wrinkle in the corners of his eyes, obviously he had never experienced the baptism of wind and frost, and it was still unknown whether such a person could survive in the battlefield.

Sure enough, it was only three days before I figured out how to repair the lines on the flag, and he limped back, but in three days, he was like a different person, his face was full of vicissitudes and pain, and he still had a huge wound on his arm.

Although he was wrapped in the bandages in the army, it was obvious that this could not suppress the pain, and he saw me and seemed to want to smile, but soon the wound on his face was touched, and the pain was long.

"One day, we can all live and work in peace."

I smiled, and he nodded, and the lonely back in the yellow sand gradually disappeared from view, and after that day, I never saw him again.

Today is the twenty-seventh day, and I hold the paint in my hand and shake my sore wrist.

"How's that recruit?"

I asked the guy who was helping me get the paint.

He shook his head and said nothing, I sighed, as if I knew something, and didn't ask, but the paint in my hand shook for a moment, and fell to the ground, startling a puff of dust.