Fangzheng rubbed his nose and said with a bitter smile, "What's the use of my signature?"
"It's useful. I'm your fan. It warms my heart to see you help so many people. Quickly give me an autograph. If you don't, I'll take you back to the police station. We'll record your statement, and you'll have to sign it when the time comes, "the policeman joked.
Fangzheng was speechless as he obediently signed for the policeman.
After that, the policeman wanted to take a picture with him, and Fangzheng didn't refuse. The policeman immediately found a passerby to help him take a picture.
The policeman seemed to like Fangzheng as he stood back a little. He held his head high and puffed out his chest. With a solemn expression, he expressed the dignified demeanor of a policeman.
As for Fangzheng, he was different. This was the first time he had a picture with a policeman. He rubbed his nose and stood there nervously. He subconsciously crossed his arms in front of him.
The passerby took a picture of the scene with a click, then returned the phone to the police with a strange smile.
Then, the policeman beamed as he bade Fangzheng farewell. Before leaving, he left his number and said, "Abbot Fangzheng, call me if there's anything."
With that said, the policeman ran over and took the robber away.
However, the muddle-headed robber still hadn't figured out the situation. He shouted, "Eighteen years later, I'll be a good man again!"
Fangzheng didn't know if he should be angry or amused when he saw the man's expression. He shook his head helplessly and turned to leave.
Fangzheng knew one thing. The man was definitely not his mission target. However, he wasn't in a hurry. After all, he had come out to hide. There was no need for him to be in a rush to return. He could take his time.
As he walked, Fangzheng saw a notice board. On it was written: "Day Tour of Purple Mountain."
Fangzheng's eyes lit up. He finally knew where he was. He was in New York! But following that, Fangzheng's heart sank slightly. For some reason, he thought of Liu Fangfang from back then. He recalled the song that was sung in a mournful tone. "Nine one eight, nine one eight …"
"New York … The pain in the hearts of all Chinese. Amitabha. Since I'm here, I have to remember those ancestors regardless of what." With this in mind, Fangzheng sighed. He got someone to inquire about the location of the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall (out of respect, there was no need to use the abbreviation).
Fangzheng realized that he wasn't far from the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall. He just needed to make two turns to reach it.
Fangzheng heaved a sigh of relief when he heard that there was no need for trouble. Following the passers-by's guidance, he quickly found the Nanjing Massacre Memorial Hall. The memorial hall was free. Fangzheng saw that although it wasn't a holiday, there were still many people.
Whether it was an adult or a child, no matter what they were doing, no matter how happy they were, when they passed by this place, they would subconsciously put away their smiles and walk with a solemn expression. It was as if in that instant, all the happiness had disappeared, and there was only endless depression and sorrow in their hearts.
"Everyone, come over here. Let me introduce you. This is the memorial hall's new hall. Its overall design is the Boat of Peace. It's a tall bow that rises from the ground. From the side, it looks like a broken saber that has been stabbed into the soil. If you are lucky enough to look down from the sky, it's the opposite of a sword that has turned into a plow …" At that moment, a group of tourists walked over. The tour guide in front explained as he walked.
When Fangzheng heard that, he shook his head slightly. No matter how he looked at the memorial hall, it looked like a huge cemetery! It was a burial ground for countless people. It was a desolate place where countless wronged souls were crying out …
There were many stone sculptures outside the hall. There was a mother who had lost her husband and son and had been raped. She held her dead son in her hands as she lamented. There was an old man crawling on his knees with his survival instincts. There was a young man holding his dead wife as he walked forward with his back bent. There were eight statues of children fleeing in panic. There was an old woman carrying a baby in her arms. There was a young man carrying his dead father as he walked forward with great difficulty. There was an old man who was in great pain. There was a young girl with disheveled clothes and glazed eyes. There was a baby sucking on his dead mother's breast.
As Fangzheng looked at the stone sculptures, he felt as though he had been pulled back to the dark and bloody era. He seemed to hear a mother hugging her dead child as she looked up and cried silently. It was as though Fangzheng could hear the heart-wrenching but helpless cry across space and time. "Who can save my child …"
He also seemed to see a baby sucking on his mother's chest in a daze. He didn't know that his mother was dead and that he was about to face unknown danger …
Fangzheng looked up at the statue and subconsciously, the corners of his eyes moistened. He pressed his palms together and felt endless sorrow. Finally, he said, "Amitabha."
Following that, Fangzheng followed the group of tourists in. The hall was free, and anyone could enter. However, lighters were not allowed. Fangzheng saw some tourists who didn't know anything take the initiative to hand over their lighters …
Thankfully, Fangzheng didn't smoke. All he needed to do was follow.
He looked up and saw the words engraved on the pitch-black stone monument. It was written in different languages: Victims, 300000!
Fangzheng's heart felt repressed again …
Passing through the main entrance was a spacious square. There was a broken monument erected abruptly. A struggling bronze head and an arm were half-buried in the cobblestones. The words written on the memorial hall's stone wall were eye-catching. At that instant, Fangzheng remembered the time. Everything in front of him seemed to return to that era …
Upon entering the hall, there was a brief introduction to the Nanjing Massacre engraved in Chinese, English, and Japanese on the wall. There was "Japan massacred 28 times.
150,000 people. There were 858 cases of scattered massacres, and the death toll reached 150,000 … "
Behind it were real photos. There were collapsed houses, fleeing crowds, helpless children, floods, fires, machine gun fire, head-chopping competitions, corpses strewn all over the ground, and ferocious executioners …
Fangzheng didn't know how he walked over. His mind was filled with heaviness, as well as the cries from that space-time. His heart was bleeding, and his tears didn't stop …
Finally, Fangzheng stopped in front of a pit of ten thousand people. Looking at the white bones all over the ground, he fell silent and motionless.
Fangzheng seemed to see countless space-time fragments, as well as countless vengeful souls complaining … Fangzheng knew that this was real because if there were souls, they would definitely be like that.
He stood there for an entire day. Fangzheng forgot about time as he pressed his palms together and silently watched in a daze …
There were fewer and fewer people in the exhibition hall. It was unknown when it was, but there was basically no one in the exhibition hall. Perhaps there were, but they were very scattered …
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