The territory of Jiangxi was unfamiliar to Dong San-shao, Dong Yaoting, and Zhang Facai. Zhou Tong knew it best, so she took the lead. Driven by hunger, Zhou Tong steered them toward the direction where villages lay. But the scenes they encountered ignited fury in every heart.

　　"Fuck your ancestors to the ninth generation, you little Japs!" Zhang Facai roared. "These beasts are exactly like they were in Nanjing—they won’t even spare innocent folk!"

　　Dong Yaoting’s fair-skinned face tightened, jaw clenched. This village had been traversed by the 147th Regiment of the Japanese 106th Division. No people or livestock remained—all were dead. Among the corpses: the elderly, children, and teenage boys. Many women lay stripped naked, bellies sliced open by bayonets, foreign objects thrust into their lower bodies. Zhou Tong and Zhang Han-zhi could not bear the horror. Turning away, tears streamed down their cheeks.

　　Dong San-shao stared fiercely at the bodies of several children on the ground. No tears fell, but his hands clenched his sniper rifle, veins bulging like cords.

　　The five stood silently among the village ruins. After a long pause, Zhou Tong spoke: “Let’s bury our fellow villagers.” Her words, as their leader, were an order. Dong Yaoting, Dong San-shao, and Zhang Facai didn’t utter a word—they immediately began searching for a spot to dig.

　　As former farmers, Dong San-shao and Zhang Facai quickly found shovels in a peasant hut. But then Dong Yaoting spoke from the side: “Leader, if we dig like this, it’s not about making a small pit. We need a huge trench—how else will all these bodies fit, eh?”

　　Zhou Tong considered this. “We’d be digging for days,” she said. “Let’s bury the women, elderly, and children first.”

　　Dong Yaoting countered, “But Leader, it’s all the same—these bodies are the elderly, women, and children!”

　　Zhou Tong set her jaw. “Then this is our task: we dig. Han-zhi and I will find food. No matter what, we bury them properly. We won’t let wild dogs eat them!”

　　Dong Yaoting, Dong San-shao, and Zhang Facai stayed silent—agreement given. Zhang Facai, who’d complained of hunger incessantly, grabbed his shovel and started digging behind the village. Dong San-shao and Dong Yaoting joined wordlessly. Zhou Tong led Zhang Han-zhi toward peasant homes for food.

　　They entered a house: half a sack of rice, a jar of pickled mustard radishes, and golden-yellow salted peppers.

　　“Let’s cook this rice and bring it to them,” Zhou Tong suggested. Han-zhi nodded, crouching to light the stove by the door with straw and brittle twigs. Their intent was pure, their spirit focused. They never imagined the cooking smoke curling upward would draw a Japanese scouting squad combing the area.

　　This Japanese scouting squad belonged to the 1st Regiment of the Botian Detachment. After completing the handover of defensive positions with the 147th Regiment of the 106th Division in Pengze County, they were marching towards Hukou under orders from Gangcun Ningci. To prevent ambushes by Chinese forces, Botian Zhongyi, commander of the detachment, had ordered the 1st Regiment to dispatch scouting squads to reconnoiter along the route.

　　The village where Zhou Tong and the others were located was called Majiazhuang, under the jurisdiction of Pengze County. However, the Chinese defending troops had failed to withstand the Japanese offensive. In retaliation for comrades killed while fighting the Chinese soldiers, the Japanese troops carried out frenzied slaughter and plunder in every village they passed. The man who issued these orders was Botian Zhongyi.

　　We remember the 300,000 victims of the Nanjing Massacre. But we must not forget the countless other atrocities committed by the Japanese invaders upon China’s soil. Forgetting the crimes of the Japanese devils on Chinese land is an ultimate disrespect to our fallen countrymen. To forget this shameful history is to leave the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation perpetually in peril.

　　Leading this squad was Japanese First Lieutenant Zuozhi Guixiu. It was noon. Patches of white clouds drifted across the sky, and a gentle breeze whispered past. The sun cast its bright, searing light. First Lieutenant Zuozhi Guixiu stood on high ground, scanning the surroundings with his binoculars. His squad numbered over fifty men. Notably, they carried three light machine guns and two mortars; the rest were laden with crates of mortar shells. At that moment, they were marching down the hills behind Majiazhuang.

　　The cooking smoke from Zhou Tong and Zhang Han-zhi’s fire curled steadily upward over the village. Zuozhi Guixiu, unaware this village had already been slaughtered by the 106th Division troops whose positions they’d relieved, watched the wisp of smoke and thought: Time to let the men find a meal below. He gestured, leading his soldiers down toward Majiazhuang.

　　As noted earlier, in Botian Zhongyi’s detachment, every soldier below officer rank was an ethnic Chinese from Taiwan. Indoctrinated for years under Japanese rule, these soldiers were adept at mountain warfare and infamous for brutality. They saw themselves as purely Japanese, wholly divorced from their Chinese ancestry. The treacherous nature of figures like Chen Shuibian and Li Denghui reveals why so many Taiwanese soldiers abetted the aggressors during Japan’s invasion of China in WWII.

　　Under First Lieutenant Zuozhi Guixiu’s command, the soldiers marched toward the village. After roughly twenty minutes, they reached the mountainside plateau. Zuozhi Guixiu raised his binoculars again, muttering in Japanese: “Why is only one house cooking here? Why no smoke from the others?”

　　This suspicion snapped him alert. He ordered the squad to halt and dispatched two soldiers to scout for Chinese troop ambushes.

　　These two scouts, likewise Taiwan-born, descended chatting in their Chinese mother tongue, joking as they walked. One was Zhao Zhong, the other Li Fuqi. They paused to light cigarettes before entering the village, then advanced toward the smoking house, Arisaka rifles in hand.

　　Inside, Zhou Tong had transferred the cooked rice to a basin. Zhang Han-zhi filled a jar with pickled radishes. As they stepped into the courtyard carrying the food, Zhang Han-zhi screamed: “Japs are coming!”

　　Zhou Tong drew her pistol, grabbed Zhang Han-zhi by the collar, and pulled her back into the house.

　　Zhao Zhong and Li Fuqi, clad in Japanese Imperial Army uniforms and shouldering Arisaka rifles, had just entered the courtyard when they spotted two women handling food. One holding the jar appeared barely more than a child, while the woman behind her was undeniably grown.

　　Seeing the adult woman pull the younger one inside, Zhao Zhong grinned at Li Fuqi: "Li Fuqi! Luck’s finally on our side! Two women—one for each of us, eh?"

　　Li Fuqi needed no convincing. Having marched from distant Taiwan without a single chance to satisfy his needs, even a damned sow would stir him now. They shared a look and a nod: first they’d have their way with these Chinese women, then report to First Lieutenant Zuozhi Guixiu that the village was clear of troops.

　　Inside, Zhou Tong and Zhang Han-zhi had abandoned the basin of rice and jar of vegetables. Zhou Tong gripped her pistol, aiming through the door crack at the soldiers in the courtyard.

　　"Sister! What do we do?! What do we do?!" Zhang Han-zhi sobbed, panic choking her voice.

　　"Shut the fear!" Zhou Tong cut in coldly. "Right now, getting Dong San-shao’s men here is all that matters. Stay behind me. Don’t you dare move!"

　　Zhang Han-zhi nodded frantically through her tears. Zhou Tong’s pistol was already aimed at one of the Japanese soldiers. She fired immediately. A sharp crack of gunshot echoed out.

　　Hearing it from the gravesite, Dong Yaoting, Dong San-shao, and Zhang Facai exchanged a glance. Zhang Facai shouted: "Quick! Leader Zhou and Little Sister have run into Japs!" He scrambled up and sprinted toward the courtyard.

　　"San-shao! Move!" Dong Yaoting yelled. Dong San-shao, his own urgency spiking, grabbed his sniper rifle and charged toward the courtyard.

　　Zhou Tong’s bullet missed Zhao Zhong and Li Fuqi, but the shot terrified them. They threw themselves flat, raised their Arisaka rifles, and unleashed wild fire into the house. The sound shifted instantly from a single crack to a savage rattle of gunfire.

　　On the mountainside, First Lieutenant Zuozhi Guixiu didn’t just hear it—through his binoculars, he saw the firefight erupt in the courtyard.

　　Dong San-shao and the other two, running low to the ground, remained unseen, escaping Zuozhi Guixiu’s line of sight.

　　Zhou Tong’s pistol ran empty quickly. Zhao Zhong and Li Fuqi, still prone, waited. Realizing the women inside were out of ammunition, they rose slowly, rifles leveled, and advanced step by step toward the house. Zhou Tong and Zhang Han-zhi shrank back in terror.

　　Zhao Zhong leered: "Surrender and live!"

　　Li Fuqi echoed: "Drop your gun and live!"

　　Zhou Tong heard them speaking Chinese and shouted: "Who are you people? Why wear Jap uniforms?"

　　Zhao Zhong chuckled: "Good, good! Drop your gun, then we talk!"

　　Hearing their accent differed from mainlanders, Zhou Tong instantly realized these soldiers were Taiwanese. "You're from Taiwan?" she called out again.

　　Zhao Zhong nodded: "You're right. We're Japanese soldiers from Taiwan!"

　　Understanding dawned on Zhou Tong. "Since we're all Chinese," she said, "don't make this hard for us."

　　Zhao Zhong shook his head: "We came from our homeland far away to your China. We crave women. You two are here, we two are here. Satisfy us, and we let you go!"

　　Zhou Tong couldn't hold back: "You beasts! Look at the children, elders, and women your kind slaughtered in this village! You're nothing but running dogs for the Japanese devils!"

　　Zhao Zhong turned to Li Fuqi: "We weren't the ones who came through here, right?" Li Fuqi nodded.

　　"Then these Zhina people weren't killed by us, correct?" Zhao Zhong pressed. Li Fuqi nodded again.

　　Zhao Zhong’s voice turned icy: "Fuqi, I’ll cover you. Fuck the older woman first. When you’re done, it’s my turn."

　　Li Fuqi needed no urging. He leaned his Arisaka rifle against the doorframe and started unbuttoning his trousers.

　　Zhang Han-zhi screamed in raw terror. Her cries reached Dong San-shao’s ears. By now, the three men had reached the courtyard perimeter. Dong Yaoting was scanning the scene inside and around them—Zhang Han-zhi’s screams were impossible to miss.

　　" Beasts! Beasts! " Zhang Han-zhi screamed.