Wang Zhong withdrew his gaze and saw Grigori standing not far ahead, looking down at the bodies on the ground.
His chest tightened, and he quickly rushed to Grigori's side, looking down.
Yakov and the radio operator lay on the ground, their eyes open, staring at the sky.
It seemed he had not reached the tank wreckage.
Grigori: "I told you, seeing a black cat is not a good omen."
Wang Zhong stepped forward, squatting down to study Yakov's face.
In a moment, Wang Zhong remembered many, many things.
"Do you remember which month he took over Vasily's shift?" Wang Zhong asked, "I can't quite recall."
Grigori: "August seventeenth, I remember very clearly."
Wang Zhong looked down at his palm: "September, October... not even two months, yet I feel like he had been by my side for many, many years."
As he spoke, Wang Zhong touched Yakov's chest, found the position of the diary, unbuttoned the pocket, and pulled out the notebook.
