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Five weeks ago, Ting Yun returned to Qingshi Street, which was the autumn of the twenty-seventh year of the Republic of China. He rode the Oriental Malaysia, dressed in military uniform, and followed closely behind the Japanese army Sasakawa Shaozuo. He also brought back his Japanese wife, Duan Liyang Dunsaka. That Japanese woman is his classmate at Imperial University in Tokyo. The old man in Qingshi Street still remembers the scene when the Japanese came. It was a foggy late autumn morning, and the stars were like beans, saying "abortion". Eastern soldiers are coming from the north to Hesheng Bridge. Two days ago, I heard that Wuhan had fallen, and everyone in Qingshi Street thought that Japanese soldiers would not come. Obviously. What do the Japanese want to do in our Xiaoqingshi Street when they get off Changsha along Yuehan Road? The night before, it happened that the commander of the bandit guerrillas and several of his personal entourage were in town. At dawn, the patrol sentry commander at the entrance of Chengxi Street found a group of yellow people in the mist and fired a gun to call the police. Into a canal with random resistance for a while, put a row of guns, leaving two bodies, fled back to the nanshan headquarters. The gunfire woke up the unprepared people in the town. It was just too late. The Japanese entered the street, but they didn't rape, burn, kill and plunder. Everyone with experience in the street knows that ...
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