William Thompson absentmindedly answered while fiddling with the scattered parts on the table, his hands unconsciously playing with them. After sitting for a long time, if he wasn’t holding a pen, his hands always felt awkward.

　　Although it was just an ordinary conversation, there was still a faint sense of interrogation. In these times, a stranger suddenly appearing on the battlefield was bound to arouse suspicion. Charles Dean was probing into William Thompson’s background in a casual, everyday manner.

　　“The school you mentioned is in Jiangnan, right?”

　　“Yeah, it’s in a very beautiful city in Jiangnan.”

　　“Life in the city must be good. Look at you, so fair-skinned—really different from us country folks.”

　　“What do your parents do?”

　　“They run a small business.” William Thompson’s parents had been laid off and became self-employed, running a small stall to make a living.

　　“Your place must have been occupied by the Japanese devils too, otherwise how could you have ended up suffering in these mountains.”

　　“Mm!” William Thompson didn’t know how to respond. According to the current timeline, the city he lived in was indeed occupied by the Japanese at this moment.

　　“Once we drive out the devils, I’ll go to school too. Without an education, people will always bully you.” Charles Dean’s eyes were full of longing for school.

　　“The little devils will definitely be driven out, and you’ll definitely get to go to school.” William Thompson couldn’t help but find this mountain boy, Charles Dean, truly endearing and sincere.

　　“Thank you for saying that. I’m really looking forward to that day. Studying is such a wonderful thing!” Charles Dean’s face lit up with joy and hope for the future. He had also figured out William Thompson’s background: an ordinary student from the south, who fled to the mountains because of the war and got lost, ending up near the battlefield where the Eighth Route Army was fighting the Japanese.

　　Charles Dean didn’t notice at all that the pile of scattered parts on the table was gradually being assembled by William Thompson into something resembling a rather large old-fashioned radio. William Thompson himself didn’t even realize it—this kind of ancient radio, which was practically obsolete for him, was incredibly easy to put together.

　　At that moment, Paul Martin entered the room with two people: one was a middle-aged man in his forties, the other a round-faced girl who looked about sixteen or seventeen. Both were dressed in the yellow cloth uniforms of the Eighth Route Army.

　　Paul Martin tossed over a set of clothes and said, “Put these on, it’s cold. Be careful not to catch a chill in what you’re wearing.” He was quite concerned about William Thompson.

　　Handmade from pure cotton, William Thompson was quite satisfied—it was thick and warm. Putting it on, he felt much cozier. To be honest, autumn mornings were a bit chilly. Although he’d worked up a sweat hiking through the mountains earlier, now this outfit was just right to ward off the autumn chill.

　　Wearing the Eighth Route Army uniform, William Thompson, who had undergone military training, now showed a bit of a soldier’s unique toughness and fighting spirit, making the others’ eyes light up.

Section Eight

　　“Not bad, not bad, you even look a bit like a soldier. You’re a city kid, aren’t you?” The middle-aged soldier circled around William Thompson, nodding. With his fair skin and strong scholarly air, he could tell at a glance that William Thompson was from the city—probably a big city.

　　“Yes, may I ask how I should address you?” William Thompson asked cautiously.

　　“My surname is Wang, Paul’s third uncle, political commissar of the Third Regiment here. And this is Julia Brooks, our secretary.” The middle-aged man pointed to the round-faced girl with the long braid.

　　“We’re here to learn a bit about your situation,” said Commissar Martin, his gaze suddenly landing on the radio in William Thompson’s hands. At first, he didn’t think much of it, but then his expression changed dramatically. He pointed at William Thompson, so excited he could barely speak.

　　Charles Dean and Paul Martin thought there was something wrong with William Thompson’s identity and immediately became alert, loading their guns and aiming at William Thompson.

　　“What are you doing? Put your guns down!” Commissar Martin quickly stopped the two young soldiers.

　　William Thompson looked completely baffled. When he noticed Commissar Martin’s eyes fixed on the radio in his hands, he asked curiously, “What’s wrong? Is there something wrong with this radio?” As he spoke, he flicked a switch, and the speaker immediately emitted a hissing electromagnetic noise. After a few more adjustments, a pleasant melody floated through the room. When the music ended, the announcer’s voice came on: “Shaanbei Broadcasting Station…”

　　At this point, not only was Commissar Martin excited, but even Charles Dean, Paul Martin, and the secretary Julia Brooks were thrilled. Commissar Martin exclaimed, “It’s not that there’s something wrong—it’s perfect! My god, how did you manage to put this pile of stuff together? I can finally hear the Party’s voice again—this is wonderful, just wonderful!” The joy on Commissar Martin’s face was infectious, spreading to everyone around him.

　　“What’s so hard about this? It’s super easy! I…” William Thompson saw the look in Commissar Martin’s eyes and quickly stopped himself. Deep down, he wondered if this Eighth Route Army commissar might be “glass”? The way he was looking at him was almost wolfish, with a green glint in his eyes.

　　Cold sweat broke out on William Thompson’s back! But thankfully, Commissar Martin’s next words put him at ease.

　　“Amazing! Truly amazing! Paul Martin, Charles Dean, you two have brought back a real treasure—a great achievement, a great achievement! This thing is finally fixed.” Commissar Martin gave William Thompson a hearty slap on the shoulder, nearly knocking him apart, then excitedly took the radio, turned the volume to maximum, and held it to his ear, listening to the Party’s broadcast with the kind of blissful energy as if he were inhaling opium.