Nights in the war zone are restless.

At 8 PM, the sun had not yet set, and Song Ran could hear the sound of distant artillery fire, with the sound of gunshots being even more incessant. Some shots were very close to her hotel; at times, it seemed they were coming from the very next street.

But everyone else in the building turned a deaf ear, as if they had long been accustomed to it.

As soon as Song Ran arrived at her accommodation, she gathered and got acquainted with the other foreign journalists on the same floor. After learning that she was the photographer of the news photo 'CARRY', they all looked at her with newfound respect.

A French journalist sighed, "When I can take a successful news photo like CARRY, I can finally go home in peace!"

Song Ran felt something was off about that statement, but she didn't dwell on it and moved on to the next topic.

After a simple dinner, a few of them agreed to go see the border.

Everyone got into an Italian journalist's car and left their accommodation. When they reached a certain street, there was a hail of bullets up ahead. Song Ran was still a bit nervous, but unexpectedly, the journalists in the car were all used to it. They parked the car on the side of the road and waited patiently.

The Italian journalist even started smoking.

Song Ran hesitated for a long while before asking, "Is it... okay for us to stop here?"

"Don't worry, my dear lady," the Italian journalist turned back and raised an eyebrow at her. "That's the Government Army and the Anti-government forces. Harming us won't do either of them any good." He pointed to the Italian, American, and Canadian flags tucked in the corner of the windshield.

Song Ran asked, "What if there's a Terrorist organization?"

The other man made an exaggeratedly frightened face. "Then it's best to run away quickly. They're short on money lately, and they won't turn down a hostage who comes knocking."

"It's not that scary," a Japanese journalist comforted her. "Sometimes they pick and choose countries. Europe and America have some historical grievances with this land, but we in East Asia don't."

So, Song Ran nodded.

As they were chatting, the gunfire ahead stopped.

"OK!" The Italian journalist tossed his cigarette butt and drove across the street where the fighting had been.

Song Ran tightened her helmet and subconsciously ducked down, but her camera lens remained aimed out the window. She saw several hidden soldiers behind the pockmarked walls of the buildings.

The car, flying its flags, quietly drove past the street. They hadn't gone far.

Bang, bang, bang—the fighting started up again behind them.

Song Ran: "..."

Outside the car window, pedestrians were still walking on the street, paying no heed to the distant gunshots as if it were just background noise.

Hapo was a major city in western Dongguo, with a large population and a developed economy. Although it was now mired in war, many people, burdened by their livelihoods, couldn't or wouldn't leave. Or perhaps they were burdened by faith—they believed the government would win soon and the war would end quickly. That's what they had thought when the war first began.

They hadn't gone far when they came upon a clamor ahead. The street was densely packed with vehicles and crowds trying to leave the country.

They couldn't move.

The journalists got out of the car, each carrying their equipment. They were surrounded by people, making it impossible to move as a group. They agreed on a time to meet up and dispersed on the spot.

After choosing a good angle and recording a simple video report, Song Ran followed the flow of traffic forward. The streets were filled with people with their families in tow. Song Ran observed along the way that there were very few nice cars, and few people were well-dressed.

The war had been going on for nearly two months. With 50% of the country's territory engulfed in flames of war, those who could leave had already left. The ones escaping now are ordinary people with nowhere left to go and no homes to return to.

However, she soon discovered that most of the people here couldn't get out—the majority of them didn't have the documents to enter the neighboring country. They just felt that the country behind them was no longer safe, so they could only keep pushing forward, forward, and forward, squeezing out a small space for themselves, seeking a sliver of hope for escape.

The third time Song Ran saw what looked like people bargaining, she stopped.

A middle-aged Dongguo man was holding a few papers that looked like visa application forms, discussing something with a young, spectacled man. Behind the young man was a beautiful young woman holding a baby, with two more children standing at her feet. The children had big eyes and long eyelashes.

The two men argued for a long time but didn't reach an agreement. The middle-aged man flicked his hand dismissively and turned to leave. The young man had a desperate expression and clutched his head helplessly.

Song Ran's eyes met his, and she had a feeling he might speak English, so she asked him what was wrong.

The young husband shrugged and said, "He can get us out, but it's fifty thousand US dollars per person. Our family needs two hundred thousand. I..." He smiled and shook his head. "I don't have two hundred thousand." He smiled, and after speaking, he turned his head aside. His nose and the rims of his eyes were red.

His wife reached out and hugged him comfortingly, and the husband kissed her on the forehead.

He told Song Ran that their parents had already given it their all. The parents felt they were old and not worth the expense, but they wanted the couple and their children to leave.

Just then, some Dongguo people nearby started chattering to them.

Song Ran couldn't understand them, but from their gestures, she could roughly guess that their compatriots were trying to persuade them—to have the husband leave first with the two older children and come back for his wife and the baby later.

The young husband smiled, shook his head, and left with his arm around his wife, holding the hands of their two little ones.

Song Ran held her camera and continued walking forward. More and more similar scenes appeared in her lens—fierce arguments, humble pleas, desperate sighs, suppressed tears...

About half an hour later, Song Ran finally reached the border.

It was three in the morning back home, and most people were fast asleep. Song Ran couldn't do a live broadcast, but she still recorded a video report for her camera.

In the camera's view, the afterglow of the sunset enveloped the border crossing, vast and bleak:

"The checkpoint behind me is the border between Dongguo and Ai Country. Of the people heading to Ai Country, some stay there, while others continue on to the next country, getting far away from this war-torn land.

Looking behind me, you can see a dense mass of people. It's incredibly noisy here right now; I can barely hear my own voice because so many drivers are angrily honking their horns. And many more who can't cross the border are letting out cries of grief and roars of anger.

The bordering Ai Country is not large and has already taken in nearly a million refugees out of humanitarian concern, making it difficult to sustain. Now, the quota for entry has been tightened, and a portion has gradually become capital for bureaucratic profiteering."

As Song Ran said this, it flashed through her mind that she had misspoken and would have to edit it out later. But in front of the camera, she remained calm and composed.

"Perhaps less than one in a thousand people here will be able to cross into Ai Country smoothly. More people are just waiting aimlessly with their families, children, and luggage, waiting for the government of Ai Country to kindly open the border and let them pass."

As Song Ran packed up her tripod, she thought, 'Thank goodness this isn't live, or I'd be screwed.' She could write about that sentence in a book later, but if it were broadcast on an official TV station, there would be repercussions.

She had been too careless. Or perhaps her emotions had been affected.

She gazed at the faces waiting in despair, her heart feeling just like the slowly dimming light of the sky above.

It was getting dark.

She shouldered her backpack and started walking back, unexpectedly running into Sasin on the way. Sasin was astonished, not expecting her to come to Hapo City.

It turned out he had just returned from the war zone and was passing through to investigate the issue of refugee entry and exit. However, he wasn't staying in a hotel but at a guesthouse. Sasin said he was going to the war zone to film the next morning and asked if she wanted to go.

Song Ran immediately agreed and wrote down her address for him.

The two said their goodbyes in the crowd.

At 9:30 PM, the sun finally set.

Song Ran moved against the current of people, the faces of the Dongguo people before her dimming in the fading twilight.

By the time she returned to the car, the sky was beginning to darken.

Many locals were still waiting in line. They wrapped themselves in their robes and slept on the ground; mothers held their bewildered children in their arms.

Everyone got in the car and drove back.

Once the sun set, the sky turned completely dark in an instant.

There were no streetlights; it was dim and hazy, and the windows looked like ghostly eyes.

They returned to their accommodation without incident. The manager, a Dongguo woman, told them that a curfew would be imposed in Hapo City starting the next day, and civilians would not be allowed out after 8 PM.

Song Ran asked, "Is the fighting starting again?"

The woman spread her hands. "Yes."

Song Ran didn't sleep well that night. Every so often, there would be the sound of artillery and gunfire outside. She didn't know who was fighting whom.

She thought of Li Zan, wondering which corner of the city he was in, whether he was asleep, whether he was safe.

Although she hadn't slept well, she woke up early the next morning. She did some light editing on the video she had recorded the previous night and sent it back to her home country.

When Xiao Qiu received it, she reminded her to be safe and also mentioned that she had seen the Special Operations Team's episode on the National News Channel and the Military Channel.

Xiao Qiu said, "Shen Bei's boyfriend is really outstanding."

"..." Song Ran was speechless.

Xiao Qiu added, "But things might not be right between them lately."

Song Ran: "Why?"

Xiao Qiu: "She's someone who loves to show off, yet when everyone praised how good that episode was, she didn't say a thing."

"..." Song Ran didn't chat for long. She had things to do and said she had to get busy.

At 7 AM, Song Ran went downstairs just as Sasin was arriving.

The two had a simple flatbread for breakfast and set off. Song Ran put on a bulletproof vest and helmet marked with 'PRESS' to avoid being accidentally injured in the fighting.

The streets were empty and quiet, while bursts of gunfire and cannons came from the war zone.

Bits of concrete and sand shaken from the walls were scattered on the ground. The walls along the street had long been riddled into black honeycombs. Yet the sun was bright, and the sky was high and blue.

Song Ran was talking with Sasin about the fifty-thousand-dollar fee when suddenly a cannon roared up ahead. The building they were near trembled twice, and a pile of concrete chunks fell, clattering against Song Ran and Sasin's helmets.