Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 27: Fragile Life

Following the baby's crying, Eugene walked to the innermost part of the room and saw the helpless baby lying on the ground, crying loudly, small, dirty, and fragile.

Covered in bloodstains, marked by the traces of war, the innocent cry carried a purity that did not belong to this world; surrounded by corpses cutting off all signs of life, the stench of death permeated recklessly, yet amidst the crying, the newborn innocence, and joy proclaimed the birth of life, like poppies blooming on decaying corpses, enchanting yet deadly.

Eugene's steps involuntarily slowed down, he couldn't get any closer, he couldn't bear to get any closer. His hands holding the rifle slowly lowered, a hint of confusion amidst his numbness, staring blankly at the baby, that little life with a red face from crying too hard, utterly bewildered.

He stood there, quietly standing there, the calm in his narrow eyes undisturbed, so long without smelling the scent of new life that he had forgotten the forms of existence. His face, covered in dirt, was indifferent and aloof, yet faintly revealed a trace of panic and helplessness, even a hint of disgust and repulsion, shimmering dimly under the gloomy and sparse light.

Merriel also walked over, looking at the heart-wrenching baby, paused for a moment, his eyes slightly reddened, but he just stood there, as if Eugene's feet had drawn a boundary like an abyss, impassable.

Following Eugene's gaze, he looked up and saw the big hole in the roof, where the cold wind blew in, making one shiver. The baby's crying made the wind sound bleak and eerie. "Many mortars have been fired here," Merriel said with a hint of mockery at the corner of his mouth.

How ironic, isn't it? In war, soldiers' deaths flow like rivers, but what's more terrifying is that innocent civilians also perish with the wind, yet nobody cares.

"It doesn't matter," Eugene said calmly, his expressionless face seemed to vividly depict the gradual retreat of vitality, the fragmented pain shimmering in his eyes, an indescribable sadness and despair permeating between his lips and teeth. It turns out, even indifference has colors.

Another comrade walked in behind them, looking at Eugene and Merriel standing still, somewhat angry. "What the hell are you two doing standing there!" He walked up cautiously and carefully took the baby into his arms.

Eugene himself didn't realize it, but he took a step back, he actually took a step back. A hint of fear emerged on his numb face as if the burgeoning vitality would devour all his courage and determination, exposing his softness and vulnerability once again.

The baby was carried away, they didn't notice Eugene's anomaly, Merriel confirmed that everyone else was already dead, then turned and followed them out, leaving Eugene alone, still staring blankly at the mother of the baby lying on the ground — her bare chest exposed, cold without any warmth, as if one second she was still nurturing her child, the next she was separated from life.

Eugene's gaze couldn't leave the body lying in a pool of blood, motionless, silently watching, just watching, as time flowed slowly on his shoulders, cold enough to prevent even angels from spreading their wings. Then Eugene turned and left, the calm emotions only rippled slightly, then returned to calmness.

Blinking, as if nothing had happened just now. A silence like death.

Eugene left the innermost room, about to go out, but heard a noise, the hairs all over his body stood up, and he subconsciously gripped the rifle in his hand, the instinct for survival made the bloody smell spread again, "Japan..." came a choked voice from behind.

Eugene raised the rifle, turned cautiously, and then saw a woman with an Asian face behind the grass curtain, lying on a pile of straw, breathing heavily with her mouth wide open, her eyes like dead water, when she saw Eugene, her eyeballs moved slightly, still devoid of any light, but made an effort to say again, "Japan..." Then she raised her hands and pointed to the pattern on her hand, seeming to say: the Japanese killed all her family.

But she had no strength left, gasping for breath, tilting her head as if she could clearly see the life draining from her body, she just stared blankly at Eugene, a glimmer of longing in her eyes, begging for something. But Eugene remained unmoved.

Eugene looked coldly up and down, just watching quietly. He didn't enjoy it, but he didn't suffer either, just a calmness, as if watching clouds in the sky, serene and peaceful, but the undisturbed eyes amidst the bloodstained ground made people shudder, a faint sense of desolation and loneliness gently spreading as if seeing a transparent and elusive soul walking on the lonely road of the underworld.

Then Eugene saw the grenade in her hand, and raised the gun again, the alertness of a hunter burst out in an instant, he could even feel the tension in his muscles, just a slight movement, and he could sprint out, easily harvesting the enemy's life.

Unexpectedly, seeing Eugene's movement, the woman nodded gently, and a hot tear slid down, seeming... seeming to beg Eugene to end her life. The woman reached out and lifted her shirt, revealing her slashed abdomen, with bloody intestines and viscera spilling all over.

She was begging Eugene to end her suffering.

Eugene still stood in place, the calmness of his emotions even slowing down his actions, he just stood there looking down at the woman, she struggled to reach out her right hand, trying to grab the barrel of Eugene's gun, but he remained indifferent. Death, for him, was too common, like his comrades.

Finally, Eugene took a step forward, just two small steps, and stood by the woman's side. He would rather be close to a corpse than a baby.

The woman grabbed the barrel of Eugene's gun as it lowered, aimed it at her own forehead, and closed her eyes in relief, the intention was clear. Eugene placed his finger on the trigger, the most familiar action to him, it had become his instinct, he himself couldn't count how many people he had killed, how many were Japanese, how many were innocent civilians... and how many were friendly fire casualties.

His finger twitched slightly, just a little force, and he could end the woman's suffering. Yet for him, it was just as simple as any daily activity, no different from eating or drinking water.

But he hesitated.

Watching the woman exhale as if in surrender, as if all the pain in her body was dissipating like the tide, yet in his mind he saw the image of the crying baby from earlier. There was a shallow struggle in those deep eyes, but it was painful. He closed his eyes in confusion, concealing his true emotions, then lowered his right hand, ultimately unable to pull the trigger.

What is he fighting for in the end? What is he persisting for, what is he killing for, and what is he surviving for? Where is God now? Shouldn't God be saving people, protecting them? Didn't God send Jesus to bear the pain and disasters of humanity? Then why is this woman lying here, why is that baby lying here, why are their fragile lives gradually dissipating, why are so many innocent people dying? How does God choose, why do those people die, why is he still alive?

Why? What on earth?

The woman noticed the gun lowering, opened her eyes again, and saw Eugene's deep eyes, with a hint of painful struggle in them. Disappointed, she let her right hand down, looking at Eugene with sadness and despair. Then, the woman saw Eugene's cold, iceberg-like face gradually soften, a strand of warm light shining with pain and agony, flickering slightly.

Eugene let out a gentle sigh, bent down to place the gun aside, then embraced the woman in his arms, slowly, slowly cradling her head against his chest. The warm breath made the woman show a comfortable expression as if her pain had instantly eased a lot.

Eugene lowered his head to look at the woman with a bloodstained face, bitterness dancing lightly on his tongue. He involuntarily lifted his right hand, gently stroking the woman's chin with his thumb, as if nurturing his lover, focused and sincere, the rigid lines of his face slowly melting away.

The woman gazed at the soldier close by, dim light seeping through the wooden slats of the cabin, sparse and scattered. The soldier's eyelashes, like butterfly wings, obscured the true emotions in his eyes. She could only catch a glimpse, but the fragile soul was slowly, slowly crumbling, as if witnessing the collapse of the entire world, magnificent and vast. She watched helplessly as kind, innocent, simple, friendly, sincere souls were slowly drained of vitality, their steadfast faith gradually dissipated, the soft golden hue fading away, leaving the breath held for a moment.

The woman couldn't help but raise her left hand, weakly patting Eugene's arm, closing her eyes with difficulty, absorbing that faint warmth.

Watching the fragile life in his arms, Eugene couldn't bear to keep his eyes open, completely concealing the glistening in his eyes. The glimmer in the corners of his eyes was extinguished in an instant as if it was the last trace of mercy and kindness from God. Then, Eugene embraced the woman, his chin against her forehead, gently, gently exhaling, fearing he might awaken the sleeping angel.

The woman, forever asleep like this; God, forever abandoning them.

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