Gaofeng Wang
Stories (4)
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Dust. AI-Generated.
It was dust. Dust had weight there. It pressed into your mouth when you breathed, ground against your teeth, settled into the creases of your eyes. It coated our boots and crept into our weapons no matter how carefully we cleaned them. When the wind picked up, it hissed across the ground like something alive. Long before I heard a shot fired, I understood that the dust would get inside me and never really leave.
By Gaofeng Wangabout 7 hours ago in History
Frozen Ground
Silence meant the guns were cooling. It meant men were waiting. It meant something was about to break. We were dug in along a frozen stretch of road near the Imjin River, the kind of place that didn’t look important until history decided otherwise. The cold wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was personal. It crept into your boots, your bones, your thoughts. At night, I dreamed of heat: radiators, kitchens, the smell of coffee. I woke up with frost on my helmet.
By Gaofeng Wangabout 12 hours ago in History
