CDJMM – Volume 4 -Chapter 56 Filming in the Interstellar Era (56)

After that, the world changed with each passing day; everything was in flux.

The flames of war burned without end, sweeping across more than a dozen planets. Tens of millions of humans and Zerg faced each other on the battlefield with blades drawn.

Would the world become better? Or worse?

The tens of billions of lives being swept along by the tides of the era had no time to consider such questions. They were giving everything they had simply to survive.

From the macro perspective of civilization, the Second Planetary War had no absolute justice nor absolute evil. Even the Zerg, who initiated the war, did so merely to fight for more resources and living space.

As long as they are intelligent beings, their genes carry the instinct to reproduce and expand. Humans and Zerg alike.

The expansion of civilization is, by nature, drenched with blood, conspiracy, and war. The history of interstellar civilizations is, in essence, a history of warfare.

Only when the dust settles will the surviving humans summarize and reflect, assigning definitions and meaning to the war.

But at this moment, humans had no time for contemplation.

Right now, they had no retreat. They could only win.

If they lost, human civilization would be destroyed, and future generations would become prisoners, Zerg vassals—and livestock.

Luo Jing had been closely tracking every development at the front.

The human campaign was not going well.

While humans remained oblivious, the Zerg had infiltrated them for who-knows-how-many years. Politics, economics, culture—Zerg traces were everywhere.

No one knew how many more puppets like the European Federation President were still hidden.

These controlled puppets were time bombs among humans, waiting to detonate and deliver fatal blows.

Because of them, human military intelligence had been seriously leaked. All their strategies were in the hands of the enemy, and on the front lines, humanity’s robot armies suffered defeat after defeat.

The losses brought domestic morale to rock bottom. Online, voices advocating surrender to the Zerg began to spread.

A certain group of so-called “smart people” believed that the war was entirely the result of the UN government’s reckless decision. They claimed the President’s assassination was a government conspiracy, a false accusation against the Zerg, merely a pretext to start a war. Likewise, they argued that the government should “cut its losses” and surrender.

They said:

“The Zerg Queen already said that as long as we surrender, we’ll return to peaceful life. She even guarantees no treaties—just compensation for part of their military expenditure!”

“We pay so much tax every year—NOT to fight wars! This warmongering will make all humanity into sacrifices for the ambitions of a few!”

“Why must we fight? Can’t humans and Zerg sit at a negotiation table? This war will set our economy back at least five years!”

“Because of this war, my company collapsed and I lost my job! I can’t survive anymore! Are you forcing me to hang myself at the UN government’s doorstep?!”

Some of them weren’t even controlled by the Zerg. They simply possessed the petit bourgeois softness and naïveté—a refined kind of selfishness.

In peaceful times, they lived delicate, tasteful lives, admired by all. But when war broke out and their personal interests were threatened, they easily turned into fence-sitters and traitors.

Luo Jing scoffed at their childish fantasies. The Zerg Queen’s words couldn’t fool a child.

Even among humans, victors have always been cruel and merciless to the defeated. Yet they naïvely believed an alien species would treat them kindly.

To possess treasure is a crime—this was understood by ancient people thousands of years ago. And if the one possessing the treasure is weak and defenseless, then being divided among wolves is only a matter of time.

Since the war had begun, humanity must win.

Surrender meant showing weakness, and then, it wouldn’t just be the Zerg invading the Earth Alliance. The entire galaxy might join the frenzy to carve it up.

Just like what happened to China during the Qing Dynasty.

More than a century of humiliating history proved a truth: “Backwardness invites aggression.”

The Iron Chancellor Bismarck said, “Truth lies within the range of cannons.”

A great Chinese leader said, “Political power grows from the barrel of a gun.”

As long as your fist is bigger, you are the truth.

Luo Jing planned to use a series of films to remind the world of this truth.

He could not help on the battlefield, but he could use film to boost morale, inspire resolve, and drown out the discordant voices from the rear.

The soldiers fighting and bleeding at the front should not have their hearts chilled by ridicule and slander from behind.

Luo Jing’s next plan was to shoot a war-themed film series.

In these films would appear:
— A king delivering an impassioned speech amid the ruins of London.
— Martyrs slaughtered by reactionaries in the Zhazidong prison.
— Black slaves fighting desperately against colonial oppression for freedom.
— Native American warriors struggling to survive genocidal massacres in the United States…

They hailed from different nations, classes, skin colors, languages, cultures, and beliefs. Some succeeded, some failed; some were imprisoned, some died; some died gloriously, others vanished without a name.

But they were all human.

Under the crushing pressure of their times, in the collision of tides, the radiance they released at the brink of life and death once briefly illuminated the endless night and nourished the barren deserts of the human heart.

This is the brilliance and backbone of humanity.

This was what Luo Jing wanted audiences to see.

Posterity should know how many “fools” once threw eggs at stones. They defied their era, went against the current, did what they knew could not be done, and rarely met good ends.

But human civilization has survived because of these stubborn “fools.” In every great calamity, heroes emerged to guide entire eras forward, helping humanity stumble onward.

Now, this war was completely different from all Earth’s ancient wars. The enemy was no longer human—it was a wholly alien species.

Luo Jing’s films portrayed human conflicts, but the core remained unchanged—freedom.

“All beings compete for freedom under the frosty sky.”

Humanity is a species that pursues freedom.

For freedom, people sent kings and queens to the guillotine; black slaves resisted for centuries; Native Americans were massacred; China ended its imperial system; revolutions and uprisings arose endlessly across the world…

It was the same in ancient Earth, and it remains so now.

Luo Jing hoped his films would awaken in people the yearning for freedom, encourage more true fighters for human rights to stand up and battle to the end—for freedom, for destiny, for humanity, for civilization.

Peace can only be won by the fist.

This was the true community of human destiny. Every human must set aside narrow self-interest and unite against the enemy. Anyone who drags humanity down is a sinner to all humankind.

His new film plan quickly received government approval, and the Chief personally met with him.

“In such a perilous time, films like these can undoubtedly boost morale,” the Chief said, expression complex but smiling warmly. “By reviewing history, people can understand how difficult the human journey toward freedom has been. If we retreat now, we betray our predecessors and fail our descendants.”

“So we must never stop here!” The Chief laughed heartily, eyes shining like a youth’s. “Our journey is the sea of stars!”

Luo Jing smiled brightly and nodded firmly. “Yes. As long as humanity lives, our steps toward freedom will never cease.”

“I’m looking forward to your new film,” the Chief said with deep admiration. “I really don’t know how your brain works—your inspiration never runs dry. This series alone has so many stories from ancient Earth. How did you come up with it all?”

The young man smiled faintly. “In a dream.” His amber eyes grew distant. “I saw it all in a dream, and recorded it as it was.”

The Chief burst out laughing. “You artistic types…” He shook his head helplessly. “Alright, I won’t keep you. Try to finish the first film before the Spring Festival.”

It was September, leaving only four or five months. The schedule was undeniably tight. Luo Jing would have to race against time.

Thanks to the national fast-track support, two weeks later Luo Jing had assembled his crew. Many had been with him since Record of the Republican Literary Giants.

The first film would be the story of Zhazidong.

A story of those who died before the dawn of a new world.

On the eve of the founding of New China, these brave intellectuals, filled with ideals, were brutally murdered by frantic reactionaries. They never saw the red flag unfurl or the new world they dreamed of.

Some betrayed their class for their ideals—born into wealth, yet sacrificing their lives for the poor. Some were frail scholars with no strength for violence, yet their courage put many generals to shame.

They were Jiang Jie, Little Radish Head, Yang Hucheng, Luo Shiwen… They came from many walks of life—soldiers, journalists, teachers, students, farmers, and guerrilla fighters.

They died without ever knowing what the Five-Star Red Flag looked like.

Their bodies were destroyed, but their souls would live forever.

Such iron-willed warriors were the best answer to the weak and naïve petit bourgeois!

…

Mo Mingrui learned about Luo Jing’s new film from StarBlog while packing his luggage.

He was heading to the front.

As a war correspondent, he would document everything he saw through his lens and his pen.

It was his duty—and his journalistic ideals.

He once thought he would be afraid, but once he made the decision, a deep calm settled in his heart.

This was what it meant to truly be alive.

He lifted his camera—not for history books, but for the people.

Now, he only hoped he could return alive to watch Luo Jing’s film.