Chapter Ten: The Path One Chooses, One Must Walk to the End—Even on One’s Knees

The stern-faced instructor’s words silenced all those who had been laughing.
Standing in the ranks, I thought that since I was participating in military training, I should do so wholeheartedly; the more I engaged, the more I would gain.
“Permission to speak, Instructor.”
“Speak.”
“The definition of a true man differs for everyone. In my view, a true man is one who is filial, righteous, and loving. He may be poor or timid, but if anyone threatens his family or friends, he would dare to stand up and fight, even if it meant bloodshed. Such a person deserves to be called a true man.”
I am just an ordinary person, aware that I have neither lofty ideals nor ambitions, but as a human being, I believe one should fulfill their duty to humanity.
In this world, there are more timid people than bold ones; if everyone were bold, society would have long since lost its stability.
Yet, even for the timid, everyone should have their own principles and boundaries—some lines must never be crossed.
To me, anyone with boundaries who understands filial piety and righteousness can be called a true man.
For most students, what I said felt closer to daily life and was widely accepted.
“Attention, everyone—run!” The stern-faced instructor listened to my explanation without comment, his expression cold as he ordered us, already exhausted, to continue running.
I wondered whether my understanding had displeased him.
“Are you tired?” After some distance, the instructor asked.
“Yes!” we all shouted in unison.
“Full of energy, keep running.”
“Ah~” We had thought he was asking out of concern, perhaps to let us rest, but it was all just a ploy.
“March in step.” After another stretch, the harsh instructor finally allowed us to switch from running to marching.
I had assumed his stern demeanor was just about his appearance, but it turned out his heart was just as harsh.
“Do you feel you’ve worked hard? Do you feel you’re exhausted? Let me tell you—you’re nowhere near it yet.”
“That student just shared his understanding of what it means to be a true man. I’ve thought about it, and I see why he thinks that way.”
I blinked, realizing he was about to talk about me.
“After careful consideration, I concluded it comes from having suffered too little, from living too comfortably.”
“All I can say is—none of you deserve to be called true men.”
His words stirred dissatisfaction among us.
“Are you not convinced?”
“Yes!” More than a dozen of us, myself included, responded directly.

“Good, I like that. If you’re not convinced, take one step to the right.” The stern-faced instructor finished speaking; I did not hesitate and stepped out from the ranks. Five others, after brief hesitation, followed.
“You few who dare to speak and act are much better than those who just talk and shrink away,” the harsh instructor said bluntly, causing those who had shouted loudly but retreated to feel embarrassed.
“But!” he continued, a slight smirk on his lips, “I don’t believe your defiance, nor do I believe you are true men. I only trust what I see with my own eyes. I don’t believe in ‘saying and doing’—I believe in ‘doing and saying.’”
His words made me reflect. Anyone can talk big, but only those who can deliver earn the right to speak; those who cannot are mere gravel foundations, collapsing at the first sign of adversity.
I agreed with his statement, but I could never accept his claim that I wasn’t a true man.
“It’s simple to prove whether you are true men. Find someone in the ranks who is nearly out of strength and carry their backpack along with your own. You must keep up with the group. If you think you can’t do it, save yourself the embarrassment and return to the ranks.”
He paused, then addressed the rest of the team: “This applies to all of you. Let’s see how many true men we have among these forty-plus people.”
His mocking and disdain were written plainly on his face.
Everyone was young and hot-blooded, and few could withstand such provocation—sixteen more stepped forward.
Coincidentally, our team had forty-four people, and now half had stepped out.
The rest either had other thoughts or simply lacked the courage to carry two backpacks and chose to stay.
Soon, those who stepped forward had a backpack on their chest and another on their back.
“Now, attention—run!”
Carrying a single backpack shifted one’s balance backward, but to everyone’s surprise, having two did not make much difference—at least at first.
But this notion was short-lived.
After marching for a while, I began to feel the strain.
After all, two backpacks meant double the weight, even if balance was improved.
Sweat dripped from the faces of all those carrying extra weight.
No one complained; the path we chose, we would walk on our knees if we had to.
The harsh instructor expressed no opinion on our perseverance, simply running with the group.
Finally, when we caught up with the last group of girls at the rear, he ordered, “Catch up with the girls, then march in step.”
The saying “distance deceives the eye” had never been so true to us; though we could see the girls far ahead, the gap was at least two kilometers. Since they were also moving forward, we’d have to run at least two and a half kilometers more to catch up.

At last, when we reached the final group of girls, I nearly collapsed to the ground.
“Now, those lightly equipped, carry both your own and your helper’s backpack. Everyone, march forward.” The harsh instructor wasted no words and issued the command.
“Ten seconds. Ten, nine, eight…”
The lightly equipped quickly found their own backpacks and hung their helper’s pack on their chest.
“Good, march in step.”
Soon, we left the last group of girls behind, then the second, then the third.
By the end, we had become the undisputed leaders.
“Now, carry your own backpack and continue forward.”
We had set out from school at eight o’clock, carrying heavy loads, and arrived at the military camp just before eleven thirty. Everyone collapsed, unable to even crawl.
“Those who refused to accept defeat, get up and help massage your teammates’ thighs and calves.”
The harsh instructor gave the order, and we struggled to our feet, massaging the legs of those who had helped carry our backpacks.
After five or six minutes, he had those lying comfortably swap places and return the favor.
Lying on the dirty ground, I felt more comfortable than I ever had in my own bed—and I knew I was not alone in this feeling.
“Everyone performed well today—worthy of praise,” the instructor commented mildly.
“Now, does anyone still think they cannot be among the first to reach the training camp?”
We looked at one another; it seemed we were indeed the first group to arrive.
“Three and a half hours—that’s the time you used for twenty-five kilometers.”
“Now, let me tell you what a true man really is. Everyone knows the term ‘man,’ but a true man and a true male are not the same.”
His words left us stunned.
I honestly had no idea what distinguished a true man from a true male.
“Let’s start with ‘true male.’ A true male is defined, first, by knowing himself as a man. Then, as that student said earlier, by having filial piety, righteousness, and love, and sacrificing for family and friends. That is a true male, but not a true man.”