The Survivors

The last picture in the album was one he added last night. It was a miniature of a 1940 French military deployment map. When zoomed in, you could see the weak point at the northern end of the Maginot Line, in the Ardennes Forest region, marked with the words "Impassable, no heavy troops required."

Lorraine nodded. This was exactly the same arrogance France had shown back then, believing that there was no way the enemy could attack from here. As a result, the German army poured in from here and then conquered France.

Negligence is one aspect, but the possibility of a traitor cannot be ruled out, especially since this traitor holds a high position.

Loran swiped his thumb across the screen and saw his memo in a prominent position. He reached out and tapped on it.

He didn't have the habit of keeping memos, but the contents of one of them surprised him greatly.

That was a concise timeline:

May 10, 1940: Germany invaded France, with its main force passing through the Ardennes Forest.

May 15, 1940: The Netherlands surrendered.

May 28, 1940: Belgium surrendered.

June 14, 1940: German troops enter Paris.

June 22, 1940: France and Germany signed an armistice agreement.

Loran was very clear about this timeline, but he was certain that he had never typed this information into his phone!

There is another document.

Loran watched intently.

If possible, the people you would like to save during World War II:

Polish cryptographer Marian Rejewski (fled to France in 1940, and later to Britain).

French physicist Hans von Halban (nuclear research expert, possibly captured by Germany).

And a dozen or so relatively unknown scholars and artists who, according to records, would perish in the war.

Loran felt the name sounded familiar, but couldn't recall the specific identity.

However, more worried about the sudden appearance of the content on his phone than about who used his phone and typed those words without his knowledge.

Loran frowned. His phone vibrated, displaying a notification: Low battery, will shut down in ten seconds...

Loran took a deep breath and silently prayed that what she was seeing was an illusion, as her phone still had plenty of battery.

Then, the screen dimmed, and finally went completely black as the last bit of battery power was used up.

Loran closed his eyes. With a smartphone, even without internet access, the survival rate would be greatly increased, but now, the phone was out of battery.

More importantly, he didn't have a charger on him.

Forget it! Even without a cell phone, as long as I behave more cautiously than others, I can still survive!

After all, such a large country has a considerable number of survivors.

Lorraine rallied, took a sip of coffee, and just then, the doorbell rang again.

A familiar voice called out, "Loran? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Lorraine looked toward the doorway and saw a young woman standing there. Her slender body was wrapped in a dark coat, her chestnut curly hair was blown into a mess, and her cheeks were flushed from running.

Charlotte arrived; she did indeed have a dimple on her left cheek, which was now taut with anxiety.

"You said you'd wait for me at the school gate at five o'clock." Charlotte approached, her tone filled with reproach and worry. "Then Professor DuPont said you didn't show up at all. I went to your apartment, and the neighbors said you went to the river."

Her gaze fell on Loran's cracked eyes, and she exclaimed in surprise, "My God, what happened?"

Loran stared at the young woman, lost in thought. He wanted to say something, but no sound came out.

Should we deceive them like strangers, or tell them the cruel truth?

Saying I'm not your Lorraine? Saying your city will be occupied in six months, you might die a horrible death in a concentration camp in four years, and if we have a child, he'll grow up in a shattered France?

Lorraine swallowed hard. He knew that saying these things would only make him seem like a madman, because these words had already been clearly stated by those pessimistic scholars who asserted that France could not withstand the German attack and would face national annihilation.

Even if no one told him, Loran couldn't bear to reveal the truth. The extra memories in his mind made him unwilling to hurt the girl.

"I tripped and fell," Lorraine finally said. "By the river, my eye was broken, and I'm a little dizzy."

Charlotte sat down opposite him and took his hand. Her hand was warm and real.

"You've been working too hard lately. The war... the war makes everyone nervous." She lowered her voice. "Today, everyone at school is saying they heard artillery fire from the Maginot Line, but the newspapers say it's a hoax."

Lorraine's wrist was being squeezed painfully, so he grabbed her hand in return and saw surprise and joy in her eyes.

However, what Lorraine saw was not just his fiancée, but a historical figure who was about to experience the great escape of 1940, the Paris siege of 1942, and the liberation of 1944.

This woman will experience unimaginable suffering, just like tens of thousands of ordinary French people.

"Charlotte." This was the first time Loran had called her by that name.

"Well, your attitude has finally improved. You know, for the past two years I thought you were crazy," Charlotte said.

Loran paused for a moment, then slowly said, "If I were to tell you some of my guesses about this war, the bad things..."

Towards the end, Loran fell silent. These words were far too negative and would probably only be taken as a joke.

Charlotte tilted her head, her emerald green eyes appearing exceptionally large in the café's lighting: "For example?"

Lorraine took a deep breath and looked across the river at Notre Dame Cathedral, whose silhouette had now blended into the darkness, as if foreshadowing something bad about to happen.

Six months, 188 days, the countdown to death.

"For example," Loran said softly, his voice almost swallowed by the jazz music, "the German tanks won't come in through the Maginot Line; they'll come from somewhere we think is impossible, and faster than anyone can imagine."

Even though the Ardennes Forest was rugged and had many trees, it did not stop the German tanks.

People of this era simply could not comprehend how such a cold, enormous creature could so easily traverse mountains.

Loran wasn't entirely sure that Charlotte would believe such words.

Charlotte stared at him with a puzzled look, first confusion, then a growing fear.

Loran spoke with an almost desperate certainty.

Charlotte sat frozen in her seat, unable to utter a word for a long time.

There was silence for a long time.

She said earnestly, "I will keep this in mind. If necessary, please contact Professor DuPont and share your thoughts."

Seeing how easily Charlotte believed him, Lorraine felt a pang of guilt. If Charlotte told others about this, she would likely be seen as a madwoman.

"I shouldn't have told her," Loran thought to himself, then feigned surprise and said, "You believe me?"

Charlotte, who had been looking serious, suddenly widened her eyes: "You're lying to me?!"

Loran coughed twice and explained, "Who told you to be so gullible, believing everything you say?"

Charlotte was initially annoyed, but then her expression turned to joy: "It's alright, I'm so glad to see you're feeling better, Loran. Really, you haven't laughed like this in so long."

Loran nodded and politely replied, "Thank you for your concern."

Charlotte glanced at her watch, lightly slapped her forehead, and explained, "I have to go now. There's one more thing; you don't need to come to the dinner party tonight."

Lorraine then remembered that they were supposed to have dinner at Charlotte's house at seven o'clock that evening, which had been arranged a few days ago.

Why?

"Because some uninvited guests came to my house," Charlotte said dejectedly. "They were officers, you know, politicians always have close ties."