Chapter 34: Welcome strange little friends
An Wujiu’s heart felt as if it were being gripped by something.
But soon, this feeling disappeared as Shen Ti’s hand suddenly landed on his shoulder in a carefree manner, the fingertips lightly tapping. An Wujiu glanced at the hand covered in leather gloves, then turned to look at Shen Ti’s face.
Shen Ti didn’t look at him but lifted his head to look at the two indicator boards. “I always feel that the more melodious the name, the more likely it is to be something unsightly.”
An Wujiu gave up trying to remove his hand because, with Shen Ti’s temperament, he would just put it back.
“Maybe it really is,” said Zhong Yirou.
As they discussed the songs, An Wujiu’s gaze scanned the surroundings, eventually returning to the green wall opposite him, belonging to the “Rainbow Babies.”
Carefully painted on it was a cartoon mural: an adult in farmer’s attire, followed by a group of similarly dressed children. They all worked hard, holding devices and spraying herbicides. In the sky, there was a cloud with a line of text.
[Operation Ranch Hand]
The children’s song continued to play, seemingly endless. The joyful singing made this level feel like a mini-amusement park, much livelier than the first level.
The bouncing brown bear passed by them again, but this time it spoke.
“Welcome! Welcome!” The bear bounced around, facing them but still maintaining its previous rhythm. The voice it emitted was a synthesized electronic sound, full of cartoonish charm.
“We welcome strange little friends, different little friends, all kinds of little friends!”
This kind of childlike thing no longer interested adults, so no one paid it any attention.
Only An Wujiu frowned, finding the expression peculiar.
Strange little friends…
The bear seemed about to leave, but before bouncing away, it paused. “Oh, by the way, there’s a circus performance tonight! Mr. Clown, please open the gate on time!”
After speaking, the bear bounced away to complete its corridor-circling task. But Josh was stunned.
“Mr. Clown… Is he referring to me?”
Shen Ti, with a lollipop in his mouth, mumbled indistinctly, “Seems like it.”
“You are the staff member at this level.” Zhong Yirou pointed at his work badge.
Nan Shan smiled. “Following the rules of the previous level’s game, if we can find the work log of this level, which is Mr. Josh’s specific job, then crack the gate; maybe we can find the key fragments.”
Josh nodded, feeling the pressure instantly. This level was different from the previous one; he was the only staff member here.
“This song makes people uneasy.” Zhong Yirou couldn’t help but complain. “Wasn’t there some system interaction just now? Can’t it be turned off?”
“There might be meaning in this song too,” Wu You whispered.
The silent Yang Erci spoke up, “There’s a legend. During the old Earth era, England went to war with another country. To stop enemy soldiers from invading, the king ordered the burning of London Bridge. After the war, they had to rebuild the bridge, but it collapsed many times, making the process difficult. So, someone came up with a solution to ask the gods for protection to complete the bridge smoothly.”
“What was the solution?” Josh asked.
“Tie the children to the bridge pillars; infuse them with cement and other materials to form human pillars as the foundation of the bridge. This is to pray for the smooth progress of the project through the sacrificial offering of living people.”
“How is that possible?” Josh shook his head directly and said, “This legend is too horrifying.”
Speaking of folklore, Nan Shan seemed to have confidence as if he had relevant expertise: “It’s hard to say whether this thing is true or not; probably 20% true and 80% false. But the use of living people as sacrifices, from ancient times to the present, has happened too many times.”
“This stems from the weakness and evasion in the primitive nature of humans, unable to solve problems, so they resort to so-called gods.” An Wujiu made a rather ruthless conclusion, then changed the topic.
“We won’t split into groups this time; let’s go to the left corridor first.” After speaking, he turned first, heading towards the corridor leading to “Rainbow Babies.”
In an indescribable psychological state, An Wujiu found it difficult to accept that someone would consider the lives of others as expendable due to their belief in some deity.
Whether this innocent blood was offered to the gods or their desires, no one could tell.
“This room won’t open.” Zhong Yirou let go and called Josh to try: “You’re a staff member; see if it works.”
However, when Josh tried to open the door, rainbow-colored words appeared on the pink door.
[D03, today is a play day; the children are not at home.]
“Weird, you can’t open it either.”
They walked a few steps forward and tried others. Just to be sure, An Wujiu and Shen Ti walked at the back, while Nan Shan and Wu You were in the middle. An Wujiu noticed that Nan Shan had been staring at the paintings on the wall, so he asked, “What are you looking at?”
Nan Shan knew he was being spoken to, but he didn’t turn around; he just stared at the painting on the wall. The painting was quite simple: the weather was fine on the sea surface, and many children sat on small boats, playing and laughing. But below the sea surface was a different scene, with gloomy colors and many children sinking, almost all of them with closed eyes, smiling peacefully.
“I’m looking at the sacrifice of living people,” Nan Shan finally said, pointing at the wall. “Sacrifices, especially small boys and girls, because they symbolize the highest purity and beauty of humanity.”
An Wujiu saw it too: “Would a shelter really display such a terrifying mural?”
“Adults always have reasons,” Wu You gave an example, “like telling you that disobedient children will fall into the depths of the sea.”
Shen Ti couldn’t feel sorrow or regret; he just felt that these ways of sacrifice were not to his taste. If he were a god, he would definitely choose the most heinous people in the world for such sacrifices, let them experience the unknown fear and imminent death, and then, in the last minute of their lives, madly repent their misdeeds, though it would be in vain.
That would be interesting.
Bullying children was nothing.
“These ones won’t open either!” Zhong Yirou shouted from the front.
“Don’t go around the corner.”
The four behind also intended to catch up. Just as they were about to lift their feet, Shen Ti suddenly felt something touch his foot. He looked down and saw a small metal can painted with orange stripes.
He planned to bend down to pick it up, but before making the move, he reached out and grabbed An Wujiu’s sleeve. Then he picked up the strange can.
“Why are you holding me?”
“Of course, I’m afraid you’ll run away.” Shen Ti stood up straight, shook the can in his hand, realizing there was liquid inside, and then threw it into An Wujiu’s arms. “What if I get separated? You aren’t worried about me at all.”
What was there to worry about? An Wujiu caught the small can.
He was more worried about ghosts and monsters being manipulated by Shen Ti.
Continuing to move forward, as his sleeve was still being pulled, An Wujiu lowered his head to inspect the small can. On it, only one word was written—orange.
But soon, his toe was blocked by something. Looking down, he saw another metal can. This one had purple stripes, and it was labeled—purple.
“What’s inside these?”
At the sound, An Wujiu looked up and found that Zhong Yirou and the others were also holding different small cans, even blue and red ones.
“So many colors.” Josh looked at the can in his hand, wanting to open it, but An Wujiu stopped him.
“Don’t open it; there might be something unpleasant inside.”
As he spoke, they suddenly heard a rumbling sound. An Wujiu felt uneasy and turned around, only to see countless small cans at the other end of the corridor. These cans all flew up and approached the ceiling, like tiny helicopters.
At the same time, the cans in their hands seemed to come to life, breaking free and flying up. An Wujiu squinted, sensing what was coming, so he shouted, “Cover your mouths and noses!”
Sure enough, in the next second, those rainbow-colored cans sprayed out a fine and even mist. The mist emitted a pungent odor of disinfectant, obviously a chemical product.
Everyone covered their mouths and noses and ran forward. Nan Shan took off the gas mask around his neck and handed it to Wu You. Wu You was stunned for a moment and then forcibly put on the mask.
“You’re a kid; you use it.”
They reacted quickly, but these can-like helicopters were densely packed, like locusts passing through, impossible to avoid.
Running around the corner, An Wujiu saw the boy with two heads again. He stood in the middle of the road, his eyes moist, as if about to cry.
As the beautiful cans flew over his head, he lifted his two heads, staring directly at the fine and cold rainbow-colored medicine. The crystal-clear mist, like a spring rain, moistened the earth and nourished children like him. The gentle drops of water blended into every texture of his skin.
Without hesitation, An Wujiu grabbed the child and ran forward, bringing him along.
It wasn’t until they ran through half of this level’s corridor and entered the domain of “Double Perfect Angels” that the rainbow-colored can planes finally stopped, hovering in place but unable to cross the line.
In the temporarily safe area, An Wujiu lowered his head again and found that the child had disappeared.
“Did you see that child?”
Shen Ti nodded, but it seemed that no one else, except him, had noticed the child’s existence.
The smell of the chemicals was strong, and Josh still covered his mouth and nose, looking incredulously at the roaring “rainbows” on the ceiling.
“What on earth is inside these cans?”
Others didn’t know, but soon they had strange reactions. Zhong Yirou and Yang Erci felt unbearable stomach pains, hunching over to relieve them. Josh felt like his facial skin was melting, constantly touching his face. He looked at Nan Shan, wanting help, but saw one of Nan Shan’s arms directly falling to the ground, continuously bleeding. So, he screamed.
Josh’s scream felt like a sharp thorn stabbing into Wu You’s heart. He wore a gas mask, seemingly not feeling any strange pain, but he felt a faint chill in his stomach. Lowering his head, he saw that his lab coat seemed to be corroded by something.
His stomach and half of his chest were completely exposed to the air, a shocking sight.
An Wujiu watched as everyone’s bodies became deformed, and he also spat out a mouthful of black blood, followed by bleeding from all seven orifices. His fingers began to fall off one by one.
Zhong Yirou almost curled up in the corner, sweat streaming down her forehead. “What on earth is happening…”
An Wujiu felt the blood in his mouth continuously gushing out, intense pain almost emptying his entire body. He subconsciously looked at Shen Ti, only to find that he was intact, standing with his hands behind his back, nothing happening to him.
But behind Shen Ti appeared numerous snake-like things, wrapped in a thin layer of viscous liquid, rubbing, shifting, and maneuvering on the shiny pink floor. They eventually came to An Wujiu’s feet.
Those snake tails wound up his legs from bottom to top, bit by bit.
He turned his head and saw Shen Ti’s hands, previously behind his back, now at his side.
Those hands were the source of the snaketails.
An Wujiu instinctively tried to step back, but because he was entangled, he almost fell backward. Fortunately, a pair of hands grabbed him—Shen Ti’s hands.
In just a split second, his hands had changed back, turning into those hands covered in snake patterns.
The thick and flexible snake tails disappeared.
“Just now, your hands…”
“I know.” Shen Ti saw the panic in his eyes. “I also don’t know why they suddenly changed like that.”
An Wujiu looked down at his own hands, ten fingers intact, not a single one missing. He immediately looked at Wu You, whose previously exposed organs had also returned to the fabric of his lab coat.
Everyone had returned to normal, but everything that happened just now felt like a nightmare, yet not entirely.
The black and red blood that An Wujiu had vomited out did not disappear.
“I think I know what this is.”
Yang Erci supported herself against the wall, her pale face showing a serious expression. “The chemicals in these cans should be rainbow herbicides. The orange one is an orange agent. These chemicals are mixed with toxic substances, dioxins.”
“These substances were originally used for weed control but seemed to have been used to clear visual obstacles during a war long ago.”
Hearing this, Nan Shan closed his eyes and began silently chanting the death mantra.
Zhong Yirou also recalled something: “Indeed, there was such a thing. It seems that because the vegetation at the combat site was very dense and had high concealment, the US military ① directly sprayed it with airplanes. Dioxin is a substance that is difficult for the human body to metabolize, with a half-life of nine years, and it will be absorbed along the food chain, entering a second cycle…”
“That’s right,” Yang Erci nodded. “I’ve seen information about this bio-disaster. They sprayed over seventy million liters of highly toxic herbicides for nine years, killing not only the vegetation but also entering the human body. Even the breast milk of local women contained dioxin. So, after that…”
Her usually icy face showed some emotion at this moment.
“Many deformed children were born in the affected area.”
An Wujiu understood.
From the beginning, the two-headed boy, to the later cans, their distortions were all reminders of this bloody past.
For a full nine years, their sky was filled with these poisonous rainbow potions.
After a moment of silence, the little bear arrived in front of them once again. But this time, drenched in rainbow potion, it only had one arm and one leg left, so it could only hop on one leg, like playing hopscotch.
“Welcome! Welcome!”
“Here welcomes Rainbow Babies; deformity is another kind of beauty!”
The author has something to say:
① The contamination of “Agent Orange” occurred during the Vietnam War in the 1960s, and this year marks the sixtieth anniversary of the Agent Orange disaster. The US military sprayed over seventy million liters of highly toxic herbicides for nine years (they named it “Operation Ranch Hand“), causing severe biochemical pollution. You can search for it for more details (the images may be gruesome), or you can watch the documentary “Toxic Legacy.”
By the way, this herbicide was also developed by Dow Chemical, although the original intention of the inventor was for weed control.
The legend of human pillars is folklore, and there is a novel by Li Bihua that tells this legend. However, Operation Ranch Hand is real, and its hazards persist to this day.
Chapter 34: Welcome strange little friends
An Wujiu’s heart felt as if it were being gripped by something.
But soon, this feeling disappeared as Shen Ti’s hand suddenly landed on his shoulder in a carefree manner, the fingertips lightly tapping. An Wujiu glanced at the hand covered in leather gloves, then turned to look at Shen Ti’s face.
Shen Ti didn’t look at him but lifted his head to look at the two indicator boards. “I always feel that the more melodious the name, the more likely it is to be something unsightly.”
An Wujiu gave up trying to remove his hand because, with Shen Ti’s temperament, he would just put it back.
“Maybe it really is,” said Zhong Yirou.
As they discussed the songs, An Wujiu’s gaze scanned the surroundings, eventually returning to the green wall opposite him, belonging to the “Rainbow Babies.”
Carefully painted on it was a cartoon mural: an adult in farmer’s attire, followed by a group of similarly dressed children. They all worked hard, holding devices and spraying herbicides. In the sky, there was a cloud with a line of text.
[Operation Ranch Hand]
The children’s song continued to play, seemingly endless. The joyful singing made this level feel like a mini-amusement park, much livelier than the first level.
The bouncing brown bear passed by them again, but this time it spoke.
“Welcome! Welcome!” The bear bounced around, facing them but still maintaining its previous rhythm. The voice it emitted was a synthesized electronic sound, full of cartoonish charm.
“We welcome strange little friends, different little friends, all kinds of little friends!”
This kind of childlike thing no longer interested adults, so no one paid it any attention.
Only An Wujiu frowned, finding the expression peculiar.
Strange little friends…
The bear seemed about to leave, but before bouncing away, it paused. “Oh, by the way, there’s a circus performance tonight! Mr. Clown, please open the gate on time!”
After speaking, the bear bounced away to complete its corridor-circling task. But Josh was stunned.
“Mr. Clown… Is he referring to me?”
Shen Ti, with a lollipop in his mouth, mumbled indistinctly, “Seems like it.”
“You are the staff member at this level.” Zhong Yirou pointed at his work badge.
Nan Shan smiled. “Following the rules of the previous level’s game, if we can find the work log of this level, which is Mr. Josh’s specific job, then crack the gate; maybe we can find the key fragments.”
Josh nodded, feeling the pressure instantly. This level was different from the previous one; he was the only staff member here.
“This song makes people uneasy.” Zhong Yirou couldn’t help but complain. “Wasn’t there some system interaction just now? Can’t it be turned off?”
“There might be meaning in this song too,” Wu You whispered.
The silent Yang Erci spoke up, “There’s a legend. During the old Earth era, England went to war with another country. To stop enemy soldiers from invading, the king ordered the burning of London Bridge. After the war, they had to rebuild the bridge, but it collapsed many times, making the process difficult. So, someone came up with a solution to ask the gods for protection to complete the bridge smoothly.”
“What was the solution?” Josh asked.
“Tie the children to the bridge pillars; infuse them with cement and other materials to form human pillars as the foundation of the bridge. This is to pray for the smooth progress of the project through the sacrificial offering of living people.”
“How is that possible?” Josh shook his head directly and said, “This legend is too horrifying.”
Speaking of folklore, Nan Shan seemed to have confidence as if he had relevant expertise: “It’s hard to say whether this thing is true or not; probably 20% true and 80% false. But the use of living people as sacrifices, from ancient times to the present, has happened too many times.”
“This stems from the weakness and evasion in the primitive nature of humans, unable to solve problems, so they resort to so-called gods.” An Wujiu made a rather ruthless conclusion, then changed the topic.
“We won’t split into groups this time; let’s go to the left corridor first.” After speaking, he turned first, heading towards the corridor leading to “Rainbow Babies.”
In an indescribable psychological state, An Wujiu found it difficult to accept that someone would consider the lives of others as expendable due to their belief in some deity.
Whether this innocent blood was offered to the gods or their desires, no one could tell.
“This room won’t open.” Zhong Yirou let go and called Josh to try: “You’re a staff member; see if it works.”
However, when Josh tried to open the door, rainbow-colored words appeared on the pink door.
[D03, today is a play day; the children are not at home.]
“Weird, you can’t open it either.”
They walked a few steps forward and tried others. Just to be sure, An Wujiu and Shen Ti walked at the back, while Nan Shan and Wu You were in the middle. An Wujiu noticed that Nan Shan had been staring at the paintings on the wall, so he asked, “What are you looking at?”
Nan Shan knew he was being spoken to, but he didn’t turn around; he just stared at the painting on the wall. The painting was quite simple: the weather was fine on the sea surface, and many children sat on small boats, playing and laughing. But below the sea surface was a different scene, with gloomy colors and many children sinking, almost all of them with closed eyes, smiling peacefully.
“I’m looking at the sacrifice of living people,” Nan Shan finally said, pointing at the wall. “Sacrifices, especially small boys and girls, because they symbolize the highest purity and beauty of humanity.”
An Wujiu saw it too: “Would a shelter really display such a terrifying mural?”
“Adults always have reasons,” Wu You gave an example, “like telling you that disobedient children will fall into the depths of the sea.”
Shen Ti couldn’t feel sorrow or regret; he just felt that these ways of sacrifice were not to his taste. If he were a god, he would definitely choose the most heinous people in the world for such sacrifices, let them experience the unknown fear and imminent death, and then, in the last minute of their lives, madly repent their misdeeds, though it would be in vain.
That would be interesting.
Bullying children was nothing.
“These ones won’t open either!” Zhong Yirou shouted from the front.
“Don’t go around the corner.”
The four behind also intended to catch up. Just as they were about to lift their feet, Shen Ti suddenly felt something touch his foot. He looked down and saw a small metal can painted with orange stripes.
He planned to bend down to pick it up, but before making the move, he reached out and grabbed An Wujiu’s sleeve. Then he picked up the strange can.
“Why are you holding me?”
“Of course, I’m afraid you’ll run away.” Shen Ti stood up straight, shook the can in his hand, realizing there was liquid inside, and then threw it into An Wujiu’s arms. “What if I get separated? You aren’t worried about me at all.”
What was there to worry about? An Wujiu caught the small can.
He was more worried about ghosts and monsters being manipulated by Shen Ti.
Continuing to move forward, as his sleeve was still being pulled, An Wujiu lowered his head to inspect the small can. On it, only one word was written—orange.
But soon, his toe was blocked by something. Looking down, he saw another metal can. This one had purple stripes, and it was labeled—purple.
“What’s inside these?”
At the sound, An Wujiu looked up and found that Zhong Yirou and the others were also holding different small cans, even blue and red ones.
“So many colors.” Josh looked at the can in his hand, wanting to open it, but An Wujiu stopped him.
“Don’t open it; there might be something unpleasant inside.”
As he spoke, they suddenly heard a rumbling sound. An Wujiu felt uneasy and turned around, only to see countless small cans at the other end of the corridor. These cans all flew up and approached the ceiling, like tiny helicopters.
At the same time, the cans in their hands seemed to come to life, breaking free and flying up. An Wujiu squinted, sensing what was coming, so he shouted, “Cover your mouths and noses!”
Sure enough, in the next second, those rainbow-colored cans sprayed out a fine and even mist. The mist emitted a pungent odor of disinfectant, obviously a chemical product.
Everyone covered their mouths and noses and ran forward. Nan Shan took off the gas mask around his neck and handed it to Wu You. Wu You was stunned for a moment and then forcibly put on the mask.
“You’re a kid; you use it.”
They reacted quickly, but these can-like helicopters were densely packed, like locusts passing through, impossible to avoid.
Running around the corner, An Wujiu saw the boy with two heads again. He stood in the middle of the road, his eyes moist, as if about to cry.
As the beautiful cans flew over his head, he lifted his two heads, staring directly at the fine and cold rainbow-colored medicine. The crystal-clear mist, like a spring rain, moistened the earth and nourished children like him. The gentle drops of water blended into every texture of his skin.
Without hesitation, An Wujiu grabbed the child and ran forward, bringing him along.
It wasn’t until they ran through half of this level’s corridor and entered the domain of “Double Perfect Angels” that the rainbow-colored can planes finally stopped, hovering in place but unable to cross the line.
In the temporarily safe area, An Wujiu lowered his head again and found that the child had disappeared.
“Did you see that child?”
Shen Ti nodded, but it seemed that no one else, except him, had noticed the child’s existence.
The smell of the chemicals was strong, and Josh still covered his mouth and nose, looking incredulously at the roaring “rainbows” on the ceiling.
“What on earth is inside these cans?”
Others didn’t know, but soon they had strange reactions. Zhong Yirou and Yang Erci felt unbearable stomach pains, hunching over to relieve them. Josh felt like his facial skin was melting, constantly touching his face. He looked at Nan Shan, wanting help, but saw one of Nan Shan’s arms directly falling to the ground, continuously bleeding. So, he screamed.
Josh’s scream felt like a sharp thorn stabbing into Wu You’s heart. He wore a gas mask, seemingly not feeling any strange pain, but he felt a faint chill in his stomach. Lowering his head, he saw that his lab coat seemed to be corroded by something.
His stomach and half of his chest were completely exposed to the air, a shocking sight.
An Wujiu watched as everyone’s bodies became deformed, and he also spat out a mouthful of black blood, followed by bleeding from all seven orifices. His fingers began to fall off one by one.
Zhong Yirou almost curled up in the corner, sweat streaming down her forehead. “What on earth is happening…”
An Wujiu felt the blood in his mouth continuously gushing out, intense pain almost emptying his entire body. He subconsciously looked at Shen Ti, only to find that he was intact, standing with his hands behind his back, nothing happening to him.
But behind Shen Ti appeared numerous snake-like things, wrapped in a thin layer of viscous liquid, rubbing, shifting, and maneuvering on the shiny pink floor. They eventually came to An Wujiu’s feet.
Those snake tails wound up his legs from bottom to top, bit by bit.
He turned his head and saw Shen Ti’s hands, previously behind his back, now at his side.
Those hands were the source of the snaketails.
An Wujiu instinctively tried to step back, but because he was entangled, he almost fell backward. Fortunately, a pair of hands grabbed him—Shen Ti’s hands.
In just a split second, his hands had changed back, turning into those hands covered in snake patterns.
The thick and flexible snake tails disappeared.
“Just now, your hands…”
“I know.” Shen Ti saw the panic in his eyes. “I also don’t know why they suddenly changed like that.”
An Wujiu looked down at his own hands, ten fingers intact, not a single one missing. He immediately looked at Wu You, whose previously exposed organs had also returned to the fabric of his lab coat.
Everyone had returned to normal, but everything that happened just now felt like a nightmare, yet not entirely.
The black and red blood that An Wujiu had vomited out did not disappear.
“I think I know what this is.”
Yang Erci supported herself against the wall, her pale face showing a serious expression. “The chemicals in these cans should be rainbow herbicides. The orange one is an orange agent. These chemicals are mixed with toxic substances, dioxins.”
“These substances were originally used for weed control but seemed to have been used to clear visual obstacles during a war long ago.”
Hearing this, Nan Shan closed his eyes and began silently chanting the death mantra.
Zhong Yirou also recalled something: “Indeed, there was such a thing. It seems that because the vegetation at the combat site was very dense and had high concealment, the US military ① directly sprayed it with airplanes. Dioxin is a substance that is difficult for the human body to metabolize, with a half-life of nine years, and it will be absorbed along the food chain, entering a second cycle…”
“That’s right,” Yang Erci nodded. “I’ve seen information about this bio-disaster. They sprayed over seventy million liters of highly toxic herbicides for nine years, killing not only the vegetation but also entering the human body. Even the breast milk of local women contained dioxin. So, after that…”
Her usually icy face showed some emotion at this moment.
“Many deformed children were born in the affected area.”
An Wujiu understood.
From the beginning, the two-headed boy, to the later cans, their distortions were all reminders of this bloody past.
For a full nine years, their sky was filled with these poisonous rainbow potions.
After a moment of silence, the little bear arrived in front of them once again. But this time, drenched in rainbow potion, it only had one arm and one leg left, so it could only hop on one leg, like playing hopscotch.
“Welcome! Welcome!”
“Here welcomes Rainbow Babies; deformity is another kind of beauty!”
The author has something to say:
① The contamination of “Agent Orange” occurred during the Vietnam War in the 1960s, and this year marks the sixtieth anniversary of the Agent Orange disaster. The US military sprayed over seventy million liters of highly toxic herbicides for nine years (they named it “Operation Ranch Hand“), causing severe biochemical pollution. You can search for it for more details (the images may be gruesome), or you can watch the documentary “Toxic Legacy.”
By the way, this herbicide was also developed by Dow Chemical, although the original intention of the inventor was for weed control.
The legend of human pillars is folklore, and there is a novel by Li Bihua that tells this legend. However, Operation Ranch Hand is real, and its hazards persist to this day.
