On a winter morning in Shaoxing, Zhejiang, 96-year-old Lu Xiaofen sits primped and expectant in a convalescent ward. At 68, retired soldier Yu Shuirong arrives on cue, carrying milk and bread, settles at her bedside and greets her as “mother” — a relationship born not of blood but of a life-and-death pledge made on a battlefield in 1984.
Yu and Li Guiyou fought side by side as squad leaders on a contested ridge known in their unit as the 116 high ground. On the eve of an assault, the two men drank water in lieu of wine and vowed that if one fell the survivor would look after the other’s parents. Li was mortally wounded in the fighting; Yu survived and, soon after, met Li’s mother and publicly pledged to be her son.
That pledge has structured Yu’s life since: he has visited Lu every month on the 18th for more than 40 years, regardless of work, travel or illness. He has taken a wife, had a son and a grandson, and brought each generation to recognize Lu as “grandmother,” turning a private promise into a multigenerational family routine.
The episode is intimate but not incidental. In modern China, stories of battlefield sacrifice and lifelong fidelity between comrades are frequently highlighted as moral exemplars, folding personal devotion into broader narratives of duty, loyalty and filial piety. Yu’s monthly pilgrimage is both a private act of conscience and a public illustration of values the state and society prize.
Viewed through a social lens, the story also touches on practical issues facing veterans and bereaved families. As the generation that fought in border skirmishes in the 1980s ages, personal networks of obligation often substitute for — or supplement — formal welfare arrangements. Yu’s case is exceptional for its visibility; countless other families rely on state pensions, community care or less consistent familial support.
For international readers, the human detail matters as much as the political framing. The narrative shows how war creates durable social bonds that can outlast institutions and how individual acts of fidelity are woven into China’s civic language of sacrifice. Such stories help explain why the memory of these conflicts remains salient in local communities even as Beijing emphasizes stability and social cohesion.
Yu’s explanation of his persistence is spare: he seeks nothing material, only the peace of having kept his word. Whether regarded as an expression of classical filial duty, military brotherhood, or a civic model, the ritual of the 18th underlines how personal promises can become a public ethic and how memory, obligation and care cross the boundary between battlefield and bedside.