Time Assassin

For Spotsvinia, a small, desolate village in Northern Virginia,
it was just another ordinary day. Trish Harrison, an ordinary young Southern woman, lived alone in this
wilderness and woodland. She knew survival here wouldn't be easy, but she never imagined she'd have to face it alone. Five
years ago, she and her newlywed husband, James Harrison,
came here to cultivate the land, dreaming of "thirty acres, an ox, a wife, children, and a warm bed." He farmed, she raised chickens; life was tough, but it was steadily improving,
full of hope.

Two years ago, the Civil War broke out, and James enlisted in the Confederate Army, away from home for two whole
years. In her heart, Trish was with her husband every day, discussing the mundane yet interesting chores,
her worries, and her loneliness. She prayed every day that this damned war would end quickly and that her husband
would return home safely.

That evening, Trish braved the drizzling rain to repair the chicken coop that had been ravaged by a weasel the night before, when she heard
a groan coming from the nearby woods. She grabbed an axe and, mustering her courage, went to investigate. Lying in the mud at the edge of the woods was
a young man in his early twenties, wearing a grey Southern military uniform, seemingly delirious. Blood mixed with mud
soaked through his tattered uniform, turning it a yellowish-brown.

Trish was athletic and muscular, a capable worker, but her petite 5'3" frame made it
impossible for her to lift the tall, injured man. She could only lay him flat on the ground, and with her last ounce
of strength, dragged him back to her cabin.

After changing into clean clothes, Trish took out a pair of scissors to try and remove his uniform when he regained consciousness
.

"Block Road… I have to get to Block Road," the man murmured, repeating the
name repeatedly.

"Shh... calm down," Trish comforted him. "You're hurt, you need to rest."

"You don't understand," the man struggled to sit up. "I'm fine, I have to get to Block
Road, or everything will be over, everything."

"Everything will be alright, you need to rest now," Trish said softly. "My name is Trish, what's your
name?"

The man didn't answer, but suddenly grabbed her shoulders and asked, "What's the date today?"

"It's Thursday..." Trish replied.

"No, no," the man pressed anxiously, "I mean, what's the date?"

"April 30th."

"What year?" The man's hand trembled slightly. "What year is this?"

"It's 1863, of course." "Tracy has seen patients delirious with fever after being wounded before, so
she wasn't surprised," she said. "Calm down. It's 1863. General Lee's troops are winning battles. The Yankees
are about to collapse. The war is about to end, and everything will be alright." "

Is that so?" The man seemed moved by Tracy's words, took a deep breath, and calmly said, "Thank
God, I still have time." He collapsed, unable to hold on any longer, and lay down again on the straw-covered wooden floor
.

"What's your name?" Tracy asked, carefully cutting open the man's blood-stained clothes with scissors.

"Bond, James Bond," he said, before fainting.

Tracy removed Bond's clothes, gave him a quick check, and finding no obvious wounds,
wrapped him in a blanket. To keep him warm, she added some firewood to the stove, where the hen that had been killed by a weasel the night before was still simmering
. She fetched a basin of water and a new towel to wash his face. After washing away
the blood, a rugged, resolute face was revealed, along with a wound on his forehead. Clearly, a bullet had struck his
temple, but strangely it had veered off course, grazing his skull and leaving only
a large gash behind his ear and across his forehead. Having received basic first-aid training before the war, Trish knew his injury wasn't serious, so she relaxed and
bandaged his forehead with a pre-prepared white cloth.

Next, she lifted the blanket and began to wash Bond's body. As the soft towel rubbed his broad chest, Trish
couldn't help but think of James, her husband, who had a similarly broad and thick chest. She longed to curl up in his arms,
doing nothing, thinking nothing.

After wiping Bond's hard abdominal muscles, Trish's gaze moved downwards, settling between Bond's legs.

His size was similar to James's, but he seemed thicker and more robust, with a similar shape—
the same thickness from front to back, a straight shaft, and a lively appearance even when dormant. Trish's eyes were somewhat glazed, and
she couldn't help but reach out and grasp James's penis, as if her husband had returned to her side.

Trish carefully washed Bond's penis, feeling it begin to grow in her hands. The speed of its growth surprised her,
as did its hardness. James must have been just as sensitive during their honeymoon. She closed her eyes, her wiping
turning into caressing, fantasizing that she held James's hard member in her hands. Two years of suppressed desire fermented within her,
yearning for James's penis to slide deeply into her body.

Trish felt Bond lift his hips to meet her caresses, bringing her back to reality. She glanced up and saw
Bond smiling at her; her face flushed, she looked away, and released her hands.

To Bond, the beautiful woman in the simple dress before him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling with spring,
her gaze both shy and expectant, made him instinctively grasp her hand and place it back on his fully erect penis. He hissed
, "Don't stop, I love it."

Trish struggled only symbolically, her face still red as she continued to stroke his manhood. "I...I'm married,
James."

"Me too," Bond said, "She's in another world, very, very far away." "

Yes, so close yet so far, my James." "What's your name?" Bond asked. His hips moved

involuntarily to the rhythm of Trish's caresses . 　　"Trish, I told you earlier." She relaxed, revealing an innocent smile. 　　"Thank you, Trish, thank you for saving my life." Bond paused, then continued, "And thank you for your other help." He 　　straightened up and slowly, gently yet firmly unbuttoned Tracy's clothes. As he pulled the dress off her shoulders...

As the petticoat fell away, Tracy stood up, letting her dress slide onto the rough wooden floor. She stood
there for a moment, wearing only her petticoat, seemingly showing off her beautiful figure to James, yet also appearing hesitant, before bending down
to kiss Bond.

Bond's tongue skillfully took over, teasing Tracy's mouth, his hands
slipping under her petticoat, gently exploring her body. His large hands slowly and softly slid along Tracy's silky skin
, her strong, firm thighs, her round, firm buttocks, her shapely waist, finally cupping her two
full, glistening breasts, feeling the two nipples harden in his palms.

Together, they pulled Tracy's petticoat over their heads, embracing and kissing as they fell onto the wooden bed. Her legs were tightly
wrapped around his hips, her dark hair brushed against his cheek, her breasts pressed against his chest, and her lips ignited
his passion.

Trish sat up, her taut buttocks resting on Bond's knees. Her deep brown eyes were like
hard walnuts from the Tennessee mountains, his deep blue eyes as profound as blue steel. Their eyes met, igniting
a flame of desire powerful enough to set the entire cabin ablaze. Trish caressed James's erection, his fingers kneading her warm, swollen lips.

"I need you, I want you, James," Trish
murmured in a daze.

Their lower bodies rubbed against each other, tentatively merging into one in slow motion, desire and need filling
their souls. They gazed into each other's eyes, their hearts in sync, a tacit understanding arising within them, their movements quickening
until Bond thrust violently into Trish's body.

Heavy breathing, joyful moans, and wet bodies pounded against the cabin filled with desire, until
finally Trish arched her back, her whole body trembling. The ecstasy of her orgasm washed over her, and she couldn't help but scream
. Trish's frenzied singing ignited Bond, who also reached his climax, deeply ejaculating into Trish's
body.

The two embraced breathlessly for a long time; after the climax, life went on. Trish broke
free from Bond's embrace, looking at his energetic and radiant appearance, and asked curiously, "Is your wound not hurting anymore? You're recovering really
fast."

"You're an excellent nurse," Bond replied.

"What would you like to drink?" Trish got up and put on her petticoat. "There's chicken soup simmering on the stove." "

Give me a martini..." Bond blurted out, then realized they were in
Virginia during the American Civil War, and swallowed the rest of his sentence.

Trish gave him a strange look, and took a bottle of spirits and two ceramic cups from the cupboard.

"Your injury isn't healed yet; you can't drink too much." Trish poured him half a glass, then poured half for herself.

"This is... a Martini?" Bond asked tentatively, looking at the amber liquid in his glass.

"Yes," Trish busied herself setting down the stewed chicken on the table, then took out two sets of cutlery. "
There's only one small general store within dozens of miles of here, and this liquor is homemade. The owner's name is
Martini."

They sat down side-by-side at the table by the fireplace, huddled together under a blanket.

"How did you get injured?"

"I was a scout in the 18th Infantry Regiment of North Carolina. I
was shot by a Yankee sniper while on a mission."

"You're also in General Lee's Northern Virginia Regiment? Do you know a
sergeant named James Harrison? He's my husband; I haven't received a letter from him for months."

"James... James Harrison? Your husband?" “

Yes, he’s in the 40th Regiment in Virginia.”

“Sorry, Tracy, I haven’t heard of him. But we’re fighting a major battle in Chancellorville right now,
the whole regiment is assembling in this area, your husband’s unit should be nearby too.”

“Is that your destination too?”

“Yes, I have to get to the intersection of Block Road and Plank Road by Saturday afternoon.”

“It’s not far from here, only half a day’s walk. But if you don’t get a good night’s sleep, you
won’t be able to go anywhere.”

As they talked, Tracy made the bed. Bond crawled into bed and quickly fell asleep. Tracy gathered
Bond’s soiled clothes scattered on the floor, intending to wash them the next morning. In his inner pocket, she found two
strange things: an oddly shaped silver coin and a pair of black-rimmed glasses.

Curious, she put on the glasses, nearly stumbling. The dimly lit room suddenly became as bright as day before her eyes.
Looking out the window, everything outside seemed bathed in sunlight.

Trish quickly took off her glasses, placed them with Bond's other belongings, and then went to bed, embracing James as they drifted off
to sleep.

The next morning, when Bond woke up, Trish had already finished washing the clothes and hung them on the straw rope outside.

The weather wasn't completely clear yet, with a slight mist, but the rain had stopped. Trish had prepared
her husband's clothes for Bond. They were about the same size, and the clothes fit Bond well, though slightly small, clinging to his body
, revealing glimpses of his muscles.

"Trish, did you see what was in my pocket when you were washing the clothes?"

"You mean this?" Trish took out a silver coin and her glasses and handed them to him. "What's this?" "

The silver coin is my family's heirloom," Bond stammered. "The glasses, well, they're just glasses." "

When I wore it yesterday, I could see clearly in the dark," Trish asked curiously.
"What is that?"

"It's related to my mission, top military secret. I'm sorry, Trish, I can't tell you." "

It's alright," Trish said without hesitation, "It's something I shouldn't have asked." She kissed his cheek, and
the two went to have breakfast hand in hand.

After breakfast, Trish checked Bond's head wound and was surprised to find that it had completely healed, leaving no scar
, only the color of the newly grown flesh was slightly different. Bond said he was in good health, and his wounds always healed so quickly. Then he quickly changed the subject, saying, "Let me help you with the chores. I'll do all
the housework that men usually do today ."

All day long, Bond was busy repairing windows, patching the roof, fetching water, chopping wood, and building the chicken coop. Trish sat at her doorway
, mending clothes while watching James work, as if transported back to the happy times of two years ago.

That night, before going to bed, Trish put on Bond's black-rimmed glasses again, watching his naked body in the darkness. These glasses
were truly magical; everything in her field of vision was exceptionally clear. She could even see the bulging
veins on Bond's penis, the tiny, glistening drop of lubrication at the tip, and every single pubic hair was clearly visible.

Trish quietly removed her clothes and sat naked before him. She slowly parted her legs,
stroking her mons pubis along her pubic hair. When she saw Bond's penis gradually become erect, she quickened her pace, feeling
waves of excitement coursing through her body, her whole body burning with desire.

She inserted a finger along his labia, feeling how wet and slippery it was inside. She put her fingers
in her mouth and sucked, fantasizing that James was tasting her.

Bond's erection grew stronger, and the love juice flowing from the tip gathered into a silvery thread that cascaded down. Tracy's hands caressed
the inside of her thighs, then she began to rub her swollen labia. After a few minutes, her fingers parted her vulva, and
she felt James's tongue slip inside.

James knelt between her legs, his tongue tasting the nectar in her honeyed depths, his fingers teasing her clitoris.
Sweet fluids flowed, running down his cheeks and dripping from his chin onto the floor.

Tracy cried out in pleasure, her body trembling uncontrollably, her legs tightly clamping James's head.
When she finally collapsed onto the bed, James straddled her, his exceptionally thick penis penetrating deeply
inside her. After a frenzied series of thrusts, Tracy lost count of how many times she was brought to ecstasy… After the lovemaking,
Tracy opened her eyes, took off her glasses and put them away, then groped her way to lie down beside Bond in the darkness.

Early the next morning, Bond changed into his military uniform and slipped out while Trish was still asleep. He went to
the grove where he had been shot and found the sniper rifle and Colt revolver he had hidden before losing consciousness. He
put on his glasses and followed the secluded forest path toward his mission on Block Avenue.

In the afternoon, sporadic gunfire could be heard around him. Bond knew he had entered a war zone and became increasingly
cautious. As he climbed over a small hill, he sensed something amiss and immediately hid behind it. A few minutes
later, the branches behind him rustled, and someone approached. As the person drew near, Bond suddenly raised his pistol and jumped out
.

"My God, Trish, it's you? Are you crazy?" Seeing who it was, Bond holstered his gun and roared,
"Do you know how dangerous this is? Both sides have soldiers hidden in the woods and bushes, ready to fire at the slightest sound
!"

Trish didn't speak, but hugged him tightly. "

You should go back now, it's too unsafe here."

Trish shook her head, holding him even tighter.

Bond sighed, turned around, and pointed to a main road to the south, saying, "Take this road, and whatever you do, don't
go near the woods. Guinea Station is ten miles away, our Northern Virginia Army's logistics base.
You'll be safe there. I'll come find you there tonight."

Watching Trish's figure disappear into the distance, Bond finally breathed a sigh of relief and continued on his way. The gunfire grew increasingly
intense. At dusk, he finally reached the intersection of Plank Road and Block Road, and
hid in a nearby grove.

As darkness fell, the battle drew to a close, and the Northern Virginia Army won again. Bond saw
Colonel Purdy leading the 18th Infantry Regiment of North Carolina to control this vital transportation route. This was the first time Bond, who identified himself as a soldier of the 18th Regiment of North Carolina
, had seen his own troops, matching the names in his memory with the living
faces before him.

Bond put on his black-rimmed glasses, activating them to maximum, his vision covering the battlefield for miles around.

Just as darkness fell, his target finally appeared. The target was following a scout unit, personally scouting
the position of the retreating main force of the Union Army's Potomac.

Bond adjusted the night vision function of his glasses, locking onto the officer riding a large white horse, with three stars on his epaulets
.

At 7:15 PM on May 2, 1863,
Lieutenant General Thomas Jackson, nicknamed "Stonewall," commander of the Confederate Army's Second Corps of Northern Virginia, reined in his horse, gestured to his men, and
prepared to return to camp.

Bond picked up his Colt revolver and fired several shots, shouting in a North Carolina accent: "The Yankees
! The Yankees are coming!" The soldiers of the 18th Regiment on both sides of the road were startled, raised their guns, looked around, and then opened
fire on Jackson and his entourage, whose origins were unknown.

Bond holstered his revolver, picked up his sniper rifle, aimed at Jackson's
left arm, and pulled the trigger. A spurt of blood erupted from Jackson's left arm. Bond loaded a second bullet, this time aiming at Jackson's left chest. As the shot
rang out, another stray bullet struck Jackson's right hand, causing him to sway and narrowly avoid his chest
. Bond's bullet struck his left arm again.

"Such stubborn historical inertia," Bond shook his head and lowered his gun.

Jackson's adjutant quickly identified himself, and the misunderstanding was cleared up. The men of the 18th Regiment and the general's entourage
took General Jackson to the nearest field hospital, the Guinea train station. Bond went with them; he was
going there to find his Tracy.

Upon arriving at the field hospital, the general was immediately taken into the operating room for amputation. Bond quickly
spotted Trish, wearing a Red Cross armband, at the hospital .

Trish had received basic nursing training and had been temporarily drafted as a nurse upon arriving at the Guinea train station to care for
wounded soldiers returning from the battlefield. As Bond walked towards her, she cried out in surprise, "James!"

Bond smiled, pushed through the crowd, and hurried over, only to find Trish rushing to a hospital bedside, tightly embracing
the wounded soldier on it.

"Thank God you're alive, James, you're still alive and well," Trish cried, tears streaming down her face
. "I've finally found you."

Sergeant James Harrison, lying on the bed, embraced his wife with relief, wiping away her tears
.

Bond 　　turned and left, taking out a silver coin in a secluded spot and disappearing .

****************

...

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