Courtyard House: Home Alone

"Good! What a 'ghost'!" The commander patted Lin Yifan on the shoulder forcefully. "I understand, I understand! You're not concerned about those underhanded tactics, you simply don't bother with them. Would an elephant care about being bitten by ants?"

"You flatter me, sir."

Lin Yifan said solemnly, "'Ghost' never underestimates its enemies, but it is never afraid of them either. The reason we conceal our tracks is not because we are afraid of anything, but because..."

He considered his words for a moment, then continued, "There are some things that are not yet suitable for too many people to know. When the time is right, we will tell the world the truth."

The commander nodded and didn't ask any further questions. The two continued along the mountain path, their horses' hooves crunching through the fallen leaves.

"Comrade Yifan," the commander suddenly spoke after walking for a while, "you just said the plane was nearby, how...did you manage to do that?" He couldn't help but ask.

Lin Yifan smiled slightly, "Chief, these are all secrets of 'Ghost,' and I'm afraid I cannot disclose them."

"Comrade Yifan," the commander's voice softened, "how old are you this year?"

"I can tell you that, he's seven years old."

"Seven..." the leader murmured repeatedly, then suddenly remembered something, "Your surname is Lin, and you speak with a Jiangzhe accent, could it be Comrade Lin Qiqing..."

Lin Yifan stiffened slightly, then quickly regained his composure: "Commander, the night dew is heavy; let's hurry back. There are still many things to prepare for tomorrow."

The leader wisely refrained from pressing further, only letting out a soft sigh. Seven years old—an age when he should be in school, enjoying the company of his parents—yet this boy already carried too many secrets, walking a tightrope.

When the two returned to their camp, the east was already beginning to lighten.

"Comrade Xiaolin, I'll call you Xiaofan."

The commander dismounted and handed the reins to his bodyguard. "You go and rest first. I'll go arrange things for tonight. Our window of opportunity is from 10 PM to 2 AM tonight. At 2 AM sharp, I'll personally go to the airport to see you."

"Yes, sir." Lin Yifan straightened his back, his voice clear and firm. The morning light filtered through the old locust tree in the courtyard, casting dappled shadows on his youthful face, but his eyes revealed a composure and sharpness far beyond his years.

The commander gave him a deep look and nodded. "Alright, stop calling me commander. I've met your parents twice, so just call me Uncle Peng."

Lin Yifan paused slightly, then gave a sincere smile: "Uncle Peng."

This address made the wrinkles on the leader's—no, even Grandpa Peng's—smooth out. He reached out and ruffled Lin Yifan's hair, the gesture carrying a touch of elder's affection: "That's more like it. Go get some sleep; you'll be busy tonight."

He turned and strode away. Wei Dayong followed closely beside Lin Yifan, silent and vigilant like an iron tower.

"Comrade Xiao Fan," Xiao Zhang stepped forward, his tone much more respectful, "the commander instructed me to take you to your resting place. It's in the courtyard next door; it's quiet and safe."

Lin Yifan followed Xiao Zhang through a moon gate to a secluded courtyard. The three brick and tile houses were neatly arranged, and several pots of unknown wildflowers swayed gently in the morning breeze on the windowsill.

"This is……"

"It used to be the house of an old scholar," Xiao Zhang explained. "The old scholar passed away last year, and his son joined our Eighth Route Army, so the courtyard became vacant. The commander said that since you are young, it would be suitable for you to live here."

Lin Yifan felt a warmth in his heart. This leader, though seemingly rough and bold, was actually very thoughtful, even considering such details.

"Thank you for your trouble, sir." He entered the room and saw that brand-new bedding had been laid out on the kang (a heated brick bed), and a teapot and teacups were set on a square table, along with a dish of roasted peanuts and several hard, coarse grain cakes. "This..."

"The commander said you've been traveling all night and must be hungry." Xiao Zhang scratched his head somewhat sheepishly. "Our conditions are tough, we don't have much good food, so please make do with this to tide you over. The cooks will slaughter a pig for lunch to improve your meals."

Lin Yifan picked up a piece of bread and took a bite. The coarse bran made his throat a little sore, but he chewed slowly and carefully. In his previous life, he had eaten delicacies and enjoyed Michelin three-star meals, but he had never felt more at ease with any meal than this.

"Comrade Zhang," he put down the pancake, "does your commander... often stay up this late?"

Xiao Zhang paused for a moment, then smiled wryly, "The commander? He doesn't sleep for days on end. He says he can't sleep, that he has too many things on his mind. We guards are used to it, taking turns keeping watch for him at night, afraid he'll ruin his health."

Lin Yifan nodded and said nothing more. He walked to the window and looked at the distant, continuous ridge of the Taihang Mountains. The morning light was slowly spreading across the mountains, turning the dark green peaks into golden red.

In just over ten hours, this sky will witness an unprecedented change. Three hundred and seventy-two aircraft. This will be the source of the Communist Party's confidence on Chinese soil.

Lin Yifan's lips curled into a slight smile. After tonight, the name "Ghost" would take root and sprout deep in the Taihang Mountains. And what he wanted was never just a few planes and a few guns.

What he wanted was the awakening of a nation and the rebirth of a country.

Outside the window, the sunlight had fully risen above the horizon, illuminating the courtyard brightly and warmly. In the distance came the rhythmic chants of soldiers drilling, neat and resounding, like an ancient ballad echoing across this land steeped in history.

Lin Yifan finally fell into a deep sleep.

In his dream, he saw countless silver eagles soaring over the Great Wall, young pilots saluting the rising sun, and an old man with white hair standing on the Tiananmen Gate, announcing the arrival of a new era in his thick Hunan accent.

When he woke up, it was already three o'clock in the afternoon. He first used his mental power to check the situation outside and found that he was the only person in the entire courtyard except for a sentry at the gate. So, after checking the doors and windows, he slipped into the space.

He first glanced at the more than three hundred planes parked neatly, then went to the area where the pilots were being held.

The pilots were all sitting cross-legged in a small circle on the ground. They had long lost the arrogance they had shown when they first entered. Now they all had their heads down and looked dejected.

Lin Yifan noticed that several young Japanese pilots had red eyes, clearly having cried. Indeed, anyone inexplicably imprisoned in this boundless space, with no one to turn to for help, would inevitably suffer a mental breakdown sooner or later.

He approached slowly, his mental energy transforming into an invisible pressure that enveloped them. The pilots seemed to sense something, and they all raised their heads, looking in terror towards the direction from which the voice came—even though they couldn't see Lin Yifan at all.

"What's your decision?"

Lin Yifan's voice came from all directions, cold and hard like metal, "Become an instructor and teach Chinese people to fly planes, or continue to waste time here?"

There's an old Chinese saying: "A good bird chooses a good tree to perch on." In the near future, this will be your hell. I hope you make your choice soon.