Courtyard House: I Have Countless Bodyguards

He immediately concentrated and silently recited in his mind:

"Summoning System!"

A pale blue light screen appeared. He issued the command without hesitation:

"System, summon two suicide soldiers! Their identities are set as: descendants of my comrades (martyrs), who have practiced martial arts since childhood, are of good character, and yearn to devote themselves to revolutionary construction. Automatically generate valid identification documents and letters of introduction."

[Command confirmed. Summoning 2 assassins... Identity information generated... Summoning complete. The assassins will appear near the host in a reasonable manner within 12 hours and establish contact with the host.]

After arranging the assassins, Liu Jianguo already had a plan in mind: he thought he could take this opportunity to plant two more informants in the Public Security Bureau, so that he, as the deputy director on temporary assignment, would have more real power.

The next morning, Liu Jianguo got up, washed up, and went to work. At the Intermediate People's Court, he ran into Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, and others who were also heading to the factory. He casually greeted them and went straight to the Public Security Bureau.

Upon arriving at the branch office, he saw the familiar old man on duty sitting in the gatehouse again. Liu Jianguo was in a good mood this time, so he walked straight up to him and said jokingly:

"Good morning, sir! I don't need to register again this time, right? I'm an officially registered deputy director now, you don't not recognize me, do you?"

The doorman glanced at him, his face expressionless, and said in his usual indifferent tone:

"I remember you, Deputy Director Liu. Go on up, go on, go do what you're supposed to do, don't disturb my peace and quiet."

After saying that, without waiting for Liu Jianguo to say anything more, he waved his hand impatiently, as if to say, "Hurry up and leave, don't get in the way."

This move left Liu Jianguo speechless, standing there dumbfounded, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

I couldn't help but think to myself: This old man... he's way too arrogant! It's almost like I'm saying to him, "Hey! I'm the deputy director! How can you ignore your superiors like this???"

However, he also understood that the doormen of these old government offices, having seen many leaders, had their own ways of dealing with people and might not really take the young deputy director on temporary assignment too seriously. He shook his head, smiled helplessly, and walked into the office building.

Liu Jianguo went up to the second floor of the branch office, walked to the door of the political commissar's office, straightened his collar, and knocked three times with a light touch.

"Please come in!" came the political commissar's calm voice from inside.

Liu Jianguo pushed open the door and entered, a perfectly timed smile on his face, and said, "Political Commissar, I hope I haven't disturbed your work? I'm just here to report to you on my thoughts and work as required by regulations."

The political commissar, who was writing something at his desk, looked up at the sound, saw Liu Jianguo, put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and gave a gentle yet knowing smile, pointing to the chair opposite him:

"Comrade Jianguo, please sit down. You never visit unless you have a reason. What's wrong? Did you encounter some problems at the steel mill? Or are you having some difficulties in your life?"

Liu Jianguo sat down in the chair, his posture relaxed yet not casual, and replied with a smile:

"Look at what you're saying, reporting your thoughts is a proper job. But... there is indeed a small matter that I need to trouble you, Political Commissar, to give me some advice on."

He deliberately downplayed the "small matter".

The political commissar smiled knowingly, picked up the cigarette case on the table, handed one to Liu Jianguo, and didn't light it himself, just played with it in his hand, saying:

"Stop beating around the bush? Fine, let's get straight to the point. What 'small matter' could warrant your personal trip, a war hero?"

Liu Jianguo took the cigarette but didn't light it. His smile faded slightly, and his eyes held a just-right weight and reminiscence.

He sighed and said:

"Political Commissar, as you know, the thing I can't let go of most after I came back from the army is those comrades who sacrificed their lives in Laogai (referring to the Korean battlefield). Their families are having a hard time... Recently, two of my old comrades' kids, young men, couldn't make ends meet and came to me from their hometown. They are both children of martyrs, their character is absolutely reliable. They grew up in the mountains, trained in martial arts, and their physical fitness is excellent."

He paused, observed the political commissar's expression, and continued:

"The two children are sensible; they know they can't let me help them for nothing. The family scraped together money to buy two fat pigs, each weighing over 150 jin (75 kg), saying they wanted to donate them to the country as a token of their gratitude. But now, with rationing and supplies tight, I thought, what difference does it make where we donate these pigs? So I thought, could… I ask the political commissar to think of a way, see if the branch office could arrange two temporary positions for them, so the children have a proper place to work, and it would be a way to honor their sacrificed father. If there's a real shortage of positions, even a temporary worker position would be helpful!"

His words contained half a sincere request and half a clever attempt to exert influence by using his identities as a "pig donor" and a "child of a martyr".

After listening, the political commissar tapped his fingers lightly on the table and pondered for a moment.

He naturally understood Liu Jianguo's implied meaning, but he was indeed moved by the two things: "children of martyrs" and "donating pigs".

At a time when resources are beginning to show signs of scarcity, two large, fat pigs are a real form of hard currency, greatly improving the lives of the officers in the branch office. More importantly, resettling the descendants of martyrs is absolutely politically correct.

He looked up at Liu Jianguo and nodded:

"Well...they are all families of martyrs who made contributions to the country. They are struggling financially, and the organization can't just ignore them. As for job arrangements, although there's a shortage of positions right now, we can always find a way."

He picked up a pen and wrote a few words on a sticky note: "Here's what I'll do. I'll grant you two temporary positions first, to train you under the branch office. As long as you perform well and don't make mistakes, I'll try to get them permanent positions after a month."

Liu Jianguo's face immediately lit up with a relieved and grateful smile, and he said:

"That's wonderful! Political Commissar, I knew it! I'd turn to you when I was in trouble! On behalf of my two fallen comrades, thank you so much!" These words were spoken with heartfelt sincerity.

The political commissar waved his hand, indicating that there was no need to be so polite, then opened a drawer, took out two blank letters of introduction, and skillfully filled them out, saying as he wrote:

"Alright, stop being so polite. Here's a letter of introduction. Just have them bring it to register. It'll save you the trouble of going through the formalities again." With that, he handed over the stamped letter of introduction.

Liu Jianguo took the letter of introduction, carefully put it away, and then, as if just remembering something, took out two packs of cigarettes from his military green satchel. These cigarettes were simply wrapped in white mimeograph paper without any labels, and gently placed them on the political commissar's desk. He smiled and said:

"I've taken the letter of introduction. Political Commissar, there's nothing much to thank you for. Here, take these two small boxes and smoke them."

Although the cigarette packaging was simple, anyone in the know would immediately recognize it as a special "Chunghwa" cigarette supplied exclusively to the military, something that could never be found outside and was a symbol of status and connections.

After saying that, without waiting for the political commissar to decline or ask any questions, he stood up directly, waved his hand with a smile, and said, "Political commissar, you're busy. I'll go back first. I still have things to do at the factory."

Then he turned around and left the office with light steps, leaving the political commissar looking at the two boxes of special-supply cigarettes on the table, shaking his head and smiling, but not saying anything more.