Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

"Yes, yes, I'll be right there!" Father quickly stood up and said to everyone at the table, "Father, Mother, eldest brother, you eat first, don't wait for me, I'll go see who it is."

Xingbao quickly put down his chopsticks, jumped off the stool, and walked briskly to his father's side. He looked up at his father and said, "Dad, I'm full. I'll go with you!" He had a feeling that the knocking was suspicious. In such cold weather and in such a hurry, someone in trouble might be the one making the noise.

Father nodded, said nothing more, and led Xingbao by the hand quickly into the bamboo house, gently opening the door. The sight before them stunned both father and son: standing at the door were two middle-aged men with disheveled hair and tattered robes, followed by a dozen or so equally ragged, emaciated young men. Each held a wooden cane, some supporting each other, and sat against the wall, their faces numb and weary, their eyes bloodshot—clearly having endured a long and arduous journey. Seeing the door open, they struggled to their feet, supporting each other, their eyes filled with expectation and humility.

Father composed himself, carefully examined them, and then asked softly, "What's wrong with you? What brings you to our village kitchen like this?"

One of the middle-aged men staggered forward, leaned against the door frame, and said in a hoarse, almost inaudible voice, "Shopkeeper, we are students and teachers from Sanmin Middle School. We fled here all the way. We saw our school's flag at your shop and knew we could rest here, so we dared to come and bother you."

Upon hearing this, both father and son were startled and quickly examined the group of people before them again: two middle-aged men appeared to be teachers, and among the dozen or so young people were four girls, but they were all extremely thin, their clothes tattered, and their faces covered in dust, making them unrecognizable. However, judging from the material of their tattered clothes, they were made of rather high-quality fabric, and some of them were wearing uniforms that vaguely resembled those of Sanmin Middle School. The father and son were already somewhat convinced, but given the gravity of the situation, the father still asked, "Who is your principal? Do you know any teachers at the school? Which batch of students did you come from Nanjing?"

Hearing their father's question, these people showed no impatience, simply standing quietly, still with their numb and weary expressions. Only when their father pressed them again did a hint of joy gradually appear in their eyes. It was the middle-aged man leaning against the doorframe who spoke first, his tone urgent and sincere: "Our principal is Mr. Xiong Chong, whose given name is Chong. He's from Yaodu Town, Shaoyang County. You might have heard of him, sir. We know Mr. Zhou and Mr. Wang from the school. We were the last group of students to evacuate from Nanjing. We encountered the Japanese and began besieging the city as soon as we left. We were constantly on the move, separated from the fleeing crowds, and then we encountered bandits. We finally managed to get here, but we were truly desperate."

The principal's name, hometown, and the surnames of several teachers they mentioned were exactly the same as what the father and son had learned from Li Guangsheng and the others, except for a few names they hadn't heard before. The father completely lowered his guard and quickly stepped aside to let them in, his voice full of concern: "Come in, come in! Look at all the suffering you've endured on your journey! Come inside and warm yourself by the fire!" As he spoke, he opened the door wide and then turned to Xingbao, instructing, "Xingbao, quickly go and call your older brothers to come and help. Prepare hot water for these teachers and students, and heat up the porridge from the kitchen to fill their stomachs. Also, bring two more braziers over so they can warm themselves up!"

"Yes, Dad!" Xingbao replied crisply, not daring to delay for even a moment. He turned around and rushed out of the bamboo house, running lightly towards the kitchen and main room, afraid that if he was even a little slower, these teachers and students who had endured so much hardship would suffer a moment more from the cold.

In no time, Xingbao returned first, carrying a large basin of steaming hot water and a clean coarse cloth slung over his shoulder. He hurried into the bamboo house and placed the hot water steadily on a low stool in the corner. Following closely behind, his uncle, eldest brother, second brother, and Dashan carried in two blazing braziers. The crackling embers instantly dispelled the chill in the bamboo house. Sister Shanshan also followed behind, carrying two basins of hot water, her face full of concern. The shop already had very little hot water left; these three basins nearly emptied the kitchen's reserves. Seeing this, the teachers and students rushed forward, carefully wiping their hands and faces with the clean coarse cloths around the basins. After the dust was wiped away, their pale and haggard faces were revealed, many with frostbitten cuts on their cheeks and hands, a truly heartbreaking sight.

After Sister Shanshan served each teacher and student a cup of warm tea, Father walked up to the gentleman who had spoken and asked gently, "Sir, I see that you are all pale and thin, and weak; you are clearly very hungry. Would you like some light food to tide you over, or should we prepare a proper meal according to the standards they set beforehand?"

Upon hearing this, the man's face showed a hint of surprise. He stared blankly at the father, his tone full of disbelief: "Shopkeeper, look at our ragged and wretched state. To be able to get a bowl of hot porridge from you is already an immense favor. And you still want to prepare food for us? There are more than a dozen of us; this is quite an expense!" As he spoke, he subconsciously clenched his tattered sleeve, his eyes filled with embarrassment and unease—they had been wandering and robbing people along the way, and were already penniless. They really didn't have the confidence to accept such hospitality.

Seeing this, Dad smiled and waved his hand, his tone sincere and gentle: "Sir, you don't know this. The teachers and students from your school who went ahead to make arrangements have already told us that if we encounter any teachers or students who are short of money, we should take good care of them first, and record all expenses. Principal Xiong's family will come over to settle the accounts later, so you don't need to have any worries."

Hearing their father's words, the students who had been listening quietly showed an undisguised joy on their faces, their eyes instantly reddening. Several students quietly lowered their heads, wiping away tears with their sleeves—they had endured hunger and hardship along the way, witnessing the coldness of human nature, and had long since given up hope of such kindness. Now, knowing they wouldn't have to worry about food and money, the pent-up grievances and exhaustion of the past few days finally couldn't be contained. The gentleman also let out a long sigh of relief, his tense expression completely relaxing. His tone was full of gratitude, yet tinged with a heavy weight: "Then I'll trouble you, innkeeper, to give us a good meal. Those of us who are healthy are fine, but there are a few in the group who are not so healthy; they've been injured and caught a cold along the way, alas..." As he spoke, his voice grew softer and softer, his eyes dimming, filled with helplessness and guilt.