Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Seeing this, the eldest brother quickly took out his coarse handkerchief, pretending to wipe the thin layer of sweat from his forehead, and secretly wiped away the tears welling up in his eyes, forcibly suppressing the surging soreness. He forced a faint smile, concealing his dejection, turned around and silently followed his second brother, carrying the sweet potato baskets, and steadily walked towards the backyard.

The atmosphere in the hall subtly changed. Just moments before, Father had been beaming with the joy of a bountiful harvest, but now all traces of his usual merriment had vanished. He answered the idle chatter and questions from neighbors and villagers with few words and a somber expression, clearly preoccupied. The elder brother's barely suppressed embarrassment and the sorrow in his eyes did not escape Father's discerning, worldly-wise eyes.

Xingbao's heart sank suddenly, as if a heavy boulder had been pressed down on it, making it hard for him to breathe. He instantly understood the premonition hidden deep in the eyes of the father and son—the worst-case scenario that the whole family had been hesitant to investigate and unwilling to confront had probably come true. With no news found after all their inquiries, it was highly likely that his uncle hadn't survived the frontline bombing and had been killed by Japanese aircraft.

A jumble of thoughts surged within him, a heavy sorrow and a sense of helplessness washing over him. He turned to look at Gui Xiang beside him, who was diligently working on the accounts, her eyes bright and clear. He could only forcefully suppress the gloom in his heart and force a faint, nonchalant smile, not daring to let his young sister notice anything amiss.

With everyone preoccupied with their own thoughts, the lively atmosphere in the main hall quickly dissipated. Finally, after the villagers who had come to deliver the sweet potatoes had left, the house returned to quiet. Xingbao composed himself and softly said to his mother, "Mother, I'm going to help in the cellar." He then quickly got up and silently followed his father to the backyard.

The cellar was dark and cool, with a light dampness lingering in the air. The eldest and second eldest brothers were silently sorting through piles of sweet potatoes, carefully arranging and classifying each round tuber. The dim light masked their feigned composure, and the two remained silent throughout, the air thick with an oppressive atmosphere.

Father followed closely behind with light, steady steps, his expression calm and composed, suppressing the turmoil in his heart. He turned to Xingbao behind him and whispered, "Xingbao, you stand guard at the cellar door. If your mother and sister come, call me immediately."

"Yes, Dad." Xingbao obediently replied, sitting quietly at the entrance of the cellar. His gaze seemed to be obediently fixed on the direction of the back door of the backyard, but his ears were secretly perked up, capturing every sound from inside the cellar. He already had a bad feeling, and now he was filled with a heavy tension, quietly waiting for the final answer to come.

When only the soft sound of the wind could be heard at the cave entrance, cutting off all movement outside, Father slowly spoke, his voice low and hoarse, carrying the composure of someone who had experienced the world, gently breaking the deathly silence: "Yan Kingdom, there's no one left. Tell me, what truth have you found out?"

A gentle inquiry became the final straw that broke the elder brother's last line of defense. The anxiety he had been suppressing for days, the restlessness of his frantic inquiries, and the suspicions he dared not confront all crumbled at this moment. He could no longer maintain his composure in public; the sweet potato slipped from his hand, his legs gave way, and he collapsed heavily onto the cold ground, his long-suppressed emotions finally bursting forth.

"Father..." The eldest brother's throat tightened, his voice breaking and trembling. A torrent of tears instantly blurred his vision, soaking his clothes. To others, the annihilation of the entire army was merely a tragic consequence of the times, but to him, it was a complete and utter separation from his loved ones forever. In the first few years after the family shop opened, his parents were busy running the business, managing the household, and caring for his young and mischievous second brother; they simply had no free time. From childhood, his closest and dearest relative was his uncle. For most of his childhood, he followed his uncle everywhere, running around behind him. During his early school years, it was never his busy parents who took him to and from school, rain or shine, but his somewhat mischievous and playful uncle. His uncle accompanied him as he grew up, protecting him; he was the most reliable support and the closest elder in his youth. Now that the devastating news has arrived, all his hopes have been dashed. He could no longer bear the collapse and agony in his heart, and his words were filled with anguish: "People outside are saying that the 36th Division... has been completely wiped out! My uncle... my uncle won't come back! He'll never come back!"

In the deep, cold cellar, suppressed sobs lingered, as the boy poured out all the grief he had accumulated over the past few days. After an unknown amount of time, the older brother's violent crying gradually weakened, leaving only intermittent, hoarse, and dry sobs, fragmented and helpless.

Looking at his eldest son, who was squatting on the ground and completely broken down, the father's eyes were filled with sorrow and bitterness. His Adam's apple bobbed heavily, and after a long while, he suppressed the sob in his throat and slowly said in a hoarse and low voice, "Yanbang, don't cry... Tell your father properly how your uncle passed away."

The eldest brother, head bowed, shoulders still trembling slightly, eyes blurred with tears, spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice still choked with sobs, as he recounted the entire truth he had gathered: "Father, my uncle's 36th Division is holding the Fujinshan position. On September 2nd, the troops officially engaged the main force of the Japanese 13th Division in direct combat. After four days of fierce fighting, on the 6th, the defensive lines on both sides of the position completely collapsed, and the soldiers were surrounded on three sides by the enemy, finding themselves in a desperate situation."

He took a deep breath of the cold, damp air, his chest aching terribly, and continued to recount the fierce battle with choked sobs: "On the tenth day, a large number of Japanese reinforcements arrived, and they deployed heavy artillery to bombard the area in waves. Fighter planes circled low, strafing and dropping bombs. The sky and earth were filled with the sound of artillery fire, day and night. Under wave after wave of bombing, the Fujinshan position was almost razed to the ground, the mountain was scorched and not a blade of grass remained."

"Even so, the soldiers fought to the death." The elder brother's voice suddenly tightened, filled with boundless admiration and heartache. "On the 11th, the Japanese, unable to break through after a prolonged siege, completely lost their moral compass and openly defied reason and humanity, repeatedly launching poison gas attacks on my uncle's position. The poisonous fog filled the mountains and fields. The soldiers, without food or reinforcements and suffering from severe poisoning, still fought valiantly. In the end, the 36th Division was almost completely wiped out, with all its soldiers sacrificing their lives. That evening, the scorched earth of Fujin Mountain was finally captured by the Japanese."

The cellar was deathly silent, save for the heavy breathing of a few people. Father listened quietly to the entire tragic account, his eyes brimming with grief, yet he forcefully suppressed all his emotions, his tone heavy and solemn, each word resounding: "Ten days and nights of desperate defense, withstanding the relentless onslaught of enemy heavy artillery and warplanes, forcing the Japanese to resort to such despicable tactics as poison gas to break through... Your uncle and the soldiers of the 36th Division, every one of them was brave and fearless, dying heroically and with dignity."

He looked up at his sons, who were still weeping before him, his gaze firm and solemn, filled with respect for the fallen heroes and unwavering patriotism: "Yanbang, Yanguo, Xingbao, you three will remember this. Your uncle did not disgrace himself, nor did he back down. To shed blood on the battlefield and die for one's country is the destiny of soldiers in chaotic times, and also their supreme glory. You should grieve for him, but you should also be proud of him!"