Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Only afterward did everyone learn the reason why the hunchbacked man and his family were safe. It turned out that he had been following the village youths and participating in the wartime training led by his father, and had already mastered the key techniques for avoiding danger during air raids. He knew that when a bombing raid came, the shockwaves from underground would travel rapidly along the walls, and if one hid near the cellar wall, one would easily suffer internal injuries and bone damage; only by crouching in the center of the cellar, away from the walls, could one minimize the impact of the shockwaves and protect one's life.

In the instant the enemy planes dropped bombs and the crisis struck, the hunchbacked man remained calm and composed, steadily applying the survival skills he had learned, using his cellar as a trench. He immediately protected his entire family, crouching in the center with everyone, precisely avoiding the most fatal shockwave impact. Relying on his solid training, he led his family to narrowly escape death, and everyone was safe and sound.

Upon learning the details, the young men from the village who had participated in the training were filled with remorse and guilt. Recalling the chaotic moments of the air raid, they were utterly bewildered and helpless, nearly using the wrong evacuation methods. Seeing the innocent elderly villagers who had perished and their neighbors riddled with injuries, they were overwhelmed with mixed emotions. Their eyes reddened; some pounded the ground in anger, others slapped themselves in self-reproach, deeply regretting their past laxity in training and their failure to memorize and apply the essential survival techniques.

This devastating air raid, costing countless lives, made the entire village acutely aware of the fatal misconceptions surrounding cellar shelters and the terrifying dangers of hiding against walls during bombings. The young people in the village who participated in the training were completely transformed, shedding their former laxity and restlessness. They finally understood that the seemingly tedious wartime training and mundane safety instructions were not useless formalities, but rather essential survival skills to ensure their safety and protect their families in chaotic times. From then on, every wartime training session and every safety awareness campaign in the village was taken seriously and attentively; no one was ever perfunctory, negligent, or complacent again.

Taking advantage of the brief respite after the eight injured people inside the bamboo house had received initial treatment, Xingbao quickly went to the epicenter of the explosion to assess the situation. The horrific scene was even more shocking than what he had just witnessed. The impact points of the two bombs were clearly distinct: one landed right in the middle of the road, blasting a massive crater over three meters in diameter into the hard surface, with charred and loose soil and debris scattered around the edge; the other landed next to the hunchbacked man's outbuilding, the lingering smoke mixed with the strange smell of burning and destroyed objects filling the air, pungent and acrid, refusing to dissipate for a long time.

The military transport convoy that had just passed by on the roadside was badly damaged. All five vehicles were damaged to varying degrees. One of the vehicles was overturned by the blast wave not far from the crater. The vehicle body was twisted and deformed, and it was missing a front wheel. It was completely scrapped and unusable. Various mechanical parts were scattered everywhere. The grain it was carrying was overturned and scattered all over the ground, mixed with dust, gravel, gasoline, and conspicuous dark red bloodstains.

After the disaster subsided, the village head led a group of villagers to rush to the scene for disaster relief. The villagers divided the work and worked together. Some people filled in the soil to level the road surface, repaired the damaged roads, and cleared the blocked streets and alleys in the village. Others carefully picked up and collected the scattered grain to try to make up for the losses.

Among the crowd, an old soldier who was busy tidying up vehicle parts noticed Xingbao walking slowly towards him and paused slightly. He recognized the calm, experienced, and skilled young man, but did not make a sound. Taking advantage of the opportunity to pretend to drive away bystanders and urge him to leave, he quietly slipped a small, thick piece of tire material into Xingbao's hand.

Xingbao understood immediately, calmly taking the tire cover and tucking it into his clothes, secretly pleased. He didn't linger, turning and quickly returning to the bamboo house to continue watching over the wounded.

This sudden air raid ultimately left the village devastated and burdened with heavy sorrow. A later account of the disaster revealed that the roofs of five households in the village were completely ripped off by the blast wave, and the roofs, walls, and beams of more than twenty houses suffered varying degrees of damage. Six elderly people and an unborn baby tragically perished in the attack. Nearly twenty villagers suffered internal injuries of varying degrees. Six people were injured by falling debris and rubble before they could escape, and two villagers were injured during the rescue efforts. As for the minor injuries sustained while moving debris and collecting supplies, the villagers didn't come looking for the three men, so there was no way to count them.

The convoy also suffered heavy losses: three crew members were killed, eight were seriously injured, one military vehicle was completely destroyed, hundreds of kilograms of grain were destroyed and scattered, and the journey was delayed by three hours—a truly devastating cost. This brief air raid allowed the peaceful countryside to witness firsthand the ruthlessness and cruelty of war in a chaotic world.

After the village suffered such a devastating air raid, village officials immediately reported the situation to the township government. By evening, the township head urgently dispatched several handcarts and a group of staff to the village to assess the damage and handle the aftermath.

Upon arriving at the scene and understanding the situation, the township head learned that the wounded soldiers and villagers had received initial and proper treatment. However, since everyone's injuries were unstable and they could not withstand the bumpy journey, it was not advisable to transfer them over a long distance. Therefore, it was decided to temporarily place all the wounded in Song's shop and bamboo house, entrusting the Song family and the master to take care of them.

The wartime system at that time was rigorous, with a complete set of standardized regulations for disaster relief and material supply. Any village or household that supported the war effort or cared for the wounded received official material subsidies and compensation. The contributions of the Song family and their master would not be overlooked or mistreated. No one dared to take advantage of the situation to withhold supplies or engage in favoritism. Being accused of obstructing the national united front against Japan was a serious crime from which there was no chance of redemption; no one dared to cross the line. The strict wartime rules of that chaotic era, ironically, allowed the disaster relief efforts to proceed smoothly and orderly.

As night fell and the disaster relief efforts in the village were largely underway, Xingbao, Guixiang, and their eldest brother helped their father tidy up the kitchen and began to sort out the household chores after the disaster. The group carefully collected the roof tiles that had fallen off but were still usable, cleaned and dusted them one by one, and neatly stacked them on one side of the courtyard wall, preparing to buy a new batch of tiles the next day to completely repair the damaged roof.

The bombing also exposed the hidden dangers of the old house. The original beams inside were too thin and lacked sufficient load-bearing capacity, directly breaking two crossbeams. These beams were all repaired by my father in his younger days. Back then, the family was poor and couldn't afford to hire workers or buy good timber, so my father had to go to the hill behind the old house alone to select wood, choosing relatively small new trees to use as substitutes. The wood was still damp when the trees were felled, making them heavy and cumbersome. The path to the hill was rugged and far away, and my father carried the timber back alone to build the beams. No one knew the hardship he endured. Fortunately, there was still timber left in the house for rebuilding the bamboo house. The length, size, and hardness were all suitable, so we could replace these thin and old beams, reinforce the house, and completely eliminate the hidden danger.