Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

While the family and the maternal grandfather's family were still quietly discussing the follow-up matters regarding the conscription, some close neighbors came over to inquire about the situation. The second brother got up to help boil water in the kitchen, but as he reached the center of the main room, he noticed something under his foot. He bent down and saw a crumpled piece of paper. Judging from the paper's texture and the remaining ink, it seemed to have been accidentally dropped by Mayor Liu and his entourage during their meeting. The second brother picked up the paper, instinctively unfolded it, and his eyes swept over the writing. His face instantly changed, his hands trembled uncontrollably, and he shouted in disbelief and panic, "Something terrible has happened! Beiping… Beiping has fallen!"

These words struck like a thunderbolt, instantly stunning everyone in the room. Grandma's tea bag fell to the floor with a "clatter," scattering tea leaves everywhere without her noticing; Mother abruptly pulled Xingbao into a tight embrace, her eyes filled with terror; Father and Grandpa jumped to their feet, almost simultaneously demanding, "What did you say? Say it again!"

"It's true... It's written on the note!" The second brother swallowed hard, pointing at the words on the note, his voice still trembling, and hurriedly read out the news, "Beiping fell after only five hours of fighting, and we suffered more than two thousand casualties... Also, General Tong Lingge, deputy commander of the 29th Army, and General Zhao Dengyu, commander of the 132nd Division, both... both died heroically!"

As the last few words were spoken, a deathly silence fell over the main room. Everyone froze, their faces filled with disbelief—they had only occasionally heard news of "minor victories" from travelers before, how could the ancient capital of Beiping have fallen in just a few days?

After a brief silence, someone muttered to themselves, "Didn't they say they won? How come they've lost Beiping in just a few days..."

"That's Beiping, our ancient capital! How can we just throw it away like that?" Grandma's voice was choked with sobs, her cloudy eyes filled with grief. She reached out to pick up the tea leaves on the ground, but her fingers trembled violently.

A murmur of discussion erupted in the main room, a mixture of doubts about the situation, resentment towards the enemy, and even complaints about the front lines, with shouts and curses filling the air. The father stood motionless, his face grave, silent for a long time before finally speaking, his voice hoarse yet exceptionally clear: "Stop cursing. This time, we can't blame the soldiers on the front lines. They didn't remain silent; they were truly fighting with their lives on the line!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, and continued, "Our soldiers, armed with rifles and broadswords, used their flesh and blood to hold off the Japanese planes, tanks, and artillery for five hours. The fact that our generals would rather die than retreat shows they gave their all! It's not that our people were inferior to theirs; it's that our country was weak and poorly equipped. How could such a great nation be reduced to this? It's because this world is so unjust!"

The father's words were like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing everyone's resentment. The room gradually quieted down, and many people had red eyes, quietly wiping away tears—yes, those fallen soldiers were also someone's sons, husbands, and fathers. They had already protected their country with their lives, so how could we criticize them further?

The gathered villagers said nothing more, simply dispersing silently with heavy hearts. Not long after, the list of laborers to be conscripted for road construction was quickly finalized—perhaps the news of the fall of Beiping made everyone understand that "in times of national crisis, every citizen has a responsibility," or perhaps the pressure of reality left no room for hesitation; everyone silently accepted their fate, waiting only for the road construction to begin, embarking on an unknown journey. Looking at his father's silent profile, Xingbao felt for the first time truly that war was drawing ever closer to this small village.

The next day at noon, under the blazing sun, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from the shop entrance. Qianjin came running in, his clothes soaked with sweat. He went straight to the counter, picked up a bowl of cold tea, tilted his head back and gulped down more than half of it before letting out a long sigh of relief and recovering.

"The situation at the front isn't good; Tianjin has fallen too." Qianjin wiped the sweat from his face, his voice weary but his speech rapid. "The Japanese have started advancing south. They're collecting supplies everywhere, prices are skyrocketing, and they've started requisitioning grain in Xiangxiang County. Your family doesn't have much land, so store up some grain and plan ahead." The older brother wanted to ask more about the details of the front, but Qianjin waved his hand, saying he had to rush to the village to deliver the message and didn't have time to chat. He only promised the older brother, "I'll stay at the shop tonight and go back to the district tomorrow morning." Then he grabbed his straw hat from the table and hurried off towards the village, not even bothering to rest.

As evening approached, the afterglow of the setting sun painted the sky orange-red. Qianjin had just returned from the village to the shop. As soon as he stepped inside, he pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to his father: "Uncle Dawei, this is a letter for you. It was forwarded from the village post office; the postmark looks like it's from Xiangxiang County next door."

The father took the envelope, his fingertips touching the rough paper. He saw that the postmark on the envelope did indeed read "Xiangxiang County," but there was no signature at the bottom. The handwriting on the envelope was very messy and crooked, obviously written in a hurry, and it was impossible to tell who wrote it. The siblings all gathered around, staring curiously at the letter, wanting to know who had sent it to their father from the neighboring county.

Instead of opening the letter in front of everyone, Father took it to a corner of the main room, away from the kitchen, and quickly opened the envelope to read it. After a short while, his expression gradually darkened; his previously calm eyes became serious, and his brows furrowed tightly. After reading the letter, he carefully folded it, put it back in the envelope, and then carefully tucked the envelope into his pocket before turning to look at his siblings gathered around him.

"Don't tell anyone about the letter, especially your mother and grandparents." The father's voice was low and his tone was serious and left no room for doubt. "Go and get busy. Take good care of the customers in the shop first. I'll tell you after they've all gone to bed." Although the siblings were full of doubts and wanted to know what was written in the letter, they understood that their father must have a reason for saying this, so they all nodded and went about their business. The eldest brother pulled Qianjin to his room to ask him about the parts of the book that he didn't understand, Ding went to greet the guests in the main room, the second brother went to the backyard to check the firewood, and Xingbao quietly followed behind his father, trying to get more clues from his expression, but he only saw his father's silent back, which exuded an indescribable heaviness.