Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

As night deepened, the oil lamp in the main room flickered, casting long and short shadows. Mother finished cleaning the kitchen and carefully helped Guixiang wash up before returning to her room to rest, exhausted and supporting her back. Father watched as Mother and Guixiang fell asleep, making sure the door was closed, before turning to his eldest brother, second brother, and Xingbao and whispering, "Come on, let's talk in the tofu shop in the backyard." The three brothers understood and silently followed their father. The tofu shop in the backyard was usually deserted, and now it was exceptionally quiet, perfect for discussing private and weighty matters.

As soon as Xingbao stepped into the tofu shop, he immediately pulled out several letters that his fellow apprentices had given him—the letters he had carefully hidden close to his body, folded neatly without a single wrinkle. Holding the letters in both hands, he quickly walked to his father and handed them to him, his voice extremely low, carrying a hint of barely perceptible tension: "Dad, these are three letters that my fellow apprentices brought back from the front lines in Shanghai. Two of them are for Grandpa and Uncle Youcai." His father solemnly took the letters with both hands, his fingertips trembling slightly as he touched the neatly folded paper, still warm from Xingbao's body. He found a wooden stool against the wall and slowly sat down, then gestured for his three children to gather around him before taking a deep breath and slowly pulling out one of the letters, which had his home address on it. By the dim light of the oil lamp, his father squinted and carefully read it word by word. The eldest brother, the second brother, and Xingbao stood close together, craning their necks and staring intently at the words on the letter, not daring to even breathe loudly, for fear of missing a single word.

The handwriting on the letter was somewhat messy, with obvious signs of haste and urgency, clearly written under extremely tense circumstances. However, the writer's seriousness and solemnity were still evident between the lines. Everyone held their breath, reading word by word, their hearts tightening with each line, as if they were transported back to the war-torn front lines with the letter—it turned out that the uncle's unit received the letter from his father the day after they were stationed in Jiangwan. At that time, the fighting on the front lines was intense, morale in the troops was high, everyone was on edge, and they were extremely wary of any unfamiliar people or things. Many soldiers, upon seeing this letter of dubious origin, immediately became suspicious and crowded around, bombarding the letter with questions about its origin. Some even reached for their guns at their waists, and the atmosphere instantly became tense. If my uncle hadn't reacted quickly and stepped forward to explain that the sender was his brother-in-law, who had served under General Cai E, and hadn't pointed to the accurate predictions of the battle situation, detailed battlefield response methods, and the clear address of the mailing address as his former Jiangsu garrison, he probably would have been arrested and interrogated on the spot as a suspect in leaking military secrets!

Surprisingly, the countermeasures described in the letter proved remarkably effective. The detailed analysis of the Japanese army's flanking maneuvers and suppressive fire was particularly insightful, providing much-needed clarity for the soldiers who had been clueless about Japanese tactics. The unit commander immediately decided to adjust the defensive strategy and redeploy the lines according to the letter's methods, which significantly reduced casualties and allowed them to hold several key positions. Unfortunately, the letter arrived too hastily; many fortifications couldn't be carefully constructed. The soldiers had to fight the enemy under heavy Japanese artillery fire while simultaneously digging trenches and building fortifications, many falling after only a few digs. The Molotov cocktails that Xingbao and his brothers had devised earlier also proved invaluable on the battlefield. Initially, surprise attacks with Molotov cocktails caught the Japanese off guard, destroying many of their light weapons. However, this didn't last long. Later, the Japanese army became more prepared and equipped themselves with fire-fighting equipment, which greatly reduced the effectiveness of the Molotov cocktails. Even so, it still gave the soldiers another means of dealing with the situation and could play a restraining role in critical moments.

The letter specifically mentioned that the mobile artillery tactic suggested by Father had saved the lives of everyone in the artillery company. At the time, the company, due to its powerful firepower, was a primary target for the Japanese army. Intense artillery fire rained down on the company's position, causing heavy casualties and putting them on the verge of annihilation. In this critical moment, the platoon leader remembered the mobile artillery tactic mentioned in the letter. He decisively abandoned the fixed position and directed his soldiers to push the emplacements flexibly, constantly changing firing positions using the terrain for cover. Only then did they manage to break through the encirclement and preserve the company's strength. However, because of this, the platoon leader in charge of commanding the company received a significant punishment for unauthorized adjustments to the battle plan, violating orders from his superiors. Upon reading this, Father couldn't help but sigh heavily, his eyes filled with complex emotions: relief that the tactic had been adopted and saved the soldiers' lives, regret that the platoon leader was punished for adhering to the correct tactics, and helplessness towards the rigid command system at the front.

The further they read, the more chaotic and illegible the handwriting became, the strokes twisted and even showing several blurred marks from tears, clearly indicating the writer's profound grief. Everyone's hearts sank to the bottom, their breathing becoming heavy. The letter read: "Brother-in-law, we can't go back. During the last cover of the main force's retreat, our platoon stayed behind to hold off the Japanese pursuit with artillery fire, but this also made us the target of their artillery fire. Dense shells exploded around us, dirt and gravel rained down. In the nick of time, it was the squad leader who used all his strength to push Youcai and me into the trench, allowing us to escape death. But the squad leader… he is gone forever." He was left there. The Japanese artillery fire was too intense; the position was bombarded beyond recognition. We didn't even have a chance to collect his body; we could only watch helplessly as he was consumed by the artillery fire! Upon hearing this, the eldest brother clenched his fist tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force, making a "crunching" sound, his chest heaving violently; the second brother's eyes instantly turned red like a rabbit's, tears welling up in his eyes, which he tried hard not to let fall; Xingbao also couldn't help but lower his head, his nose stinging, tears uncontrollably welling up in his eyes, his heart aching as if being pricked by needles.

The letter also specifically mentioned the Yunnan Baiyao (a traditional Chinese medicine) that Dad had sent, and the words were full of gratitude: "If it weren't for the Yunnan Baiyao you sent, we might have been bedridden for the rest of our lives, useless cripples. The external injuries on Youcai and me weren't too serious, but the most tormenting thing was the internal injuries caused by the artillery fire. Our chests ached terribly, and we couldn't sleep all night. Even breathing was difficult. Later, I saw in your letter that this Yunnan Baiyao was made with high-quality Panax notoginseng, which has the effect of promoting blood circulation and removing blood stasis. I also heard from the doctors in the medical team that Panax notoginseng can treat internal injuries, so I thought that instead of lying in bed waiting to die, I might as well take a chance and try taking some. I didn't expect that the Yunnan Baiyao would be so effective. Not long after taking it, the pain in my chest was reduced a lot. These past few days, Youcai and I have been secretly taking some, and our internal injuries have improved a lot. Now we can get out of bed and move around slowly, and we can also help with some things we can manage."

"Brother-in-law, after these life-or-death trials, and watching our brothers fall one by one, we've come to a complete understanding. We can't retreat, and there's nowhere left to retreat. If we don't fight to the death, sooner or later the Japanese devils will invade Hunan, will invade our hometown, will kill more of our fellow villagers, and will destroy our homes. So many brothers have already fallen on the battlefield, sacrificing themselves to protect our country and our families. If we also perish here, please don't be sad. We've already killed enough Japanese, and we can keep our brothers company, so we won't be lonely. The other two letters are my and Youde's last words, which we wrote in advance. Please keep them safe and secure. If you receive notification of our deaths, please hand them over to our families." He had become a true iron-blooded warrior; there was no fear between the lines, only a resolute determination to die for his country and his family.

The letter ended with densely packed words, filled with longing and yearning for family. Every word was brimming with deep affection and reluctance to part: "Brother-in-law, I miss you all so much. I miss our parents, my elder brother, my sister, Shanshan, Dashan, Yanbang, Yanguo, Guixiang, Xingbao… I miss everyone in the family, I miss the warm meals at home, I miss the peaceful days at home. I truly hope this war will end soon, I truly hope there will be a day when I can see everyone again! Written by my brother-in-law, Liu Youming, October 16th, 1937." The date was clearly visible, and every word seemed to carry the weight of blood and tears, striking heavily on everyone's hearts.

After the letter was read, a deathly silence fell over the tofu shop. Even the sound of everyone breathing became exceptionally clear. Only the occasional chirping of insects outside the window sounded particularly jarring in the still night. Father gripped the letter tightly in his hand, his knuckles white and even slightly purple from the force. The once-flat letter was crumpled, as if he were about to crush it. He lowered his head slightly, his hair falling down to obscure the expression in his eyes, but everyone could clearly see his shoulders trembling uncontrollably—a tremor of suppressed grief. The eldest and second brothers, their eyes red, bit their lips hard, trying to hold back their sobs, but tears still streamed down their cheeks, dripping onto the cold floor and creating small puddle marks. Xingbao bit his lip tightly until he tasted a trace of blood, and only then could he barely hold back his sobs. His heart felt as if it were being pressed down by a heavy stone, both suffocating and painful, filled with worry, concern and heartache for his uncle.