Courtyard House: Time Traveler Not Yet a Ghost

Zhao Jia Yu, a small mountain village nestled among the countless ravines of northwestern Shanxi, is like a walnut, worn smooth and broken by time and war, quietly nestled in a narrow valley between two earthen ridges. At the village entrance, a few old locust trees, their branches bared and bare, pierce the leaden sky. Beneath them lie half-collapsed stone walls, serving as natural roadblocks and shelters. As dusk approaches, the thin sunlight is powerless to dispel the chill in the valley, only painting a sickly golden edge on the chimneys of the earthen cave dwellings and the bare branches of the jujube trees.

About three miles from the village entrance, behind a cliff eroded by floodwaters, the deep roar of an engine abruptly ceased.

He Damin pushed open the car door and jumped out of the Type 95 military truck, which was practically groaning from the weight of its springs. The truck was splattered with mud and dust, its original dark green color almost unrecognizable. He wore the crisp uniform of a Japanese major, but over it was a worn-out gray cotton overcoat, ripped from a former puppet army officer who had been "purged." A crumpled dog-skin hat covered most of his face. This incongruous attire, however, wasn't particularly conspicuous on the outskirts of northwestern Shanxi at that time—far more bizarre outfits were seen on deserters, refugees, and even some people of ambiguous identities.

He didn't immediately enter the village, but stood in the shadow of the cliff, quietly "looking" in the direction of Zhao Jia Yu. His divine sense, like an invisible tide, silently washed over the slopes, ditches, and withered grass ahead. Soon, he "sensed" at least five hidden sentry posts. Some were hidden behind natural crevices in the cliff, some lay prone on sheltered earthen embankments, and two agile ones moved like cats among the high rocks. Their breathing was steady and long, with the rhythm unique to soldiers, and their eyes vigilantly scanned every path and open area leading into the village. There were no heavy weapons, mostly old-fashioned rifles, Hanyang rifles, and even some spears, but the air of impending battle and their coordinated positioning revealed that this was a well-trained and experienced unit.

"This is it." He Damin withdrew his divine sense and confirmed it in his heart. The information he had obtained before his soul was divided was correct; Li Yunlong's Independent Regiment headquarters was currently in Zhao Jia Yu.

He turned to look at the truck behind him. The tarpaulin in the cargo bed was bulging, almost bursting from the contents. This was certainly beyond the truck's carrying capacity. For the past few hours, he had driven through desolate ravines and wilderness far from the road, stopping whenever he was absolutely sure it was safe to do so. He would then retrieve the pre-ordered "first batch of gifts" one by one from his Taiji spatial miniature and stuff them into the cargo bed.

Five hundred Type 38 rifles, with black stocks, long barrels, and bayonet catches gleaming coldly. Ten rifles were tightly bound together with straw rope. Accompanying them were fifty boxes (480 rounds per box) of 65mm rifle ammunition, the bright yellow bullets peeking through the gaps in the wooden boxes. In addition, there were twenty Type 91 light machine guns and ten Type 92 heavy machine guns (in disassembled state), along with the corresponding ammunition. To cramm the "small" truck as efficiently as possible, he even had to insert some rifles vertically into the corners of the cargo bed and repeatedly reinforce them with tarpaulins and ropes to barely close the cargo door. Even so, the truck's suspension was at its limit, swaying like a drunken strongman as it drove along the rugged mountain roads.

These weapons were but a drop in the ocean compared to the vast inventory in his small world. But for the Independent Regiment, which was short of guns and ammunition and whose many soldiers were still carrying broadswords, spears, and even farm tools, they were a godsend.

He Damin took a deep breath of the cold air and began to act quickly. He took off his puppet army cotton-padded overcoat and dog-skin hat, along with the Japanese major's uniform he was wearing, neatly rolled them up, and stuffed them under the driver's seat. Underneath, he wore a worn-out, indigo-blue coarse cotton-padded jacket and trousers, common in northern rural areas, and a pair of sturdy black cloth cotton shoes. He then took out a dusty satchel from the corner of the carriage (actually from his storage space) and draped it over his shoulder, inside which were a few hard pieces of mixed flour cakes and a water hyacinth. Finally, he scooped up some dust from the ground and casually wiped it off his face, neck, and the "Japanese major" on his cotton-padded jacket, making the "Japanese major" image disappear. In its place was a young, travel-worn, ordinary-looking, even somewhat dull-witted, man.

He checked the truck and the surrounding area again, making sure there were no obvious traces pointing to his special identity. Then, he started walking, no longer trying to hide his footsteps, along a narrow, worn path, towards the entrance of Zhao Jia Yu village.

Just a hundred meters from the old locust tree, two Eighth Route Army soldiers suddenly stood up from behind what appeared to be an ordinary clod of earth by the roadside. Although the guns were not pointed directly at him, their wary eyes and ready-to-fire stance were enough to make an ordinary person's legs go weak.

"Halt! What are you doing?" a young soldier shouted, his accent heavily influenced by Shanxi.

He Damin stopped, a hint of nervousness and restraint appearing on his face. He bent down slightly and replied in a slightly Hebei-accented Mandarin, "Boss, I... I'm just passing by. I'd like to ask for a bowl of water and some directions."

"Just passing through? In this chaotic world, why are you wandering into this ravine all by yourself?" Another, slightly older soldier looked him up and down, his gaze sharp. "What are you carrying? What's in your saddlebags?"

"It's nothing, just a few pieces of dry food for the road." He Damin obediently put down his satchel, opened it, and let the two of them see what it contained. "Boss, I really am on a journey. My hometown has been hit by a disaster, and I'm thinking of going to the west to visit relatives."

The two soldiers exchanged glances. He Damin's attire, accent, and demeanor showed no major flaws, but his composure in appearing alone on the edge of the base area made them somewhat suspicious.

"Wait here!" The young soldier gestured for him not to move, then turned and ran quickly towards the village to report the news.

About the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, three people emerged from the village. Besides the soldier from before, there were two other men in faded Eighth Route Army uniforms. The one in front was stocky, with a square face, wide mouth, thick eyebrows, and piercingly bright eyes. He walked with a brisk pace, and even without speaking, an aura of fierceness and recklessness emanated from him. The other man, wearing glasses, was thinner, with a refined appearance, but his gaze was equally firm and composed.

He Damin knew in his heart that the main characters had arrived. Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang.

Li Yunlong approached and, as if examining a rare object, circled He Damin for a short while, his gaze sharp as a knife, scrutinizing every detail of his body. "Passing by? Where in Hebei are you from?" he asked, his voice loud and clear, carrying an unquestionable scrutiny.

"Reporting to the commander, Baoding Prefecture." He Damin bowed slightly.

"Baoding Prefecture? That's quite a journey." Li Yunlong stroked his chin and chuckled, but the smile lacked warmth. "So, what brings you here? Don't give me that crap. I can tell at a glance you're no ordinary commoner." He pointed to He Damin's posture and gaze. "When ordinary people see my soldiers, few of them don't tremble. You're too steady."

He Damin knew he couldn't hide it from these veterans who had survived countless battles. He raised his eyes, his gaze calmly meeting Li Yunlong's. The deliberate feigned awkwardness and tension on his face vanished like a receding tide. Although he was still dressed in a coarse cotton-padded jacket, his entire demeanor was different. "Commander Li has a good eye." He no longer used the pronoun "I," his voice steady and clear. "I am indeed no ordinary passerby. I have come to Zhao Jia Yu specifically to discuss a business deal with Commander Li and Political Commissar Zhao."

"Business?" Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang exchanged a glance, both seeing surprise and deeper wariness in each other's eyes. Zhao Gang stepped forward, adjusted his glasses, and said in a gentle yet sharp tone, "Comrade, what kind of business do you want to discuss? We Eighth Route Army have discipline; there are some businesses we cannot do."

"Naturally, this is the business that Commander Li and the Independent Regiment need most right now," He Damin said, his tone unchanged. "Arms."

These two words were like a pebble thrown into a still lake, instantly changing the expressions of Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang. Li Yunlong's eyes narrowed, flashing with a sharp light; Zhao Gang's brows furrowed tightly.

"Arms? Haha!" Li Yunlong suddenly burst into laughter, but the laughter abruptly stopped, turning icy cold. "Such arrogance! Who are you? A spy sent by the Japanese? Or one of Yan Xishan's men? Trying to set me up?"

"Commander Li, please calm down." He Damin seemed oblivious to the murderous aura emanating from him. "Who I am is unimportant. What matters is that I can provide weapons, real weapons. And the first batch has already been delivered."

"Delivered? Where?" Li Yunlong looked around at the desolate mountains and fields. Apart from the few of them, there wasn't a single other person in sight.

He Damin turned to the side and pointed in the direction they had come from, to the cliff about three miles away: "It's over there, in a Japanese-made truck. Five hundred Type 38 rifles, along with their ammunition, and some light and heavy machine guns and ammunition."

Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang exchanged another shocked glance. Five hundred Type 38 rifles? And machine guns? That's almost half the total number of rifles in their Independent Regiment! And they were transported by truck?

"Words are no proof!" Li Yunlong suppressed the turmoil in his heart and said in a deep voice, "How do I know you're not talking nonsense? Even if you are, what if it's a trap?"

"Commander Li can send someone with me to investigate immediately," He Damin said frankly. "As for the trap... if I wanted to harm the Independent Regiment, it seems unnecessary to go to such lengths, even delivering it to our doorstep." He paused, then added, "The truck contains nothing but weapons. In the cab are my Japanese uniform and identification that I just changed out of. If Commander Li is interested, you can take a look. Perhaps you can guess some of my 'origins,' but that's all."

Li Yunlong stared at He Damin for a full half minute, as if trying to see right through him. Finally, he suddenly waved his hand: "Monk! Take a few men and go with this...this gentleman to take a look! Keep your eyes open!" A burly guard with sharp eyes stepped forward and selected four or five of his best soldiers.

He Damin led the way, with Wei Dayong and several soldiers following closely, maintaining a wary distance. Soon, they reached the back of the cliff. When Wei Dayong used his bayonet to pry open a corner of the tarpaulin and saw the densely packed, neatly bundled Type 38 rifles and stacked ammunition boxes inside, even the most daring man couldn't help but gasp. He quickly inspected the driver's cab and, sure enough, found a Japanese major's uniform and identification.

"Commander! It's true! A whole truckload! All good stuff!" Wei Dayong ran back to report, his voice trembling with extreme excitement.

After hearing the report, Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang looked at He Damin with completely different expressions. Their gazes were now filled with shock, confusion, disbelief, and a barely suppressed elation.

Back in a relatively well-preserved cave dwelling in the village—the temporary headquarters of the Independent Regiment—Li Yunlong had someone pour a bowl of boiled water for He Damin. He then plopped down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), lit a crumpled cigarette, and took a deep drag. "Speak, what's your name, sir? Such a generous gift, given away for free? What are the conditions?" He got straight to the point, no more beating around the bush.

"My surname is He." He Damin took the bowl of water, thanked him, and said, "Commander Li, you can call me Mr. He. This first batch of goods is a small gift; I won't take a penny from it."

"Not taking a single penny?" Zhao Gang adjusted his glasses, his tone serious. "Mr. He, our Eighth Route Army doesn't take a single needle or thread from the masses, let alone such valuable weapons. Please state your requirements."

"My request is simple." He Damin put down his water bowl. "I hope to establish a long-term partnership. I can continuously supply weapons and ammunition, and even some more 'special' supplies. In return, the Independent Regiment, or more precisely, your army, needs to pay me."

"How much?" Li Yunlong asked bluntly. "But let's be clear from the start, the Independent Regiment is dirt poor. If you ask for too high a price, I can't afford it."

"I don't want money." He Damin shook his head. "Gold and silver coins are meaningless to me. What I want are antiques."

"Antiques?" Li Yunlong and Zhao Gang were both stunned. This request was truly unexpected.

"Yes. Calligraphy, paintings, porcelain, jade, bronzes... the older the better, the more complete the better, and preferably something with some 'story' about it," He Damin explained. "I have some special channels and preferences, and these things are useful to me. Of course, I know the conditions at the base and don't require immediate payment. This is a deposit to show our sincerity. In the future, for each delivery, you can exchange antiques of corresponding value, depending on the quantity and type of weapons. We can discuss the valuation gradually to reach a rough standard acceptable to both parties."

The village regimental headquarters room fell silent, save for the hissing of Li Yunlong's cigarette. Zhao Gang pondered quickly. Trading antiques for weapons? It sounded unbelievable, but upon closer inspection, for the Eighth Route Army, which had virtually no hard currency, this might actually be a viable option. Antiques scattered among the people or buried by war, while valuable, were clearly less important than weapons that could immediately boost the troops' combat effectiveness and save lives. Moreover, if handled properly, not only could the Independent Regiment benefit, but it might also be reported to the division headquarters and general headquarters, becoming a secret supply route.

Li Yunlong exhaled a smoke ring, squinting at He Damin: "Mr. He, what you're saying sounds a bit far-fetched to me. However, this truckload of equipment is real. I don't care what you're after, or who you are, as long as your equipment is genuine, effective against the Japanese, and you can trade those useless bottles and jars for it... I think this deal is worth considering!"

He paused, his tone turning serious: "However, this is no small matter. I need to discuss it with the political commissar and report to my superiors. You'll have to stay and wait for news. Also, we need to agree on three rules: First, this matter must be kept secret; second, we need to decide the time and place of the transaction to ensure safety; third, the equipment you provide must be top-notch!"

He Damin nodded: "That's how it should be. I can wait. As for the quality of the weapons, Commander Li can conduct random checks at will. If there are any problems, we won't charge a penny, and the next transaction will be void."

"Great!" Li Yunlong slapped his thigh, a genuine smile finally appearing on his face, though a deep scrutiny still lingered within it. "Monk, take Mr. He to arrange lodgings and get him some hot food! Mr. He, the conditions in Zhao Jia Yu are simple, please make do!"

He Damin stood up and followed Wei Dayong out of the cave. Behind them, Li Yunlong's excited voice came in a low voice to Zhao Gang: "Old Zhao, did you see that? Five hundred guns! And they're Type 38 rifles! Damn, our Independent Regiment is going to be really something now! Hurry up, write a report and report to the brigade commander! This guy surnamed He... he's a real character!"

He Damin's lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile before he regained his composure.