Courtyard Houses: Longevity Since the War of Resistance

The nights in Northeast China are eerily quiet.

In three provinces, all those wearing yellow uniforms and carrying guns, along with those traitors who aided and abetted the enemy, were wiped out by me. The cities, factories, railways, and ports are all there intact, except that they are now deserted.

Such a large operation can't be left unattended. The brigade commander and his men need to come and take over immediately.

I closed my eyes and focused my mind. First, I scanned the entire Northeast region. The locations of all the important places were clearly imprinted in my mind. Then, I cast my net across the brigade headquarters, the regimental camps, and Zhenguo's compound. The brigade commander was smoking and looking at maps, the staff officers were yawning, and the soldiers were either cleaning their guns or sleeping—everyone was there.

"The God of Space delivers the message at a fixed point."

The thought just occurred to me, and it was as if an invisible hand had gently touched it.

At the brigade headquarters in Beijing, the brigade commander was staring at the blue expanse of the northeast on the map, lost in thought, unaware that his cigarette had burned his fingers. Suddenly, he swayed.

It wasn't the kind of shaking that makes you dizzy; it was like the whole environment jolted.

The adobe walls, kerosene lamps, broken tables, and Shanxi map are all gone.

Before him were smooth wooden walls and gleaming large glass windows, outside which stretched a straight, unfamiliar street lit by streetlights. There was a faint, waxy smell in the air. He recognized the place; he'd seen it in photographs—the headquarters of the Kwantung Army in Chosun City.

"This...?!" The brigade commander dropped the half-smoked cigarette in his hand, stood up abruptly, and the chair legs scraped against the floor with a screeching sound. The staff officers behind him were even more dismayed; some cried out, while others frantically rubbed their eyes.

Almost simultaneously, in the permanent fortifications in Anbei, Heilongjiang Province, at the workshop entrance of the Harbin Arsenal, under the control tower of Qiqihar Airport, on the platform of Fengtian Railway Station, and on the dock of Dalian Port, tens of thousands of soldiers, who were in their camps one second, found themselves standing on the completely unfamiliar, cold and biting land of Northeast China the next.

Lei Dachui's eyes widened as he stared at the enormous aircraft hangar before him, forgetting to raise the gun he was half-wiping: "My... my god, where is this place?"

Ye Qiao reacted the fastest. She immediately squatted down, placed her hands on the cold cement floor, and looked up at the completely different starry sky. Her expression changed: "No... this isn't Shanxi. This latitude and longitude..."

The entire Northeast, all the troops that had been deployed there, were instantly plunged into astonishment and chaos. It was too bizarre; it was completely beyond their comprehension.

Just then, my second move came. I couldn't let this shock linger, not even for a second.

"The God of Deception has overwritten all memories."

This time, the effort was all-out and targeted at every single individual. The target: all our personnel transferred to Northeast China, and all the people within the entire Northeast region.

A long, detailed, and vivid memory, like a raging flood, instantly overwhelmed their brief moment of astonishment and firmly took over their place.

In this new memory, after the North China Campaign, the troops did not linger. Under the command of their brigade commander, they carried out a top-secret strategic infiltration operation codenamed "Return to the Nest." The objective was to take advantage of the Kwantung Army's incomplete recovery from its defeat in North China and, in the fastest and most daring manner, penetrate deep into the heart of Northeast China.

They didn't go down one path, but rather multiple paths were advancing simultaneously.

The brigade commander personally led an elite force, traversing the mountains of Rehe, enduring wind and rain, and after twelve days, finally secretly arrived at the outskirts of Changchun.

Other troops, from the directions of eastern Hebei and Suiyuan, overcame numerous difficulties with astonishing perseverance and a spirit of sacrifice, and made long-distance raids towards targets such as Harbin, Fengtian, and Qiqihar.

They remember the bitter cold when crossing the snow-capped mountains, the hunger caused by digging up grass roots after running out of dry rations, the brief but fierce firefight when they encountered a small enemy patrol, and how many of their comrades fell forever on the road.

As I recall, the final offensive began tonight. The troops, exhausted but highly motivated, launched a desperate attack on their designated targets.

The Kwantung Army headquarters in Chosin Reservoir put up the fiercest resistance. The battle raged from midnight until dawn, and our troops suffered heavy casualties before finally breaking through the defenses and storming into the building. The brigade commander was the first to rush into the commander-in-chief's office, and he personally tore down the Japanese flag from the wall.

Fierce street fighting broke out in Harbin, with each building being fought over repeatedly. The enemy defenders at the Fengtian Arsenal attempted to blow up the equipment, but we stopped them in time. The Japanese sailors at Dagang put up a stubborn resistance on their warships, but were eventually wiped out.

Every battle is rich in detail: the whistling of bullets, the flash of exploding grenades, the clang of clashing bayonets, the falling figures of comrades, the shouts of victory... everything is terrifyingly real.

The moment the memory was completely overwritten.

In the Changshi Command Headquarters, the brigade commander shook his head. The momentary disorientation and the unfamiliarity of the scene before him had vanished, replaced by extreme exhaustion and immense excitement after the bloody battle of the siege.

He glanced at himself; his uniform was stained with dust and what appeared to be blood, and his knuckles were slightly scraped. Taking a deep breath, the commanding presence of a general returned, and he roared at the still-standing staff officers, "What are you all standing around for?! Immediately send a telegram to Yan City reporting that Changshi has been captured by our forces! Order all units to proceed according to the pre-arranged plan, eliminate the remaining enemy forces, and take full control of all facilities!"

The staff officers snapped to attention, their faces showing the same exhaustion and excitement after the fierce battle, and immediately rushed to the radio and telephone.

Inside the Anbei fortifications, Lei Dachui scratched the back of his head and clicked his tongue. "Damn it, that shell's still making my head buzz... We finally got that iron shell off!" He kicked a Japanese soldier's corpse at his feet, turned around, and roared, "Get your spirits up! Search! See if anyone's hiding!"

In Harbin, Ye Qiao, pressing her throbbing left arm, calmly directed her team to control the various workshops of the arsenal: "Group A, check the power system; Group B, inventory the machine tools; Group C, set up a perimeter. Be careful, there may be unexploded ordnance or booby traps."

Throughout Northeast China, all troops instantly went into battle alert. They remembered the bloody battles they had just fought, the fallen comrades, and the heavy responsibility of taking over the territory. No one asked where they were anymore; they knew this was the place they had won with their blood and lives.

In the following days, the troops operated with remarkable efficiency. Warehouses were opened, overflowing with food and ammunition. At the airfield, rows of aircraft stood intact. At the receiving factory, machines gleamed. At the port, ships lay quietly at anchor. All the spoils were so abundant, forming a stark yet fitting contrast to the horrific sacrifices they remembered.

I appeared at the right time to the brigade commander and played my role well. In everyone's perception, the key assistance I provided included: accurately providing the internal defense map of the Kwantung Army headquarters and the changing of the guard schedule; making a swift and decisive breakthrough into the core area of ​​the headquarters; dealing with the stubborn commander and his guards; and temporarily paralyzing the enemy's command.

My contribution was significant, yet entirely reasonable and consistent with my public persona. The brigade commander patted me on the shoulder, deeply moved: "Without your intelligence and those crucial actions, who knows how many more men would have died in this battle!" The soldiers looked at me with the same admiration.

The Northeast secured its victory in this pyrrhic yet glorious manner.

With the achievements and solid foundation laid in the Northeast, my strategy changed for the rest of the country. I was no longer the protagonist, but a complete supporter.

The Japanese still occupied large swathes of territory in South China, Northwest China, Central China, and Southwest China, but they were already on edge. The brigade commander was now the de facto commander of the Northeast Field Army, with strong and well-equipped troops and high morale, and large-scale campaign plans were quickly being developed.

This time, I'm determined to only do behind-the-scenes work.

When troops are unable to capture a fortified stronghold after a prolonged siege, I will have their scouts discover an abandoned sewer or a hidden mountain path by chance.

When the Japanese army amassed its forces to prepare for a counterattack, their commander would happen to suffer from food poisoning. When the enemy attempted to destroy important bridges or factories, the detonators would inexplicably malfunction.

When our army faced supply difficulties, the transport teams would always be lucky enough to find a forgotten secret warehouse belonging to the Japanese.

Every move I made was accompanied by the most plausible explanations: coincidence, good luck, underground comrades risking their lives to deliver intelligence, or the enemy making their own mistakes. These explanations were perfectly integrated into the course of each battle.

Every battle was fought by the troops, sword and spear. Every drop of blood was shed by the soldiers. Countless tough and fierce battles were fought, including assaults, skirmishes, breakouts, and pursuits. The troops grew rapidly in real combat, but at the cost of real casualties and attrition. Victories came frequently, but the wrinkles on the commander's face deepened; he knew the weight behind each victory.

I remain behind the scenes, ensuring the scales of victory always tip in our favor, but never making the process easy. The necessary setbacks and costs will be paid in full. Only in this way can this army become a truly mighty force.

Time flew by amidst the flames of war.

On the evening of September 29th, I stood on a high ground outside the newly recaptured city of Guangzhou. The southern wind carried the humid heat of summer, and sporadic gunfire could still be heard from within the city, but the overall situation was settled.

The watch case was cool to the touch, and the date on the dial was clear and accurate.

Apart from Shanghai, there are no longer any organized Japanese troops on the Chinese mainland. The last Japanese battalion was completely annihilated three days ago on the Yunnan-Guizhou border.

I put away my pocket watch, looked northeast, and then further east towards the sea.

The external threat has been eliminated.

Mountains and rivers, heavy light.

I gently exhaled a breath of stale air. These past few months have been like a storm, skillfully orchestrated by an invisible hand, sweeping across the land and leaving behind a scarred but still fundamentally intact land, in dire need of rebuilding.

The wind seemed to have stopped, and the smoke from the gunpowder gradually dissipated.

But I know that some lice are hiding under the glamorous surface, and some are festering sores inside; it's time to clean them up.