Courtyard Houses: Longevity Since the War of Resistance

Late at night, Old Man You sat in his study, his fingers trembling.

He picked up the phone on the table three times, then put it down three times. There were twice as many guards outside the window as usual, and two machine gun posts had been temporarily added to the courtyard, which he had urgently arranged.

"I just don't believe it..."

He gritted his teeth and told himself, "That self-proclaimed demon-suppressor, no matter how powerful, is still made of flesh and blood. As long as we strengthen our defenses, as long as..."

The study door suddenly opened, sliding open a crack without a sound. There were no footsteps, no breathing, as if the door itself had forgotten to close properly.

Old Man You suddenly looked up, his hand on his gun. There was no one at the door.

There was only a note, which fluttered lightly onto the carpet inside the threshold.

He stared at the paper for ten seconds before daring to get up and pick it up. The paper was ordinary letter paper with only one line of text, the handwriting so neat it was almost rigid: "Your wife, two sons, and one daughter are currently in room 207 of the Peninsula Hotel in Hong Kong. They are safe, but if they don't receive your call by tomorrow morning, things might change."

Old Man You's legs went weak, and he almost knelt on the ground. He gripped the table, his breathing rapid and labored. That afternoon, he had personally confirmed that his family was in the villa, surrounded by a whole regiment.

But now he picked up the phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed a number. It rang seven or eight times, but no one answered.

He dialed another number, which was a direct line to the villa's security guards.

It's working now.

"Hey? Is this the guard unit? I'm Yu..." he said urgently.

"Priority student." A strange male voice came from the other end of the phone, eerily calm. "Your family has arrived safely in Hong Kong. Please rest assured, our people escorted them the entire way, and they were not frightened in any way."

"Who...who are you?!" Old Man You roared.

"To ward off evil spirits." The other party said and hung up the phone.

The busy beeping sound was in my ears.

Old Man You stood there, stunned, the receiver slipping from his hand and hitting the table with a dull thud.

The guards outside the window were still patrolling, and the soldiers at the machine gun posts were vigilantly watching the night. Everything seemed so secure, so safe.

But that person just took his family away from all the protection and sent them to Hong Kong, hundreds of kilometers away.

This is not a threat.

This is a demonstration.

Old Man You slumped into his chair and closed his eyes. After a long while, he picked up the phone again and dialed another number.

He thought he would never call that number again in his life.

At the same time, at our military command post.

I stood in a makeshift observation post, gazing at the lights of Shanghai in the distance.

The city is now like a besieged tin can. Outside are our people, inside are remnants of the Japanese army, and delegations from various countries are crammed into the concessions, as anxious as ants on a hot pan.

Someone called my name from behind.

I turned around, and there was General Mi Gu.

"I just received news," General Miguel said in a low voice, "that old man... has compromised. His troops will begin cooperating with us to take over tomorrow."

"That's good," I said.

General Miguel looked at me with a complex expression. He knew I was shrouded in mystery, but he never asked. Some things are better left unknown than known.

"What about those foreign representatives?" I asked.

"Still bickering." General Mi Gu snorted. "Those Y country people, M country people, F country people... they all talk a good game, talking about maintaining international order and humanitarian considerations. To put it bluntly, they just want to protect the concession and their businesses in Shanghai."

"Where are the Japanese soldiers?"

"The Japanese have less than three thousand men left, huddled in a few strongholds in Hongkou and Yangshupu," General Miya said. "They're now in a desperate situation, knowing they're doomed anyway, and planning to take as many as possible down with them before they die."

I nodded without saying anything.

General Mi Gu hesitated for a moment, then said, "The higher-ups asked whether we should release those foreigners before fighting them? They're worried that if we rush things, those foreigners..."

"No need to wait," I said. "We'll call tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" General Migu was taken aback.

"Hmm." I looked at the lights of Shanghai. "It must be resolved before October 1st."

General Mi Gu opened his mouth, but finally nodded: "Okay, I'll make the arrangements."

He turned to leave, then stopped, looked back at me, and said, "Li Feng."

I looked up.

"After the battle is over..." General Migu paused, "Where do you plan to go?"

I smiled and said, "Let's go home."

General Mi Gu smiled, asked no further questions, and lifted the curtain to go out.

I lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly.

The lights of Shanghai flickered in the night, like the breath of this era. It's almost over.

9y31ri, early morning.

The foreign concessions of Shanghai, the consulate of country Y.

The conference room was filled with smoke, and representatives from seven or eight countries sat around a long table, their faces grim.

"Twenty-four hours!" The F country representative slammed his fist on the table. "They're only giving us twenty-four hours! Either we clear out the remnants of the R army ourselves, or they take matters into their own hands and attack the concessions too!"

"This is a threat! A blatant threat!" The representative from Country M's face turned ashen.

"So what if it is?" Representative Su leaned back in his chair, his tone indifferent. "Do you think you can stop them? Right now, there are 300,000 troops surrounding the entire outskirts of Shanghai. Tanks, artillery, and even planes captured from the Japanese. They are now well-equipped and have so many weapons they don't know where to put them."

Silence fell over the meeting room.

It's harsh to say, but it's the truth. These past few months, that country has been on a roll, sweeping across the country from north to south with unstoppable force. Now, only Shanghai remains in the rest of the country, and they're not worried at all; it's those trapped inside who are in a hurry.

"We can put pressure on each other..." The representative from country Y tried to resist.

"Pressure?" Representative Su laughed. "What pressure can you exert? Don't you know the situation on your own soil? Where have the Germans advanced to? What are the Japanese up to in the Pacific? Who has the extra energy to go to the Far East and start a war with a country that has just won a nationwide war?"

Another silence followed.

"Then...then we really have to take action against the R army?" The F country representative's voice trembled. "This...this is against international law..."

"International law?" Representative Su stood up. "Gentlemen, wake up. There is no international law here now, only one rule: either do as they say, or wait to be wiped out along with them."

He walked to the window and looked out at the streets of Shanghai: "The fact that they dared to say that shows they're not afraid of our retaliation at all. 'If we're going to fight, we'll fight' isn't just empty talk."

The meeting room was deathly silent.

After a long silence, the representative from Country Y slowly spoke: "...We need time to discuss this."

"You only have six hours," Representative Su glanced at his pocket watch. "You must give them an answer before noon."

At 11:00 AM, the headquarters of the Shanghai Military Region.

Major General Yamada, the Japanese commander, knelt on the tatami mat with a short sword in front of him.

Gunshots rang out from outside the door, very close. They weren't from the Chinese army, but from YM-standard weapons.

"Baka..." he cursed through gritted teeth.

Those foreigners, as expected, betrayed us. Allies, all international morality—it's all bullshit. When it comes to life and death, all they care about is self-preservation.

"General!" A staff officer rushed in, his face covered in blood. "The multinational forces in the concession... have launched an attack on us!"

Yamada closed his eyes.

He recalled the battle reports that had come from various places a few months ago; now, it was their turn.

"Pass on the order." Yamada opened his eyes, his voice hoarse, "The entire army... will be annihilated."

3 PM.

I stood on the banks of the Huangpu River, watching the black smoke rising from the Hongkou area on the opposite bank.

The gunfire had subsided. The multinational forces in the concession—now more accurately described as an international coalition—were serious. They didn't want to offend the new regime that was about to unify the country, so they fought the Japanese with particular fervor.

That's fine, it saves us the trouble of doing it ourselves.

"Report!" A communications soldier ran over. "The R Army headquarters has been breached, and Major General Yamada has committed seppuku. The remaining Japanese troops are being mopped up."

"Understood." General Migu nodded.

The communications soldier hesitated for a moment, then said, "Representatives from various countries in the concession want to see you."

"I won't see him," General Migu said.

"They said...they wanted to talk about the return of the concessions."

General Miguel turned to the young communications soldier: "Tell them there's nothing to talk about. By October 1st, all foreign troops will withdraw from Shanghai, and all administrative power in the concessions will be transferred. This is a notification, not a negotiation."

The communications soldier's eyes lit up, and he saluted sharply: "Yes, sir!"

He ran far away, and General Migu and I looked back at the Huangpu River.

The river water is turbid and flows ceaselessly. Just like this country, soaked in blood and tears for decades, it is finally about to flow into a new channel.

September 9, evening.

All R army strongholds in Shanghai have been wiped out.

Representatives of the various countries in the concessions jointly issued a statement: In view of the special circumstances, the countries have decided to transfer the administrative power of the Shanghai concessions to the authorities of China, and wish China an early realization of peace and reconstruction.

The wording was euphemistic, but the meaning was clear: we admit defeat, just don't hit us.

At 8 p.m., red flags were hung on the streets of Shanghai for the first time.

Many people stood on the street watching as soldiers in gray uniforms marched into the city, and as red flags fluttered in the evening breeze. Some cried, some laughed, but most simply watched quietly, as if in a dream.

I was also in the crowd, dressed in ordinary casual clothes, like an ordinary citizen watching the excitement.

An old woman stood next to me, wiping away tears, and said, "They're back...they're finally back..."

I didn't say anything, I just watched.

Yes, I'm back.

ended.

The War of Resistance against Japan and the Civil War, the humiliation and struggle, have come to an end today.

I lit a cigarette, took a puff, and slowly exhaled.

The smoke drifted into the October sunlight, sparkling brightly.

I heard footsteps behind me, and when I turned around, I saw General Mi Gu walking over. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying, or as if he was laughing.

"Li Feng," he called me, his voice a little hoarse.

"General."

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

"Um."

General Migu was silent for a moment, then extended his hand: "Take care."

I held his hand: "Take care of yourself too."

He shook it vigorously, turned around and left without looking back.

I know he doesn't want me to see him cry.

I stood there for a while longer, watching the cheering crowds on the Bund, the ships on the Huangpu River, and the city coming back to life.

Then, I activated the God of Space.

The scene before my eyes was both blurry and clear.