Courtyard Houses: Starting with Li Yunlong's Comrades-in-Arms

In mid-August, the weather was extremely muggy. It hadn't rained for several days in a row, and the air felt like it was covered with an invisible damp cloth, with even the wind carrying a sultry heat.

Liu Yuheng arrived home around 4 PM. He pushed open the door; the house was cooler inside than outside, and the electric fan in the living room was whirring. Yao Qingwan was upstairs coaxing Liu Zhiyuan to take a nap and didn't come down even when she heard the door open.

Liu Yuheng took off his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, changed into slippers, walked to the sofa and sat down, picking up the newspaper that had just been delivered from the coffee table.

He first flipped to the front page, scanned the pages, and then flipped to the second page. The headline was clearly printed, and the results of the meeting had been published. The wording was solemn, the page was full, and a long article followed the banner headline, accompanied by a blurry photo of the meeting.

Liu Yuheng read the article line by line, very slowly, reading it twice from beginning to end. Then he closed the newspaper, placed it on his lap, leaned back on the sofa, and let out a long sigh.

As a time traveler, he has changed many things over the years. He saved Li Wenying, who was supposed to die in Shanxi, made Li Yunlong consider transferring several years earlier, persuaded Zhao Gang to leave the ministry and go to the southwest to join Li Yunlong's team, and every decision he made on the battlefield over the years has gradually steered the world in another direction.

But there are some things he can't change.

Those pivotal moments he had seen in history books and documents in his past life, no matter how much he predicted or prepared in advance, they still came, just in a different way, at a different time, and with a different group of people.

Sometimes he wondered what he had done. When he first came to this world, he thought that with his memories from his later life and his background as a military enthusiast, he could easily overcome all obstacles and avoid all the tragedies.

But he gradually realized that in his previous life he was just an ordinary person, with an ordinary university, an ordinary major, and an ordinary mind. Reading a few military magazines and browsing a few military forum posts could give him more knowledge of equipment parameters and tactical cases than others, but it was far from enough to apply these things in actual combat.

He has been learning all these years.

When I was a company commander, I learned how to lead troops; when I was a battalion commander, I learned how to organize and coordinate; when I was a regimental commander, I learned how to find a balance between the intentions of my superiors and the actual situation on the battlefield; when I was a division commander, I learned how to manage the food, drink, and sanitation of a division as well as combat training; and when I was a column commander, I learned how to understand the overall direction of the war from a soldier's perspective.

He was learning every step of the way, using his past life's memories as a reference, but every step was also inseparable from the hands-on teaching and guidance of his old leaders and comrades-in-arms.

He clearly remembered that back in the Jin-Sui region, after assigning the mission, the old brigade commander casually asked him, "How do you plan to fight?" He explained the tactical ideas he had seen on military forums in later years. The old brigade commander listened in silence for a while, and then asked him only one question: "Where do you put your reserves?" He was stunned at that moment.

The forum posts never discussed where to place reserves. That requires a comprehensive judgment based on all factors, including terrain, enemy situation, weather, logistics, troop morale, and communication conditions. It's not something that can be solved by a "tactical approach."

From then on, he knew his own limitations. He couldn't underestimate anyone, especially those old leaders who had emerged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

Their great talent and strategic vision were truly earned through decades of blood and lives, something that someone like him, who relies on foresight and theoretical knowledge, cannot match.

Therefore, he never thought he was anything special. He got to where he is today by relying on knowing more than others, plus a bit of luck, plus the support and tolerance of the senior leaders around him.

If you were to put him in the positions of those people mentioned above, he absolutely wouldn't be able to handle such complex interpersonal relationships, nor would he be able to withstand such immense pressure and responsibility.

So, in some situations, all he can do is avoid them. He won't get involved, won't express his opinion, and won't take sides. He'll handle what's his business and won't say a word about what's not.

He was in charge of the Second Ministry of Machine Building, those factories, and those projects—those were things he could handle well. As for other things, he could only stay as far away as possible.

Just as he was thinking this, there was a knock on the door.

Yao Qingwan came downstairs to open the door. She paused for a moment, then a smile spread across her face as she stepped aside, saying, "Brother Zhao? Sister Feng Nan? What brings you here? Come in, come in!"

Hearing the sound, Liu Yuheng stood up from the sofa. He took two steps toward the door and saw Zhao Gang and Feng Nan enter one after the other.

Feng Nan walked ahead, carrying a cloth bag in her hand, a gentle smile on her face, and nodded to Liu Yuheng: "Qingwan, it's been a long time. We've come to bother you."

Zhao Gang followed behind, carrying two bottles of wine. When Liu Yuheng's gaze fell on the two bottles of wine, his brow twitched slightly.

Zhao Gang is not a heavy drinker, and he tends to decline social engagements whenever possible, rarely drinking more than a few times a year. The fact that he brought two bottles of wine today, and even did so voluntarily, speaks volumes.

He didn't reply immediately, but nodded to Zhao Gang and smiled at Feng Nan: "Sister-in-law, don't say we're bothering you, come on in. Sit down, I'll get you some water."

He stepped aside to let the two sit on the sofa. Yao Qingwan had already turned and gone to the kitchen, bringing out two glasses of iced tea. Liu Yuheng sat down opposite Zhao Gang, glanced at his face, and then looked at the two bottles of wine placed at his feet. His suspicions deepened.

Zhao Gang didn't look well. There was a faint bluish-gray tinge under his eyes, and his cheeks were thinner than when we last met. The skin on his cheekbones was taut, indicating that he hadn't slept well for a while.

Liu Yuheng didn't rush to ask him. He turned and called out towards the kitchen, "Qingwan, cook a couple more dishes tonight. I'm going to have a couple of drinks with Lao Zhao." After saying that, he stood up and gave Zhao Gang a look, "Lao Zhao, come to the study with me for a moment. I have something to show you."

Zhao Gang paused for a moment, then gave a wry smile, stood up, and followed behind him. Feng Nan remained seated on the sofa, glancing at Zhao Gang's back, then at Liu Yuheng. Her lips moved, but she ultimately said nothing, simply picking up her teacup and taking a sip.

Liu Yuheng entered the study and closed the door after Zhao Gang followed him in. He didn't go behind the desk; he simply stood by the door, leaning against it, watching Zhao Gang.

"Old Zhao, are you here because of the boss?"

Zhao Gang stood there stunned for a moment, then nodded. He looked up at Liu Yuheng, his eyes filled with an unusual sense of dejection and confusion. His voice was lower than usual, and he didn't mince words: "Old Liu, you already know, right? The results of the meeting were in the newspaper today. I just can't understand it—"

He paused, as if searching for a more precise word, and then continued, "What the boss said—which one was wrong? Which one wasn't for the good of the country? Which of the questions he raised wasn't very real? So why has the situation turned out like this? I've thought about it for days, and I just can't figure it out."

After listening to him, Liu Yuheng remained silent for two or three seconds, then suddenly raised his hand and slapped the bookshelf next to him: "You can't figure it out? If you can't figure it out, then keep it to yourself."