The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

Willow Gully, at dusk.

The sun had sunk behind the mountains, leaving only a strip of orange-red on the horizon.

When Staff Officer Luo rode his gray horse out of the mountain road, the horse's mouth was full of white foam, its belly was rising and falling, and its ribs were protruding like a washboard.

The gray horse ran eighty miles of mountain road, its horseshoes clattering on the stones, its two front legs trembling, and it almost knelt down on the way down the slope.

Staff Officer Luo did not dismount. He gripped the horse's belly tightly with his legs, lay prone on its back, one hand holding the reins and the other pressing on the letter at his waist.

The letter was written by Zhao Weiguo last night. One corner of the paper was soaked with sweat, but the handwriting was not smudged, and the edges of the paper were limp.

The Independent Regiment was stationed halfway up the mountain in Liushugou. Several rows of cave dwellings were dug along the hillside, with straw curtains hanging at the entrances, making a rustling sound in the wind.

There was a stream at the bottom of the ravine, and two sheds were built on the banks of the stream, one for tethering horses and the other for storing ammunition boxes.

Next to the shed stood a flagpole, bare and without a flag, like a bone stuck in the mud.

Staff Officer Luo rode his horse into the gully, where a sentry stopped him. The young man, in his early twenties, had a face that was purple from the cold, cracked lips, and was clutching a Hanyang rifle in his hand, the butt of which was wrapped with strips of cloth.

Which part?

"Brigade staff officer Luo Yonggui, looking for Regiment Commander Kong."

The sentry glanced at his gray horse, then at his cotton-padded coat. The cotton-padded coats from Xingshuping were a shade darker than those from the Independent Regiment, and the stitching was also coarser.

They didn't let him through. He turned around and shouted, and a platoon leader came out of the cave. He recognized Staff Officer Luo and waved him on.

Staff Officer Luo led the horse halfway up the mountain. The horse's hooves clattered on the gravel, the sound echoing in the ravine.

Two guards stood at the entrance of the third cave dwelling halfway up the mountain, one holding a submachine gun and the other standing ramrod straight with his hands behind his back.

A piece of oilcloth hung at the entrance of the cave dwelling, and a corner was lifted by the wind, allowing light to shine through.

Staff Officer Luo tied the reins to the wooden post at the gate and dusted off the gray horse's neck. The gray horse snorted and lowered its head to nibble on the dry grass on the ground.

He lifted the tarpaulin and went inside.

The cave dwelling was small, with a wooden table against the wall, on which sat baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor) and braised beef.

The baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor) was sold in bulk, poured into a chipped, rough porcelain bowl, only about an inch deep. The braised beef was cut unevenly, with some pieces still attached to tendons, and the knife cut was rough, as if it had been made with a bayonet.

Kong Jie sat across the table. The gauze on his left arm had been replaced, but it still showed faint red stains. It was wrapped in a layer of gray cloth and fastened with a greenish brass pin, which he had gotten from the clothing factory.

He was checking the sentry posts on the northern front with the company commander of the guard company. A hand-drawn map lay on the table, drawn in pencil, with crooked lines, and some parts were erased and redrawn, making the paper rough.

The two men pointed to several points on the map and whispered something. The wine was untouched; it was just used to moisten their mouths.

Kong Jie looked up when he saw Staff Officer Luo enter.

"Staff Officer Luo?"

Without exchanging pleasantries, Staff Officer Luo pulled a letter from his pocket and handed it over. The letter was folded twice, the edges damp with sweat.

"Zhao Weiguo asked me to deliver it overnight."

Kong Jie took the letter and first examined the handwriting. Zhao Weiguo wrote quickly, some strokes were connected, but every character was legible. His gaze swept quickly from the first line to the last.

Then he laughed.

"Twenty light machine guns?" He slammed the letter on the table. "This kid's got some money now. After the Willow Bay battle, he can even use machine guns as favors."

The guard company commander craned his neck to look at the letter and smiled.

"You also have sulfanilamide powder?"

"Yes." Kong Jie pushed the letter to the guard company commander. "Look at this, the list this kid made is even more detailed than the quartermaster's."

Staff Officer Luo stood in the middle of the cave dwelling, not sitting down. His cotton-padded coat was covered in dirt, his trouser legs were stained with horsehair, and his boots were caked with mud, making him stand out starkly against the clean table and chairs. He looked at Kong Jie and smiled, but didn't join in.

"Commander Kong, there are more to come."

Kong Jie's gaze shifted downwards. The latter half of the letter was written in even smaller, denser handwriting, as if afraid of running out of paper. After reading a few lines, his brow furrowed.

"Checking for outsiders? Doctors, caravans, blacksmiths?"

Zhao Weiguo said that there were Japanese special forces operating in the Taihang Mountains, specializing in infiltration through disguise.

Staff Officer Luo took a step forward.

"Don't just look at the craftsmanship; look at the hands, the accent, and the way they walk. Especially those who have only arrived in Liushugou in the last few days."

He paused for a moment.

"Not a single one can be missed."

Kong Jie put the letter down. He picked up the bowl of baijiu (a type of Chinese liquor), took a sip, and then put it down, the bottom of the bowl hitting the table with a sound.

"A small group of Japanese devils dares to sneak into Willow Tree Gully?" He shook his head. "There's a cliff behind my cave, two sentry posts on either side, and mobile sentries at night. No matter how powerful Yamamoto is, can twelve men turn the world upside down?"

Staff Officer Luo became anxious.

"Commander Kong, Yamamoto's special forces are no ordinary small group of Japanese soldiers. They came all the way from Beiping in disguise. Zhao Weiguo brushed past them in Liulin Town and almost didn't recognize them."

"Just brushed past?" Kong Jie looked up. "How did he recognize me?"

Staff Officer Luo opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't write down or talk about the system alarm; he had to find another way to put it.

"Zhao Weiguo said those people had calluses on their hands. The calluses on the base of their thumbs and index fingers were from holding short knives and pistols. Ordinary people don't have that."

Kong Jie looked down at his hands. His hands were calloused, worn from gripping a gun; his palms were thick, and his knuckles were rough. He turned them over to look at the area between his thumb and forefinger, and fell silent.

Staff Officer Luo took another step forward, lowering his voice.

"Old Kong, Zhao Weiguo asked me to pass on a message. He said that Liushugou has many wounded soldiers, a long defensive line, and insufficient manpower. Twenty light machine guns and a batch of sulfanilamide powder have been loaded onto trucks and are waiting at the mountain pass. It's not a sale; it's to get you to strengthen the defenses of the five-day window."

Kong Jie frowned but didn't reply.

After he finished speaking, the cave fell silent. The guard company commander glanced at Kong Jie, then at Staff Officer Luo, but didn't dare to interrupt.

Kong Jie didn't move. He sat there, his left hand pressing down on the letter, his right hand resting on the edge of the table. The faint red stain on the gauze was particularly clear under the light. His face was illuminated by the light, half bright and half dark, and on the bright side, a vein could be seen throbbing at his temple.

"A five-day window?" His voice was flat. "What makes him judge it to be five days?"

Staff Officer Luo couldn't answer. Zhao Weiguo hadn't told him why, only that it would take five days. He could only say, "I don't know. But Zhao Weiguo has never been wrong in his judgment. Hulukou, Liushuwan, Laohukou, Xinghualing—every time he said he was going to fight, he won."

Kong Jie downed the rest of the baijiu in one gulp. The bowl turned upside down, and a single drop of liquor trickled down the side and onto the table.

"I know he's a good fighter." He slammed the bowl down on the table. "But I'm the commander of the independent regiment. These past few days, we've been redividing defense zones; the northern outposts need to be redrawn, the ammunition depot needs to be moved, and the rations for the three battalions haven't been calculated yet. If I leave, who will keep watch?"

Staff Officer Luo opened his mouth as if to say something, but Kong Jie raised his hand to stop him.

"Go back and tell Zhao Weiguo that I appreciate his kindness. I'll send someone to pick up the machine gun and medicine the day after tomorrow. But I can't leave the base myself."

"The day after tomorrow?" Staff Officer Luo's voice rose. "Commander Kong, the five-day window is open; today is the first day. The day after tomorrow will be the third day."

Kong Jie stood up, walked to the entrance of the cave dwelling, and lifted the oilcloth to look outside. It was already completely dark, and the cave dwellings on the hillside were lit by scattered lights, like a few copper buttons nailed to the black cloth. The distant mountain ridgeline was blurred and blended into the sky, making it impossible to distinguish where the mountain ended and the sky began.

"Staff Officer Luo." He didn't turn around. "You're from the brigade headquarters; you don't understand the difficulties of leading a regiment. Of my eight hundred men, at least three hundred are new recruits who haven't even warmed up their guns yet. If I leave, and the Japanese really manage to sneak in, what will these three hundred new recruits use to hold them off?"

Staff Officer Luo swallowed back the words he was about to say. Looking at Kong Jie's back, he saw that he was broad, but his left arm hung limply, and his shoulders were uneven.

"At least check all the new hires," Staff Officer Luo said. "This is Zhao Weiguo's last request."

Kong Jie turned around, looked at him for a few seconds, and nodded.

"Okay." He called out towards the door, "Old Peng!"

The tarpaulin covering the cave entrance was lifted, and a man walked in. He was in his forties, lean, with skin clinging to his bones, and sunken eye sockets and cheeks. There was a whitish shrapnel scar under his left eye. It was Old Peng, who was in charge of logistics and internal affairs. He managed everything but was good at nothing.

"Commander."

"Go and check on all the outsiders who have come to Liushugou in the last few days," Kong Jie said, handing him Zhao Weiguo's letter. "Check according to this. Doctors, caravans, blacksmiths, laborers—leave no one out."

Old Peng took the letter, glanced at it, frowned slightly, then relaxed.

How detailed should the investigation be?

"Hands, accent, walking posture," Kong Jie said. "Especially the group of traditional Chinese medicine doctors in the infirmary; they're the last to arrive."

Old Peng nodded, turned around and left.

Staff Officer Luo watched Lao Peng's figure disappear behind the tarpaulin. He knew this was the maximum effect a private early warning could achieve. Kong Jie didn't believe it, but at least he was willing to investigate. If he investigated, maybe he could find something. If he couldn't find anything, then he would have to rely on something else.

"Commander Kong," Staff Officer Luo said, "I'm leaving."

Kong Jie picked up a piece of braised beef from the table and stuffed it into his hand.

"Eat on the way. It's eighty li, your horse can't take it anymore, get a new one at the gully."

Staff Officer Luo stuffed the braised beef into his pocket and pursed his lips. He lifted the oilcloth and went outside, a cold wind blowing in and making the letters on the table rustle.

That same night, Lao Peng went to the infirmary first.

The clinic was in a cave dwelling by a stream at the bottom of the ravine. A white cloth hung at the entrance, with a cross drawn on it in ink. The ink was not yet dry and was billowing in the wind. An oil lamp was lit in the cave, casting a dim yellow light on the three people inside.

One is Nakamura.

He wore a faded gray cloth gown, the collar frayed. He wore a melon-shaped hat, the brim pulled low, obscuring half his face. His face bore the marks of time, with two red patches on his cheekbones, possibly from the cold or from applying makeup.

He was squatting on the ground, using a bamboo stick to stir the yellow powder in the medicine grinder. It wasn't ground finely enough, and there were still some granules.

The other two were his assistants. The younger one, in his early twenties, sat in the corner slicing astragalus root, his knife work slow and deliberate, as if he were wasting time. The older one, in his forties, leaned against the wall, dozing, a extinguished pipe in his hand.

Old Peng went inside and first looked at the furnishings of the cave dwelling. The medicine cabinet was borrowed, with a slip of paper pasted on the door listing the names of the medicinal herbs. The medicine grinder was his own, made of copper and polished to a shine. Several packets of medicine were laid out on the table, wrapped in paper and neatly tied with hemp rope.

"Lieutenant Peng." Nakamura stood up, dusted off the medicine powder on his hands, and bowed slightly. "What are your orders?"

Old Peng didn't beat around the bush; he took out Zhao Weiguo's letter, unfolded it, and read a passage aloud.

"Check the calluses on their hands. The calluses on the base of their thumb and index finger, from holding a short knife or pistol."

After reading it, he looked up at Nakamura's hand.

Nakamura held out his hand. It wasn't large, with long, slender fingers and a thin layer of calluses on his palms from years of grinding medicine. There were no calluses on the web between his thumb and forefinger, nor on the base of his index finger. His nails were cut very short, with yellow medicinal powder embedded in the nail crevices.

"I'm a doctor." Nakamura smiled, a slightly strained smile. "My hands are calloused from using a medicine grinder."

Old Peng's gaze swept over his two assistants. The younger one's palms were smooth, with few calluses. The older one's palms had a layer of callus, worn down from holding a hoe, not a gun.

"Accent," Old Peng said, "Where are you from?"

"Xingtai," Nakamura said. "I came here as a refugee. Xingtai suffered from drought for two years, and the fields yielded nothing, so I had no choice but to come here to make a living."

His accent did sound like that of Xingtai, with a quick, abrupt ending, unlike the drawn-out accents of native Taihang speakers. Xingtai is not far from Taihang, and their accents are similar, only the endings are shorter.

Old Peng asked a few more questions. Common prescriptions? Nakamura answered with three common prescriptions for treating typhoid fever and diarrhea, no problem. How to change the dressing for a wound? First wash with saline, then apply the medicine powder, and finally wrap it with a clean cloth strip, he said it in a standard way, similar to the medic's method.

How to distinguish real from fake medicinal herbs? Old Peng took a packet of astragalus from the medicine cabinet, pinched off a stalk, cut it neatly, and the cross-section was yellowish-white with a chrysanthemum-like center—it was real. He then took a packet of angelica, smelled it, and found the aroma strong—it was also real.

After checking, Lao Peng folded the letter and put it back in his pocket.

"Your hands, accents, and prescriptions are all fine. But the commander said that those who arrived in the last few days will have to work an extra night watch. Starting tonight, there will be an extra post at the entrance to your cave dwelling."

Nakamura bowed and nodded.

"Of course. Of course."

Old Peng turned and went out to check the caravan and the blacksmith's shed. The caravan was transporting salt, with five people, and the salt bags had genuine seals from the Liulin Town salt shop. The blacksmith's shed repaired horseshoes, with three people; the hammers and anvils were old, and the furnace had been burning for more than a day. Several minor issues—the caravan was missing a travel permit, and the blacksmith's shed had too much furnace ash—could all be explained; the travel permit was lost, and the furnace ash was from the day before yesterday.

Old Peng returned to the cave dwelling and reported to Kong Jie.

"I checked everything. Hands, accent, prescriptions—no problem. The caravan was missing a travel permit, and there was a lot of ash in the blacksmith's shed, but those can all be explained. I added an extra night watch."

Kong Jie nodded.

"OK."

After Lao Peng left, Nakamura put down the medicine grinder.

Reaching the entrance of the cave dwelling, I lifted the white cloth and looked out. The stream at the bottom of the ravine flowed loudly at night, drowning out all other sounds. In the distance, most of the lights in the cave dwellings halfway up the mountain were off, with only a few still lit. The footsteps of the patrol sentry came from the left, crunching on the gravel, growing closer and then fading into the distance.

They put down the white cloth and walked back to the cave dwelling.

The young assistant looked up at him. Without saying a word, he pulled a piece of paper from a hidden compartment in the medicine cabinet.

The paper contained a map of Liushugou's defenses, clearly marking out sentry posts, cave dwellings, stables, and ammunition depots.

He wrote a few lines of small characters in the corner with a pencil, which were a secret code in the form of a prescription: "Astragalus membranaceus 3 liang, Angelica sinensis 2 qian, Bupleurum chinense 5 fen".

The translated text reads: "Zhao Weiguo has issued a warning that Kong Jie has not left his post. An investigation has been conducted but no results have been found, so night sentries have been added."

Fold the paper neatly and stuff it into the middle of a packet of astragalus root; it won't be noticeable from the outside.

I didn't have my assistant deliver it. They've been watching my assistant's behavior these past few days; going out would be too conspicuous.

Wait until the last shift before dawn. Old Zhang, a kiln worker at the bottom of the ditch, goes to Liulin Town every day at this time to buy tobacco and coarse salt. His legs aren't strong enough to withstand the night watchman's questioning. He entrusted the package of medicinal herbs to Old Zhang, only saying that it was a packet of astragalus, to be given to the shop assistant at Jishengtang in town on the way.

Nakamura sat back down on the ground and continued to stir the medicinal powder with a bamboo stick. The flame of the oil lamp flickered on his face, making half of his face bright and half dark, and his expression unreadable from either side.

On the same night, at Xing Shu Ping.

When Staff Officer Luo returned to Xingshuping, it was already late at night. He changed into a chestnut horse from the Independent Regiment at the mouth of the gully. It was a size bigger than the gray horse, and it was tired after walking forty miles. When he entered the village, its hooves dragged on the ground, leaving a white mark.

Zhao Weiguo didn't sleep.

Sitting in the camp headquarters, a map of Willow Gully lay open on the table, with several dots circled in pencil. Beside it was a bowl of cooled millet porridge, a skin on top of which had formed a crust. A moth had landed on the crust, its wings stuck to the porridge, and it was still fluttering.

Staff Officer Luo lifted the curtain and walked in, bringing with him a gust of cold wind. His face was covered in dirt, his lips were chapped, and his eyes were red.

Zhao Weiguo glanced at him.

"explain."

Staff Officer Luo stood at the door, not sitting down. He repeated Kong Jie's words verbatim: "Twenty machine guns and sulfanilamide powder are appreciated; someone will come to pick them up the day after tomorrow." Old Peng checked the outsiders; their hands, accents, and prescriptions were all fine. The caravan was missing a travel permit, and the blacksmith's shed had too much ash—all could be explained. An extra night watch was added.

"Isn't he coming himself?"

"He's not coming," Staff Officer Luo shook his head. "He said the Independent Regiment is being redeployed to a different defense zone, and he can't leave his post."

Zhao Weiguo didn't speak. He turned the map on the table around, drew a circle with a pencil on the back slope of Willow Gully, then another circle around the location of the infirmary, and finally a circle around the location of the guard post. Three circles, three loopholes.

The pencil tip lingered on the paper for a long time.

Staff Officer Luo looked at him. Zhao Weiguo's face was very thin under the light, with prominent cheekbones and a layer of bluish stubble on his chin. His fourteen-year-old face had lines that didn't belong to a fourteen-year-old. His eyes were fixed on the map, but his gaze had already wandered, as if he were thinking about something else.

"The day after tomorrow." Zhao Weiguo put down his pencil. "The day after tomorrow is the third day. The five-day window has only two days left."

Staff Officer Luo did not respond.

Zhao Weiguo stood up, walked to the door, and lifted the curtain to look outside. It was pitch black outside; you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. The wind blew from the north; it was cold, and frost had formed on the ground. North, in the direction of Willow Grove.

"He doesn't believe it." Zhao Weiguo's voice was very soft. "A small group of Japanese soldiers sneaking into Liushugou? He doesn't take it seriously."

Staff Officer Luo stood behind him, without saying a word.

Zhao Weiguo lowered the curtain and turned around. His eyes were bright, but not in the right way; they were the kind of bright light that comes from exhaustion.

"Personal letters aren't enough. We need a formal order from brigade headquarters."

Staff Officer Luo was taken aback.

"Are you going to see the brigade commander?"

Zhao Weiguo walked to the table, folded the map, and put it in his pocket. He picked up the bowl of cold millet porridge and drank it all in one gulp. A flying insect was swallowed, chewed, and spat out—it was a wing.

"Lead the horse."

Staff Officer Luo looked at him, opened his mouth, then closed it again. He knew he couldn't stop him. He'd seen that expression before—the night before the ambush at Willow Bay, and before setting off at Tiger's Mouth. He was giving the order.

"Shall we leave now?" Staff Officer Luo asked. "The brigade headquarters is to the south, a forty-mile mountain road. We won't make it before dawn."

"We have to make it, even if we can't make it in time." Zhao Weiguo wrapped his cotton-padded coat tighter. "Kong Jie can't wait until the day after tomorrow."

He walked out of the camp, his footsteps crunching on the frozen dirt road. Staff Officer Luo followed behind, and the two of them went to the stables and led out two horses. Zhao Weiguo mounted the horse with even greater speed than during the day, his left foot in the stirrup and his right leg straddling it, his back ramrod straight.

Staff Officer Luo also mounted his horse.

Two horses left Xingshuping Village, their hooves clattering on the mountain path, the sound carrying far into the night. The path wound its way through the mountains, flanked by withered shrubs whose branches rustled in the wind.

Zhao Weiguo rode in front without looking back.

The wind blew from the north, chilling him to the bone. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the reins. Only one sentence kept replaying in his mind.

The private alert failed. Kong Jie didn't believe it; Lao Peng hadn't found out, and the Japanese were still in Liushugou.

Two days of the five-day window have already passed.