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

It was just past the hour of Chou (1-3 AM).

The mountain path at Wild Chicken Ridge is flanked by stone walls, each more than two people high, with a pitted and moss-covered surface that becomes slippery to the touch when wet with night dew. The path is so narrow that only two people can walk side by side; mules and horses cannot pass, and even people have to turn sideways to walk.

Yamamoto Ichiki stood outside the ridge pass, bearing three minor injuries. His left arm was grazed by shrapnel, his right shoulder was struck by a piece of gravel, and he had a cut on his forehead with blood flowing down to his eyebrow. He wiped it with the back of his hand, but the blood continued to flow.

Shigeo Masuko stood behind him, holding a futuristic submachine gun with a still-warm barrel.

"Report," Yamamoto said.

"Kong Jie was shot twice and stabbed once in the left shoulder and once in the right leg, and stabbed in the stomach. It's uncertain whether he's dead or not. The Independent Regiment's ammunition depot was blown up, and all the outer sentry posts were cleared." Masuko's voice was calm, as if she were reading a list. "Our side suffered seven dead, three seriously wounded, and eleven lightly wounded."

Yamamoto nodded.

"withdraw."

The remaining thirty-odd agents began moving towards the ridge pass. They formed a neat column, two lines spaced three steps apart; those in front carried submachine guns, while those behind held grenades. Their footsteps were so light they were almost inaudible on the gravel.

When they reached the ridge pass, the scouts ahead stopped.

He crouched on the ground, looking at the base of the rock walls on both sides of the mountain path. There lay eight corpses, dressed in civilian clothes, with grenades strapped to their waists and Nambu-style pistols clutched in their hands. The eight men were Yamamoto's squad, which he had laid out in advance to ambush the messenger at the mountain pass; now they were all dead.

The scout looked back at Yamamoto.

Yamamoto walked over, squatted down, and examined the bodies. The wounds were on the chest and head, from rifle shots, at a very close distance, no more than fifty meters. The eight men were scattered on both sides of the mountain path, indicating they were killed simultaneously by simultaneous fire, leaving no time to react.

"Our escape route has been cut off," Masuko said.

Yamamoto stood up and looked at the ridge pass. The stone walls of the pass gleamed with a bluish-gray light in the moonlight. The mountain path led through the pass into the Japanese-occupied area. This side of the pass led towards Willow Gully, while the other side was the safety zone. Now, the safety zone was no longer safe.

"Go back?" Masuko asked.

Yamamoto shook his head.

"There are pursuers in Willow Gully. Turning back means being blocked from both ends."

He looked at the ridge pass for five seconds. Then he pointed to a steep slope on the south side of the pass, covered with shrubs, that stretched from the side of the mountain path all the way up to the top of the ridge pass.

"Go that way."

Masuko glanced at the slope but didn't say anything. The slope could go around the ridge pass, but it could only accommodate a dozen or so people; it wouldn't be spacious enough for more.

"You lead your men to fight head-on," Yamamoto said. "I'll take ten men and come down the south slope."

Masuko nodded. He did not argue.

Liu Dashan had been waiting for forty minutes behind the rock wall at the ridge pass.

When he led eighty men around Qinglong Ridge to the north and arrived at Yeji Ridge, the eight men at the ridge entrance were still alive.

The team lay prone behind the rock face, waiting for the man to reach the middle of the mountain path. At a command, three light machine guns opened fire simultaneously. All eight men fell in less than ten seconds.

He then mounted three light machine guns behind the rock face, blocking the mountain path. The mortar was positioned in a recess above the rock face, muzzle pointing downwards, capable of firing at any point along the path.

Eighty men lay prone on either side of the stone wall, silent and motionless. Liu Dashan had a stalk of grass dangling from his mouth; he had chewed it to pieces, and crumbs fell into his collar.

At 2:05 a.m., footsteps could be heard on the mountain path.

Liu Dashan spat out the straw, picked up his pistol, and lay prone behind the stone wall, peering out through a crack. In the moonlight, two columns entered from outside the ridge pass, spaced three steps apart, their footsteps very light.

150 meters.

One hundred and twenty meters.

One hundred meters.

"beat."

Three light machine guns opened fire simultaneously. The gunfire echoed between the rock walls, making everyone's ears ring. The first round of fire took down seven or eight people walking in front. Some lay motionless on the ground, some were still convulsing by the side of the mountain path, and some fell directly to the base of the rock wall, their heads hitting the rocks, and they were silent.

The agents behind reacted extremely quickly. As soon as the gun fired, they scattered, pressed themselves against the stone wall, and fired their submachine guns at the back of the wall. The machine guns had a high rate of fire; the bullets hit the stone wall, sending fragments of stone flying, which stung Liu Dashan's face.

"Hold on!" Liu Dashan shouted.

The light machine gun continued firing, but the agents were pressed against the rock face, blocking the machine gun's field of fire and limiting its reach to the open space in the middle of the mountain path. One agent, after being hit, didn't fall. He crawled forward two steps, pulled the pin on a grenade at his waist, and lunged behind the rock face. Liu Dashan had spotted him beforehand and fired a shot into the head. The grenade exploded beneath him, the blast sending dust and debris crashing down the rock face, making it difficult to open one's eyes.

The two sides are locked in a stalemate at Lingkou.

The special agents' firepower was intense; the rate of fire of their machine guns was even faster than that of light machine guns, and the bullets cratered the rock face. Liu Dashan's men also began to suffer casualties. One machine gunner was hit in the eye by a piece of rubble, fell down clutching his face, and was immediately taken over by another man to continue firing. Another soldier lying prone by the rock face was hit in the shoulder by a stray bullet from a submachine gun, but he gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound, instead pulling out sulfanilamide powder and applying it to his wound.

Liu Dashan counted; there were still about twenty people on the other side. His side had eighty men, three machine guns, and one mortar, giving them a firepower advantage.

But the special agents were firing close to the rock wall, so machine guns couldn't penetrate it, and mortars were likely to accidentally hit their own men if they got too close.

"Let them rush in," Liu Dashan said. "If they don't rush in, we won't move."

2:25 a.m.

Zhao Weiguo led the Third Company and the remnants of the Independent Regiment to the back of Wild Chicken Ridge.

He lay prone behind a large rock, peering through a crack. The rock face of Wild Chicken Ridge resembled a wall in the moonlight, and behind it came the sounds of gunfire, flashes of light, and explosions. The gunfire was of two kinds: bursts of light machine gun fire and short bursts of corvette fire. The two sounds blended together, so densely packed that there was no discernible gap.

The system panel in my mind lit up.

"Intermediate tactical simulation: The enemy is divided into two groups. Approximately twenty men are on the front of the ridge pass, and about ten on the south slope. The signal on the south slope is moving faster, suggesting a higher-ranking commander."

Yamamoto.

Zhao Weiguo narrowed his eyes. Ten men on the south slope, high-ranking commanders. Yamamoto was going to escape from the south slope.

Gardenia.

Gardenia crawled up from behind, her face and the butt of her rifle covered in mud. Before setting off, Zhao Weiguo had given her a Mosin-Nagant rifle, which had an effective range 200 meters longer than the Type 38, making it suitable for long-range sniping.

"Take thirty men and go to the south slope," Zhao Weiguo said, pointing to the slope on the south side of the stone wall. "Intercept those ten men. The leader is Yamamoto; I want him alive. If he resists fiercely, death is acceptable."

Zhi Zi hummed in agreement, then turned and led her men away. Thirty people followed her, making their way south along the base of the stone wall, their footsteps so light they were almost inaudible.

Zhao Weiguo watched them disappear into the darkness, then turned his head.

"The rest of you, follow me and surround us from behind."

Masuko heard gunshots from behind.

He lay prone behind the rock face at the ridge pass, wounded by two bullets, one in his left leg and one in his right shoulder. The bullet in his left leg hadn't gone through; it was lodged in the bone, causing excruciating pain with every movement. The bullet in his right shoulder had pierced through, and blood was flowing down his arm, onto his fingers, which were gripping the submachine gun. The gun handle was slippery from the blood.

Gunfire was coming from both sides; we were surrounded.

Facing them were Liu Dashan's three machine guns, and behind them were Zhao Weiguo's pursuing troops. Fire was coming from both sides, bullets flying in from both directions, crossing in the middle of the mountain path, sending rocks flying and shell casings clattering to the ground.

"Cover Lord Yamamoto!" he shouted.

The remaining agents opened fire simultaneously in two directions. They lay prone on either side of the stone wall, using submachine guns to block Liu Dashan from the front, while throwing grenades at his back. The grenades arced through the darkness, exploding upon landing, the flash illuminating the stone wall and their blood-stained faces.

Zhao Weiguo led his men to surround them from behind. The soldiers of the Independent Regiment were in a frenzy of fighting; some didn't seek cover and fired while still standing, only to be pulled down by Zhao Weiguo.

"Get down and fight! Listen to my orders!"

The soldiers of the Independent Regiment lay prone, but fired even harder. They had witnessed their comrades fall in the caves, by the roadside, and beside the ammunition depot. Now their enemy was right before them, their guns pressed against the stone walls, bullets striking the rock and sending shards of stone flying.

A pincer attack from both sides.

The special agents at Lingkou were compressed into a small area below the rock face, with the rock face to their left and right, Liu Dashan's machine gun in front and Zhao Weiguo's pursuers behind. They lay prone in the rubble, their submachine guns exhausted, and switched to Nambu pistols. The pistols had a short range, only able to fire within twenty paces.

Three o'clock in the morning.

The gunfire stopped.

The ridge fell silent, save for the soft patter of rubble falling from the cliff face and the occasional groan from afar. Liu Dashan rose from behind the cliff, pistol in hand, and walked forward step by step. Reaching the pile of rubble, he saw a man sitting against the cliff, riddled with seven or eight bullet wounds, bleeding from his left leg and right shoulder, but still alive.

It is a beneficial child.

He tossed his submachine gun and pistol aside. Leaning against the stone wall, his eyes half-open, he stared at Liu Dashan.

Liu Dashan squatted down and looked at him.

Masuko's lips moved slightly, her voice very soft.

"Yamamoto is gone."

Liu Dashan turned and glanced at Zhao Weiguo. Zhao Weiguo walked over, squatted down in front of Yizi, and looked into his eyes.

"Did Yamamoto walk down the south slope?"

Masuko didn't answer. His eyes slowly closed; he was still breathing, but he no longer had the strength to speak.

Zhao Weiguo stood up and pulled a piece of paper from Yizi's arms. The paper was folded twice, and the edges were soaked with blood, but the writing was still legible. It was an infiltration map, marking the locations of the four corners of the Iron Army: Xingshuping, the New First Regiment's garrison, the Independent Regiment's garrison, and the 386th Brigade headquarters. Next to each location were marked the infiltration route and ambush point.

A red circle was drawn next to the location of the brigade headquarters.

Zhao Weiguo folded the paper and put it in his pocket.

Gunshots suddenly rang out from the south slope. The rifle shots were clear, one after another, like someone tolling a bell.

The gardenia has taken a bite.

Zhao Weiguo looked up at the south slope. Moonlight shone on the slope, and the bushes rustled in the wind. Gunshots rang out from the bushes, one after another, interspersed with bursts of submachine gun fire.

He gripped his pistol and headed towards the south slope.