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

Zhou Shichang did not try to persuade him further.

He pulled the Mauser pistol out of its holster, lowered the muzzle, and gestured to Lao Xu and Li Shuanzi.

"Go through the back wall. Listen to this kid."

Old Xu gritted his back teeth.

"Company commander, are you really going to let him guard the gate?"

Zhou Shichang looked up.

"You're going to guard it? You're stomping on the snow like you're beating a drum."

Old Xu's face darkened, and he grabbed his broadsword and crept towards the backyard. Li Shuanzi followed behind, his body pressed against the wall, his spear held horizontally in front of his chest. He Yuzhu's head was being held down by He Daqing, but his eyes peeked out from between his arms, their light frighteningly bright.

"Dad, that wall is really easy to climb over. Last time I went to raid a bird's nest..."

"Shut up. If you say another word, I'll stuff you into the stove."

Zhao Weiguo opened the courtyard gate a crack.

A cold wind immediately rushed in, carrying the smells of coal smoke, horse manure, and frozen earth from the alley. Darkness clung to the doorway, with only a broken lantern hanging under the eaves in the distance, its light flickering as if it were about to die.

The system simulation unfolded in my mind.

Beside the locust tree at the alley entrance, two pale red figures stopped. One leaned against the wall, the other crouched behind a cartwheel, their positions perfectly positioned between the courtyard gate and the west alley. At the exit of the narrow path to the west, there was another, even paler red patch, lingering briefly, like a sentry.

[Abnormal Target: 3]

[Suspected weapon: dagger/pistol]

[Recommendation: Remain hidden and cut off escape routes]

Zhao Weiguo sewed the door down, leaving only half a finger's width.

Zhou Shichang squatted beside him, his knees pressed against the blue bricks, his gun barrel hanging down.

"You saw it?"

"Two under the locust tree. One at the west entrance."

Zhou Shichang's eye twitched.

"Are your eyes like a cat's?"

Zhao Weiguo didn't catch it. He reached out and picked up a small stone from the side of the door, then threw it towards the water vat in the yard.

Snapped.

A pebble struck the rim of the jar.

A suppressed scream came from inside the Jia family's house.

"Who is it!"

The red shadow under the locust tree outside the door moved slightly.

Zhao Weiguo held his breath, his eyes pressed against the crack in the door. The person squatting there peeked out halfway, his hat pulled low, wearing a gray cotton robe commonly seen in Beiping, but his boots were wrong—the uppers were stiff, the toes narrow, and the mud soles had patterns like cut fish bones.

Zhou Shichang also saw it.

His finger was on the trigger.

Zhao Weiguo pressed down on his gun barrel.

"Don't shoot."

Zhou Shichang's gaze pierced over.

Why?

"As soon as the gun went off, the police, plainclothes officers, and Japanese soldiers all came."

"How do I take it?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the courtyard.

"Let them come in themselves."

Zhou Shichang's lips tightened.

"Using the people in the compound as bait?"

Zhao Weiguo turned around and glanced at the shadows behind the window paper.

"No one is needed."

He turned and walked to the ashes, wrapped a broken, unrepaired knife in an old cloth, stuffed an empty meat can inside, deliberately leaving a bit of the shiny iron showing. Then he hung the bundle on the bolt inside the gate and gently pulled it aside.

The bolt was half loose.

Zhou Shichang understood and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Your brain should really be in the staff office."

Zhao Weiguo retreated behind the screen wall, and the Mauser pistol slid from his cotton-padded coat into his hand. The muzzle was hidden in the shadow of his sleeve, the cold iron pressing against his wrist.

He looked towards He Daqing.

"Turn off the lights."

He Daqing's face turned pale, but he moved quickly, blowing out the oil lamp in the room with his backhand.

A sliver of light shone through the crack in Yan Bugui's door.

Zhao Weiguo's voice was not loud.

"Uncle Yan, you're using that lamp to guide the way outside."

Frantic footsteps came from under the door, the lights went out, and the front yard was plunged into darkness.

It was quiet outside for a few moments.

Then, the courtyard gate was gently pushed from the outside.

squeak--

The sound was so faint it was like a mouse gnawing on wood.

The door wasn't fully open; it got stuck.

The people outside the door stopped.

Zhou Shichang mouthed a curse, then leaned to the side and aimed his gun at the crack in the door.

The second time, the door opened even wider.

A hand wearing a black gloved hand reached in and touched the cloth bag hanging on the door latch. The fingers squeezed it, as if touching a tin can, and the movement immediately quickened.

Zhao Weiguo did not move.

That hand pulled the cloth bag outwards.

The can shell hit the broken knife.

Clang.

It rolled away in the night with a crisp sound.

The man outside the door was startled and peeked through the crack in the door. The hem of his gray cotton robe swung open, revealing a black gun handle at his waist.

Zhou Shichang lunged forward, grabbing the man's wrist with his left hand and slamming his right knee into the door panel.

boom!

The courtyard gate trapped the person against the door frame.

The man squeezed out a short Japanese phrase and reached for his waist with his other hand.

Zhao Weiguo raised his hand.

Snapped.

The Mauser pistol didn't fire; instead, the butt slammed into the man's finger bones. The bones made a dull thud, and the small pistol fell to the inside of the threshold.

Zhou Shichang struck him in the temple with his elbow.

The man went limp.

Another figure outside the door took off running.

"Old Xu!"

Zhou Shichang growled.

Behind the locust tree in the alley, a figure tumbled down from under the eaves of the coal shop. Old Xu, like a black stone, crashed into the snow and mud, his broadsword still sheathed, the scabbard sweeping across the man's knee.

Click.

The man fell to the ground, uttering a string of strange, swearing words.

Li Shuanzi's rifle butt fell down.

The sound stopped.

The red figure at the west entrance moved even faster, darting outwards along the wall.

The blue lines in Zhao Weiguo's mind contracted rapidly, and the west alley exit, the broken cart frame, the coal basket, and the lamppost all aligned at an angle in an instant.

He raised his gun, but instead of chasing anyone, he aimed it at a broken earthenware pot with icicles hanging from the wall at the alley entrance.

Snapped!

Gunshots rang out.

The earthenware pot shattered, and ice shards and pottery fragments rained down on him. The man from the west lost his footing, bumped into a coal basket piled in the corner, and tumbled into the black mud.

Old Xu roared.

"Shuanzi, hold him down!"

Then, the sound of crying erupted from the courtyard.

Jia Zhangshi was trembling in her voice inside the house.

"Shots were fired! Someone was killed!"

He Yuzhu broke free of He Daqing's embrace, staring at the gun in Zhao Weiguo's hand, his mouth agape as if he could fit half a steamed bun inside.

"Brother Weiguo, you really dared to hit me..."

Zhao Weiguo didn't look at him.

He squatted down, picked up the small pistol from the threshold, wrapped the handle in a cloth, and handed it to Zhou Shichang.

"Nanbu Shikaku-shi. Not ordinary civilian police."

Zhou Shichang tore open the collar of the man who was trapped, revealing a small cloth tag sewn into the lining, with a Japanese number on it.

His face fell completely.

"spy."

In the alley, Old Xu dragged one man toward the courtyard gate, while Li Shuanzi held another man at the back of his arm. The two men had rags stuffed in their mouths, their faces covered in mud and blood, but their eyes were still darting around.

Zhao Weiguo stood by the threshold, his gaze falling on the soles of one of the people's shoes.

The heel of the shoe is worn unevenly.

The footprints outside the door were the same.