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

At 10 p.m., the green light was still on at Heisonggou Station.

A coal train had just passed by to the west, its wheels clanging as it rolled over the joint, each section disappearing into the ravine. The coal smoke was low, choking the throat even half a mile away. Zhi Zi lay on the embankment, spreading the shift schedule on her knees. When the wind lifted a corner of the paper, she reached out and pressed it back down.

"Seventy-two Japanese soldiers, thirty-four puppet troops, and twenty patrol teams. They changed shifts at ten o'clock. Around eleven forty, an empty car from Yangquan came to the station to refill its water tank."

The monk asked, "What's the password?"

"Mountain cherry blossoms. A reply, March snow."

The monk muttered the words to himself, finding them too convoluted: "The Japanese devils, even while on guard duty, still have to think about flowers and snow."

Gardenia folded the paper: "If you read it as 'March Water,' people will be after your head."

The monk stopped joking. He didn't know enough Japanese to fill one hand; if he misremembered even one of the four words, the fifteen people outside the side door would have to force their way in.

On the back of the earthen slope lay a dismantled door panel. A map of the train station was laid on the door panel, with coal gangue weighed down at the four corners.

The accounts for Beishan Road were only finalized in the afternoon when another 243 men arrived. These 43 men filled the vacancies from the previous battle, bringing the net increase to 200, and the Independent Regiment was officially organized with 7,500 men. The newcomers did not start from scratch; the 63 men who knew about railways were assigned to Li Dazhu, and the rest were assigned to transport ammunition, carry stretchers, and guard the retreat route.

It's impossible for 7,500 people to squeeze into one station. Tonight, about 2,000 people are laid out along the 16-kilometer stretch of railway. Three armored cars, heavy artillery, and a large contingent of wounded soldiers are left behind, while only three mortars, three explosives teams, field telephones, and two days' worth of ammunition per person are placed at the front.

Zhao Weiguo used half a pencil to point at the switch on the east side.

"Don't move the tracks until the empty train enters the station. Once the train comes in, Duan Peng will block the east entrance, and Li Dazhu will block the west entrance. Hold it in place if you can. If the armored train comes out from Yangquan, then blow up the eastern bend."

Li Dazhu asked, "Still blasting fifteen meters?"

"That's enough for it to park. If we blast another foot, we'll have to make up for it later."

Should the water tower be kept or not?

"Stay. Without water, the locomotive can't move. With water, we might be able to use it."

Zhao Tieshan squatted on the other side of the door, measuring the distance from the barracks to the main line with his fingers: "Three mortars are set up on the south slope, 800 meters away. If one shot misses at night, the train car will be riddled with holes."

Zhao Weiguo placed a pencil across the drawing: "Don't shoot without orders."

Zhao Gang took out his pocket watch and placed Zhao Weiguo's watch next to it. The two old watch cases were worn white, and when the second hands reached the same point, one of them was seven seconds fast.

Use mine.

He handed the watch to Zhi Zi.

The telephone room, signal tower, and barracks—all three must be cut off simultaneously. If the outside line is cut off too early, empty trains will be stuck outside the station; if it's cut off too late, the alarm telegram can be sent to Yangquan. Fifteen special agents are already close to the side gate, Duan Peng's six hundred men are lying in wait on the east side, and Lao Zhou's six hundred men are guarding outside the main gate. When to move depends entirely on her time.

When Zhi Zi received the watch, the back of her hand touched Zhao Gang's knuckles. Both of their hands were cold. She held the watch to her ear for a couple of moments, then placed it back in her palm.

"The line was cut at 11:38. The empty truck arrived late, but the operation was not changed."

Li Dazhu frowned: "You don't want the car anymore?"

"If you wait for more than forty minutes for the bus, the patrol team will change shifts for the second time. People are more valuable than vehicles."

Zhao Gang wrote 11:38 PM on the action sheet, paused for a moment, looked up at her, and said, "Just press this."

Zhi Zi hummed in agreement and stuffed her pocket watch into the inner pocket of her cotton coat. Before, she only cared about sending messages back; when it came to actually firing, how others fought was none of her concern. Tonight, the speed of the two thousand men's advance depended entirely on that second hand, so she stopped touching her watch.

At 10:40, the monk led the group down the slope.

The fifteen men split into three groups. The first group wore tattered cotton-padded coats from the patrol team and carried tool bags on their shoulders; the second group walked along the drainage ditch. The ditch was covered with a thin layer of ice, which made a cracking sound when stepped on, so they would first stick their toes under the ice and then crush it little by little.

A kerosene lamp hung in the side door. The puppet soldier guarding the door hunched over, his gun slung over his back, and asked for the password through the crack in the door.

The monk answered with a cherry blossom.

The person inside the gate asked for the reply.

"Snow in March".

The latch was only half lifted, and the kerosene lamp suddenly flickered three times.

That's an inside signal.

The monk pushed the door open with his shoulder, first covering his mouth with his hand, then striking the sentry's ear with the hilt of his knife. Just as the Japanese soldier beside him turned around, two muffled shots rang out from behind his silenced pistol. The man fell to the cinder floor, his cotton hat rolling into the wall.

The inside player was a switchman, his face so thin it was sunken. He bent down to pick up his cotton hat, then threw it down again, his lips trembling as he finally managed to squeeze out, "There are still three upstairs in the signal tower."

The monk patted his arm: "Go back inside and lie down. Don't come out again tonight."

At 11:26, the special agents reached the signal tower.

Duan Peng's men also moved close to the eastern barbed wire fence. Fifty meters of barbed wire couldn't be cut in one go; the pliers would bite down once, and someone nearby would wrap the severed end with cotton cloth. The wire was taut, and if it wasn't held firmly in place in one spot, it would snap back and strike the soldier's hand. The man winced in pain, his hand still clutching the wire tightly until someone behind him took over.

Old Zhou was getting impatient waiting outside the main gate. There were clearly six hundred people in front of him, but he had to huddle in the frozen ditch and listen to the people in the station coughing. A new recruit had a badly blocked nose and wanted to breathe but dared not make a sound, so he could only cover his face with his sleeve. Old Zhou turned around and glared at him, then tore off his scarf and stuffed it into the man's hand.

"Wrap it up. If you dare cough even once, you'll be washing dishes for me for a month when you get back."

At 11:37, a steam whistle sounded from the west.

The sound was still far off, but the wire started to vibrate first. Zhi Zi crouched under the telephone pole, her fingers gripping the wire cutters. The second hand passed twelve, and she tightened the jaws.

The copper wire snapped.

Another communications soldier dragged the severed head into the ditch and covered it with wet mud. The lights in the station's telephone room were still on; the duty officer was unaware that the outside line was gone.

At 11:41, the locomotive pulled into the station with twelve empty carriages on its back. The wheels screeched as it came to a stop under the water tower. The stoker jumped down to connect the water pipes, and the station clerk, carrying a lantern, walked forward.

Gardenia raised her hand.

The barbed wire on the east side collapsed simultaneously. Duan Peng didn't shout; six hundred people rushed in through the gap created by the cotton cloth. Two short explosions rang out simultaneously outside the main gate, causing the door to flip inward. Old Zhou was the first to crawl through the smoke.

Hearing the commotion, the Japanese soldiers on the signal tower grabbed their guns and rushed to the window. The monk had already reached the second floor, but when he tried to break down the door, he couldn't. He took a half-step back and then shouldered the door again. The door hinge cracked, and the man inside fired through the door. The bullet pierced the wooden board and grazed the monk's ribs.

The monk glanced down at the tear in his cotton-padded coat, cursed, and fired two shots into the crack in the door.

Once the gunshot rang out, the station was no longer quiet.

The Japanese troops in the barracks rushed towards the platform, but Duan Peng blocked them on the east side, and Li Dazhu's men pushed them back on the west side. Three machine guns swept out from inside the window, and a layer of broken bricks fell from the top of the coal yard wall. Just as Lao Zhou lifted his foot, a squad leader grabbed him from behind and dragged him back to the wall.

"The commander has ordered that no one is allowed to cross the line until the machine gun falls silent!"

"Let go!"

"You can execute me, but I'll still have to wait!"

Old Zhou swung his arm, but didn't bring it down. He lay behind the pile of bricks, counting the muzzle flashes, identifying three spots, then grabbed the phone crank: "Zhao Tieshan, two guns at the east window of the barracks, one behind the coal shed. Don't fire on the platform!"

On the south slope, the three mortars finally opened fire.

The first volley of three shots landed two inside the barracks courtyard, and one hit behind the coal shed. The machine guns stopped at two points. Old Zhou waited a minute, then pointed forward. The people at the main gate stepped over the collapsed door panel and stopped crowding together.

The operator in the telephone room then realized the outside line was down. He was halfway through sending the alarm telegram when someone broke the window. The communications soldier outside had just reached for the telegraph key when he was shot in the chest. He slumped down on the table leg, still clutching the wire and pulling it downwards.

The switchboard fell off the table, its plugs scattered all over the floor. The telegram stopped at the four characters "Heisonggou Suffering".

When Zhao Gang rushed in, the communications soldier was still awake. The medic cut open his cotton coat; blood had already soaked down to his waist. The communications soldier couldn't see the wound, only staring at the wire on the ground, and asked, "He didn't go out, did he?"

Zhao Gang squatted down and stuffed the broken piece of wire into his hand: "He didn't go out."

The communications soldier clenched his fist, then quickly released it.

At 12:20, the last resistance in the barracks ceased. Some of the puppet troops threw down their guns, while others scaled the west wall and fled into the mountains. Duan Peng did not pursue them, but ordered his men to guard the switch and the eastern bend. Li Dazhu led the sixty-three new recruits who knew about railways to rush towards the water tower, coal yard, and locomotive, first reducing the fire in the furnace, and then looking for the driver.

The driver was nowhere to be found. The stoker they caught only knew how to add coal and watch the water, and dared not touch the brakes. Several railway workers climbed into the cab and argued around the valves for a long time, but none of them were willing to make the first move.

Li Dazhu, standing below, was so anxious he kept pounding on the train wheels: "You all always say you've touched a train, but when I actually asked you to drive, why did you all pull your hands back?"

Old track patrolman Mr. Chen squeezed out from behind the crowd: "I've never driven before, but I know the roads. I can tell you which one to release first."

"Then you say so, and let others touch it. If they break it, it'll be my fault."

The locomotive first retreated half a foot, then surged forward, sending the twelve empty carriages crashing together with a loud bang. The wounded on the platform all looked up, and Li Dazhu cursed even louder. Finally, the locomotive slowly moved into the coal yard's side lane.

Just after 1 a.m., a rapid siren came from the direction of Yangquan. The phone at the western observation post also rang in the stationmaster's office.

"Armored train deployed, 20 li from the station!"

Zhao Weiguo checked his watch: "No bombing on the western front. Duan Peng, 15 meters east of the bend. Bomb the uphill section, don't guard the breach."

The sappers stuffed the explosives under the sleepers. Before detonating, one of them lay on the ground and felt the fuse joint again; the frozen soil made his chin ache. Fifteen meters of rail, along with the sleepers, were lifted into the air, crashing down and creating two dark craters.

The armored train received the signal flags ten miles away, and its whistle blew for a long time. The headlights stopped at the mountain pass, and after a while, it retreated eastward.

Duan Peng's men lay prone on the high slope, watching the ball of light retreat. No one came down the slope to chase after it.

Old Zhou rushed to the stationmaster's office and immediately asked why he didn't take a bite. After asking, he saw three newly nailed stretchers by the door and swallowed his words.

When the gunfire stopped, the station became even more chaotic.

The seriously wounded were carried into the waiting room first. There weren't enough white sheets, so Zhao Gang had someone remove the curtains from the stationmaster's office and cut them into strips to tie to the cuffs of the seriously wounded. A soldier from the Third Battalion, shot in both legs, was in so much pain that he bit holes in his sleeves. A lightly wounded soldier next to him tried to make room for him, but as soon as he stood up, everything went black, and his head hit the wall.

Zhao Gang pushed the person back: "Those who can walk should be put at the back of the line. Let the medic take a look first."

He wrote down the name, the wound, and the evacuation location, one by one. His pencil was worn down, so he sharpened it with a knife. The shavings, stained with blood, stuck to the edges of the notebook, impossible to remove no matter how hard he tried.

Sixty-one enemy soldiers were killed, forty-nine were captured, and sixteen fled. The total of these three counts is one hundred and twenty-six, which matches the original troop strength at the station.

The Independent Regiment suffered nine dead and seventeen wounded. The communications soldier in the telephone room, initially recorded as seriously wounded, did not survive the evacuation and was reclassified as dead at 2:00 AM. Eighty-three rifles, three light machine guns, one telephone switchboard, one telegraph machine, one locomotive, and twelve empty carriages were captured and sealed in a separate account.

Zhao Gang copied the nine names again. The nine bodies were lined up behind the warehouse, covered with captured military blankets. The one on the far right was the communications soldier from the telephone room; his right hand had been washed, but black bits of wire insulation were still embedded in his fingernails.

Zhao Gang folded the list and put it into his pocket.

Before prisoners were taken away, their injuries were checked, and railway workers who stayed to help were also registered. Master Chen was sixth in line, his fingers covered in grease.

Zhao Gang asked, "Are you willing to stay?"

"Stay if they provide meals. I'll go somewhere else, but I'll still be repairing this road."

"It counts as supporting the front lines, not enlisting. If you want to go home, report in advance."

Master Chen nodded, then asked, "If the car can't be driven, should we dismantle it?"

Zhao Gang didn't make the decision for Zhao Weiguo; he simply circled his name and wrote, "Seale it first. Await further orders."

In the end, more than twenty people remained.

Zhi Zi found a partial map of the Zhengtai Railway hidden in a secret compartment in the stationmaster's office. Liujia Town was circled in red, with notes next to it indicating garrison rotations, grain delivery dates, and the earliest possible departure time for reinforcements from Yangquan. The East Gate had the fewest guards, half of whom were puppet troops.

After reading it, Zhao Weiguo asked, "Who sent it?"

"The inside line by the side door."

"record merits."

Gardenia folded the map in half, then stopped: "His home is still in Yangquan."

Her fingernail pressed down on the paper, leaving a white mark.

Zhao Weiguo changed his tune: "Transfer to the family members first. Their names will not be officially announced."

Zhi Zi then folded the map neatly. She didn't say thank you, but wrote the insider's name on the back of the map, wrapped it in another layer of paper, and stuffed it inside her cotton coat.

At four o'clock in the morning, the perimeter security along the eight-kilometer stretch to the east and west was fully in place. The wounded and the dead were evacuated first, and the prisoners were taken away in batches. Li Dazhu left a company to guard the water tower, the coal yard, and the locomotives. The spare spools of wire removed from the telephone room were carried by two people per spool, and they had to switch shoulders after walking only a short distance.

No one could guarantee whether the locomotive could be towed away. Zhao Tieshan squatted by the axle for a long time, then decided to disassemble a few key control components first. If it could be driven, it could be driven; if not, it couldn't be left intact. For the water tower, only the handwheel would be removed, the valves would not be destroyed; the coal would be loaded as much as possible, and the rest would be compacted with water.

The platform signal is switched to red.

Zhao Weiguo stood under the lamp, a map of Liujia Town clutched in his hand. The phone line to Heisonggou was cut off, the railway to the east was broken, and the armored train from Yangquan had retreated to the mountain pass. But nine people lay behind the freight shed, and seventeen wounded remained in the waiting room. A station was secured, but the costs were considerable.

Zhao Gang walked over: "Should we defend it or not?"

"The main force will retreat before dawn."

"Where's the motorcycle?"

"Delay it if you can. If you can't tow it away, dismantle it."

Zhao Weiguo pressed his fingernail against the east gate of Liujia Town on the map. The red circle there had already been creased by the gardenia.

"The next battle will be a full-scale assault on the county seat."