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

Chapter 19 The Sound of Cannons at Lugou Bridge

Zhou Shichang said he'd bring a whole truckload, and he really did.

The next afternoon, a mule cart was blocking the entrance to courtyard number 95. The cart was piled high with broken gun barrels, scrap blades, cracked bolt cases, and several discarded magazines. Old Xu sat on the cart shaft, a straw dangling from his mouth, and shouted into the courtyard.

"Zhao Weiguo, the junk collector is here!"

Yan Bugui peeked out from the front yard, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"Wow, so much iron..."

Old Xu slammed the butt of his gun onto the car floor.

"Military items. Whoever touches them loses them."

Yan Bugui shrank back.

When Zhao Weiguo came out, Zhou Shichang was also there. He had a white cloth wrapped around his shoulder, his face was pale, but his back was straight.

He handed over a stamped note.

"Temporary Ordnance Repair Assistant of the 29th Army. No pay, but you handle scrap materials and rations. You're too young to be listed as a soldier on the roster, so this is the only way to register you."

Zhao Weiguo took the note and glanced at the red seal.

"Can it go into the armory?"

Zhou Shichang grinned.

"You can go into the outer vault. I'll have to take you to the inner vault."

That's enough.

Old Xu jumped off the car and threw a cloth bag at Zhao Weiguo's feet.

"Cornmeal, pickled vegetables, and two cans of meat. Li Shuanzi insisted on having two eggs, saying that his knife saved his hand."

Zhao Weiguo picked up the cloth bag.

Where are they?

"The hideout at the docks has been wiped out. Manager Bai has confessed and named twelve people. The guards at the armory have changed, so the explosives weren't delivered."

Zhou Shichang looked at him and lowered his voice.

"The higher-ups asked you."

There was complete silence behind the windows in the courtyard.

Zhao Weiguo folded the note and stuffed it into his pocket.

"How did you ask?"

"Ask this child where he got his skills."

"How will you answer?"

Zhou Shichang raised his hand and patted the scrap metal on the truck.

"I said, if you tap a piece of iron that grew out of Beiping city, it will make a sound."

Old Xu burst out laughing.

He Yuzhu squatted by the moon gate, holding half a steamed bun.

"So, does that mean Brother Weiguo is now considered a military officer?"

He Daqing kicked him back.

"Kids, don't shout nonsense."

Old Xu raised an eyebrow at He Yuzhu.

"Call him Mr. Zhao. Those old fogies at the arsenal were sternly lectured by him yesterday."

Yi Zhonghai stood by the gate of the central courtyard, his expression changing repeatedly.

"The people at the armory...really learned knife repair from him?"

Zhou Shichang turned to look at him.

"What, you want to go too?"

Yi Zhonghai immediately lowered his head.

"I wouldn't dare."

Zhao Weiguo didn't look at him. He told Lao Xu to unload the scrap metal at the door of the north room, then pressed his palm against the gun barrel steel, and the system lights up line by line.

[Increased inventory of high-quality steel]

[Knowledge entry for gunpowder stabilization processing completed]

[Improved Tactical Simulation Proficiency]

From that day on, Zhao Weiguo would visit the 29th Army's garrison every three to five days.

The sentry at the armory gate initially stopped him.

"Whose child is this? Get out."

Zhou Shichang cursed out from inside.

"Blind? This is Mr. Zhao."

The sentry blushed, stood at attention, and made way.

Inside the arsenal, the old blacksmiths huddled around the furnace, none willing to concede to the others. Zhao Weiguo picked up a large, blunt-bladed knife and tapped the edge three times.

"Who forged this weapon?"

A craftsman with a white beard stood with his neck stiff.

"I."

"The water is too cold, and the blade is too stiff. It will crack even when cutting a Japanese sword, without bending it."

The craftsman's face turned red.

"You little brat—"

Zhou Shichang slammed the knife onto the anvil.

"Change it as he said."

Three days later, the craftsman handed a newly refurbished knife to a soldier returning from the front lines. The soldier chopped at the broken axle, and the axle snapped, leaving only a thin white line on the blade.

The craftsman stroked his beard and, after a long pause, managed to utter a sentence.

"Mr. Zhao, could you please take another look at the patient's complexion?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the stove fire.

"Look at the back of the knife, not the flame. Fire can deceive, but steel cannot."

This statement quickly spread throughout the arsenal.

Later, some members of the 29th Army's broadsword unit also learned that a ten-year-old boy had come to the arsenal to wield a sword. When someone's sword became brittle, they would rather go half a street to deliver it to "Little Mr. Zhao." Someone even smuggled a few pieces of Japanese steel from near Fengtai, and instead of handing them over to the warehouse, they gave them to Zhou Shichang first.

"Give it to that kid. Let him see what's going on with the Japanese steel."

Zhao Weiguo accepted the steel; refusing would be a mere formality.

He ground, broke, quenched, and tempered pieces of steel, noting their carbon content, inclusions, and toughness in the dilapidated house. Outside, the neighbors in the courtyard, who initially laughed at him, now avoided the Zhao family's house altogether.

When Jia Zhangshi saw the mule cart, she closed the window.

Yan Bugui's eyes lit up when he saw the ration bags, but he only dared to say:

"Weiguo, Commander Zhou is here again? Busy, good to be busy."

He Yuzhu often came to crank the grinding wheel. After he finished, he would spread out his hands, asking for spent cartridge cases.

"Brother Weiguo, I spun around eighty times today."

Zhao Weiguo tossed him a flattened bullet casing.

"One hundred laps tomorrow."

"You're better at calculations than the accountant."

"Not enough?"

He Yuzhu immediately put the spent cartridge in his pocket.

"I don't mind."

The winds of Beiping blew from 1936 to 1937, the dust on the city walls grew thicker, and there were more Japanese soldiers on the streets.

Gunfire from the Fengtai direction went from being a "drill" to a daily occurrence. Japanese trucks rolled over the dirt road, their wheels kicking up yellow dust that settled on the walls of Wanping, leaving a layer of rust.

At the 29th Army's garrison, Zhou Shichang's face grew increasingly thin.

"The Japanese have been asking you a lot of questions lately."

Zhao Weiguo sat in a corner of the arsenal, using a small file to repair the needle of a Mauser pistol.

"What do you want to ask?"

Old Xu slammed a piece of paper that had been confiscated onto the table.

The paper was written in Japanese, and next to it was a drawing of a child's silhouette, who was no longer holding a large sword, but a Mauser pistol.

Zhou Shichang turned the paper over.

"They changed their name. After 'Knife Boy,' they added that he was knowledgeable about firearms and suspected of sabotaging intelligence. The bounty increased from fifty dollars to two hundred."

Old Xu spat.

"Two hundred silver dollars is enough to buy a yard full of pigs."

Zhao Weiguo put the firing pin back in and pulled the bolt.

Click.

"That means they were hurt."

Zhou Shichang stared at him.

"Don't come back to the hospital too late these days. I'll send someone to take you."

Zhao Weiguo returned the gun to him.

"No need. More people make a bigger target."

"Aren't you afraid?"

Zhao Weiguo looked up at the soldiers practicing swordsmanship on the parade ground outside the window. The swords rose and fell, and the roars made the glass tremble.

"I'll have to work, even if I'm afraid."

On the evening of July 7, 1937, the sky was so stuffy it felt like a pot lid was covering Beiping.

Zhao Weiguo had just returned to courtyard number 95 from the arsenal, carrying half a bag of spent bullet casings. He Yuzhu was squatting at the door peeling potatoes and called out to him as he came in.

"Brother Weiguo, why are you so late today?"

Zhao Weiguo did not answer.

A sound rang out from the direction of Fengtai in the distance.

stuffy.

It's like someone is smashing the earth's bones with a hammer.

Everyone in the courtyard stopped.

The second sound followed immediately.

boom--

The window paper rattled loudly, and ripples spread across the cold water in the water tank.

Jia Zhangshi cried out.

"Another drill! Those Japanese devils do drills every day!"

Zhao Weiguo put down the bullet bag and looked southwest.