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

The monk pinned the man against the side of the cart for the first time and felt he had won quite decisively.

The soldier dressed as a policeman had his arms twisted behind his back, his face pressed against the metal sheet, and he gasped in pain. Just as the monk was about to turn around to look at Zhao Weiguo, a camera shutter suddenly clicked from the other side of the courtyard.

The person posing as a reporter had already circled around to the back of the car, their camera pointed directly at the white-painted serial number on the side of the file box.

The car in front also had an accident. Another "military policeman" used the butt of his gun to hold the car door shut, and several guards disguised as onlookers pushed their way in, preventing the "representatives" inside from getting out. The driver also dared not reverse rashly. There was a gap on the right side of the twelve people, just enough for someone to reach the door handle.

Zhao Weiguo did not call a halt.

He waited for the monk to see for himself.

When the monk released his grip, his face looked even worse than the person who had been held down.

"I missed the right side."

Zhi Zi added a note to her notebook: "There's also footage of the rear vehicle. The box number is complete."

The monk turned to look at the wooden box. An old blanket was draped over it, but it had slipped down halfway, revealing the white characters clearly.

"Again," Zhao Weiguo said.

Late August 1945, the backyard of a cave dwelling in the Yan'an Guard District.

The yard wasn't large; two rows of wooden crates took up almost half of it. Five days' worth of dry rations, a water bottle, and repair tools were placed on one side, while medicine, spare batteries, maps, and sealed documents were on the other. Two shortwave radios sat next to a stone table, their seals facing outwards. Two trucks were parked outside the gate; the first had its water tank repaired by welding, and the second's gearbox emitted a teeth-grinding noise when reversed.

Two squads were drawn from the Yan'an guard platoon. One squad took turns posing as soldiers, police, reporters, and onlookers along the route, while the other squad guarded the vehicles and was also responsible for filling in if the official escorts fell.

The escort team still consists of twelve people.

Four people stood close to the delegation, four guarded the passageway, and four watched over the vehicles, radios, and escape routes. Zhi Zi, holding her notebook and sealed route page, stood outside the formation. She was part of the mission team and didn't occupy a combat escort slot.

The communications soldier who had a high fever last night hasn't returned. The replacement communications soldier is in the third group, with "This Squad" written after his name. No one bothered to include the sick soldier from the medical station in the ranks again, just to make the roll call look better.

Before the second round began, the medic blocked Zhao Weiguo at the entrance of the ramp.

"I'll investigate you first."

"I'll check again in a bit."

"You said the same thing last night," the medic tossed a sandbag at his feet. "The boss told me to keep an eye on you. If you run away, I'll report you to the operations room."

The monk couldn't help but laugh. Zhao Weiguo glanced at him, and he immediately turned around to adjust his gun sling, though his shoulders were still trembling.

The test wasn't anything mysterious. It involved carrying ten-pound sandbags from the courtyard gate to the top of the slope and back; raising arms, climbing ropes, and holding guns. Zhao Weiguo ran fast the first two times, his shoes leaving trails of dirt on the stone steps. The third time, when he raised his right arm, he was slower.

My right shoulder tightened first, followed by a soreness that crept down my upper arm. The old injury, which usually didn't bother me, wouldn't disappear after long bus rides, carrying boxes of documents, or lifting heavy loads.

The medic pressed several spots. When he pressed on the back of Zhao Weiguo's shoulder, Zhao's fingers curled slightly.

"You can carry a gun," the medic said, "but not for extended periods. Don't do rope climbing either; have someone else do the weighted shoveling."

"How long is 'a long time'?"

"Hold the rope continuously for a maximum of two minutes. Once your shoulders start to ache, switch hands or hand it over to someone else. Rope climbing is no longer an option."

The monk frowned: "Missing one practice session won't kill anyone."

"If I miss one item, people will put me in the wrong place when we get to Chongqing." Zhao Weiguo handed the sandbag to the soldier next to him. "The person taking over needs to know what I can do and how long I can hold out."

The medic wrote the restrictions in the escort folder: ordinary gun handling is not affected; rope climbing is canceled; weighted sprints must be handed over to a substitute; continuous high-mounted loads must not exceed two minutes.

After reading it, Zhao Weiguo signed his name on the back.

No one said the injury was serious, and no one used the excuse of "youth can handle it" to erase those lines.

The first round of training was conducted publicly.

Two guards, disguised as local military police, erected a wooden pole at the gate, demanding to open the radio box and hand over the complete roster and frequency list. The vehicle in front was parked within the lines, its engine still running. The two men got out and only handed over their passes.

"Order from above: Open the radio."

"Command number."

"Temporary password."

"Please have this section of the transportation station verify. The seal and container number are visible, but the machine must not be turned on. Passengers must remain on board, and the complete passenger list must not be submitted."

The men dressed as military police raised their voices, deliberately calling out to the people outside the compound, saying that the delegation was afraid of inspection and that something must be hidden in the car. Several "people" joined in the commotion, some standing on tiptoe to look through the car window, others reaching out to bang on the car door.

The monk took half a step forward.

His toes had just crossed the white line on the ground when he remembered the sentence next to the map from yesterday, and he pulled his foot back. The gun was still in its holster, and he hadn't even touched it.

The first group continued explaining the inspection procedures. The second group stood sideways, separating the onlookers from the car doors. The third group guarded the radio, the rear car, and the backdoor. Despite the commotion, Zhi Zi didn't change her route; she only memorized the commands, positions, document formats, and the leader's clothing.

After a three-minute standoff, the person posing as a checkpoint inspector arrived. The inspection only checked the seal and box number, and then the wooden pole was lifted.

Zhao Weiguo then called a halt.

"First, let the conversation move on. If issues like identity, command number, and verification procedures can be resolved, then avoid interfering with people."

The monk asked, "What if they drag it out for an hour?"

"Note the time and report it upstairs. The convoy is still there, and the formation is intact."

"You won't let go?"

"The second floor."

The second round of training resulted in road congestion.

The front vehicle carried "representatives" and documents, while the rear vehicle carried dry rations, medicine, batteries, and tools. A wooden cart was parked across the ramp outside the courtyard, and more than twenty people squeezed towards it from both sides. The alleyway on the left was only wide enough for pedestrians to walk through, and the dirt slope on the right was barely wide enough for a vehicle to reverse through. There was also a loose stone in the middle of the road.

Zhi Zi first reported the route: "Only people can evacuate on the left. Vehicles can reverse on the right. The following vehicles should go first, and the vehicles in front should not stall."

"First group protect people, second group isolate, third group evacuate the rear vehicle," Zhao Weiguo ordered.

The escorts squeezed through a narrow line, shoulder to shoulder. Some cursed, some grabbed collars, and others kicked the tires. No one drew their guns. In the third group, one person crouched down next to the left wheel of the rear vehicle to examine the rocks, while another tapped on the side of the vehicle to give the driver directions. Zhi Zi retreated to the edge of the withdrawal line and waited until the rear of the vehicle had rounded the pine trees before raising her hand.

The first take was four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.

After stopping the vehicle, the driver first reported the water temperature, then mentioned that the transmission made another noise. The logistics staff member crawled under the truck, his trousers covered in dust, but couldn't find an oil leak. The truck was still running, but the inspection report wasn't changed to "good condition"; it still stated that it could only be driven on flat roads and would be replaced at the next stop.

The review sheet listed three points.

In the second group, some shouted "Back up" while others shouted "Make way," their commands clashing. Initially, no one was looking at the left wheel of the rear vehicle. The first group only focused on the vehicle door, neglecting the delegation's side and rear.

Zhao Weiguo took a pen and crossed out the extra words.

"Only three commands are required: Stop, Interrupt, Retreat."

The second attempt took 3 minutes and 41 seconds. The wooden cart hadn't been moved, but the following cart successfully reversed over the slope, and the leading cart hadn't stalled. Everyone returned to the evacuation line; no one chased after anyone to catch them.

The monk touched the holster: "If I really draw my gun, won't retreating like this be too slow?"

"That's only the third floor."

"Can I chase after him after I pin him down?"

"cannot."

"Even if we let him escape, he'll come back."

"If you chase after them, there will be one less person beside you. The second person will be waiting for this empty seat."

The monk pursed his lips. His dislike for this rule was written all over his face.

Zhao Weiguo didn't force him to nod, but simply pointed to the empty seat he had just been given: "You're on the second floor. The people in front will explain the procedure; the second floor is separated. After confirming the weapons and attack intent, you'll be responsible for final control. If someone falls, immediately return to your position."

Gardenia closed her notebook: "I think it's time to remove the line."

"You can't report an anomaly and an alternative route yourself; you can't lead the convoy to change direction."

What if communication is lost?

"Follow the contingency plan. If you see a plainclothes officer, slip into an unfamiliar alley; there might be ten in the alley."

At lunchtime, the monk squatted by the wheel of a car, munching on a cornbread bun. After chewing for a while, he suddenly asked, "If I really chased after him, what would you do?"

"We'll fill your spot first."

"Then what?"

"I'll deal with you when we get back to Yan'an."

The monk grinned: "That's alright. I thought I'd be shot on the spot."

Gardenia sat on the wooden crate, organizing her notes without looking up: "If you lose the Grand Elder, being shot would be too lenient."

The monk choked on the cornbread in his mouth, so he grabbed the water bottle and took two gulps.

We will have a shooting test in the afternoon.

The shooting range issued standard pistols with two magazines. The serial number, number of magazines, and issuance time were all recorded in the logbook. Zhao Weiguo didn't take any other guns, and the targets were set up at the normal testing distance.

All close-range shots hit the target. Most of the shots landed within the effective range. When he finished running up the slope and fired again, the soreness in his right shoulder returned. He had two shots left on the distant target, so he stopped, unloaded the gun, pointed the muzzle downwards, and asked the medic to check it again.

The monk stared at the target paper: "You can still hit it."

"able."

"Then how do we stop?"

"If I keep hitting him, it'll only look good on paper. But if I can't even lift my arm tomorrow, who'll take my place in the car?"

Gardenia chimed in, "Even in Chongqing, there will be people watching you and shooting at you."

"So I showed them a normal chart." Zhao Weiguo handed the gun back. "I was there to protect someone; I didn't have time to demonstrate martial arts to anyone."

Just then, the boss brought over two newspaper samples.

One headline already described the delegation's escort as an "armed demonstration," while another implied that Zhao Weiguo would lead elite troops from North China into the mountain city. The convoy hadn't even set off yet, but the words were already in place; all that was missing was a photo of him brandishing a gun.

The monk examined the paper from all angles: "We haven't even touched it, and they've already written down all the insults?"

"They're waiting for us to complete the photos," Zhao Weiguo said.

The third round of drills involved journalists, military and police personnel, and public insults.

One person blocked the car door to ask questions, another went around to take pictures of the documents, and three "military police" bumped the escorts with the butts of their guns. Zhao Weiguo only allowed the first group to hand over the pass, the second group to block the camera at an angle, and the third group to guard the car and the radio.

The insults grew increasingly offensive. Some called them bandits, while others pointed at the monks and asked if they dared to fire.

The monk bit his jaw until it was hard, but his feet didn't move.

Until a hand reached for the holster.

He stepped forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and slammed him against the car. Another guard immediately took his place. Only two people were needed to control the situation; the rest of the guards helped the "representative" into the car.

Nineteen seconds later, the vehicle started.

Zhi Zi looked at the notes: "The person blocking the camera is standing too straight, and the box number is showing a corner."

The monk, panting, said, "I was a couple of steps slower getting back to my seat."

"Again."

The file box remained in the car, its serial numbers covered with an old blanket. The person blocking the camera's view stood at an angle, avoiding direct confrontation with the lens. In the second take, at seventeen seconds, as the car sped out of the courtyard gate, no one crossed the evacuation line marked in lime.

The boss asked Zhao Weiguo, "When you get to Chongqing, what if someone insults you to your face?"

"Let me go first."

"Still trying to squeeze in?"

"Separate them."

"Draw the gun?"

"Control the scene and evacuate everyone. I cannot allow this argument at the table to escalate into a military conflict."

"The Grand Elder is walking in the other direction?"

"I follow people, not pursue enemies."

The three-tiered response was written into the task list: verbal concession, formation isolation, and control after confirming weapons and attack intentions. Below that were three red lines: do not break away from the Grand Elder, do not militarize negotiations or disputes without authorization, and do not pursue beyond the withdrawal line.

In the evening, the two radios were repacked. The fuel, water tanks, and tools in both vehicles were checked. Five days' worth of rations were distributed per person, with the extra two portions marked as communal reserves and placed on the left side of the rear vehicle. The first-aid kit was placed on top, ensuring it wasn't blocked by tools. The spare batteries were wrapped in tarpaulin and kept separate from the water bottles.

The second vehicle is still limited to use on flat roads, and the spare vehicle's number is registered under the name of the next relay station. The current quantity of medicine, batteries, and the quantity taken out are all recorded on the form. There wasn't a single item in the yard with an unclear origin.

The right shoulder was checked again. The soreness hadn't worsened, and the medic agreed to let Zhao Weiguo join the team, but the weighted sprint was officially handed over to another guard. Rope climbing was removed from the plan; if they really needed to cross the wall, the monks would go first, and Zhao Weiguo would stay on the delegation's side.

The list of restrictions is placed at the top of the folder.

The monk returned to the second level. Zhi Zi took two alternative routes and three evacuation points, noting them only on the sealed page. The two guard squads withdrew from the formal formation and returned to their vehicle guard and backup posts.

The twelve guards gave their final count.

When the substitute communications soldier answered "Present," Zhao Weiguo glanced towards the medical station. The person with the fever hadn't returned, but the registrations for both radio stations were complete.

The elder emerged from the cave dwelling: "Can we leave tomorrow?"

The engine outside the compound had already been shut down. Tonight, all that's left is sealing off the vehicles, standing guard, and sleeping. The number of people to be counted tomorrow morning, the medicines, the radio, and the vehicle status are all on those few sheets of paper in Zhao Weiguo's hand.

He closed the list.

"I will only have completed my mission if I bring the person back."

The monk, who was squatting at the gate of the courtyard cleaning his gun, heard this but didn't even raise his head; he simply pulled back the bolt of his gun with a click.

Zhi Zi wrote the evacuation point number on the last line of the sealed page and closed the notebook. It was completely dark outside, but the headlights of the two trucks were still on, casting a dim and bright light on the earthen walls of the cave dwelling.