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

The short soldier grabbed Zhao Weiguo's arm.

"Mr. Zhao, you can pick up steel again, but you can't retrieve your life!"

Zhao Weiguo stuffed the breech fragments into the strong soldier's arms.

"Hold on tight. You can make two good knives."

Blood streamed from the soldier's shoulder down to the back of his hand. He gritted his teeth, but he managed to hold onto the hot iron.

"Okay, I'll hold you."

Outside the moat, the Japanese whistles changed again.

This time it wasn't the sound of three or five people sneaking into the camp, but the muffled thud of footsteps crunching through the mud. In the distance, in the darkness, flashlights were covered with black cloth, their lights flickering on and off; further back, the sound of artillery fire rolled in from the direction of Fengtai, shells crossed the wasteland and crashed outside Wanping City, the flames illuminating the stone lions of Lugou Bridge in a flickering light.

On the city wall, the deputy battalion commander's roar was torn apart by gunfire.

"Japanese reinforcements are coming! All platoons back to position! Big sword squads, hold the breach!"

When the garrison soldier surnamed Meng peeked out, his face turned ashen.

"Mr. Zhao! Come back! There are people everywhere outside the ditch!"

Zhao Weiguo looked up.

Blue tactical lines are laid out.

Red dots appeared one after another on the north side of the ditch, the west edge of the cemetery, and behind the ruined temple wall. It wasn't the small detachment from before. There was at least one reinforced Japanese platoon, followed by plainclothes traitors and disguised scouts, who planned to take advantage of the chaos caused by the heavy machine gun positions to use the corpses and firelight as cover to shove them under the city wall.

Zhao Weiguo removed the magazine from his Mauser pistol; there were only three rounds left inside.

"Shorty, pick up the gun."

The short soldier was stunned.

"What kind of gun?"

"The Japanese Type 38 rifles and ammunition boxes on the ground were also taken."

The skinny soldier lunged forward, dragging two rifles from under the corpses, their bayonets still dripping with blood. His hands trembled, and the rifle strap got tangled in his foot, nearly causing him to fall into the mud.

Zhao Weiguo grabbed him by the back of his collar.

"Don't shake. The gun's more afraid of mud than you are."

The skinny soldier grinned, but his smile looked worse than a grimace.

"Mr. Zhao, are you still joking around?"

"I'm not kidding. If mud gets into a gun barrel, it really will explode."

The Japanese army is closing in from outside the city.

A row of flares shot into the sky from afar, exploding in white light, illuminating the moat, collapsed walls, dead horses, and burning trucks as if it were daytime. Zhao Weiguo and his three companions were exposed on the riverbank, their clothes glistening with cold mud.

A gasp of alarm rippled through the city walls.

"They're down there!"

"Hold the Japanese devils down! Don't let Mr. Zhao get caught!"

The deputy battalion commander threw his military cap on the ground and grabbed a Czech-made light machine gun.

"All city guards, heed my command! Southwest corner, south gate tower, east crenellations, fire in a staggered pattern! Don't fight yourselves!"

This is more like a city at war.

The Czech-made machine guns at the southwest corner fired first, their short shots sweeping across the outer edge of the ditch; two light machine guns at the south gate tower followed, their bullets cutting diagonally across the cemetery; the Hanyang rifles, old-style rifles, and Shanxi-made rifles at the eastern crenellations opened fire simultaneously, sparks forming a winding iron chain from the city wall.

The sword-wielding soldiers no longer crowded at the gap, but split into three groups, crouching behind sandbags with the backs of their swords against their shoulders, their eyes fixed on where the ladders might be able to reach. The soldiers carrying ammunition ran along the base of the city wall, passing ammunition boxes from one person to another, and dismantling grenades into small piles, stuffing them next to each crenellation.

Someone shouted:

"Someone's coming from the east gate! Second row, move up!"

Someone else shouted:

"Don't let the wounded lie in the middle of the road! Carry them down! Carry them down!"

Wanping City wasn't large, but at this moment, the city walls were teeming with people. Bugle calls, gunshots, footsteps, and the suppressed groans of wounded soldiers mingled together, like an old city clenching its bones tightly.

The Japanese troops also opened fire.

The crisp sound of Type 38 rifles rang out in volleys from beyond the ditch. Bullets grazed Zhao Weiguo's head, shredding the reeds behind him. The short soldier, carrying two rifles, lunged into a collapsed embankment, his face pressed against the mud.

"Mr. Zhao, shall we return to the city gate? Or climb over the breach?"

Zhao Weiguo looked at the city wall.

The firepower at the breach was too dense. The city gate openings were far apart, with no cover in between.

He pointed to the plume of black smoke next to the burned truck.

"Go through the smoke."

The burly soldier, clutching the fragments of the cannon breechblock, glared at them.

"There are Japanese soldiers over there!"

"So they can't see us either."

Zhao Weiguo picked up a Type 38 rifle, pulled the bolt to eject the spent cartridge, checked the rifling, and then took two ammunition boxes from the waist of a Japanese soldier's corpse.

"Skinny, Strongman's wounded, you carry him. Shorty, you stay behind me, don't fall behind."

The short soldier slung his gun over his back.

"rest assured."

The four men went into the black smoke.

The truck was still burning, the smell of oil and burnt meat mingling together, making eyes water. Japanese soldiers could be heard shouting through the smoke, their voices muffled by the flames. A Japanese soldier, rifle at the ready, emerged from the front of the truck, his mouth still agape as he caught sight of Zhao Weiguo's small figure.

Zhao Weiguo's bayonet was already pressed against his chest.

He was short and not strong enough to stab through with one blow, so he used the momentum of his charge to slam the butt of his Type 38 rifle into the fire. The strong soldier kicked him from the side, sending the Japanese soldier flying into the fire.

The skinny soldier growled.

"left!"

The short soldier raised his Type 38 rifle, and before he could even aim, he pulled the trigger at the figure in the smoke.

Snapped!

The butt of the gun made his shoulder tilt.

The person in the smoke collapsed with a thud.

The dwarf looked at his hands.

"Did I hit it?"

Zhao Weiguo pulled him forward.

"If you hit him, don't just stand there waiting for the reward. Retreat before the smoke clears."

On the city wall, the garrison commander surnamed Meng saw a shadow flickering in the smoke and became so anxious that blood trickled from his throat.

"Don't smoke inside! Mr. Zhao is inside!"

The deputy battalion commander immediately changed the order.

"Raise the machine gun by half a foot! Fire smoke and then back off! Throw grenades along the outer edge of the ditch!"

Dozens of grenades flew down from the city wall, no longer landing randomly, but forming a wall of fire behind Zhao Weiguo and his men.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The charging Japanese troops were stopped by the wall of fire; the front ranks fell, while the rear ranks, stepping over the corpses, still tried to push forward. Rifles from the city wall fired in unison, the muzzle flashes rising layer by layer, like the wind blowing through a field of crimson wheat.

When Zhao Weiguo rushed to the foot of the city wall, two ropes were lowered from the wall.

The garrison soldier surnamed Meng lay prone at the edge of the battlements, half of his body sticking out.

"Grab the rope!"

Zhao Weiguo did not go first.

He tied the Type 38 rifle and ammunition box to a rope, then looked up and roared.

"Pull the gun first!"

The soldier surnamed Meng's eyes turned red.

"You fucking get up here first!"

Zhao Weiguo raised his hand and fired a shot towards the outside of the ditch, knocking down a Japanese soldier who was approaching.

"A gun could save ten people!"

The rope tightened suddenly, pulling the two captured rifles up to the city wall. A second rope was used to lasso the strong soldier, who was still clinging tightly to the fragments of the breechblock.

Several soldiers on the city wall exerted their strength together.

"Pull! Don't let him hit the wall!"

As the strong soldier was dragged up, blood from his shoulder drew a red line on the city bricks. As soon as he landed, he pressed the fragments of the cannon breechblock back into his clothes.

Old Xu leaned against the sandbag, his eyes wide with anger.

"You idiot, you actually brought it back?"

The soldier winced in pain.

"Mr. Zhao said this is good steel."

Old Xu glanced down at the piece of black iron and suddenly smiled.

"Okay, it wasn't a waste of time to get stabbed."

Zhao Weiguo was the last to grab the rope.

He had just left the ground when a burst of rifle fire suddenly erupted from outside the ditch. Bullets struck the city wall, and broken bricks rained down. The short soldier, who was already halfway up, was jolted and slipped.

"I can't catch it!"

Zhao Weiguo reached out and gripped his waistband tightly.

"Don't loosen it."

The short soldier even started to cry.

"My pants are going to fall down!"

"I'm still alive."

On the city wall, the garrison commander surnamed Meng and two soldiers had ropes tied around their waists, their feet braced against the parapet, and the veins on their necks bulging.

"pull--"

More than a dozen hands grabbed the rope together.

The soldiers, including those with broadswords, machine gunners, and ammunition carriers, even wounded soldiers whose arms had just been bandaged, used their teeth to bite the end of the rope and pull it backward.

Zhao Weiguo and the short soldier were dragged up to the city wall and thrown into sandbags.

The next instant, a volley of Japanese bullets swept across the spot where they had just been, snapping the rope in half, which then dangled outside the wall.

The deputy battalion commander rushed over and grabbed Zhao Weiguo's shoulder. He only let go when he saw that Zhao Weiguo's eyes were still open.

"You little brat..."

Zhao Weiguo coughed up a mouthful of muddy water and pointed outside the city.

"Don't stop. They've retreated behind the graveyard. Take advantage of their disarray and fire a volley."

The deputy battalion commander turned around and roared.

"All units, listen to my command! Three rapid shots! Fire at the rear of the graveyard!"

Gunfire erupted simultaneously from the city wall.

It wasn't just a few people firing guns.

The entire Wanping city wall was under fire.

Three rapid shots shattered the Japanese troops' newly regrouped formation. Some dragged the wounded, others crawled backward, and a sergeant raised his sword to push the ranks, only to be mowed down by a light machine gun from the south gate tower. Illumination flares fell, darkness swallowed the ditch once more, leaving only the burning trucks, their flames illuminating the distant stone railings of Lugou Bridge.

The communications soldier rushed up the steps.

"Deputy Battalion Commander! A telegram from Beiping! Orders for the garrison to continue holding their position. Reinforcements from the 219th Regiment are being transferred here, and there's also movement from Changxindian!"

The deputy battalion commander was panting heavily, his face covered in ash and blood.

"Reply: Wanping is still here."

He looked at Zhao Weiguo, then at the row of captured rifles, ammunition boxes, and fragments of cannons that had just been pulled up, and his throat suddenly became heavy.

"Tell them that the heavy machine gun position in the southwest corner has been destroyed, the infantry guns have been destroyed, and the city walls can still be attacked."

The garrison soldier surnamed Meng handed the pistol back to Zhao Weiguo, his fingers still trembling, but his eyes were shining.

"Mr. Zhao, here's your gun back."

Zhao Weiguo took the gun, removed the empty magazine, and loaded the last few bullets.

"Don't rush to repay the favor."

He looked out at the darkness that had once again descended upon the city.

"Move sandbags. It's almost dawn."