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

The truck bumped its way into Beiping (Beijing).

The area outside Dongbianmen was packed with people. People carrying loads, pushing carts, and holding children were all trying to squeeze into the city, their faces covered in dirt, but their eyes were always looking towards the southwest horizon. With each roll of cannon fire, the crowd seemed to be whipped, their shoulders hunching in unison.

The driver honked the horn until it was hoarse.

"Make way! Military vehicles! Make way!"

An old man was stuck in the middle of the road pushing a cart with two tattered quilts and a chicken coop tied to it. The chickens were clucking loudly, and the old man's hands were shaking, causing the wheels to get stuck in the cracks between the bricks.

Han Fucheng leaned out.

"Give them a hand."

The guards jumped down and, together with two soldiers from the 29th Army standing by the roadside, lifted the cart. The old man's lips trembled as he bowed towards the back of the cart.

"Sir, has the fighting really broken out at Lugou Bridge?"

Han Fucheng did not answer.

Zhao Weiguo looked out from the side of the truck bed. Beside the old man's chicken coop lay half a broken hoe, the iron edge of the hoe head curled. The system panel lit up slightly, then went dark again.

Recyclable scrap metal: low value

He looked away.

Han Fucheng saw his gaze fall on the hoe and spoke in a low voice.

"Still looking at iron at a time like this?"

Zhao Weiguo tucked the tattered bag into his arms.

"Iron doesn't discriminate based on time."

"We can barely take care of anyone."

"People need to live, guns need to fire, and cannons need to be repaired. All of these require iron."

Han Fucheng glanced at him, then said nothing more.

Once the car entered the city, the streets became even more chaotic.

The patrol officers, batons in hand, maintained order at the intersection, their voices hoarse from shouting. Several shops had their doors half-open; the shopkeepers peered out at the military vehicles, but upon seeing the blood-stained helmets in the truck beds, they pulled the doors back in half a foot. Outside the teahouse, a group of people surrounded a newsboy, who waved smeared paper, his voice shrill like a copper plate.

"Battle begins at Lugou Bridge! Cannons fire at Wanping!"

A man in a long gown snatched the newspaper, muttered a few words, and his face turned pale.

"Still claiming it's a misunderstanding... Can a misunderstanding really blow a hole in the city wall?"

Someone nearby was speaking in a low voice.

"Say less, the Japanese have spies in the city."

Upon hearing the word "informant," Zhao Weiguo placed his fingers on the handle of his Mauser pistol.

The system sand table is laid out.

Blue lines swept across the street corners, teahouses, grain store thresholds, and telephone exchange walls. The crowds were as numerous as scattered beans, white dots crowded together, yellow dots scattered haphazardly, and two light red dots paused for a moment at the entrance of an alley on the west side before separating again.

[Abnormal Attention Track: 2]

Risk Level: Low

Zhao Weiguo raised his hand and tapped the back panel of the driver's cab.

"Don't go through Zhengyangmen Street. Turn left and go around the alley behind the telephone exchange."

The driver turned around and said.

"The military headquarters is over there!"

Han Fucheng slapped the carriage directly.

"Listen to him."

The driver cursed, turned the steering wheel, and the truck grazed a mule cart as it swerved into the back alley.

The guard grabbed the side of the vehicle and was nearly thrown off.

"Major, what's gotten into this kid again?"

Han Fucheng pressed the battle report box firmly.

"We'd better not ask him too many questions about what he saw."

Zhao Weiguo stared at the alleyway behind him.

Two light red dots were left in the crowd on the main street and quickly disappeared.

When the truck stopped outside the headquarters of the 29th Army, the telephones in the courtyard rang incessantly.

The sentry at the gate stopped the car with a gun at his ready.

"Password!"

Han Fucheng jumped out of the car and took out his identification.

"Han Fucheng of the 219th Regiment was ordered to bring Zhao Weiguo to report on the battle situation in Wanping."

The sentry's gaze fell on Zhao Weiguo, and he was clearly taken aback.

"he?"

Zhao Weiguo jumped down from the truck bed, his helmet tilting slightly. He straightened it, and the gun barrels in the tattered sack rattled.

The sentry looked down at the Mauser pistol at his waist.

"A child bringing a gun to the military headquarters?"

Han Fucheng reached out and pressed down on the sentry's gun muzzle.

"This kid saved half the city last night with a gun."

The sentry's lips moved slightly, then he stood at attention and stepped aside.

"please."

In the military headquarters courtyard, maps were spread out on wooden tables, and staff officers ran back and forth with telephone lines tucked under their arms. Someone shouted, "Japanese troops are gathering again in the Fengtai direction!" Another shouted, "Is the Wanping line reconnected yet?" Ammunition boxes were piled up against the wall, their lids just pried open, and brass bullets gleamed cold in the morning light.

When Zhao Weiguo entered the room, several pairs of eyes simultaneously turned towards him.

Beside the head of the table stood a tall, thin officer with deep-set eyes and a short-shaven beard. He held a newly copied battle report in his hand, his gaze shifting from the paper to Zhao Weiguo's face.

"You're Zhao Weiguo?"

Zhao Weiguo stood up straight.

"Yes."

The officer placed the battle report on the table.

"The battle report says you assisted in correcting firepower, destroying the Japanese artillery positions east of the bridge, and even identified the secret door for detonation. Who taught you that?"

Just as Han Fucheng was about to speak, Zhao Weiguo had already placed the tattered bag on the table.

Clang.

Fragments of gun steel, broken shell plates, and several Japanese shell casings rolled out, covering a corner of the battle report.

The room fell silent.

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the deformed spring plate.

"Look at this first."

The tall, thin officer frowned.

"I'm asking you a question."

Zhao Weiguo looked up.

"I'm answering too. The Japanese taught us."

One of the staff officers sneered.

"The Japanese devils taught you how to fight them?"

Zhao Weiguo picked up the broken piece of the spring plate and handed it to him.

"After continuous firing, the ammunition tray of the Type 92 heavy machine gun deformed, and the assistant gunner was half a beat too slow to cover. Last night, this half-beat happened during the ammunition reloading, ammunition delivery, and fire repositioning at the Qiaodong artillery position."

The staff officer's smile froze.

Zhao Weiguo picked up the fragments of gun steel again and placed them on the map at the east side of the bridge.

"Their artillerymen liked to place their cannons behind the ruins, with the muzzle barely exposed and the ammunition boxes on the right. After the first shot, the three men would crowd around the breech for ejection, feeding, and calibration. It's better to hit this spot than to shoot people with a mortar."

He tapped his fingertip on the map.

"Bomb this place, the artillery will kill everyone, the people will be thrown into chaos, and reinforcements will be able to cross the bridge."

No one spoke inside the room.

The phone was still ringing, but the staff officer forgot to answer it.

The tall, thin officer slowly walked to the table, picked up the piece of gun steel, and examined the broken surface.

"You're saying you learned all this from the battlefield?"

Zhao Weiguo lined up the spent cartridge cases.

"If you can't tell, then they're dead."

Han Fucheng opened the battle report box and took out the list of spoils and the instructions for sealing.

"Sir, Wanping captured a Type 92 heavy machine gun, but it overheated and is damaged, making it unsuitable for transport. Zhao Weiguo suggests leaving it in the city for safekeeping, and the arsenal will send someone to inspect it."

The tall, thin officer looked at Zhao Weiguo.

"You're unwilling to send the gun over?"

Zhao Weiguo pushed the section of the springboard over.

"It'll be cracked as soon as it arrives. If it's cracked, the military will just have a pile of scrap metal. Keep Wanping City; we can imitate it, teach others, and repair it."

The tall, thin officer tapped his knuckles on the table.

You're only ten years old.

Zhao Weiguo looked at him.

"The Type 92 rifle won't lose a shot just because I'm ten years old."

An old staff officer inside coughed softly, as if suppressing a laugh.

The tall, thin officer stared at Zhao Weiguo for a long time, then suddenly called out towards the door.

"Summon the ordnance department."

The messenger at the door immediately turned around.

"yes!"

The tall, thin officer then pointed to the map.

"Zhao Weiguo, in the southwest corner of Wanping, if the Japanese attack again, where do you think they will start?"

Zhao Weiguo looked down at the map, his finger hovering over the gray line between Lugou Bridge and Wanping City.

"They won't just attack the southwest corner anymore."

"explain."

Zhao Weiguo picked up a spent cartridge and placed it on the northeast side of the city wall.

"They will bombard the southwest gap, forcing the defenders to pile their troops over there. Then they will send plainclothes officers or engineers to probe the northeast gate, the hidden ditches, and the back walls of civilian houses. They learned their lesson last night, so next time they will bring more explosives and will blow up the telephone lines first."

The tall, thin officer's face darkened.

"Telephone line?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the city gate tower on the map.

"Wanping was able to hold out because battle reports, supplies, and reinforcements could still be connected. Once those connections were broken, the city walls would be blind."

The phone rang suddenly with a loud bang next to me.

An aide grabbed the receiver, listened for a couple of sentences, and his face changed drastically.

"Sir, Wanping reports that a small group of Japanese troops are circling around to the northeast side of the city, near the houses. A telephone line was just cut and is being repaired."

All eyes in the room turned back to Zhao Weiguo.