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

The tall, thin officer stared at Zhao Weiguo.

"Do you know what it's like outside right now?"

Zhao Weiguo slung the tattered bag over his shoulder.

"Know."

"You know you should return it?"

"A gun won't heal itself if it's broken, and a wounded soldier won't fill up on his own when he's hungry."

Han Fucheng pressed his military cap down.

"Sir, I'll escort him back to Wanping."

The tall, thin officer looked at the two men for a moment, then slammed a pass onto the table.

"Take it. The ordnance depot, the Wanping garrison, and the checkpoints along the route, release them upon receipt."

Master Zheng stuffed wooden wedges, calipers, and whetstones into his toolbox while muttering curses.

"I've been working in the ironwork for half my life, and this is the first time I've ever been on the front lines with a ten-year-old."

Zhao Weiguo walked to the door.

"Master Zheng, don't carry the box on your back."

Master Zheng was taken aback.

Why?

"It hurts my spine when I lie down."

Master Zheng switched the toolbox to his hand, his beard twitching.

"Alright, I'll listen to you this time."

The truck left the military headquarters, and the bells in Beiping were just ringing in the afternoon.

The streets are no longer as chaotic as they were last night.

It is empty.

The shops were half-closed, the teahouses were closed, and several women carrying bundles sat under the old locust tree at the alley entrance. A child, tired from crying, lay on a basket, hiccuping. At the sound of distant cannon fire, everyone shrank back, like a flock of sparrows soaked by the rain.

Han Fucheng knocked on the carriage.

"hurry up."

The driver yelled back.

"There's a traffic jam ahead!"

Zhao Weiguo stood up and saw a mule cart overturned at the intersection, rice sacks torn open, white rice scattered in the muddy water. An old man was kneeling on the ground holding the rice, while a patrolman next to him kicked him.

"Get out of the way! Don't block the military vehicle!"

Zhao Weiguo jumped out of the car.

Han Fucheng reached out but failed to grab it.

"Zhao Weiguo!"

Zhao Weiguo rushed to the mule cart and grabbed the shaft.

"Shuanzi, get down."

Li Shuanzi jumped down, and with a push of his shoulder, the mule cart overturned. Zhao Weiguo kicked the rice sack to the side of the road.

The old man looked up, his face smeared with tears.

"Young master, can Wanping still be defended?"

Zhao Weiguo stuffed a piece of compressed military ration into his arms, using the rice bag to shield others from view.

"Go east. Don't go southwest."

The old man clutched the hard object, his lips trembling.

"What's this?"

"life."

Han Fucheng watched from the car without asking any questions.

In July, Beiping (Beijing) is like a brick that has cracked from being baked by fire.

After Zhao Weiguo returned to Wanping, the Type 92 rifle was sealed under the gate tower. When Master Zheng saw the whole gun, he first cursed the Japanese steel, then cursed his own tools for being dull. After cursing, he squatted down to survey it, even though his pencil was only half short, he couldn't bear to throw it away.

"Mr. Zhao, you really shouldn't knock on this spring plate groove."

Zhao Weiguo inserted the wooden wedge under the broken leg of the gun rack.

"It'll be ruined if you knock it."

Master Zheng looked up.

"Come to the ordnance department, and I'll make room for you at half a table."

"I don't sit at the table."

"Then where will you sit?"

Zhao Weiguo gazed out of the city.

"Fireline".

The days that followed were torn to pieces by the sound of gunfire.

On July 10th, the first batch of wounded soldiers were relieved on the walls of Wanping. Zhao Weiguo secretly slipped out military rations and ointments using his system space. The wounded soldiers bit open the packages, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"Why does this pancake taste like meat?"

Old Xu, lying on the stretcher, reached out and grabbed a piece.

"Don't ask any more questions. Eat."

On July 15th, Master Zheng returned to the ordnance depot with the Type 92 survey sketches. Before leaving, he handed a repaired broadsword to Zhao Weiguo.

"I thickened the back of the blade."

Zhao Weiguo accepted it.

"For Company Commander Zhou."

Master Zheng's face darkened.

"Zhou Shichang led the team to Nanyuan."

On July 26, gunshots rang out again outside Guang'anmen.

On the 28th, flames soared into the sky over Nanyuan.

News of a retreat began to circulate in Beiping. Chaos also broke out in courtyard number 95 of Nanluoguxiang. Yan Bugui stuffed his abacus into his robes, muttering to himself.

"Where should we go? It's expensive in the east, and chaotic in the west..."

Jia Zhangshi sat on the threshold, clutching her bundle, and wailed.

"The Japanese are coming into the city! What will happen to my Dongxu?!"

He Yuzhu stood next to He Daqing, holding a rolling pin in his hand, his face pale and his words stubborn.

"Dad, if those Japanese devils really come in, I'll knock them out."

He Daqing slapped him on the back of the head.

"You need to wake yourself up first."

Zhao Weiguo entered through the courtyard gate, covered in dust, with half of his gun holster sticking out.

Yi Zhonghai stood in the central courtyard, his eyes darting away.

"Wei Guo, how's it outside?"

Zhao Weiguo pasted a piece of paper on the screen wall and remained silent. He felt that he was now a nobody, and although he had caused greater losses to the enemy compared to the same period in history, he could not ultimately affect the overall situation.

Outside the courtyard gate, two soldiers from the 29th Army carried in a box of bullets.

Li Shuanzi slung the gun across his shoulder.

"Beiping can't be defended anymore, please keep an eye on the house for me."

The courtyard fell silent.

At night, Zhao Weiguo led more than thirty civilians through the alleyways. The system's sandbox unfolded before him, with red dots patrolling the south entrance and blue lines winding around the back wall of the coal shop.

A Japanese platoon leader and three others blocked the alley entrance. They used their bayonets to pry open a bamboo basket, and the child inside was too frightened to cry out.

"Stop!"

Zhao Weiguo raised his hand, revealing the black muzzle of his pistol beneath his sleeve.

Snapped.

The squad leader's brow swelled up, his body slammed into the wall, and his military knife fell onto the blue bricks.

The system flashes a cold light.

[Enemy officer confirmed killed x1]

System space permissions are fully enabled.

[Physical Enhancement: Improvement]

A surge of heat coursed through his limbs. Zhao Weiguo picked up the military knife; the tip was still trembling.

Han Fucheng rushed from the end of the alley, saw the body, and his throat tightened.

"You're quick."

Zhao Weiguo threw the military knife into the truck bed.

"If we're too slow, the child will die."

At the military headquarters, a middle-aged officer in civilian clothes stopped. He had deep-set eyes, and his gaze fell on Zhao Weiguo's face.

Han Fucheng spoke in a low voice.

"Deputy Chief of Staff Zhang."

Zhang Kexia nodded.

"This is Zhao Weiguo?"

Zhao Weiguo looked up.

Zhang Kexia didn't extend his hand in greeting, but simply slipped a small roll of paper into his palm.

"If you want to continue fighting the Japanese, head west. Someone will meet you."

Zhao Weiguo unfolded the paper roll; there were only two words on it.

Jincha.