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

Zhang Kexia pressed the small paper roll into Zhao Weiguo's hand, his fingertips pressing down on the two characters "Jin Cha" as if driving a nail into wood.

"Go west, not as a suggestion, but as the path."

Zhao Weiguo held the rolled-up paper, its edges softened by sweat.

"Who's picking me up?"

Zhang Kexia looked up, his eye sockets as deep as two old wells.

"Once you get to the local area, people will recognize you. There are too many spies here in Beiping. If you stay any longer, the Japanese will keep a close watch on you."

Han Fucheng stood to the side, his military cap pulled low, his face still covered in the dust from the city of Wanping.

"Deputy Chief of Staff Zhang, I'll arrange the car. We'll leave tonight, while the Japanese are still causing trouble in Fengtai and our spies in the city are scattered."

Zhang Kexia didn't respond to that, but just looked at Zhao Weiguo.

"Don't flaunt your gun. Don't talk to strangers on the street. The Jin-Cha-Ji region isn't like Beijing; the mountain people don't listen to official jargon, they only care about skills."

Zhao Weiguo folded the paper roll up and tucked it into his sleeve.

"I know."

"You know nothing."

Zhang Kexia's lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but he suppressed it.

"You can spot cannon positions and control the fire from the city wall, but once you get to the mountains, you also need to learn to recognize people, the land, and the roads. Don't set your sights too high as soon as you enter the city."

Zhao Weiguo raised his chin.

"My eyesight isn't high, but I can see clearly."

Han Fucheng gave a low hum.

"That sounds like you."

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the door. The staff officer pushed the door open and came in, clutching a telegram he had just copied, his face pale.

"Sir, there's gunfire again from the Fengtai direction. The Japanese are moving vehicles south, it looks like they're trying to block the road."

Zhang Kexia took the telegram, glanced at it, and paused his finger on the paper.

"It can't be sealed off."

He crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the ashtray.

"Major Han, prepare a car for him. Also, find him two sets of civilian clothes and some dry rations, something inconspicuous."

Han Fucheng nodded and turned to leave.

Zhao Weiguo followed to the gate. In the courtyard outside, a row of staff officers hurried along, their phones ringing incessantly, like someone whipping a wooden board. A military vehicle with a gray tarpaulin veil was parked by the courtyard wall, its cargo bed filled with wooden crates and sandbags, and the driver was pulling the tarpaulin down.

Zhang Kexia stood by the door and suddenly lowered his voice.

"You went to Jin-Cha-Ji not to hide, but to grow up in a different place."

Zhao Weiguo turned around.

"I didn't intend to hide."

"I know."

Zhang Kexia put his hands into his sleeves.

"Someone like you can't hide. But you're too conspicuous now. If you stay in Beiping, someone will strangle you sooner or later. Go into the mountains to survive first, then we'll talk about other things."

Zhao Weiguo nodded and turned to go down the steps. Han Fucheng was already waiting by the car, carrying an old canvas bag with gunpowder stains on the corners.

"Put it on."

Zhao Weiguo took it but didn't rush to disassemble it.

"What's inside?"

"A coarse cloth jacket, a pair of black shoes, and an old felt hat."

"Like someone carrying a load on a shoulder pole."

"It has to look like that anyway."

Han Fucheng raised his chin towards the cart.

"Go up to the rendezvous point outside the south city to change people and vehicles. The military can't escort you all the way; it would be too conspicuous."

Just as Zhao Weiguo stepped onto the vehicle, another figure chased after him out of the courtyard gate.

Master Zheng was carrying the toolbox, panting heavily, with coal dust still clinging to his beard.

"Wait a minute!"

Zhao Weiguo stopped.

Master Zheng stuffed the repaired broadsword and a small oil can into his arms.

"Don't hide your knife all the time on the road; always have one handy. This oil can, if the gun bolt gets stuck, just put a couple of drops on it. Also, when you get to the mountains, if you see any ordnance workers, let them touch the metal first, don't ask them any questions right away."

Zhao Weiguo caught the knife; the back of the blade was cold against his palm.

"understood."

Master Zheng took a breath and stared at him for a moment.

"When you get to the mountains, don't scare everyone away. Keep the ones who can repair guns around."

Zhao Weiguo's lips twitched.

"They won't scare you away."

Han Fucheng raised his hand to look at his watch, then gestured with his chin towards the driver.

"Walk."

The truck started, jolting and kicking up a layer of dust in front of the door. Zhao Weiguo sat on the edge of the truck bed, his hand on the knife, a roll of paper in his sleeve digging into his wrist. The military compound quickly receded, the sounds of telephone ringing and footsteps crushed by the wheels, and the smell of smoke from Beiping blew in with the wind, making one's throat tighten.

As the car turned the corner, Han Fucheng suddenly spoke.

"Zhao Weiguo".

He turned around.

"When you get to the Jin-Cha-Ji region, don't bring up the old Beijing ways. Listen first, then observe, then speak."

Zhao Weiguo stared at the increasingly narrow street ahead, his fingers slowly tightening around the hilt of his knife.

"What if someone starts arguing with me first?"

Han Fucheng glanced at him, his lips taut.

"Just put the knife on the table and let him feel the steel first."

-------------------End of Volume One------------------------