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

Heading north from Laoyaling, the mountain road becomes narrower and narrower.

It's been four days already. Old Wei hides during the day and walks at night, choosing only deserted paths. The snow melts and then freezes again, making the stones underfoot feel like they're oiled—every step is a slippery half-step.

Zhao Weiguo walked at the front. The wound on his left arm had scabbed over, pulling the skin and flesh taut, but it was no longer bleeding. The warm current flowing through his body hadn't stopped since Laoyaling, like a thin thread slowly trickling through his bones. His legs weren't as sore, and his breathing wasn't as labored as it had been a few days ago. But he knew this wasn't because he had become more skilled; it was simply that his body was recovering, recovering a little faster than normal, nothing more.

It will still hurt if you fall. It will still stiffen if you stay frozen for too long.

Chen An walked second, with a bundle of straw rope and half a bag of dry rations tied to his back. His gait had changed; he no longer hunched his neck, and his eyes would actively scan the hillsides on both sides. The shot at Laoyaling had changed him—not that he had become braver, but that he knew where to look when he was afraid.

Shi Tou and Xiao Man dragged a short wooden pole with tattered cloth tied to both ends. Inside were rolled-up empty magazines, salt bags, and a few items to be handed over to the transportation station. Shi Tou walked silently with his head down, while Xiao Man would occasionally sneak his hand into his pocket to touch the copper button wrapped in cloth. He had picked it up from Laoya Ridge; it wasn't confiscated, but something he had dropped himself, and he hadn't let go of it since.

Old Wei confiscated all the guns that Zhao Weiguo had seized from the puppet army squad leader and the Japanese sergeant. He left the Mauser pistol to Zhao Weiguo, but reduced the ammunition from three rounds to only two, saying it was to be handed over to the transportation station for unified distribution.

Zhao Weiguo didn't say anything. After all, there was a shortage of guns and bullets in those days, and there was no point in taking so many. It would be better to stay here and fight the Japanese.

On the evening of the third day, they rested in an abandoned charcoal kiln. Zhao Weiguo used a twig to draw a rough map on the muddy ground, marking Laoya Ridge, Fengdu Gully, and the route they had taken over the past few days. The red and blue dots generated by the system were only valid within a radius of 500 paces; beyond that, it was all blurry. He couldn't rely on the system to find his way; he could only rely on Lao Wei's words and his own eyes.

What's ahead?

"The pack animal trail," Old Wei said, gnawing on his frozen rations. "It's the route the New First Regiment often takes, for transporting grain and ammunition. After crossing the trail and two more ridges, you'll reach their territory."

"The New First Regiment?" Zhao Weiguo remembered the name.

"Li Yunlong's troops." Old Wei's expression was complicated. "They can fight, but they can also cause trouble. If you want a peaceful place to stay, don't go. If you want to find a unit that can carry guns, go there and try your luck."

Zhao Weiguo paused for a moment without speaking. The name was all too familiar to him. Teacher Li Yibin's face flashed before his eyes. He wondered if Li Yunlong in this world was similar to him.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the wind stopped for a while, but the snow did not melt. Half of the blackened skin of the stones by the roadside was exposed, making them extremely slippery to walk on.

Zhao Weiguo suddenly stopped.

He heard the mule bells.

The bell rang erratically, breaking off intermittently, as if someone was running while covering the bell with their hand. Immediately afterward, two gunshots rang out from the bottom of the ravine; the first was scattered, the second sharp, both from rifles.

Old Wei's expression changed.

"Ahead lies the pack animal trail that the new regiment often uses."

Zhao Weiguo lay down on the edge of the rock and looked down.

At the bottom of the ravine, a transport convoy was being pursued. There were three mules and two small carts covered with tattered tarpaulins. The two soldiers in front were pulling the mules' reins to hide on the sloping back, while the soldier behind, his shoulder bleeding, was kneeling by the stream, still fighting back.

The most dangerous thing was those wooden boxes by the stream.

The boxes weren't large, but they were heavy. Two of them had already fallen into the shallow water; the tarpaulin had been torn open by tree branches, revealing the edges of gray-black ammunition pouches. A soldier tried to drag the boxes away, but a light-duty truck at the mouth of the ditch pinned him down, preventing him from lifting his head.

There weren't many pursuers, just seven or eight puppet soldiers and two Japanese soldiers.

The light machine gun was positioned on a high embankment at the mouth of the ditch, its muzzle perfectly sweeping across the stream and the cart. The transport team was small, and the ammunition boxes slowed them down.

Chen An saw it too and asked in a low voice, "Should we save them or not? That box must contain bullets for fighting the Japanese, right? If it sinks, what will they use to fight the Japanese in the future?"

Zhao Weiguo did not answer immediately.

He was assessing the terrain; rescuing was definitely necessary, but the important question was how to do it.

The gully bottom is a straight line, with a high rocky embankment on the west side and a shallow slope on the east side, through which the stream flows. The enemy, in hot pursuit, dared not descend into the gully, but instead set up machine guns on the high embankment, hoping to force the transport team to abandon their mules and crates.

If people run away first, they'll run out of ammunition.

If they drag the box by force, the person will die by the stream; they'll profit from both ends.

A small patch of dark red and blue shadows appeared before Zhao Weiguo's eyes. The red dot on the crooked-handled dog was the most stable, remaining motionless on the high embankment. Three blue dots were scattered haphazardly by the stream, and two more blue dots were stuck behind the slope by mules. The area was very small, only extending to the ravine in front of him; beyond the ravine, it was all darkness.

He stared at it for a long time.

Zhao Weiguo turned around and looked at Chen An, Shi Tou, and Xiao Man.

"You're going down there to do two things: cut the ropes and drag the crates. You're going to rescue ammunition, not to be heroes."

Shi Tou's face turned pale. Xiao Man reached into her bosom again to touch the brass buttons.

Chen An remained silent and looked down to check the machete at his waist.

"Where's the machine gun?" Stone asked, his voice tense. "When it fires, no one around the crates can lift their heads."

"I'll take care of it," Zhao Weiguo said. "I'll handle it."

Old Wei didn't laugh. He already knew that this kid wasn't just boasting; the previous events had already proven that he had real skills.

Zhao Weiguo touched the Mauser pistol. Two bullets.

not enough.

He turned to Old Wei: "Give me the Type 38 rifle you're carrying."

Old Wei hesitated for a moment. This gun was captured from Laoyaling and was originally intended to be handed over to the communication station. But the communication station was still far away, and the battle at hand was the priority.

"I haven't tried this gun before, so I don't know how accurate it is." Old Wei handed over the gun and then pulled five bullets from his pocket. "These are the five bullets; once they're gone, that's it."

Zhao Weiguo took the gun, unbuckled it, and glanced at it. The bolt was clean, and the rifling was rust-free; it was better than he had expected.

He placed the gun in the crevice between the rocks and adjusted the position of the buttstock. Unable to use his left arm, he could only support the gun with his right shoulder and the rock embankment.

The first shot hit the stone next to the crooked handle.

The bullets hit the rocks, sending stone fragments flying and hitting the machine gunner in the face.

The machine gunner instinctively ducked, and his Type 96 rifle fired a short burst, hitting the stream and sending water splashing everywhere.

"Get off quickly!"

Chen An and the other two rolled down the side slope.

They didn't run in a straight line, but followed the shallow ditch that Zhao Weiguo had pointed out earlier. The ditch was full of withered grass and pebbles, enough to cover half their body when they lay down.

Chen An was the first to reach the stream. He pulled out his machete to cut the ropes binding the cart, his hand trembling so much that the back of the knife hit the wooden box.

The soldier in the transport team, his shoulder bleeding, roared, "Where did this kid come from? Get out of the way!"

Chen An didn't even look up, his teeth chattering: "Get lost, or your box will really get waterlogged!"

He ignored the man and just cut the rope.

Shi Tou lunged at the second box, but couldn't move it, his face turning red with frustration. Xiao Man grabbed the corner of the box from behind, and the two children moved together up the slope, the bottom of the box scraping against the frozen ground with a harsh sound.

Xiaoman's fingers got caught in the corner of the box. He didn't let go, tears streaming down his face from the pain, biting his sleeve to keep quiet.

The whistle rang again.

Zhao Weiguo fired his second shot at the machine gunner. The bullet grazed the front edge of the machine gun mount, and the machine gun's line of fire noticeably rose an inch.

The soldier at the bottom of the ditch seized this opportunity and dragged his injured comrade to roll back down the slope.

Old Wei also fired a shot. He hit a puppet soldier trying to take a shortcut down the hill. The puppet soldier didn't fall, his hat flew off, and he shrank back behind a rock, no longer daring to charge down.

"The box! The box first!"

Zhao Weiguo's voice was cracked by the wind.

Chen An dragged the first box, slipped, and fell headfirst into the muddy stream. He instinctively tried to push the box away, but when his hand touched the edge of the tarpaulin, he pulled it back and instead grabbed the corner of the box, rubbing it against the back of the slope.

Ammunition boxes must not be turned over. Turning them over will cause them to get even damper inside.

Shi Tou and Xiao Man finally dragged the second box into the shallow ditch. Xiao Man's fingers were already bruised from being pinched. He sat by the muddy water, hiding his hands in his clothes so no one could see them.

Zhao Weiguo did not fire the third shot immediately. He was also waiting for an opportunity. The first two shots were for calibration, and this shot was to ensure that he would succeed.

He waited for the machine gunner on the high embankment to peek out again.

The man peered out only a small portion of his head, revealing just half of his hat brim and shoulder. Zhao Weiguo aimed at the machine gunner's head. He waited until the man peeked out a little more.

*Smack!* The watermelon exploded.

The blunt-handled gun tilted downwards and stopped firing completely.

Just then, a series of even more intense gunshots rang out from the other end of the mountain road.

They are not enemies.

Someone fired down from the north slope, the sound of rifles mingling with short bursts from Mauser pistols, followed by two grenades exploding outside the gully, smoke and snow swirling together.

"From the New First Regiment!"

Old Wei breathed a sigh of relief.

The transport team at the bottom of the gully also came back to life. The soldier leading the mules twisted the mule's nose rope and dragged the cart up the hill.

A gruff voice boomed down from the north slope.

"Second platoon, cover the left! First squad, follow me down! If you're missing even one ammo box, I'll skin you alive!"

Zhao Weiguo had never met Zhang Dabiao.

But as soon as he heard the voice, he knew that the person in charge had arrived.

Suppressed by the fire from the north slope, the enemy finally stopped eyeing the crates by the stream and retreated along the ditch. Wai Ba Zi tried to move them, but a grenade blasted him into a snow pit, his gun rest lying askew to one side.

Zhao Weiguo did not pursue.

As he slid down the rocky embankment, he tripped over a protruding rock and nearly fell to his knees. A warmth returned to his chest and abdomen, circulating through his body, and the stiffness in his legs subsided somewhat. However, the area between his thumb and forefinger was numb from the impact of the Type 38 rifle, and his shoulder injury throbbed painfully. He didn't know when, but a gash on the side of his face had been cut by loose rocks, and the cool blood trickled down his cheek in the wind.

Chen An and the other two were still lying next to the ammunition box.

Xiaoman's fingers were bruised from pinching the stone, half of Shitou's shoe was wet, and Chen An's lips were as white as paper, yet he still remembered to keep the box opening facing upwards.

The transport soldier with the injured shoulder looked at them, his lips moved, but he only managed to utter, "Are you really kids?"

Chen An sat by the muddy water, panting so hard his chest ached. After a long while, he managed to squeeze out, "That wasn't it just now."

The people on the north slope have already come down.

The man at the head of the group had broad shoulders and a short neck, his face smeared with cigarette ash, and he carried a Mauser pistol. He didn't look at Zhao Weiguo at first; he looked at the mules, the cart, and the boxes first.

"Have we suffered any casualties? Are we short of ammunition?"

The transport team soldier immediately reported: "Battalion Commander, two of our men are wounded, and one of our mules was also accidentally shot and fell down. We originally had six ammunition boxes, and we retrieved the two that fell into the creek, but one of the boxes seems to have gotten water inside; it was really heavy when we dragged it out."

Zhang Dabiao nodded before turning his head.

He saw Zhao Weiguo.

Then I saw Chen An and a few others.

His brows furrowed immediately.

"Who was firing the machine gun on the high embankment just now?"

Old Wei pointed at Zhao Weiguo. "Him."

Zhang Dabiao stared at Zhao Weiguo for a long time. Then he looked at the Type 38 rifle in Zhao Weiguo's hand.

"you?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed the gun downwards and took a step back.

"It was me; three shots were all it took to kill him."

Zhang Dabiao's eyes darkened.

"Such arrogance."

He neither praised nor laughed. He squatted down beside the waterlogged box by the stream, lifted the tarpaulin, and reached in to feel it. When he pulled his hand out, his fingertips were wet.

"It's flooded!" He stood up and yelled behind him, "Put the wet boxes separately! Bandage the wounded! Lead the mules that can walk, and pull the ones that can't on carts!"

After giving the order, he walked up to Zhao Weiguo.

"Kid, saving my life is one thing, but knowing where you came from is another. My New First Regiment is poor, but we can't be so poor that we let strangers handle our ammunition." He looked Zhao Weiguo up and down, his gaze lingering on the pistol for a moment. "You'd better have an explanation."

Chen An was about to speak when Zhao Weiguo raised his hand and pressed him down.

Zhao Weiguo looked at Zhang Dabiao.

"There's a theory. First, clear out the ammunition, then drag the wet boxes out for another 15 minutes; then the contents will be truly ruined. We're counting on these to fight the Japanese in the future."

Zhang Dabiao's face darkened even more.

He didn't reply, but turned around and squatted down next to the wet box, and together with the soldiers of the transport team, he lifted the box up the slope.

Zhao Weiguo stood still, without moving.

Chen An leaned closer and whispered, "He doesn't trust us?"

"Why should I believe him?" Zhao Weiguo said. "He doesn't even know my name."

Chen An opened his mouth, but didn't say anything more.

Zhao Weiguo watched Zhang Dabiao's retreating figure. This man was efficient and organized, his eyes moving faster than his mouth when assessing the losses. He was no brute.

But he is also suspicious.

A suspicious person won't open their heart just because someone saved their life once. He needs to figure out what kind of person Zhao Weiguo is before deciding whether to keep him or send him away.

Zhao Weiguo squatted down, pulled the bolt of the Type 38 rifle out, wiped the mud off with his sleeve, and handed it to Lao Wei.

"Here's your gun back. You've fired three out of five shots, two left."

Old Wei took the gun, glanced at him, and said nothing.

Zhang Dabiao turned around and saw this scene.

His expression shifted, but he still didn't speak.

Zhao Weiguo stood up and patted the mud off his knees.

"Let's go," he said to Chen An, "follow them."

Where to?

"Go where they went."

Chen An glanced at Zhang Dabiao, then at Zhao Weiguo.

Will he kick us out?

"Yes," Zhao Weiguo said, "but he doesn't have time to kick people out right now."

Chen An was stunned for a moment, then he understood.

Zhao Weiguo was not waiting for Zhang Dabiao's trust.

He was waiting for Zhang Dabiao to finish his work.

Only after I'm done with my work do I have time to listen to the Dharma.