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

Zhang Dabiao didn't rush to pay attention to Zhao Weiguo; instead, he turned around and went to take stock of the transportation team's losses.

The team had a truly rough time. Seven men were injured, two with cuts: one with a deep gash in his shoulder, and the other with a deep gash in his calf from a falling pebble. One of the three large blue mules was down, while the remaining two were panting heavily. All six ammunition boxes were still there, but two were soaked in water, and the tarpaulin covering one had a large tear, with even the corner of the wooden box cracked.

Zhang Dabiao, his face dark, strode over to the soaking wet box, squatted down, and reached his rough fingers inside the crack to feel around. He pulled them out, saw his fingertips were wet, and brought them to his nose to sniff.

There was a musty smell of gunpowder.

Zhang Dabiao's cheeks puffed out suddenly, and the corners of his mouth drooped down.

"Who the hell told you to mix grain sacks and ammunition boxes in one truck?" Zhang Dabiao turned around abruptly, his eyes bulging like copper bells.

The platoon leader of the transport team, his face flushed red, stammered, "Battalion Commander Zhang... the mountain road is too narrow, and we were thinking that mixing the loads would save us one trip..."

"Make one less trip?!" Zhang Dabiao spat as he spoke. "If we run out of food, we can just tighten our belts. But if we run out of bullets, are you going to use your teeth to gnaw on the Japanese? We almost got wiped out!"

After he finished cursing, he turned around and stared at Zhao Weiguo with a gloomy expression.

"Kid, what you just yelled about, saying the wet box would be ruined if it was left for another 15 minutes? You even know anything about ammunition?"

Zhao Weiguo didn't respond. He moved to the broken box by the stream and squatted down, his fingers tracing the tear in the oilcloth to the bottom of the box.

It's too damp; water is seeping through the cracks in the wooden planks, and the gunpowder smell is definitely off. I guess it's unusable.

Zhao Weiguo looked up, his tone unusually calm, "Quickly find a dry cloth to wipe the water out of the seams of the box, put a few stones underneath, with the tear facing down, and let it air dry in a shady place. If it contains paper-wrapped bullets, the outermost layer will definitely be destroyed; if it is wrapped in moisture-proof oil paper inside, maybe half of it can be saved."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Dabiao narrowed his eyes dangerously.

"I'm asking you if you understand, not giving orders here. Look carefully, this is the Eighth Route Army's New First Regiment, not your backyard!"

"If you don't let them clean it quickly, and you manage to get all the details out of them, this box of bullets will be completely useless." Zhao Weiguo met his gaze without backing down. "What will you use to fight the Japanese then? Will you just fire one shot after another with that old Mauser pistol on your waist?"

Several soldiers who were warming themselves by the fire nearby shrugged upon hearing this, almost bursting out laughing, but quickly suppressed it.

Zhang Dabiao swept his gaze across the area, and the surroundings immediately fell silent.

Seeing the atmosphere become tense, Lao Wei quickly stepped forward and coughed lightly: "Battalion Commander Zhang, calm down. This kid was introduced by Mr. Zhang."

"Mr. Zhang? Which Mr. Zhang? Even the King of Heaven himself couldn't put on airs in our New First Regiment!"

Zhang Dabiao tucked his pistol behind his back in an annoyed manner, squatted down in front of Zhao Weiguo with an imposing air, and stared intently at him.

"Explain. Which part?"

There are no teams right now.

"Where did the gun come from?"

"I picked it up on the way; that Mauser pistol was mine."

"Your own?" Zhang Dabiao exclaimed as if he'd heard the biggest joke in the world. "How old are you, kid?"

"twelve."

Zhang Dabiao looked the boy up and down, his gaze finally settling on his calloused hands, and he sneered.

"You think a twelve-year-old can develop calluses like that? You're kidding me!"

Zhao Weiguo remained expressionless, gently placing the Type 38 rifle he was holding at his feet, deliberately pointing the muzzle outwards.

"If you want to interrogate me, there will be plenty of time later. Let's talk about your transport team first. The man is already injured, and if the bullet is also damaged, those two comrades who were shot twice will have been truly wronged."

Zhang Dabiao was so angry he laughed, pointing his thumb back at his own nose: "Hey! You've gone too far, you're interrogating me now?"

"I won't interrogate you. I'll just point out two mistakes your transport team made." Zhao Weiguo patted the dirt off his hands. "After I finish speaking, you can tie me up or kill me if you want. Anyway, we've been held at gunpoint more than once or twice along the way, so one more time won't make a difference, Battalion Commander Zhang."

The surrounding soldiers were all stunned.

How dare a mere child point out the mistakes of Battalion Commander Zhang Dabiao in leading his troops?

Zhang Dabiao was known in the New First Regiment for his ruthless temper. He slowly straightened up, and the smile on his face vanished instantly.

"Alright, kid, you've got guts. You'd better give me a piece of your mind today. If you say anything wrong, I'll whip your mouth shut with my belt."

Zhao Weiguo didn't even blink, raising his hand to point to the high embankment at the mouth of the ditch ahead.

"That Japanese light machine gun mounted there definitely wasn't just set up. The snow there had been compacted, and the tripod had been moved twice, which means the Japanese had been lying in ambush for at least half a cigarette's time. Your transport team entered the gully, and not a single person went to the higher ground to scout ahead."

The foreman of the transport team opened his mouth, wanting to say something in his defense, but no sound came out.

Zhang Dabiao didn't look at him; his sharp gaze swept directly towards the high embankment.

Sure enough, there were two faint footprints, half-covered by the snow, that had crept up the slope from the back. They were so small that they were almost invisible unless you looked closely.

Zhao Weiguo turned around and pointed to the overturned cart.

"Another issue is the mixed loading of grain and ammunition. Grain is light, while ammunition boxes are extremely heavy. When the vehicle starts moving, the center of gravity shifts towards the ammunition boxes. During the firefight, the mules were startled, causing the vehicle to tilt to one side, and the ammunition boxes naturally fell into the water first. If you had one vehicle carrying grain and the other carrying ammunition, even if one overturned, at least the other would be saved."

An old soldier nearby heard this and muttered a curse under his breath in frustration.

The squad leader's face was so red it looked like it was about to bleed.

The only sound in the ravine was the whistling of the wind; Zhang Dabiao remained silent.

It wasn't that he was magnanimous or humbly accepting; rather, every word the kid said hit the nail on the head regarding the New First Regiment's Achilles' heel. The Eighth Route Army was poor, and the First Battalion's transport team was especially short of men and horses. Who didn't know that scouts were needed to cross the ditch? But manpower was already tight, especially in enemy-occupied areas. Who could have imagined that this small group of Japanese soldiers could sneak up here? Over time, they relaxed their vigilance and started cutting corners wherever possible. Besides, who didn't know that rations and ammunition couldn't be mixed? But damn it, they only had a handful of mules!

Unfortunately, these seasoned veterans often make silly mistakes, and a twelve-year-old kid exposes them completely in public, slapping them in the face repeatedly.

But Zhang Dabiao was never a spineless coward.

"You're right, kid." Zhang Dabiao gritted his teeth, staring intently at Zhao Weiguo. "But even if you're absolutely right, so what? Our New First Regiment is poor! We're short of men, short of mules, we can't even gather a decent piece of dry hemp rope! I know the mistakes you're making, the brothers in the transport team know, and our Regiment Commander Li knows too. Since you're so knowledgeable, then tell me, when you're short-handed, you have to sacrifice one thing to save another. Which one would you sacrifice first?"

Zhao Weiguo paused for a moment.

He could tell that Zhang Dabiao wasn't just arguing; he was testing him with real, hard reality.

"We absolutely cannot abandon reconnaissance." Zhao Weiguo met his gaze and said, word by word, "It's better to skip one trip of grain today and let everyone go hungry, but we must keep an eye on the high ground. If the eyes go blind, your little bit of grain and bullets will sooner or later become the Japanese's spoils of war."

Zhang Dabiao's eye twitched slightly.

"How do we get the food and ammunition?"

"Distribute the load among the carts. If there aren't enough mules and horses, have people carry it. If people can't carry it, just bring less food, but not a single bullet can be missing. A person can grit their teeth and keep going even if they go hungry for a day, but a gun without bullets is just a fire poker!"

Zhang Dabiao listened without saying a word.

He walked back to the soaking wet ammunition box with a grim face, bent down and tugged at the rope dangling from the corner. Damn, it's a slipknot.

"Who tied this rope just now?"

The squad leader's head was practically dangling into his crotch, his voice barely audible: "Battalion Commander Zhang...it's me..."

This time, Zhang Dabiao unusually refrained from cursing. He turned and strode over to the captured Type 91 pistol, reaching out to touch its blued barrel.

The barrel was still warm, but the edge of the feed plate was bent at one corner by shrapnel from the grenade and was stuck. It wouldn't fire without being repaired.

"Wrap this machine gun in a piece of cloth, put a note on it, and send it to the logistics department for repairs," Zhang Dabiao instructed the soldier next to him.

The soldier had just responded when Zhao Weiguo suddenly interjected from behind.

"The gun body is made of good steel. Don't throw away the bent parts as scrap metal. Keep them to polish other parts."

Zhang Dabiao suddenly turned his head and looked at him as if he were a monster.

"So you can fix guns?"

"I know a little bit."

"How much is 'a little'?" Zhang Dabiao pressed.

"A broken gun can be taken apart and tinkered with," Zhao Weiguo said calmly.

Zhang Dabiao stared at him for a long time as if he were looking at a rare object, then suddenly and deftly pulled out the Mauser pistol from his waistband, ejected the bullet with a click, removed the magazine, and handed it over with the handle facing forward.

"Take it apart and let me see."

Old Wei panicked when he saw this and quickly stepped forward to stop him: "Battalion Commander Zhang, this won't do! The child's hands are frozen stiff from being outside..."

"Your hands are frozen, yet you were so quick to shoot the Japanese just now? Now you can't even disassemble a gun?" Zhang Dabiao didn't even turn his head, the gun still held in mid-air.

Zhao Weiguo didn't refuse and took the heavy iron weapon, but didn't use it immediately. He glanced at Zhang Dabiao, then looked down at the gun in his hand.

"Your gun isn't broken."

"I told you to tear it down, so just tear it down! Stop with the nonsense!"

"I can take it apart and put it back together perfectly, but there's no need." Zhao Weiguo deftly flipped the gun over, pressed down hard on the rear of the bolt with his reddened thumb, and handed it back to Zhang Dabiao. "Feel this yourself. When the recoil spring returns to its normal position, the sound and feel should be crisp and clean. This one has a half-beat pause in the middle when it rebounds. The spring inside is fatigued. You won't feel it when you're just playing around, but when you're in a critical situation and fire rapidly, the firing pin is very likely to misfire."

Zhang Dabiao took the gun with suspicion, pressed his thumb against the bolt, pulled it back and released it, and carefully felt it.

It's true! He's been using this gun for so long, and he never even noticed this subtle flaw.

"It's not over yet." Zhao Weiguo pointed to the bolt. "You fired three short bursts at the ditch entrance just now. The second shot was noticeably quieter than the previous two, and it sounded muffled. That's not a problem with the propellant; it's that the firing pin of your gun is worn down. When you fire the second shot in bursts, the pin tip doesn't actually hit the target properly."

The surrounding soldiers even held their breath.

In that chaotic battlefield just now, who the hell could hear that a bullet had slowed down by half a breath?

But Zhang Dabiao's expression completely changed.

Because he recognized the sound. His gun had indeed appeared once during the ambush a while back, almost costing him his life. At the time, he thought it had jammed, and then he got busy and forgot about it.

Zhang Dabiao tucked the gun back into his waistband, bowed his head, and remained silent for several breaths. When he raised his head again, the previous contempt was gone from his eyes.

"You're a real talent, kid."

Zhao Weiguo completely ignored his praise and asked the question directly.

"Now, may I see Commander Li Yunlong?"

"Heh, you've got some nerve, daring to call out our regimental commander by name?" Zhang Dabiao raised an eyebrow. "Our regimental commander is busy commanding battles on the front lines every day; he doesn't have time to sit in court and adjudicate cases for a bunch of kids like you!"

"Because you can't make the decision on this matter." Zhao Weiguo retorted without any politeness, "My background, the whereabouts of these orphans, and the enemy intelligence clues that are involved later, all need to be decided by someone who can make the final decision."

Zhang Dabiao's face instantly turned as black as the bottom of a pot, and his hand involuntarily reached for his belt.

In the end, the belt still couldn't be pulled out.

In the open space not far away, the transport team soldiers were deftly wiping the gaps in the ammunition boxes with dry cloths. The wounded had been re-bandaged, and the captured Type 96 machine gun lay peacefully on the tarpaulin. The bullets and grenades were neatly arranged and categorized. Chen An and his group of boys were huddled by the fire, obediently warming their frozen feet, none of them daring to touch the guns nearby.

Looking at the team that this twelve-year-old had managed to straighten out with just a few words, Zhang Dabiao forcefully suppressed the anger in his heart.

"Alright." He pointed at Zhao Weiguo twice. "I'll keep the Type 38 rifle for now, and I'll take him back to the base. As for whether I'll see the regimental commander, that depends on my mood."

Zhao Weiguo simply pushed the rifle on the ground forward, not even asking for a bandage: "Okay."

Zhang Dabiao's gaze then swept over Chen An and the others by the nearby fire: "Where are those little burdens?"

"They came with me," Zhao Weiguo said.

"On what grounds?"

"Because they know the rules and listen to me."

Zhang Dabiao chuckled.

"Don't try to talk about rules with me. Let me tell you, in our New First Regiment, all the rules, no matter how big, belong to the Li family!"

Zhao Weiguo nodded seriously.

"Then let Commander Li speak for himself. If he thinks we're in the way, he'll kick us out too. If he's willing to take us in, we'll follow your rules."

Zhang Dabiao was so frustrated by the kid's rhetoric that his teeth itched, but he couldn't find a single fault with it.

He stopped wasting words, whirled around, and roared in his hoarse voice, "What are you all standing there for? Line up! Back to base! Squad leader, keep a close eye on these kids! If they get their hands on a gun, or even one escapes, I'll skin you alive!"

Chen An trembled with fright and looked nervously at Zhao Weiguo.

Zhao Weiguo gave him a reassuring look and lowered his voice to instruct, "Just follow the group and stay put. Don't look around or touch anything."

The team set off again on the rugged mountain road.

Zhang Dabiao strode ahead, but the more he walked, the more awkward he felt.

Zhang Dabiao had practiced swordsmanship since childhood and had seen all sorts of storms in his years of revolution. He'd seen brave kids, kids who dared to fight the Japanese with guns. But damn it, he'd never seen a twelve-year-old kid, barely out of hair, who could first destroy the Japanese strongpoints on the battlefield, then turn around and berate his old thugs so eloquently, and finally even determine the wear and tear on the pistol's needle just by listening to the sound!

This matter is suspicious; the regimental commander must personally examine it.

If it's fake, it's better to expose it sooner rather than later to save trouble.

If it's true...

Zhang Dabiao couldn't help but glance back.

Zhao Weiguo was stumbling along in the group, his shoulder injury probably throbbing with pain. At this moment, the lingering effects of the system feedback also kicked in, causing him to frown slightly. He hadn't even had time to wipe the dried bloodstains on his cheek. No matter how you looked at him, he was just an ordinary, skinny kid.

But Zhang Dabiao felt an unprecedented and strong premonition rising in his heart.

This kid is definitely a huge problem, a huge problem that could turn the entire Jin-Cha-Ji region upside down.

Just as the group rounded a bend in the mountain pass, a sharp shout suddenly came from the shadows.

"Halt! Password! Which part?"

Zhang Dabiao casually patted the pistol at his waist and responded in a loud, energetic voice.

"It's me, Zhang Dabiao! I have urgent business to discuss with the regimental commander!"

Ming Shao emerged from behind the rock, his gun still raised, but his peripheral vision already curiously swept over the young man in the middle of the group, whose face was covered in blood but whose eyes were cold.