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

The courtyard erupted in chaos.

Yan Bugui's door opened the fastest. He lifted the tattered cotton curtain and half of his face peeked out, his glasses fogged with steam.

"The 29th Army? Who are you looking for?"

The voice outside the door was hoarse.

"Zhao Weiguo! No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, Zhao Weiguo!"

A muffled thud came from Jia Zhangshi's room as a bowl fell onto the table.

"Oh dear, this little brat's gotten himself into trouble, hasn't he? I knew his bag of junk was stolen!"

Yi Zhonghai emerged from the central courtyard, his hand still swollen. Upon hearing the words "29th Army," he slowed his pace. He glanced at the north room of the Zhao family, his lips pursed, as if he were holding back his words.

Zhao Weiguo put down the file.

The lamp wick in the room burned low, a drop of black oil clinging to the tip of the flame. He reached out and touched the Mauser pistol; the gun barrel pressed against his palm, the coldness seeping into his bones. Then he pressed the gun back under the mat, picked up the iron ruler, and unlatched the door.

Squeak.

The door to the north room opened.

He stood at the doorway, his thin shadow falling on the blue bricks.

"I am here."

The courtyard gate was pushed open from the outside, the hinges groaning. Zhou Shichang stepped in, his military boots kicking up clumps of frozen mud. He wore a gray cloth overcoat draped over his shoulders, a Mauser pistol hanging from his waist, and was followed by two soldiers, one carrying a rifle and the other a burlap sack.

The courtyard immediately fell silent.

Even Jia Zhangshi swallowed her curses, only glancing outside through the window paper.

Zhou Shichang glanced around, his gaze sweeping across everyone's faces like the back of a knife.

"Who's from the School of Management?"

Yan Bugui instinctively shrank back.

"No, there's no one in charge of the courtyard. It's a neighborhood courtyard; we all discuss it together on a regular basis."

Zhou Shichang snorted.

"They're having quite a lively discussion; we could hear them even through the door."

The shadow behind Jia Zhangshi's window flickered, and she didn't dare to respond.

Yi Zhonghai stepped forward and cupped his hands in greeting.

"Sir, do you need to speak with Wei Guo? He's young; if he gets into trouble outside, the courtyard can—"

Zhou Shichang turned to look at him.

Who are you?

Yi Zhonghai's face froze.

"I am a neighbor in this courtyard, and I am an apprentice in the blacksmith's shop."

"An apprentice is an apprentice, don't get involved in military affairs."

Zhou Shichang's words were so forceful that Yi Zhonghai's neck seemed to be pressed down, and he lowered his head slightly.

Zhao Weiguo came down the steps.

"Company Commander Zhou."

Zhou Shichang raised an eyebrow when he saw the iron ruler in his hand.

"Bringing a ruler to greet guests?"

"There are a lot of people in the courtyard, so be careful."

Zhao Weiguo's voice was not loud.

Zhou Shichang grinned.

"Alright, in chaotic times, we can't afford not to take precautions."

He waved to the soldiers behind him.

"Old Xu, give him the stuff."

Old Xu placed the sack at Zhao Weiguo's feet. The sack wasn't tied tightly, revealing several pieces of a worn-out broadsword, a broken bayonet, and a nicked gun plate. The metallic smell mixed with the rust of blood wafted out, and the faces of the people in the yard changed.

He Yuzhu poked half his head out from behind the moon gate, his hands still covered in scallions.

"Wow, so many knives."

He Daqing slapped him on the head from behind.

"Go back to the house!"

He Yuzhu covered his head, shrank back defiantly, his eyes still glued to the blood-stained knives.

Zhou Shichang squatted down and drew a large knife. The blade was chipped in three places, with one crack diagonally into the blade, as if it had been bitten by something hard.

"There's another drill going on in Fengtai. Today we had a standoff with a Japanese patrol, but we didn't fire a shot; we just exchanged a few knife blows."

He plunged the knife into the thin layer of snow on the ground, and the snow surface was immediately stained with black rust.

"This batch of knives is no good. The one you opened for me last time, it was used to cut a Japanese sword, but it didn't get dull."

Zhao Weiguo bent down and touched the back of the knife, his fingertip resting at the base of the crack.

"The steel was not heated evenly. The edge is hard, but the back is brittle; it was over-quenched."

Old Xu's eyes widened.

"You'll know just by touching it?"

Zhao Weiguo looked up.

"Your hand must have gone numb from shaking when you were chopping?"

Old Xu's mouth was open, and he couldn't close it for a long time.

"Hey, platoon leader, this kid's really something else."

Zhou Shichang tucked the cigarette behind his ear but didn't light it.

"I don't care about right or wrong. I only ask one question: how many can you repair?"

Zhao Weiguo looked at the sack.

A blue panel pops up.

[Damaged cold weapons detected: 7 standard-issue broadswords of the 29th Army]

Repairable: 5

Recommended process: localized annealing, re-grinding of the cutting edge, and low-temperature tempering.

[Temporary Mission: Repair five combat-ready greatswords]

[Rewards: Simplified coke oven structural diagram; Borax flux formula]

A pale blue light shone in Zhao Weiguo's eyes, but it quickly faded away.

Five.

Zhou Shichang stared at him.

"how long?"

"Start cooking tonight, take it away tomorrow morning."

Several gasps were heard in the courtyard.

Yan Bugui couldn't help but interject.

"Weiguo, this isn't about patching up a mess, don't try to be a hero. This is the soldier's business—"

Zhao Weiguo did not turn around.

"Uncle Yan, if you're free, could you borrow a bellows for me?"

Yan Bugui immediately shut up, his eyes, which looked like abacus beads, darted around twice.

"Borrow the bellows... this..."

Zhou Shichang took out a silver coin from his pocket and threw it at his feet.

Is that enough?

Yan Bugui bent down faster than he spoke, and the silver coin slipped into his sleeve.

"Enough, enough! I'll go borrow it from the blacksmith next door, right away!"

Yi Zhonghai watched the silver coin disappear, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Zhou Shichang then looked at Zhao Weiguo.

"What else do you want?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the long spear in Lao Xu's arms.

"I don't want guns. I want two pounds of charcoal, a basin of water, a lamp, and someone to guard the gate."

Old Xu was stunned.

"Whom are we guarding?"

Zhao Weiguo glanced at the shadowy figures moving behind the paper windows in the courtyard.

"The one who guards the mess."