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

The porridge was twice as thick as usual.

Old Hu put the millet into the pot, added little water, turned up the heat, and simmered it for half an hour. The porridge in the pot was bubbling and boiling. When the bubbles burst, steam rose up, carrying the aroma of millet, filling the whole yard.

The new recruits huddled around the pot, swallowing hard, their eyes glued to the lid, which bounced wildly from the steam.

"Is it done yet?" someone asked.

Old Hu lifted the lid of the pot and stirred it with a spoon. The porridge was sticky; the spoon could hold it when stirred. He nodded and put the spoon down. The rice grains had all split open; when the spoon was lifted, it could be pulled into strands.

"Let's feast."

The new recruits rushed forward, bowls clattering together. The porridge, golden and steaming, was poured into bowls. Some picked it up and drank it, scalding their teeth, blowing on it before taking small sips.

Zhao Weiguo squatted in the corner of the yard, holding a bowl of porridge in his hand. He didn't drink it, but just watched the people.

Liu Dashan walked over, carrying an enamel mug filled with steaming porridge. He squatted down next to Zhao Weiguo, took a sip, and said nothing.

Zhao Weiguo glanced at him.

Liu Dashan was a veteran transferred from the New First Regiment three days ago. He was in his forties, and his face was full of wrinkles, like a crumpled piece of cloth. He had fought for more than ten years, from the Red Army period to the present. He had five bullet holes in his body, and half of his left ear was cut off by shrapnel, leaving only a lump of flesh.

When he first arrived three days ago, he looked at Zhao Weiguo with suspicion in his eyes. He didn't say anything, but Zhao Weiguo could tell that he didn't believe a fourteen-year-old could lead troops.

He was now squatting next to Zhao Weiguo, drinking porridge. After a few sips, he put the enamel mug down.

"I looked down on you three days ago," he said.

Zhao Weiguo didn't reply. He lowered his head, took a sip of porridge, blew on it to cool it down, and then took another sip.

"That was a brilliant battle," Liu Dashan said. "Zero casualties, over forty enemy soldiers killed, and so much grain captured. In all my years of fighting, this is the first time I've seen new recruits win their first battle like this."

Zhao Weiguo put down the bowl and looked at him.

"Did you need something from me?"

Liu Dashan paused for a moment, then laughed, his face wrinkling even more deeply.

"You little rascal, you really don't hold back." He stood up, brushed the dirt off his trousers, and said, "I wanted to tell you that I'll take care of the inventory of guns and ammunition and the replacement of sentries. You can rest."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

Liu Dashan turned and walked away, but after taking two steps, he stopped and looked back.

"The Japanese won't just accept their bad luck after losing their supplies; they'll definitely retaliate."

Zhao Weiguo looked at him.

"I know."

Liu Dashan is gone.

Zhao Weiguo squatted down and continued drinking his porridge. The porridge was no longer hot, but lukewarm, and it was quite thick, thick enough to cling to the sides of the bowl. He looked down at the porridge in the bowl; it was thicker than it used to be in Xin Yituan.

The porridge is thick now, but he doesn't know if it will stay thick.

He had just put the bowl down when shouts came from outside the yard.

"Smoke is coming from the North Ditch! Smoke is coming from the North Ditch!"

A man rushed into the yard. It was Zhu Zi, a farmer from Beigou. He was in his early twenties, as thin as a bamboo pole. His cotton-padded jacket was covered with grass seeds, and his face was covered in sweat and mud. He was panting so hard that he couldn't even speak a complete sentence. He was bent over, his hands on his knees, and hissing sounds came from his throat.

"Smoke is coming from the north ditch. Two plumes."

Zhao Weiguo stood up and walked up to him.

"How many plumes of smoke?"

The pillar extends two fingers.

"Two," he gasped, "one thick, one thin."

"When did you get up?"

"It started before dawn." Zhu Zi straightened up and wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve. "I went out to relieve myself and saw smoke on the mountain path to the north. At first, I thought it was from burning stubble, but the more I looked, the more suspicious it seemed. The smoke was drifting down from the mountain path, not coming from the fields."

Zhao Weiguo turned to look at Chen An.

"Summon Staff Officer Luo."

Chen An ran away.

Zhao Weiguo squatted down and drew a line on the ground with his finger.

How far is Beigou from here?

Zhu Zi thought for a moment.

"It takes two hours to walk there."

Zhao Weiguo drew another line.

"The smoke is drifting down from the mountain path, not up from the fields," he muttered to himself. "Two plumes of smoke, one thick and one thin; the thick one is cooking smoke, the thin one is dust kicked up during a march."

Staff Officer Luo ran over, unfolding a map in his hand. The map was old, with worn edges, and marked the locations of Beigou, Liushuwan, and Xingshuping.

Zhao Weiguo drew three dots on the map with a charcoal pencil.

"Beigou, Liushuwan, Xingshuping." He connected the three points. "The supply team in Huanghuaigou has lost contact. The Japanese will search back along Huanghuaigou, find Beigou, discover us here, and then advance through the mountain road in Beigou."

Staff Officer Luo nodded.

"Two plumes of smoke, one thick and one thin," Zhao Weiguo said. "The thick one is cooking smoke, which means they're cooking. Cooking means they're going to eat breakfast, and eating breakfast means they arrived at Beigou last night and haven't moved, waiting for dawn. The thin one is dust from a march, which means they've already started moving."

He drew a line between Beigou and Xingshuping with a charcoal pencil.

"It takes two hours to walk from Beigou to here. They started making smoke before dawn, and now that the sun is up, it means they've been walking for at least an hour."

He looked up at Staff Officer Luo.

"We'll be there in an hour."

Staff Officer Luo's expression changed.

Zhao Weiguo stood up and looked outside the courtyard. The new recruits were still drinking their porridge; some had finished, some were still licking the porridge from their bowls, and some were squatting on the ground basking in the sun, unaware that danger was approaching. He thought of the battle at Huanghuaigou yesterday, the bullets that missed their mark during the first round of shooting, and the way they trembled on the ground.

They've only been training for three days, fought a battle yesterday, and are going to fight again today.

But the enemy won't wait for them to be ready.

"How many people?" he asked the pillar.

The pillar shook its head.

"I couldn't see clearly, the smoke was too thick. I could only see people walking on the mountain path, and the line was very long."

Zhao Weiguo did some mental calculations. Two plumes of smoke, one thick and one thin. The thick one was cooking smoke, indicating there were cooks; cooks meant there was an organized unit; and an organized unit meant it wasn't a small detachment. The long line indicated a considerable number of people.

"About 180 men," he said. "Reinforce the squadron."

Staff Officer Luo looked at him.

"How did you calculate that?"

Zhao Weiguo pointed to the map.

"The supply team at Huanghuaigou has over forty guards. If we lose our supplies, the Japanese won't just send a few dozen men to chase us. The reinforced company, about 180 men, has heavy machine guns and grenade launchers; they're enough to wipe us out."

He turned to look at the new recruits in the courtyard.

"Call someone over," he said. "Finish eating in fifteen minutes. Those who haven't finished can come back for drinks."

Old Hu was standing next to the pot when he heard this and paused for a moment.

"What should we do with the porridge?"

Zhao Weiguo glanced at him.

"Keep it," he said, "for when we come back to drink."

He walked to the middle of the courtyard and glanced at everyone.

"gather!"

The recruits sprang into action. Some put down their bowls, some were still taking their last sip of wine, and some handed their bowls to the people next to them before running to grab their guns. There was a brief commotion in the courtyard, but they quickly formed ranks, much more orderly than they had been three days ago.

Zhao Weiguo stood at the front of the line, looking at them.

"The Third Company will go first to Willow Bay at the North Gully exit and occupy the mixed forest," he said. "The First Company will follow and block the North Pass. The Second Company will stay at Apricot Grove to guard the grain, the wounded, the mules, and the supplies."

He glanced at Liu Dashan.

"I'll take you with me."

Liu Dashan nodded.

"I herded sheep through that area of ​​Willow Bay back in 1928, and I know which ditch leads around to the Japanese lines."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

"Go."

Liu Dashan turned and ran. He ran to the position of the first company, shouted, and the men of the first company followed him out.

Zhao Weiguo turned to look at Chen An.

"The gifted youth class, come with me. Bring sulfanilamide powder, bandages, and two stretchers."

Chen An nodded and ran away.

Zhao Weiguo went into the mud-brick house, took out the Mauser pistol from under his pillow, the old cloth strip on the handle turning white in the morning light. He filled the magazine to full, twelve rounds, inserted it into the handle, and locked the safety.

He walked to the door, stopped, and glanced back at the porridge in the pot.

The porridge was still steaming, its golden color shining in the morning light.

He turned around and walked out of the courtyard.

Everyone in the courtyard had left, leaving only Old Hu standing by the pot, holding a spoon and looking at the porridge.

Zhao Weiguo passed by him and glanced at the edge of the pot.

"Stay here," he said. "The porridge can be reheated if it gets cold."

Old Hu nodded.

Zhao Weiguo walked out of the courtyard and to the front of the line.

The Third Company and the First Company had already left from the north entrance of Xingshuping. The column stretched out in a long line, and their footsteps crunched on the frozen ground.

Zhu Zi stood by the roadside, watching them walk past, stunned and unsure of what to do.

Zhao Weiguo stopped for a moment as he passed by him.

"You reported it promptly," he said. "When we get back, we'll get you a bowl of thick soup too."

Zhu Zi paused for a moment, then nodded.

Zhao Weiguo turned around and continued walking.

The group disappeared into the mountain path of Beigou. The porridge in the courtyard was still steaming. No one knew how many people would be left to drink it when they returned.