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

At dusk in Xing Shu Ping, the sound of files sharpening iron in the side shed had not yet stopped.

Zhao Weiguo squatted down next to Zhao Tieshan, watching him calibrate the calipers. The calipers were German-made and highly precise. Zhao Tieshan held them up to the light to check the scale, adjusting the zero point three times with his fingers on the frame.

He held the calipers up to the light for a moment, then put them down.

"This one works. The previous zero was off by a fraction of a second."

Zhao Weiguo nodded without speaking. He was thinking about the telegram he'd received that afternoon. The Sakata Regiment, numbering 3,800, was advancing from the direction of Niangziguan, and the brigade commander's order was "wait." What did "wait" mean—waiting for orders, or waiting for the battle to arrive?

The sound of Staff Officer Qin's horse hooves stopped outside the side shed.

The horses' hooves pounded the frozen ground with a rapid sound. Zhao Weiguo stood up and dusted off his hands. Staff Officer Qin, without dismounting, called out to him from his horse.

"Battalion Commander. The brigade commander wants you to go there now."

It was already getting dark. A faint red line remained along the western ridgeline, and the shadows of the trees in the gully stretched out in a single line. Darkness falls quickly in the mountains; just a moment ago, I could still make out the gear patterns in the side shed, but now I had to hold the lamp up to see them clearly.

Zhao Weiguo didn't ask what was wrong, handed the calipers back to Zhao Tieshan, and turned to walk out of the side shed.

Zhao Tieshan took the calipers without looking up.

Are you coming back tonight?

"have no idea."

Zhao Tieshan didn't ask any more questions. He put the calipers in the toolbox and picked up another gear to continue examining it.

Staff Officer Qin turned his horse around, and Zhao Weiguo mounted his own. The two horses left Xing Shu Ping and headed towards the brigade headquarters along the mountain path. The path was narrow, allowing only one horse to pass at a time. Staff Officer Qin led the way, his horse's hooves pounding on the gravel. Occasionally, he would kick a stone, which would roll down the slope, and the sound of it hitting the bottom would be heard only after a while.

Qin, the staff officer, didn't say much on the way, and Zhao Weiguo didn't ask any questions either.

The news from the Sakata Regiment only arrived in the afternoon, so the brigade commander's summons couldn't be for any other reason.

After riding for half an hour, we arrived at the brigade headquarters.

The mountain village was small, with only a dozen or so households. The brigade commander's cave dwelling was located at the very back of the village. There was a sentry at the entrance. The sentry saw Zhao Weiguo but did not stop him; he only glanced at him.

Staff Officer Qin reined in his horse and remained outside the cave dwelling.

Zhao Weiguo lifted the curtain and went inside.

There was no one else in the cave dwelling. An oil lamp sat on the kang table; the wick had been trimmed, and the flame flickered steadily, casting a halo of light on the table. On the table was an oilcloth bundle, its corner tucked under a small leather trunk with a brass clasp. The trunk was small, and the brass clasp was polished to a shine.

The old brigade commander sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), a stub of unlit tobacco between his fingers. Instead of letting Zhao Weiguo sit down first as usual, he glanced at him a few times.

"I've heard about Zhao Tieshan's situation."

His first words weren't an order, but rather sounded like he was just trying to make conversation.

"This kid has a better eye for people than I do."

His voice wasn't loud, but the words were pressed under the back of his tongue, as if he were thinking as he spoke. After he finished speaking, he didn't immediately continue with the next sentence, but instead twirled the pipe in his hand halfway before placing it on the table.

Zhao Weiguo stood at the door, waiting for him to finish his sentence. The brigade commander wasn't the type to praise someone before assigning tasks. He always made sure to say something first.

The old brigade commander placed his pipe on the table and pressed his finger on the oilcloth package.

"There's a batch of documents. Deliver them to the liaison point in Sanlipu, behind the lines."

His fingers paused on the oilcloth bundle, not loosening them. The hemp rope binding the oilcloth bundle was very tight, with the knot on the side, in the military-style cross-binding method, and the rope end was burned to prevent it from coming loose.

"These documents must not be damaged in transit."

When he said "documents," his voice deepened. He repeated it.

"We must arrive safely."

The second time he said "must," he emphasized it even more. He never repeated himself. Once was enough. But he repeated this sentence.

Zhao Weiguo stands at attention.

"Yes."

The old brigade commander didn't respond immediately. He glanced at Zhao Weiguo, his eyes flickering in the lamplight. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again. The wrinkles at the corners of his mouth were deeper than usual—marks from clenching his teeth, usually invisible.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't.

The cave dwelling fell silent. The light from the oil lamp shone on the kang table, making the edges of the oilcloth bundle gleam. The brigade commander's fingers were still pressed against the oilcloth bundle, leaving a faint imprint where his fingertips had touched. He didn't let go.

After a few breaths, he withdrew his hand.

"Leave the village before dark."

When he spoke, he didn't look at Zhao Weiguo; he looked at the wall. A map hung on the wall, with a red arrow pointing towards the heart of the Taihang Mountains.

There were footsteps outside the cave dwelling.

The steps were small, but they were steady as they stepped on the dry soil.

The old brigade commander stood up. As he stood up, he braced his hand on the kang table, his knuckles turning white.

A woman walked into the cave dwelling.

She was in her thirties, wearing a gray cloth jacket. The jacket had been washed; the fabric was slightly faded, but it was clean. Her hair was cut short, reaching just above her ears, revealing a bit of skin on her neck behind her ears—skin whiter than that of the locals from the Taihang Mountains. Her eyes were bright but not overtly expressive. Upon entering, she glanced at the furnishings in the room before looking at the old brigade commander.

She carried a small leather suitcase with a brass clasp in her left hand. The suitcase wasn't heavy; she carried it like a cloth bag, without any tension in her forearm.

She stood in the cave dwelling, nodded, but didn't smile.

The old brigade commander pointed at her.

"This is Comrade Wang. She's carrying the documents."

He paused for a moment.

"You escort her on the way. Don't let the documents..."

He stopped. His tongue curled in his mouth, and he swallowed the word back.

"...Don't let anything happen to her."

The word "she" was heavier than all the words before it. It was so heavy it seemed to be forced out from under the back of the tongue.

Comrade Wang nodded to Zhao Weiguo. When she spoke, her voice was soft, with a touch of southern softness at the end. She pressed the falling tone less than the locals of Taihang, and the "zhi" in "Comrade Zhao" was pronounced short, swallowing half of the sound.

"Thank you for your help, Comrade Zhao."

Zhao Weiguo nodded without saying much. He had a feeling that this accent wasn't from Shanxi or Hebei. The way she spoke was like a southerner who had been in the north for a long time; most of her words had changed to a northern accent, but she still retained that softness in the ending sounds.

The old brigade commander pushed the oilcloth package towards Comrade Wang. The oilcloth package was sealed, tightly bound with hemp rope, and had never been opened. He pushed the oilcloth package forward a few inches, but did not immediately pull his hand back.

"Walk slowly on the road. The mountain road is difficult to travel."

He wasn't giving an order. He was offering a word of advice.

Then he turned around, his back to them, and looked at the map hanging on the wall. The red arrow on the map pointed to the heart of the Taihang Mountains. His back was straight, but his shoulders slumped slightly.

"Go."

Zhao Weiguo and Comrade Wang stepped out of the cave dwelling. As the curtain fell, a cool breeze blew in, and the oil lamp flame flickered. The old brigade commander did not turn around.

Staff Officer Qin waited outside the cave dwelling, leading Zhao Weiguo's horse and then a mule. A thin blanket was draped over the mule's back, neatly folded as if it had just been pulled from the bottom of a trunk, with creases on the edges.

Comrade Wang glanced at the mule but didn't ride it. She adjusted the strap of her small leather suitcase and slung it over her shoulder. The suitcase rested against her waist, and she gently held it with her elbow to keep it from swaying.

Zhao Weiguo led the horse, walking in front.

The road out of the village was downhill and full of gravel. It got dark quickly; just a moment ago, the outline of the road was still visible, but now the starlight was the only way to discern the path. Zhao Weiguo walked slowly, leading the way and waiting for the others to catch up.

Comrade Wang followed about five steps behind him. She walked slowly, each foot firmly planted on the gravel before switching to the other. The mule, walking in the middle, slipped on the gravel for a moment, but quickly regained its footing.

After walking a short distance, Zhao Weiguo looked back.

Comrade Wang's walking rhythm remained unchanged. Her steps were small but steady, and she made sure each step was firmly planted before switching feet. The way she walked on the mountain path was unlike someone who was going into the mountains for the first time, who would choose the exact spot where their feet landed, avoiding loose soil and stepping on hard rocks or grass roots.

Zhao Weiguo didn't say anything and continued walking.

After walking another two miles, the mountain path narrowed. One side of the path was a steep slope, and the other side was a stone wall. The path was so narrow that only one person could pass sideways; the mule couldn't get through. Zhao Weiguo tied the mule to a bush by the roadside, walked sideways along the stone wall, and then reached out to help her.

Comrade Wang glanced at his hand but did not touch it.

She shifted her stance, her left hand against the stone wall, her right hand carrying the suitcase, and walked sideways. Her right knuckles were thick, and she braced herself against the stone wall, her palm calloused, providing a steady grip. After crossing, she switched the suitcase to her left hand, flicked her right hand as if wiping away dust from the stone wall.

Zhao Weiguo withdrew his hand.

She was thinking about something else. As she walked this stretch of road, her body moved mechanically, but her mind was elsewhere.

After walking for a while, it got completely dark.

The moon hadn't risen yet. The stars lit up, the Big Dipper hanging on the northern ridge. The wind swept up from the valley, making the hem of my jacket flutter. The temperature on the road was dropping quickly; the stones, which had been baking in the sun all day, were cooling, and the ground was turning from warm to cool.

While walking along a narrow mountain path, Comrade Wang stepped on a loose stone. The stone rolled, and her body swayed.

Zhao Weiguo reached out to pull him.

She had already shifted her position on her own. Halfway down, her right foot landed on another rock, her knee sinking to steady herself. She stood firm. The movement was smooth, like someone who often walked at night; her body seemed to have a memory of it.

Zhao Weiguo withdrew his hand.

She had a faint soapy smell. It wasn't the kind of soap pods that locals in the Taihang Mountains used; he was used to the astringent, slightly bitter smell of soap pods. Her scent was cleaner, without the astringent smell, the kind of soap that city government officials often used after washing.

As Zhao Weiguo walked forward, a thought flashed through his mind.

She didn't come from these mountains.

He didn't ask. That wasn't his business.

They walked for another hour or so, crossing three mountain ridges. Comrade Wang's breathing was a little heavier than before, but her pace didn't slow down. Zhao Weiguo slowed his pace, shortening the distance between himself and her to three or four steps, so that he could catch her immediately if she missed a step.

People tend to overthink when walking at night. They can't see anything around them except the road beneath their feet and a blurry shadow ahead. Zhao Weiguo habitually counts his steps, resetting to one hundred. This is a habit he picked up from his time in the courtyard house—keeping his mind blank while walking, or focusing on only one thing.

Tonight, his step counting was constantly interrupted by other things.

He recalled how heavily the brigade commander emphasized the word "she" when he said, "Don't let her make any mistakes." It wasn't the tone of a superior officer giving instructions to a subordinate. That kind of heaviness was like pulling a sentence out of one's throat, without even knowing whether one should say it.

He recalled the brigade commander's words, "Walk slowly. The mountain road is difficult to travel."

It wasn't an order. It was a word of advice.

When has the brigade commander ever given any instructions? All he ever says is "fight," "go," and "do it." When he sends Li Yunlong to tackle tough challenges, he doesn't say a single extra word.

Comrade Wang coughed softly behind him, as if afraid of disturbing the person in front, and covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

Zhao Weiguo didn't turn around, but he slowed down a little.

After crossing the ridge, there was a flat road ahead, wider enough for two people to walk side by side. Comrade Wang came up from behind and walked alongside Zhao Weiguo for about ten steps.

She didn't speak. Neither did Zhao Weiguo.

A gust of wind blew from the side, causing the hem of her jacket to flip up slightly. She pressed it down with her hand and continued walking.

She had a scar on the back of her hand, near the base of her thumb. It wasn't very new; the color had faded, but it was still visible. It didn't look like a knife wound; it looked like something had cut her.

Zhao Weiguo saw it but didn't ask.

After crossing the flat road, the slope began to rise again. Comrade Wang switched to carrying a leather suitcase. As she transferred the suitcase from her left hand to her right, Zhao Weiguo noticed the brass clasp on the suitcase.

The edges of the buttons were worn smooth. It wasn't new wear; it was the result of years of wear, from areas frequently carried by the hand. The paint had worn away, revealing the brass underneath. The suitcase wasn't heavy, but the worn buttons indicated it had been carried for a long time and on many journeys.

Zhao Weiguo looked away.

After walking for nearly two hours, we arrived at Sanlipu.

The contact point was a villager's courtyard. The courtyard wall was made of adobe, and withered grass grew on top of it. The door was ajar, and a sliver of light shone through the crack.

Zhao Weiguo stepped forward and knocked on the door three times, paused in the middle, and then knocked twice more.

The door opened from the inside. A man in his forties stood in the doorway, holding a kerosene lamp. The glass shade of the lamp was polished to a shine, and the flame burned steadily. He glanced at Zhao Weiguo first, then at Comrade Wang behind him, his gaze lingering on the leather suitcase in her hand.

"I've been waiting for two days."

Comrade Wang handed over the oilcloth bag and the leather suitcase. The villager took them, weighed the oilcloth bag in his hand, and placed it on the bench behind the door. He didn't weigh the leather suitcase; he just carried it inside.

"Was the journey smooth?"

Comrade Wang nodded.

The villager didn't ask any more questions and turned to walk into the courtyard. After taking two steps, he stopped and looked back at Zhao Weiguo.

"Comrade, why don't you stay the night before you go?"

Zhao Weiguo shook his head.

"Return journey."

The villager nodded and went inside. The light from the kerosene lamp flickered briefly through the crack in the door before disappearing behind it.

Comrade Wang stood at the gate of the courtyard. A night breeze blew by, and she gathered her wind-blown hair and tucked it behind her ear.

She turned around and nodded to Zhao Weiguo.

"Thank you, Comrade Zhao."

Her voice was softer than it had been in the cave dwelling. The soft, southern accent at the end of her sentence was more pronounced. After she finished speaking, the corner of her mouth twitched slightly, like the beginning of a smile, but she didn't actually smile. It wasn't that she didn't want to smile; it was just that she hadn't smiled in so long that her face had forgotten the gesture.

Zhao Weiguo returned the gift.

"Comrade Wang, you must have had a long journey."

She glanced at him. It was a brief glance, but it contained something more than just sizing him up; it was a way of remembering him.

Then she went into the courtyard.

The kerosene lamp cast a shadow over her back. The hem of her gray cloth jacket swayed slightly, and the door closed. Footsteps faded into the distance, entered the house, and disappeared.

Zhao Weiguo stood at the entrance of the courtyard for a while.

He recalled the brigade commander's words, "Don't let her make any mistakes." That word "she" was heavier than all the words before it.

He wasn't the type to pry into his superiors' private affairs. But a question crossed his mind.

This Comrade Wang was in her early thirties. She wasn't a battlefield cadre; she seemed to come from a much farther place—perhaps Beiping, perhaps Xi'an, perhaps even further south. The old brigade commander changed his address several times while speaking. Who was this brigade commander? Someone Li Yunlong wouldn't dare breathe loudly in front of. The brigade commander never changed his address.

He pushed those thoughts away.

Zhao Weiguo mounted his horse.

The moon rose, hanging over the mountain ridge, illuminating the road leading out of the village. The moonlight outlined the mountain path, its edges gleaming white. The stones, baked by the sun during the day, still radiated warmth, and the ground was still warm.

He rode back.

The wind was strong on the road, making his face feel tight. He took out a piece of dry rations from his pocket and took a bite. The rations were cornmeal mixed with other grains, and they tasted a little sweet. He took two more bites, then put them back in his pocket and held them tightly.

The horses' hooves clattered evenly on the mountain path. The pine forest rustled in the wind, the sound of the pines echoing in waves.

The road back to Xingshuping felt shorter than the way there. I didn't need to watch the road or wait for anyone; I walked quickly.

By the time we arrived at Xingshuping, it was completely dark. Most of the village lights were off, except for the oil lamps in the outbuildings.

Shi Tou stood at the entrance of the shed, holding a pot of hot water, leaning against the wall and waiting. He had been waiting for a while, and the soles of his shoes left a mark on the ground.

He stood up when he saw Zhao Weiguo return.

"Commander, the food in the kettle is still hot."

He handed over the water jug, which was wrapped in a cloth to keep it from cooling down too quickly. Zhao Weiguo took it and drank a couple of sips. The water was just the right temperature, neither too hot nor too cold. After drinking a couple of sips, he handed the jug back to Shi Tou and tied the horse to the shed.

Stone placed the kettle against the wall, squatted down to tie his shoelaces, and pretended he wasn't waiting.

Chen An ran over from the direction of the regimental headquarters.

"battalion commander."

"explain."

"Staff Officer Qin asked me to pass on a message to the brigade commander: you need to return to brigade headquarters tomorrow morning; there's something we need to discuss."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

Chen An didn't leave immediately. He stood in front of Zhao Weiguo, looked at the dust on Zhao Weiguo's face, and then at the mud on his boots.

"Commander, you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"I'm not hungry."

Chen An said "Oh." He turned around, took two steps, and then turned back.

"Battalion Commander, there's still rice in the pot. Shi Tou left it."

He left as soon as he finished speaking, without waiting for a reply.

Stone was squatting nearby, having already tied his shoelaces three times. Only when he heard Chen An's footsteps fade into the distance did he stand up and brush the dirt off his knees.

"Battalion Commander, the food is in the pot; just keep it warm."

Zhao Weiguo hummed in agreement.

He glanced at the side shed. Zhao Tieshan was still inside. The light from the oil lamp stretched his shadow long, casting it onto the earthen wall. He held a gear in his hand, examining the grooves on the teeth under the light. His thumb rubbed back and forth on the teeth, as if reading something.

Zhao Weiguo walked to the entrance of the side shed but did not go in.

Zhao Tieshan did not look up.

"I thought you weren't coming back tonight."

"I'm back."

Zhao Tieshan placed the gear on the table and rotated his wrist.

"We can still work tomorrow."

His eyes never left the gears, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. That was his concern—not saying you'd worked hard, not asking if you'd eaten, but simply saying you could still work tomorrow. Meaning, now that you're back, keep working.

Zhao Weiguo hummed in agreement.

He returned to his room. The room was small, containing only a bed, a table, and an oil lamp. He took off his outer robe and sat on the edge of the kang (heated brick bed). The oil lamp was still lit, and he sat under it for a while.

When he closed his eyes, he didn't see the road, nor the cave dwellings of the brigade headquarters.

It's a brass clasp on a leather suitcase.

The buttons were worn smooth. The edges were clean. The suitcase was light. He noticed as he passed by that her forearm wasn't tense when she carried it. A suitcase filled with documents, the weight was wrong.

He opened his eyes.

The wick had formed a wick, which he pinched off with his fingers. His fingertip burned, but he didn't pull away. That slight heat brought him back to the present.

The brigade commander said it was a document.

he thinks.

But when the brigade commander said "her," he meant it more strongly than when he said "document."

When the brigade commander said "slow down," his voice wasn't an order.

The handle and buckles of a suitcase filled with documents shouldn't be worn that way. You don't carry documents every day. Only things you carry around on your person will wear the buckles that shiny.

He closed his eyes again.

He decided not to think about it anymore. That wasn't his business.

A gust of wind blew, making the tarpaulin on the shed flap loudly. In the next shed, a mule shifted its hooves on the ground, then fell silent again.

He blew out the lamp and lay down in the darkness.

The blanket was cold; he could feel the mountain air seeping in from the side against the wall. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and turned over to lie on his side.

I have to go to the brigade headquarters early tomorrow morning.

The matter of the Sakata Regiment is not over yet. When the brigade commander said "we have something to discuss," he probably knew what they wanted to discuss. Three thousand eight hundred men were pressing in, and it wasn't something that could be resolved by simply "waiting."

He pushed those thoughts aside.

sleep.

There's still a battle to fight tomorrow.

The wind was strong outside, and it made the door of the shed rattle loudly for a moment before falling silent again.

-----Author's Note--------

I haven't been writing very well these past few days. I have a high fever, and even this newly added chapter didn't quite achieve the effect I wanted. I'll leave it at that for now and revise it little by little when I'm feeling better.