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

Zhou Shichang held the knife horizontally in front of his eyes, his thumb still half an inch away from the blade, not daring to touch it.

"Old Xu, bring me your broken Japanese sword."

Old Xu was taken aback.

"Company commander, those were seized; the quartermaster is still trying to register them."

"Register my ass. Give it to me."

Old Xu pulled half of a Japanese officer's sword from under a burlap sack by the wall. The scabbard was gone, there were several nicks in the blade, and blood rusted and blackened the edge of the handguard.

When the people in the courtyard saw that thing, they all shrank back.

He Yuzhu stopped eating the steamed bun in his mouth.

"Is this the Japanese soldier's sword?"

He Daqing pulled him behind him.

"Shut up."

Zhou Shichang handed the broadsword to Old Xu, picked up the half of the Japanese sword himself, and stood in the middle of the courtyard.

"Zhao Weiguo, don't blame me if you mess it up."

Zhao Weiguo pressed the second knife onto the grinding wheel, sparks falling from his sleeve.

"Avoid direct confrontation. Press in at an angle, and let the momentum carry you."

Zhou Shichang narrowed his eyes.

"You're even going to teach me how to use a machete?"

"If you want to test the knife, then cut as I say."

Old Xu gripped the broadsword, his facial muscles tensing. He glanced at Zhou Shichang.

"Company commander, are you really coming?"

Zhou Shichang held his Japanese sword horizontally.

"Come."

The blue bricks beneath their feet creaked underfoot.

Old Xu moved first, his blade whistling as he pressed down at an angle. Zhou Shichang didn't dodge, but raised his sword to meet it.

when!

A clanging sound rang out, and dust fell from the courtyard wall. From Jia Zhangshi's room came the sound of a bowl hitting a table, as if someone's hand was trembling.

Old Xu took half a step back and looked down at the cut.

Only a tiny white dot, the size of a grain of rice, appeared on the blade of the large sword. On the other hand, the Japanese sword had been ripped open with a gash, as if a piece had been bitten off by a canine tooth.

Old Xu's eyes widened.

"Damn it."

Zhou Shichang turned the Japanese sword over and let out a laugh.

"Again."

Zhao Weiguo raised his hand.

"That's enough. Knives aren't for you to play with in the yard."

Zhou Shichang stopped, his smile slowly fading. He returned the broadsword to Old Xu, turned to look at Zhao Weiguo, his eyes more somber than when he first entered the courtyard.

"These five, come with me tomorrow."

Zhao Weiguo didn't look up.

"The knife moves, but the person doesn't."

"I didn't say I wanted you to join the army."

Zhou Shichang squatted down by the stove, lowering his voice, but he didn't avoid the ears that were perked up in the yard.

"Something's not right in Fengtai. The Japanese have been training a lot these past few days, with their car headlights flashing at night. We're short of knife repairmen and people who understand metalwork."

Yi Zhonghai's fingertips trembled, and the gun's bolt guard in his arms pressed against his chest.

"Sir, he's only ten years old."

Zhou Shichang glanced at him coldly.

Did I ask you?

Yi Zhonghai's lips turned pale, and he took a step back.

Zhao Weiguo removed the second knife from the grinding wheel and used an oilstone to sharpen it.

"All of you, the owners of the arms."

Zhou Shichang exhaled a breath of white air.

"Yes. But of the knives they repaired today, three were bent and one was broken. The man with the broken knife is still lying in the clinic, his stomach was ripped open by a Japanese bayonet, and his intestines are wrapped in cloth."

No one moved in the yard.

A small crumb fell from the steamed bun in He Yuzhu's hand, but he didn't bend down to pick it up.

Jia Dongxu huddled by the window, his face pressed against the paper windowpane, but his eyes were wide open.

Zhao Weiguo paused for a moment.

"Bring the knives tomorrow. Repair the broken ones. The scrap is mine."

Old Xu couldn't help but speak up.

"You're quite good at keeping accounts, aren't you?"

Zhao Weiguo flipped the knife over and used a scriber to mark the blade.

"So, you think I'll let you grind my teeth on me?"

Old Xu choked and touched his nose.

Zhou Shichang laughed, but the laugh was so short it sounded like a scabbard hitting the ground.

"Alright. The scraps are yours. As for the rations, I'll get them for you."

Zhao Weiguo glanced at him.

"Don't get moldy."

"You're still being picky?"

"If you get an upset stomach, no one will fix your knife."

Zhou Shichang pointed at him, unable to utter a curse for a long time, and finally tucked the cigarette behind his ear.

"Okay. Wheat flour is hard to come by, but I'll get you cornmeal, pickled vegetables, and canned meat."

When Yan Bugui heard "canned meat" at the front gate, his eyes behind his glasses immediately lit up. Just as he moved forward, Old Xu slammed the butt of his gun into the ground.

thump.

Yan Bugui stopped on his toes, a smile spreading across his face.

"I'm just checking if the bellows is leaking."

Old Xu has a squinty eye.

"You leaked it."

He Yuzhu chuckled, and He Daqing slapped him on the back of the head.

Zhao Weiguo handed the second knife to Zhou Shichang.

"This is Old Xu's. The blade has a thick spine, don't let him use it to chop rocks."

Old Xu took it and lovingly stroked the back of the knife.

"Who the hell is cutting rocks?"

Zhou Shichang glanced at him.

"You cut the bolt last time, remember?"

Old Xu coughed.

"Wouldn't that be getting desperate?"

Zhao Weiguo then placed the third knife by the stove, signaling He Yuzhu to come back and shake it.

He Yuzhu stuffed the last bite of steamed bun into his mouth, squatted down, and grabbed the crank handle.

"Who should I give this one to?"

The soldier holding the gun at the door took half a step forward.

"mine."

Zhao Weiguo looked at his hand.

"What's your name?"

"Li Shuanzi".

"Li Shuanzi, don't try to use the wrist-pressing technique like Company Commander Zhou this time. You're strong, so I left the blade blunt for you. When you chop down, don't pull back, or you'll get your bone stuck."

Li Shuanzi's face froze instantly, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

"You talk like you've seen a battlefield."

Zhou Shichang did not laugh.

He stared at Zhao Weiguo's profile.

The firelight licked Zhao Weiguo's brow bone, illuminating a thin, somewhat pointed face. There was no panic on that face when a child hears "guts" or "bayonet," only the cold light reflected from the stove fire, as if he were looking not at the few knives in the yard, but at a longer, harder railway track.

Zhou Shichang lowered his voice so that only a few people around the stove could hear it.

"Zhao Weiguo, are you afraid of the Japanese?"

The grinding wheel turned, sending sparks flying in a string.

Zhao Weiguo pressed down on the back of the knife.

"I'm not afraid."

Old Xu grinned.

"The child is very brave."

Zhao Weiguo raised his eyes.

"Fear is useless. Iron bends when it's soft, and a person kneels when they're soft. If you kneel for too long, your neck will be offered up for someone to chop off."

Old Xu's smile froze.

Li Shuanzi gripped the gun strap tightly.

Zhou Shichang lowered his head, crumpled the cigarette behind his ear in his palm, and the scraps of paper fell into the snow.

"I will bring these words to the brothers tomorrow."

Zhao Weiguo didn't take it. He pulled the third knife out from under the grinding wheel, its cold blade gleaming against the night sky.