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

The next morning, before dawn, Zhao Weiguo rode his horse to the brigade headquarters.

The horse was a chestnut horse from the assault battalion, thin, with ribs that could be counted one by one, its hooves making a crisp sound as they struck the frozen dirt road. Staff Officer Luo rode another gray horse, even thinner, panting after every three steps, white mist billowing from its nostrils.

Zhao Weiguo didn't say much on the way. His hands were in his pockets, clutching a piece of paper folded into thirds, the corner stained with oil. He had been writing in the shed until late last night, wearing out two pencils.

Staff Officer Luo walked alongside him, occasionally saying, "The brigade commander stayed up until midnight again yesterday." Zhao Weiguo grunted in response but didn't reply. His eyes were fixed on the mountain road ahead, and his mind was going over the five conditions, how to brigade commander ask each question, and how he would answer.

Dry shrubs lined both sides of the mountain path, their branches rustling in the wind. A thin mist still clung to the distant mountain peaks, occasionally revealing patches of bluish-gray sky.

After walking for most of an hour, we arrived at the brigade headquarters.

The brigade headquarters was in a stone cave dwelling, three caves side by side, the middle one being the largest and occupied by the brigade commander. A blue cloth curtain hung at the entrance of the cave, billowing in the wind as if it were panting. Two guards stood at the door, guns slung over their backs, their faces red from the cold. They saluted when they saw them and lifted the curtain.

The cave dwelling was dimly lit, the air thick with the pungent smell of tobacco, making one's throat tighten. Two battle reports lay spread out on the wooden table, one from Tiger's Mouth and the other from Apricot Blossom Ridge, the corners of the paper burned with several holes by tobacco ash. Beside them sat a rough porcelain bowl piled high with cigarette butts, some still smoking, the acrid smell of burnt tobacco mingling with the air. The wick of the oil lamp at the corner of the table was nearly burned out, the flame flickering, casting the old brigade commander's shadow on the wall, sometimes large, sometimes small.

The old brigade commander sat behind his desk, circling points on a battle report with a pencil. His eyes were bloodshot, his face was unshaven, and a button was missing from his cotton-padded jacket, revealing a white shirt underneath with a shiny black collar that looked like it hadn't been changed in days.

Looking up, I saw Zhao Weiguo and put down my pencil.

"Here I am." The voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding wood.

Zhao Weiguo saluted. Staff Officer Luo stood at the door without coming in; the curtain fell behind him to block the wind.

"Brigade Commander, I have something to discuss."

The old brigade commander leaned back in his chair, the willow wood creaking. He pushed his pipe aside to make room.

"explain."

Zhao Weiguo took the paper out of his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it on the table. There were five points written on the paper, each with a small annotation after it. The handwriting was neat, as if he had written each stroke carefully.

"I mentioned three points to you yesterday, and after thinking about them, I added two more, which we've now included in the official document."

The old brigade commander picked up the paper, glanced at it first, and then dropped the pencil between his fingers.

The first three points on the paper were the same as what I said yesterday, but with added annotations: the directly administered brigade headquarters are independently mobile, the youth training class is a separate organization, and the machine tool and repair groups are uniformly under the regiment. The small print following each point clearly explains "why" and "how to manage".

Seeing the third annotation, "One lathe is divided among three companies, and none of them can repair the gun," I drew a deep line under this sentence with a pencil.

Turn to the fourth item.

"Zhao Tieshan was given the rank of captain and appointed chief engineer. He can't just be a mentor without any official title, where no one cares if something goes wrong, and no one acknowledges his work."

The pencil paused for a moment.

Fifthly, ammunition, clothing, medical and technical materials can be requested independently.

Zhao Weiguo finished speaking.

The old brigade commander didn't reply, but made two taps on the paper with his pencil.

"That's all?"

That's all.

He pressed his finger on the paper and then withdrew it.

The cave was quiet for a while. Then, a gust of wind blew in, and the curtain snapped open with a loud thud.

Footsteps echoed in the courtyard, crunching on the frozen earth, then faded into the distance.

The old brigade commander exhaled a puff of smoke, which swirled twice in the lamplight before dissipating. He picked up the paper and looked at it again, his finger pausing on each line.

"This isn't an independent regiment. It's more like a small, independent brigade that can fight, repair, and build everything on its own."

Zhao Weiguo did not deny it.

"What I need is a regiment that can operate independently, repair its own equipment, and build its own weapons. It may still be a regiment in designation, but it needs to be more robust than a regular regiment. The Eighth Route Army doesn't lack people willing to risk their lives; what it lacks are people who can repair guns, reconnect artillery shells, and effectively mobilize their troops."

The old brigade commander leaned back in his chair, which creaked again. He picked up his pipe, took a puff, and put it down. He picked up the paper and read it line by line, writing a word next to each one in pencil. The first three were marked "Approved," the fourth "Approved by the division headquarters," and the fifth "Approved by headquarters."

"The brigade can hold off on the first three demands. As for direct administration, the special program for gifted children, and the affiliation of machine tools, I can approve those. You've got big ambitions, but these three aren't excessive. The results of the battles at Tiger's Mouth and Xinghualing speak for themselves; nobody in the brigade can voice any objections."

He paused, then tapped the fourth line with his pencil.

"But independently requesting ammunition and uniforms is handled by headquarters, not the brigade. Zhao Tieshan's rank needs to be reported to the division; I can't approve it as captain, I need the division political commissar's signature. It's not that I'm unwilling, it's just that the hierarchy is blocking it."

Zhao Weiguo nodded.

"I understand. Please have the old brigade commander report first. If the next battle proves I'm qualified, then approve my performance based on the results."

The old brigade commander looked at him and narrowed his eyes.

"Yesterday I verbally agreed to three points, today I submitted five in writing. That night wasn't wasted. Exchanging merit for conditions is more respectable than asking for handouts."

Zhao Weiguo placed his hands on his knees. The old brigade commander was right; five conditions written on paper were worthless until they were demonstrated in the next battle.

The old brigade commander stood up, walked to the entrance of the cave dwelling, and lifted the curtain to look outside. The sky was overcast, leaden-gray clouds pressed down on the mountaintops, and the wind, biting cold, blew in from the ravines, making the curtain flap loudly. He lowered the curtain and turned around.

"The victories at Tiger's Mouth and Apricot Blossom Ridge are enough to secure your rank as regimental commander. But for a regiment to function properly, these two battles alone are insufficient."

He tapped the pencil lightly on the table.

"The latter two points, Zhao Tieshan's rank and independent application, are the channels for reporting to higher authorities. Whether they will be approved or not depends on what else you can produce later."

The old brigade commander didn't finish his sentence. He walked back to the table, stubbed out the cigarette butt in his bowl, and lit another one. The light from the match illuminated his face, revealing deep-set wrinkles, sunken eyes, and prominent cheekbones; he had lost a lot of weight in the past few days.

A rooster crowed outside, then stopped after two crows.

"There's one more thing, I just want to give you a heads-up."

Zhao Weiguo looked up.

"The northern line, Kong Jie's side has been under a lot of pressure, the brigade has been keeping an eye on it for a while. If you really take over the regiment in the future, the northern line will be the direction you'll be responsible for. Keep that in mind."

Zhao Weiguo's heart skipped a beat.

I recalled the five words that popped up in the system last night: "Independent Regiment direction, weight five stars." I remembered Kong Jie's silence when he arrived, and his words, "Go visit Liushugou when you have time." I remembered the faint red mark on the gauze on Kong Jie's left arm, and the old brigade commander's earlier comment, "Something's going to happen on that line to the north sooner or later."

These fragments pieced together in his mind, forming a shape he didn't want to see.

"The system is issuing a crisis warning," he thought to himself.

Seeing that he didn't speak, the old brigade commander tapped his cigarette on the rim of his bowl. The ash fell onto the table and was scattered by the wind.

"I'll submit the conditions. The brigade can probably get the first three approved in the next few days. Whether the last two will be approved depends on how you perform in the next battle. If you win, everything will be negotiable."

Zhao Weiguo saluted.

"clear."

He turned and left the cave. Staff Officer Luo was waiting outside, squatting against the wall, drawing circles on the ground with a straw. Seeing him come out, he stood up, threw away the straw, and patted the dirt off his backside.

"How is it?"

Zhao Weiguo mounted his horse, and the chestnut horse snorted and pawed at the rocks with its hooves.

"Return to Xingshuping. Organize all the maps around the Independent Regiment. Mark every road in Liushugou, Beigou, Yejiling, and Baimagou. Mark roads traversable by mules and horses with one color, roads traversable by humans with another, and roads traversable by humans as well."

Staff Officer Luo was taken aback. Having followed Zhao Weiguo for so long, he knew this expression well. It meant preparing for a storm that was yet to come.

"What happened at the Independent Regiment?"

Zhao Weiguo remained silent for a moment, then tugged on the reins, and the chestnut horse began to trot.

"It'll be in the next few days." Half of the voice was carried away by the wind.

Staff Officer Luo didn't ask any further questions, mounted his gray horse, and the two horses trod back along the gravel path. The wind blew from the north, cold, carrying the scent of pine resin from the mountains and the smoke from distant burning fields.

The mountain path winds and twists, with withered bushes and bare rocks on both sides. Occasionally, a bird flies out from the bushes, flaps its wings, and disappears into the ravine.

Zhao Weiguo, mounted on his horse, hands in his pockets, felt the edge of the paper. A patch of the paper was soaked with sweat, making the writing somewhat blurred. Five conditions were outlined; the brigade commander could approve the first three, but the last two needed to be reported upwards. Whether or not approval would be granted depended on how well the next battle went.

The next battle.

I recalled the muffled sound of Kong Jie's footsteps as he arrived, like walking on cotton. I remembered the faint red mark on the gauze of his left arm, an old wound that hadn't fully healed and had reopened. I remembered the weight in his eyes when he said, "The Independent Regiment needs someone who can fight tough battles." Kong Jie had come to borrow someone.

The battle is fast approaching. We don't know when it will end, or what it will be like, but from this moment on, not a single moment can be wasted.