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

Three miles outside Liulin Town, an abandoned horse inn.

Half of the inn's roof collapsed, and the rest was propped up with wood. The wood was blackened and covered with a layer of damp mushrooms.

There was a pile of dry grass in the corner, mixed with the smell of rat droppings, so damp that it made one's nose wrinkle.

A tarpaulin was spread on the ground, with a hand-drawn map of the Taihang Mountains spread out on it. The paper was yellowed and brittle, the edges were badly curled, and the four corners were weighed down with round stones picked up from the river, the stones still stained with water.

Yamamoto Ichiki squatted by the oilcloth, holding a sharpened red pencil with a needle-like tip.

The oil lamp was placed beside his knees, its flame flickering in the wind blowing through the hole in the roof, casting his shadow on the wall, sometimes large, sometimes small.

He wore a gray cloth robe with the cuffs rolled up twice, revealing his thin wrists with taut veins.

He had a thin face, high cheekbones, a sharp chin, and small eyes. His gaze was like a razor blade scraping across a map, line by line.

He had this expression when he received the secret order at the Summer Palace in Beiping. Calm, patient, without a trace of unnecessary emotion.

Shigeo Masuko sat opposite him, wearing a short jacket and straw sandals, his back ramrod straight. He held a piece of dry biscuit in his hand, took a bite, chewed it twice, but didn't swallow.

There's a fresh wound on the back of my hand, from a thorn scratch I got on the mountain path the day before yesterday; it's already scabbed over.

"Grouping."

Yamamoto drew four red circles on the map. Xing Shuping, Wangjiayu (the base of the New First Regiment), Liushugou (the base of the Independent Regiment), and Qingtang (the base of the brigade headquarters) were all included.

Connect the four circles together, and the mesh represents the gullies and mountain roads.

"Twelve men, four groups, three men per group. The objective isn't assassination, but reconnaissance. Gather intelligence on routes, sentry posts, and command habits; report back within seven days."

Masuko swallowed the biscuit, his Adam's apple bobbing. The biscuit choked him, causing him to cough, and he swallowed hard again.

"Select the target within ten days. No one is allowed to act prematurely for the sake of victory. If even one is exposed, the entire operation will be lost."

His voice was very low, like a snake crawling in the grass. Every word was pronounced clearly, without a single superfluous word.

His eyes never left the map as he spoke, and he drew several dotted lines between the four red circles with a pencil, which were communication and supply lines.

"Xingshuping, I'll take him. He'll be a medicinal herb merchant, and then we'll investigate the procurement routes. Zhao Weiguo changed his route and the code; I need to see which way he's going now."

Masuko noted it down.

"Wangjiayu, you go. Pretend to be a blacksmith master and apprentice, and find out how often Li Yunlong and Zhao Weiguo contact each other. Tell them how often, which route to take, and what to bring."

Masuko responded.

"Willow Grove, Zhongcun. A disguised doctor infiltrates the Independent Regiment. The Independent Regiment has just finished fighting Tiger's Mouth; they have many wounded and are short-handed."

"Qingtang, a cloth-selling caravan. Investigate the movements of the brigade's messengers and nighttime guards. What time they leave, which route they take, and how many horses they have."

Masuko stuffed the last bite of the dry biscuit into her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her hands. The crumbs landed on the oilcloth and fell into the gully marked on the map.

"In Nakamura's area, it's not easy to pretend to be a doctor. You need real skill to treat patients. If you can't cure them, you'll expose your lack of expertise."

Yamamoto picked up a medicine box from beside the oilcloth. It was made of wood and covered with a layer of worn cowhide. It was the real thing, not a new one.

Inside, there were medicine bottles, gauze, silver needles, and a handwritten copy of the "Treatise on Febrile Diseases," the pages yellowed and the edges badly curled.

"Nakamura studied at the Manchurian Military Medical School for two years. He's experienced enough in treating bruises and sprains. He's much better than those medics from the Eighth Route Army."

He closed his medicine box, stood up, walked to the entrance of the inn, and lifted the straw curtain blocking the door to look outside.

It was completely dark, and only the outlines of the distant mountains remained. A mountain wind blew in from the north, biting cold and carrying the scent of pine resin and earth.

"Seven days. We'll meet here in seven days."

He lowered the curtain, returned to the oilcloth, squatted down, and traced the four red circles again. The red pencil made a scratching sound on the paper.

Willow Gully, the location of the Independent Regiment.

Nakamura and his two companions arrived on the third day.

Carrying a medicine box and dressed in gray cloth, they walked along the dirt road leading into the village. Nakamura walked at the front; he was in his forties, thin, with pockmarks on his face, and wore a felt hat with the brim pulled low, covering half his face.

Two young men followed behind, one carrying a large medicine box and the other a small one. The bottles in the medicine box jingled as they walked, like a master and his three apprentices traveling through the streets.

It was afternoon when we entered the village, and the sun was about to set. The earthen wall at the village entrance was tinged with a dark red by the setting sun.

At the village entrance stood two sentries, rifles slung over their backs. The older one stood against the wall, while the younger one squatted on the ground, munching on sweet potatoes. Upon seeing them, the younger man stood up and stuffed the sweet potato into his pocket.

"What do you do?"

Nakamura pushed his felt hat up, revealing his sun-darkened face, with prominent freckles on his cheekbones and cracked, dry lips.

"A traveling doctor." His accent was slightly Hebei-accented, not too strong, with a drawn-out ending. "I heard there are wounded soldiers here, so I came to check on them. Treatment is free, meals are provided."

The sentries exchanged glances. The older one said, "Wait, I'll go ask."

They ran away, and returned a quarter of an hour later, followed by Lao Peng, Kong Jie's adjutant.

Old Peng was in his forties, with loose, sagging skin on his face, his cheekbones supporting two dark mounds of flesh. There was a scar under his left eye, cut by shrapnel, which had turned white, and the skin around the scar was wrinkled.

He wore an old cotton-padded jacket, the buttons fastened to his neck, and a Mauser pistol was tucked into his waistband, the holster worn smooth and shiny.

He stood at the village entrance, looking Nakamura and his two companions up and down. His gaze lingered on the medicine box for a moment, then fell on Nakamura's hands.

Nakamura's hands were steady, with thick knuckles and calluses on his fingertips, as if he were used to handling medicine bottles and silver needles.

What will you watch?

"For sprains, bruises, cuts, gunshot wounds, fever, and diarrhea," Nakamura said. "The first-aid kit contains iodine, hemostatic powder, fever reducers, and acupuncture needles to relieve pain."

Old Peng narrowed his eyes. The medic in the Independent Regiment was just a young woman in her early twenties, who couldn't even hold an iodine bottle properly. After the battle at Tiger's Mouth, there were more than forty wounded soldiers, and she was so busy that she barely had time to breathe; several of her wounds had already become infected.

"Go in and take a look. First, change the dressing on the guy with the leg injury in the infirmary. If he does a good job, he can stay."

Nakamura followed Lao Peng into the village.

The clinic was an adobe house with a white cloth hanging at the door with a crooked red cross drawn on it, like a child's drawing.

There were three wounded soldiers in the room. One had a leg injury, and the bandage was soaked with yellow fluid, indicating an infection. Another had an arm injury, and the wooden splint in his arm was crooked. The third had a fever and was lying on a pile of hay, with his lips chapped and his eyes half-closed.

The young sanitation worker squatted in the corner, frantically trying to do something. She knocked over the iodine bottle twice, spilling the brownish-red iodine onto the ground, staining the soil.

Nakamura squatted down next to the wounded soldier with the leg injury, opened the first-aid kit, and took out gauze and iodine. His hands were steady, and the gauze was folded neatly, four layers, no more, no less.

The amount of iodine was just right. When it was applied, the wounded soldier hissed in pain, his body tensed, but he didn't move. Nakamura then inserted two needles into the soldier's leg, and the soldier's brow relaxed immediately; the pain had subsided.

The dressing was changed and the bandage reapplied quickly and tightly. The gauze was wrapped three times, with the knot tied on the side so as not to compress the wound.

Old Peng stood by and watched, his eyes constantly moving. The technique was swift and steady, clearly indicating formal training.

"Okay. Stay. There's a table in the outer room; the three of you can squeeze in."

Nakamura thanked him and led the two young men to settle down in the outer room.

On the first day, the dressings of six wounded soldiers were changed.

The next day, he changed the dressings for twelve wounded soldiers and helped the medic organize the medicine shelves. The medicine bottles were a mess, with iodine and fever reducers mixed together, so he rearranged them neatly according to their categories. The young medic was so grateful she almost cried.

On the third day, he began treating the villagers for sprains and bruises. Some had sprained ankles, some had back pain, and some children had fevers. He didn't talk much, his techniques were efficient, and he would leave after his treatment.

But my eyes were always looking.

Look at the location of the guard post. It's at the east end of the village, with a light-duty rifle and two sentries—two during the day and two at night.

Look at the cave dwelling where Kong Jie works. It's at the north end of the village, four rows of houses away from the guard post. There's no special sentry post at the entrance; only a communications soldier occasionally goes in and out.

Watch the stables. At the west end of the village, eight horses are tethered. No one watches them at night; there's only a rope to keep them in place.

He was inspecting the ammunition depot. It was at the south end of the village, with an iron gate and a lock. The key was on Old Peng's waist, and it jingled as he walked.

Watch the changing of the guard. The changing of the guard takes place at 9 PM and 3 AM, with a gap of about 45 minutes between shifts. The changing of the guard takes place at the guard post at the east end of the village. After the shift ends, the new sentries walk to their respective posts, and there is a stretch of road in between where no one is.

He kept all of this in mind, and every night when he returned to the outer room, he would sit at the table, light a small oil lamp, and write it down using the secret code in the medicine ledger. The ledger would say "three catties of angelica, two catties of astragalus, and one catty of licorice," but in reality, it was all intelligence.

On the third night, he confirmed one thing: the Independent Regiment's guard company only had two platoons on duty. Kong Jie's cave dwelling was far from the guard post, and there were no fixed sentries on the back slope at night. To get to the cave dwelling from the back slope, one only needed to go around a row of low walls and a vegetable garden.

The vulnerabilities, one by one, are like blood on a knife's edge.

On the morning of the fourth day, Nakamura sent someone to pretend to be sick to get medicine, and sent him out of Willow Valley with the medicine ledger.

The ledger read "three catties of angelica, two catties of astragalus, and one catty of licorice," but the coded message contained five loopholes.

Yamamoto received the account book on the evening of the fourth day.

The errand boy, a "patient," carried a cloth bag containing two kilograms of astragalus and an account book. When he entered the inn, Yamamoto was squatting by the oilcloth, drawing lines on a map with a pencil.

He took the ledger and examined the code line by line. His eyes lingered on each line for two seconds, while his fingers slid across the paper.

After reading it, he closed the account book and placed it next to the oil lamp. The flame flickered, and the cover of the account book curled up from the heat.

Masuko sat opposite him, munching on a hard biscuit. The biscuit was so hard it hurt his teeth, making a crunching sound.

"How is it?"

Yamamoto didn't answer. He picked up a red pencil and drew a larger and heavier red circle around the location of Willow Ditch on the map, marking it twice.

"The target has changed."

Masuko paused, holding the biscuit to her mouth but not taking a bite.

"Aren't they keeping an eye on Zhao Weiguo anymore?"

Yamamoto shook his head.

"Zhao Weiguo is too vigilant. That time in Liulin Town, he changed his route and set up a code; I couldn't even figure out his pattern. He's fourteen, but he's more difficult to deal with than those regimental commanders. The success rate of assassinating him directly is less than 30%. 30% isn't worth the gamble."

I placed the pencil on the map and drew a straight line between Willow Gully and Apricot Grove with my finger.

"Attack Kong Jie first. Kong Jie's Independent Regiment is currently the weakest link in the 386th Brigade. The battle at Tiger's Mouth was a fierce bayonet fight, resulting in heavy casualties, and morale hasn't recovered; their guard is insufficient. Attacking him will mobilize the entire brigade. Zhao Weiguo will be mobilized. Once he moves, the rescue route will be exposed."

Masuko put down the dry biscuit and looked at the map. Her gaze swept back and forth between Willow Gully and Apricot Grove.

"You mean, attacking Kong Jie was to force Zhao Weiguo to make a move?"

Yamamoto nodded.

"Zhao Weiguo isn't the kind of person who stands by and watches his comrades get beaten. He's young, but he has this trait; he'll come to the rescue. My ambush line is on his way here."

Three dotted lines were drawn on the map from Xingshuping to Liushugou, representing three possible rescue routes. The first route went through Beigou, a narrow path with ridges on both sides, suitable for an ambush; the second route went through Baimagou, a wide path, but required crossing a wooden bridge, which could be bombed; the third route went through Yejiling, a long but concealed path, making it difficult to set up an ambush.

"Five days later. We'll make our move in five days."

I put down the red pencil and walked to the entrance of the inn. It was completely dark outside; the mountains and sky merged into one, indistinguishable from each other. A cold wind blew from the north.

He stood there for a while, his breathing steady, his chest rising and falling barely. He thought of Zhao Weiguo; in Liulin Town, he'd only caught a glimpse of him through a crack in the window before the man changed his route and set a signal. The alpha wolf. A startled wolf will change its den.

But wolves have weaknesses. Wolves will save their companions.

He turned back to the oilcloth, squatted down, and traced the red circle around Willow Ditch again. The red circle dimmed under the light.

Next to the red circle, two words were written: "Fifth day."

Then, an X was drawn on each of the three dotted lines, representing three ambush points.

Five days. We'll meet here in seven days.

Yamamoto handed the medicine box to Nakamura and took one last look at the map.

"The advance force consists of twelve men, remaining unchanged. Within seven days, the Army Special Service Section will send another sixty men to reinforce them. They will be divided into three groups, passing through different mountain passes. The advance force will be the eyes and ears, while the reinforcements will be the fists. They will be reorganized upon arrival."

Masuko responded. Sixty men plus the advance team of twelve, making a total of seventy-two. A well-trained special forces team, equipped with full German gear, was enough to take down a regimental headquarters.

Yamamoto adjusted the collar of his robe and walked out of the inn.

Zhao Weiguo was unaware of this.

Kong Jie didn't know either.