Southern guerrilla warfare: I led the Red Seventh Army Corps to amassed a million troops.

On the city gate tower of the west city, Fang Zhicheng climbed the steps in two strides and found Zhou Zeyuan at the corner of the tower.

The legion commander was leaning against the battlements, his eyes fixed on the lingering smoke of battle in the city.

Fang Zhicheng quickly stepped forward and recounted in detail the negotiations he had just had with Zhou Laosan, the Nationalist Army representative from Wufeng Mountain.

Upon hearing this, Zhou Zeyuan was overjoyed.

With the Nationalist army surrendering, there were no more organized enemy troops in the western part of the city, which meant that at least 300 mobile troops could be freed up.

Wherever these three hundred men are deployed, they become a vital force.

If it were him, he would agree to all four conditions without exception.

According to custom, detained KMT prisoners of war usually had to undergo a certain amount of education before they could be released.

But Zhou Zeyuan knew very well that he couldn't hold onto Fuzhou for long.

When retreating, they would definitely take a lot of spoils of war with them, and those prisoners of war who were unwilling to surrender were a destabilizing factor.

Rather than keeping them by your side and living in constant fear, it's better to let them go sooner rather than later, to avoid any unforeseen complications.

Seeing that the corps commander remained silent for a moment, Fang Zhicheng, who was standing next to him, thought that he was unhappy and quickly added:

"Commander, although the conditions of these Nationalist troops are not entirely in line with our policies, we must act expediently in this urgent situation."

"Accepting their surrender will not only reduce casualties, but also free up enough mobile forces to stabilize the situation in the city. There are still many troubles in the city that have not been cleaned up. The more troops we have, the more confident we will be."

Zhou Zeyuan glanced at Fang Zhicheng, and inwardly he was somewhat impressed with this regimental political commissar.

He didn't immediately express his opinion, but simply nodded slightly, signaling Fang Zhicheng to continue.

Seeing that his attitude had relaxed, Fang Zhicheng perked up and said, "Commander, I have another suggestion. When we were besieging Wufeng Mountain, I arranged for the soldiers to take turns resting, and they still have plenty of energy."

"If they can free up their hands, they can also participate in the fighting operations inside the city. The soldiers have been fighting all night, and many of them must be on the verge of collapse. We can arrange for them to take turns resting."

Zhou Zeyuan's eyes lit up. These four words were like a key, unlocking the string that had been taut in his mind.

He strode to the edge of the battlements, gazing at the faint lights in the direction of the distant port, and pondered, "Even if the Chief of Staff sends reinforcements, it will be after dawn at the earliest."

"The Kuomintang must also be exhausted, but they are not like our soldiers who have fought continuously. If the enemy launches a counterattack before dawn, when people are most tired, although the probability is not high, we must still be on guard."

He turned around, his tone decisive: "Alright, I agree with your suggestion. Go back now and accept the Kuomintang's surrender. After settling them in, immediately move the soldiers into the city."

Fang Zhicheng stood at attention, saluted, turned around, and quickly walked down the city wall.

The subsequent operations proceeded very smoothly. News from the Red Army kept coming in, all of it good news.

The provincial government building was occupied, but the archives and documents inside remained intact, and the few officials who stayed behind were trapped in their offices.

The telegraph office was also taken over; several telegraph operators were squatting in a corner with their hands behind their heads, surrounded by all kinds of equipment.

Everything went even more smoothly at the hospital. The hospital director personally came out to greet them, expressing his willingness to cooperate with the Red Army's rescue efforts and handing over a list of the stocked medicines.

Zheng Sanjiang's side reaped even greater rewards. After capturing the Nationalist army's mountain artillery battalion, he used the captured map to locate the field artillery battalion.

They wiped out two enemy artillery battalions in one go, capturing over a hundred artillerymen alone.

More than twenty mountain guns and field guns were neatly stacked on the position.

Zhou Zeyuan personally arranged for the prisoners captured by each unit.

Instead of locking them up together, he ordered them to be dispersed and mixed according to their organizational structure, forming teams of ten people each, so that they could supervise each other.

He immediately announced a rule: if anyone escapes, the rest will be shot.

This tactic was extremely ruthless; thousands of prisoners of war were kept under strict control by only a few dozen people, and no one dared to have any wicked thoughts.

When Fang Zhicheng led the troops incorporated from Wufeng Mountain into the city, the sky was already beginning to lighten.

The soldiers, who had been fighting all night, especially the new recruits who had not been in the army for long and the older veterans, simply could not hold on any longer.

In twos and threes, they slept on the ground under the eaves, in the corners of walls, and on the steps in the streets and alleys.

Some people fell asleep leaning against the wall, still holding their guns; others used their backpacks as pillows, with half a piece of unchewed dry rations in their mouths, and were already snoring.

The remaining soldiers who could still hold on were responsible for guarding, but they were also struggling to keep their eyes open, relying entirely on willpower to stay awake.

As dawn broke in the eastern sky, the morning light peeked through the gaps in the clouds, like a thin gray veil gently covering the rooftops and streets of Fuzhou.

Behind the window of a two-story building deep in the alley, a woman held a kitchen knife and peered out through the gaps in the reinforced wooden planks.

It's very quiet outside.

She nudged the man beside her with her elbow and whispered, "Honey, wake up, it's dawn."

The man jolted awake, grabbed the harpoon beside him, and sprang up from the ground like a spring.

He paused for a moment, listened intently, and the tension on his face gradually turned into confusion.

"Huh, why is it so quiet? Didn't the Red Army storm the city last night?"

"I don't know," the woman said, her eyes still pressed against the slit. "I kept watch all night, and by dawn there was no movement. It seems those thugs who were causing trouble in the streets were also arrested by the Red Army."

She turned around and glanced at the man: "I've heard people say that the Red Army soldiers were all good people, just like Yue Fei's troops."

"Hmph." The man snorted, slamming the harpoon on the ground. "You women are all talk and no action. Since ancient times, what city hasn't been filled with burning, killing, and looting when it's been destroyed?"

He pushed the woman aside, quietly opened the door a crack, peeked out and looked around to make sure there was no danger, before slowly widening the crack.

Then he froze.

Under the eaves outside the door, on the bluestone pavement, groups of two or three Red Army soldiers were curled up, holding their guns, fast asleep.

Their uniforms were dusty and gray, patched at the knees and elbows, and their feet were wrapped with straw ropes. Some even had worn-out straw sandals, revealing blisters on their toes.

No one entered the house.

No one made a sound.

They slept quietly on the cold ground, like a group of farmers who had traveled a long way and were tired and sleepy, able to fall asleep anywhere they could find.

The man's mouth was agape, and he almost dropped the harpoon in his hand.

"this……"

Behind him, the woman peeked out at some point, and upon seeing this scene, her eyes immediately welled up with tears.

More and more people opened the door.

The teahouse owner across the street, the tofu stall owner at the alley entrance, the schoolteacher upstairs, the tailor next door…

Faces peeked out from the cracks in the door, their expressions a mixture of surprise, confusion, and disbelief, as they gazed at the young figures sleeping on the street.

Exclamations of surprise echoed through the alley, but everyone deliberately kept their voices down.

An old man watched for a long time. He had lived most of his life and had seen Qing soldiers, Beiyang Army soldiers, Kuomintang soldiers, as well as bandits and thugs.

No army would sleep on the streets after the city falls, and no army would spare a hand to help a stranger who has fallen.

"Old woman, come out and take a look."

The elderly woman, who had just stepped outside, saw this scene and her eyes slowly filled with tears.

"Whose children are these...? How heartbroken their parents would be if they saw this..."

She turned around, staggered into the house, and soon brought out a quilt, which she gently covered a young soldier huddled in a corner.

The soldier looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, with a childlike face. He was fast asleep, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned, as if he were having a sweet dream.

The old woman squatted down, reaching out to touch his face, but pulled her hand back halfway, afraid of waking him. She just stared at that young face, tears streaming down her face.

"What a tragedy... This guy doesn't look like a soldier, he's clearly still a child..."