Courtyard House: I only wiped out 30,000 Japanese pirates

At midnight, He Dajun came out of the side room, climbed over the courtyard wall, and landed in the alley.

The security at Jingzhou Park was indeed less tight tonight than last night. The Japanese had deployed most of their troops to guard the ammunition depot and the steel mill, leaving only a small squad at the park.

He Dajun struck again, and after blowing up their supply warehouse, he quickly withdrew, all in less than twenty minutes.

Of course, he got another 50,000 points.

However, these 50,000 points were not the most important reward; He Dajun received three more rare-grade Golden Armor Protection skills.

In this day and age, that's like having half a life or even an extra life.

As long as He Dajun isn't hit by heavy artillery fire or multiple grenades, he'll be fine.

Of course, being hit by machine gun fire repeatedly will still kill you.

Seven minutes later, Sasaki was woken up by a phone call.

The report on the other end of the phone said that the supply warehouse in Jingzhou Park had been bombed, seven sentries had been killed, and the attackers left three leaflets at the scene that threatened the Imperial Army.

Sasaki put down the phone and tapped his fingers lightly on the bedside table, one tap at a time, exactly the same rhythm he had used to tap on the windowsill during the day.

He remained silent for a long time, then picked up the phone and asked the operator to connect him to the Special Higher Police.

As for He Dajun, when he was climbing over the courtyard wall, his left leg hit the top of the wall again, and he was in so much pain that he squatted down at the base of the wall for several seconds to recover.

This is going too smoothly; even God can't stand it.

He pushed open the door to the side room. Bai Ling was still awake, sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) with a hand grenade in her hand.

When He Dajun came in, she visibly breathed a sigh of relief and asked him how he was doing.

He Dajun said it wasn't very good, and then muttered to himself, "Won't the Japanese think that this guy is a newbie, and not the same person who bombed the depot and the factory last night?"

After all, the difference in combat strength is significant.

Bai Ling was stunned for a moment, then said, "You did this on purpose."

He Dajun nodded, sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and briefly recounted the activities he had at the park that evening.

They only bombed one warehouse, and didn't even change the template for the flyers.

This made Sasaki realize that there was more than one resistance force in Beijing, including super elites with the level of regular troops, as well as rookies who were only good at small-scale fighting.

Bai Ling looked at He Dajun, wondering just how many layers of thought were going through this man's mind.

He not only knew how to fight, but also how to mislead the enemy, and even more importantly, how to protect himself with a low-level attack.

When He Dajun returned after taking a shower, the two lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), neither of them speaking in the darkness.

After a while, Bai Ling asked He Dajun softly what he planned to do next.

He Dajun said to wait.

We'll wait for Sasaki's next reaction, and also for information from Lao Yang.

With the fighting ongoing in Shanghai, the Japanese forces will become increasingly strained, creating an opportunity for Beijing.

He also said to hurry up and train the few reliable people in the puppet army. The security in the park was much looser tonight than yesterday, which meant that the Japanese troops were indeed being transferred out. When the time was right, they could do something bigger.

Bai Ling turned her head to look at He Dajun's silhouette in the darkness, and said nothing more.

Moonlight streamed through the window paper, casting a small patch of hazy white light on the kang (a heated brick bed).

He Dajun had already closed his eyes, and his breathing gradually became deep and even.

Bai Ling looked at him for a long time, and then closed her eyes.

After a while.

Bai Ling turned her head to look at He Dajun's silhouette in the darkness.

Moonlight streamed through the window paper, casting a small patch of hazy white light on the kang (a heated brick bed), which landed on He Dajun's hand.

She stared at that hand for a long time, and then, as if possessed, she stretched her hand out from under the blanket and gently touched the back of He Dajun's hand with her fingers.

She touched him lightly, like testing the water temperature. His skin was warm, much warmer than her icy fingertips.

He Dajun's hand suddenly moved, and he grabbed her hand with his own.

The movements were slow but steady, as if he already knew where her hand was.

Bai Ling's heart suddenly raced, and her face flushed instantly.

He's still awake.

Bai Ling tried to pull her hand back, but couldn't.

"I..." She opened her mouth, wanting to say something to explain the action, but her mind was blank and she couldn't make up anything.

He Dajun didn't give her a chance to make things up. He turned to the side, put his other hand around her shoulder, and gently pulled her into his arms.

Bai Ling froze, her face pressed against his chest, able to feel the warmth of his chest beneath his thin shirt and hear the sound of his heartbeat.

It beat much slower than her own heartbeat, one deep, steady beat after another.

"Let me hug you." He Dajun's voice was very low, with a weariness she had never heard before, like a string that had been stretched for too long finally loosening a little. "Let me have some peace and quiet, and get a good night's sleep."

Bai Ling didn't understand the logic between the two sentences. Hug and Quiet sounded like two opposites.

But she neither asked nor objected.

Her stiff body slowly relaxed, her forehead resting against his chin, her breathing gradually synchronizing with the rise and fall of his chest. She could smell the soapy scent on him, mixed with a faint smell of gunpowder, the kind that couldn't be washed off no matter how much she washed.

He Dajun didn't say anything more, but simply rested his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes.

He patted her back gently twice, just like he always did before leaving the house to reassure her.

After those two shots, his hand remained on her back, as if he had found a place to rest.

Bai Ling's hand was still being held by him, palm to palm, her fingers gently curling up on the back of his hand, not pulling away.

They both fell asleep after some time had passed.

The moonlight slowly moved across the window paper, pushing their overlapping shadows from the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) to the corner of the wall.

Bai Ling's face was still pressed against He Dajun's chest, and He Dajun's arm was still on her shoulder.

A few faint barks could be heard from afar outside the window, but then it quickly fell silent again.

When Bai Ling woke up the next morning, she felt a little shy, feeling that if things continued like this, she would really become He Dajun's wife.

Of course, she would neither refuse nor object.

But for people in chaotic times, relationships are actually very difficult.

There was no other way; we were all in occupied territory and had to fight the Japanese.

After the two finished washing up, they went to He Daqing's house. He Liu felt that the two of them were acting strangely today, and something was not quite right.

All I can say is that He Liu had a good eye for talent.

Then it was time to eat.

Next came the continued political vetting of the 500 puppet soldiers. The specific details are unnecessary to recount, but in short, it was extremely brutal.

It's incredibly cruel.

At 10 a.m., He Dajun was stopped by Suzuki as soon as he arrived at the steel rolling mill.

Suzuki said Major Sasaki was waiting for him in his office, his tone more urgent than yesterday.

He Dajun walked into the office building with a wooden cane, quickly reviewing the attack on Jingzhou Park last night in his mind to make sure that no trace of the attack had been left behind.

When I knocked and went in, Sasaki was standing in front of the map of Beijing on the wall, a cigarette between his fingers, the smoke rising slowly in the light of the ceiling chandelier.

A lieutenant colonel from the Special Higher Police was standing in the office. He was not tall, wore gold-rimmed glasses, and had an expression even colder than Sasaki's.

When He Dajun came in, the lieutenant colonel turned around and glanced at him, his eyes looking as if he were examining a piece of evidence that was not yet certain.

"He Dajun," Sasaki said without any pleasantries, "the Imperial Army has decided to launch a preemptive strike. In three days, a batch of new machinery will be transported from Tianjin to Beijing via the Jingxi Highway. This is key equipment for the steel mill to resume production, and the Imperial Army plans to ambush resistance fighters along the route."

He Dajun's nerves tightened instantly.

This is fishing.