Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The warehouse's iron door slammed shut behind them.

He Yuzhu stood at the doorway and glanced up at the sky. The moon was completely obscured by clouds, leaving only a few stars, dim and gray. He walked back along the gravel path, the stones crunching under his feet. On both sides of the path grew waist-high weeds, their tips swaying in the night wind like countless hands beckoning.

He stopped at the fork in the road.

It's too quiet.

There were insects chirping just now, but now there's nothing.

He darted to the left and hid behind a locust tree. The rough trunk scraped against the back of his hand, causing a stinging pain.

hiss hiss hiss—

The bullet hit the spot where he had just been standing. Dust splattered, and the bullets thudded against the tree trunks. He lay down and pulled the silenced rifle from his waist. There were only two magazines; he felt around to confirm their location.

The gunfire stopped.

A hoarse voice, with a slight southern accent, came from the bushes on the left: "Dean He, traveling at night? Why don't you stop for a smoke before you go?"

It wasn't an order, it was a joke.

He Yuzhu didn't say a word, but lay on the ground and moved backward little by little. After moving more than ten meters, he hid in a denser patch of grass. The grass blades scratched his face, stinging painfully.

Footsteps came from the right. At least two people.

He took a deep breath and positioned the gun.

Bullets came again. This time it was a hail of bullets, hitting the spot where he had just been lying down. He heard someone shout, "He hid over there, surround him!"

Five.

He peered out from the bushes. Two dark figures were creeping towards him from the left, their movements quite professional, crouching low and taking turns providing cover. He aimed at the first one and pulled the trigger.

puff--

The man fell to the ground without making a sound. The second man hesitated for a moment, then instinctively stepped back, only to be shot down by the second shot.

[Kill 2 gunmen, score +4000]

The remaining three began to panic. They opened fire wildly, shooting everywhere. He lay still, waiting for them to run out of bullets.

The gunfire stopped.

The sound of changing a magazine.

He leaped from the bushes. The third gunman had just reloaded his magazine and hadn't even had a chance to raise his gun when he was rushed up to him and his throat was slit. Blood splattered on his face, warm.

The fourth one was hiding behind a tree. He had just poked his head out when the butt of his gun hit him in the face. He groaned and went limp.

The fifth one tried to run. After running for more than ten meters, he was shot in the leg and fell to the ground.

He Yuzhu walked over and grabbed the man by the collar.

"Who sent you?"

The man grinned crookedly, revealing a mouthful of blood-stained teeth: "Don't you know who you've offended?"

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He took out a cigarette case from the man's pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. The smoke slowly rose in the dim light.

"What message did the blacksmith ask you to deliver?"

The man's eyelid twitched.

"I don't know any blacksmiths."

He Yuzhu took a drag of his cigarette and slowly exhaled: "So, do you know Sun Deming?"

The man's pupils contracted.

He Yuzhu saw it.

"Sun Deming escaped, the anvil was caught, and the hammer has confessed. How long do you think you can hold out?"

The man remained silent for a long time. The mockery on his face disappeared, replaced by something else.

Suddenly, the sound of a car engine came from afar. Two beams of headlights swept across the dirt road, getting closer and closer.

The gunman lying on the ground suddenly laughed. He laughed so hard he was breathless, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

"You're finished."

He Yuzhu grabbed his collar tightly: "Who's there?"

"You think it's just the few of us? The blacksmith said this was just a warning. Next time—"

A bullet flew in from the darkness.

It hit the person right between the eyebrows.

He Yuzhu quickly lay down and rolled behind a tree. The car headlights were getting closer and closer, making it impossible to tell whether they were friend or foe.

Gunshots came from the direction of the car. But they weren't aimed at him. In the darkness, someone screamed, and someone fell to the ground.

Yang Xiaobing's voice boomed from the car: "Commander! It's me!"

He Yuzhu peeked out from behind the tree. Yang Xiaobing and his special forces team jumped out of the vehicle and began clearing out the snipers hiding in the shadows.

Three minutes later, it was quiet.

Yang Xiaobing ran over, panting heavily.

"Commander, are you alright?"

He Yuzhu shook his head. He squatted down and looked at the gunman on the ground. His eyes were still open, his mouth was half-open, and he was still smiling before he died.

He Yuzhu reached out and wiped his eyelids off.

"How many were captured alive?"

Yang Xiaobing pointed in that direction: "Two. One is unconscious, and the other has a leg injury."

He Yuzhu stood up. His left leg was a little numb. Looking down, he saw a tear on his trouser leg, which he didn't know when he had gotten it. There was no bleeding.

"Take him back. Let Old Sun interrogate him."

The interrogation took place in the warehouse.

The wounded gunman was pinned to a chair, blood dripping from his trousers and soaking the floor. He kept his head down and remained silent. Yang Xiaobing stood beside him, clutching a leather belt.

He Yuzhu went in and sat down opposite him.

The man looked up at him. His eyes held hatred, and something else entirely.

Where is the blacksmith?

The man didn't say anything.

He Yuzhu took out the map he had found in the abandoned warehouse, spread it out, and placed it on the table. Several military industrial units were circled in red on it, one of which was not far from the research institute.

"Have you seen this before?"

The man's eyelid twitched.

He Yuzhu saw it.

"Sun Deming ran away. The anvil gave up. The hammer gave up too. How long do you think you can hold out?"

The man remained silent for a long time.

"I don't know where the blacksmith is," he said, his voice hoarse. "He's the one who always contacts me when we meet. I pay him, he does the job, and then he leaves."

He Yuzhu stared at him.

"Who gave the order to do this?"

The man looked down at his bleeding leg.

"They'll kidnap your family. They'll force you to hand over the core technology." He paused. "He said your wife and children are in that courtyard. Easy to target."

He Yuzhu clenched his fists under the table.

How many people are left?

The man shook his head.

"I don't know. He just said, if it doesn't work this time, there will be a next time. If it doesn't work next time, there will be the time after that. You can't prevent it."

Yang Xiaobing, who was standing nearby, couldn't hold back any longer and grabbed the man by the collar.

"You fucking—"

He Yuzhu raised his hand to stop him.

"Put him down."

Yang Xiaobing paused for a moment, then released his grip. The man slumped back into his chair, panting heavily.

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the door. Then he turned back.

"Take him to the hospital. Don't ruin his leg; we still have to continue the trial."

He pushed open the door and went out.

It was almost midnight when we got back to the courtyard.

He Yuzhu stood at the entrance to the gate, looking at the two wooden doors. The doors were closed, and it was quiet inside. He stood at the door for a while before pushing the door open and going in.

The light in the west wing was still on.

He walked over and pushed open the door.

Only an oil lamp was lit in the room. Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) with her back to the door, her body slightly hunched. He Nianhua was in her arms, her face buried in her chest, occasionally twitching as if she were still crying in her sleep.

Qin Huairu heard the noise and turned around.

The tear stains on her face were still wet, glistening in the lamplight.

She didn't say anything, she just looked at him.

He Yuzhu walked over and sat down next to her. He reached out and touched his son's forehead. It was burning hot.

Qin Huairu's voice was low, as if afraid of waking the child: "He was fine in the afternoon. He suddenly developed a fever in the evening."

He Yuzhu looked at her. Her eyes were red, but she didn't cry anymore. She just hugged her son tighter.

"I'm back," he said.

Qin Huairu nodded. Tears fell again, but she didn't make a sound.

The phone suddenly rang.

He Yuzhu walked over and answered the call.

There was a two-second silence on the other end.

A hoarse voice came from the other end of the phone: "Dean He, is the child's fever high?"

He Yuzhu's hand tightened slightly.

"I know you're listening. The blacksmith asked me to pass on a message—"

He Yuzhu hung up the phone.

He stood there, holding the microphone, listening to his own heartbeat.

Qin Huairu looked at him, her eyes full of questions.

He Yuzhu walked over and took his son from her arms. He Nianhua stirred in his arms, whimpered twice, and then fell asleep again. His face was still red, frighteningly hot.

"I'm going to the hospital."

Qin Huairu stood up, wanting to follow.

"You stay."

She froze for a moment.

He Yuzhu looked at her and said, "Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone."

He carried his son and walked out.

He walked to the door, then turned back.

Qin Huairu stood by the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at him. The lamplight shone on her face, making the tear tracks glisten.

He pushed open the door and went out.