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

He Yuzhu didn't dodge when the bullet grazed past him.

The thing, carrying a hot breeze, brushed past his ear and struck the rock behind him, scattering sparks. A few landed on the back of his hand, burning him slightly. He didn't move, waiting for the pain to subside before slowly pulling his hand back.

The stone, damp with night dew, felt cold against his cheek. He lay there, listening to his own heartbeat, slow and steady.

I heard heavy breathing behind me.

Yang Xiaobing lay prone in the grass three steps away, his face buried in the soil, his shoulders tense. He Yuzhu nudged his calf with his toe.

Yang Xiaobing raised his head; his face was covered in mud, but his eyes were bright.

"Commander, the ammunition depot is just ahead, two hundred meters away."

His voice was very low, but it couldn't hide his excitement.

He Yuzhu didn't reply, but looked out through the crack in the rocks. Ahead was an open space, gray and hazy in the moonlight, with weeds growing waist-high. At the far end was a dark warehouse, with two sentries standing at the door, their guns hanging at their sides, motionless.

Behind the warehouse were piles of wooden crates covered with tarpaulins, which gleamed a dark gray light under the moonlight.

How many people?

"There are four sentries, and another squad inside, about ten or so."

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"Go around it. Touch from behind."

Yang Xiaobing nodded and crawled backward. He Yuzhu followed him, and the two of them moved backward little by little, close to the ground. The grass blades brushed against their faces, itchy, but they couldn't scratch.

They moved more than fifty meters and disappeared into a grove of low bushes. Old Lu and his men were squatting there, leaning against the tree trunks, guns clutched in their hands. When they saw them return, Old Lu approached them.

"Commander, what do we do?"

He Yuzhu squatted down, took out the map from his pocket, and spread it on the ground. The moonlight wasn't bright enough, so he shone a flashlight on it and pointed to the red circle on it.

"Old Lu, you take your men and circle around from the left, fire to draw their attention. I'll sneak in from behind."

Old Lu stared at the map for a few seconds, then looked up.

"How do we get out after you go in?"

He Yuzhu folded the map and stuffed it back into his arms.

"Three minutes after the shooting starts, regardless of whether we succeeded or not, retreat eastward. We'll meet up there."

He pointed to another point on the map.

Old Lu nodded, waved his hand, and led a few people away into the woods.

He Yuzhu waited for five minutes.

Gunshots suddenly rang out in the distance. Old Lu had made his move.

He stood up and waved his hand.

"Walk."

The wall behind the ammunition depot is not high, about two meters.

He Yuzhu was the first to flip over, his knees bending slightly as he landed, but he didn't make a sound. He squatted down, staring ahead.

The enemies in the warehouse were drawn by the gunfire and ran to the front. There was no one at the back; only the moonlight shone on the pile of wooden crates and tarpaulins, and the wind blew, causing the corners of the tarpaulins to flutter.

He gestured behind him.

Yang Xiaobing and his men flipped over and landed next to him. One of the team members stepped on a piece of broken tile as he landed, making a cracking sound. Everyone froze, holding their breath.

Nobody came.

He Yuzhu breathed a sigh of relief, pulled the silenced rifle from his waist, and pointed it towards the warehouse entrance. Yang Xiaobing nodded and led two men over.

The two sentries at the gate were looking ahead, unaware of what was behind them. Yang Xiaobing crept up behind them, covered their mouths with his left hand, and slashed with his knife in his right. The man went limp and was easily knocked down. The other man had just turned around when his mouth was also covered.

The two corpses were leaning against the wall, as if they were asleep.

He Yuzhu led his men and rushed in.

The warehouse was pitch black. Shining a flashlight through, all you could see were neatly stacked wooden crates. Opening one, you found bullets. Opening another, you found hand grenades. In the corner, mortar shells were piled up, separated by straw.

Yang Xiaobing asked.

"Should we fry it?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He walked up to the pile of mortar shells, shone his flashlight on them, and looked at them for a while.

"How much explosives did you bring?"

Yang Xiaobing rummaged through his backpack.

"Eight pieces."

He Yuzhu pointed to the pile of shells.

"Put them here. And put a few more over there."

They took out explosives from their backpacks, attached them to the boxes, and installed detonators. He Yuzhu set the timer for five minutes, then stood up and glanced around.

"withdraw."

They climbed out the back door and disappeared into the woods. After running more than two hundred meters, they heard an explosion behind them.

Boom—Boom—Boom—

The ammunition exploded, flames shooting into the sky and illuminating half the heavens. A wave of heat, carrying the smell of burning, swept over him from behind. Yang Xiaobing lay on the ground, looking back, his mouth agape, but he didn't speak.

Old Lu ran over from the other end, panting heavily.

"Did it work?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

"Walk."

I did this task three times in one week.

The first time they blew up the ammunition depot, the second time they blew up the fuel depot. The third time they sneaked into the enemy regimental headquarters, killed the regimental commander and deputy commander, and also took the map from their table.

Yang Xiaobing had a cut on his arm from shrapnel. He gritted his teeth and didn't utter a sound while getting his dressing changed. Old Lu had a scrape on his leg and was limping, but he was still enduring it. The others also had minor injuries, but thankfully none of them died.

On the seventh night, they crouched in a ravine.

A shallow stream flowed at the bottom of the ditch, barely reaching ankle-deep. Several people sat by the stream, took off their shoes, and dipped their feet in the water. No one spoke; only the sound of the flowing water could be heard.

Yang Xiaobing leaned against the rock with his eyes closed. After a while, he opened his eyes and looked at He Yuzhu.

"Commander, have you counted how many we've killed?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"A little over three hundred."

Yang Xiaobing was taken aback.

"three hundred?"

He sat up and stared at He Yuzhu.

"Really?"

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He took out the captured map from his pocket, spread it on his lap, and shone a flashlight on it to examine it. The map was marked with red and blue arrows, densely packed, showing the enemy's recent deployment.

Yang Xiaobing leaned over and took a look.

"Is this thing even useful?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

"it works."

The voice in my head rang.

[Total enemy kills: 312]

[Mission Reward Points: +3,000,000]

[Current total points: 50,980,000 + 5,000,000 = 55,980,000 points]

He Yuzhu stared at the string of numbers for a while.

One week. Eight million.

It's much faster than getting technical skills.

He folded the map and tucked it back into his pocket.

On the morning of the eighth day, it was just getting light.

He Yuzhu was dozing against the mountain wall when he was suddenly woken up by someone pushing him. He opened his eyes and saw Yang Xiaobing squatting beside him, looking rather strange.

"Commander, the scouts are back."

He Yuzhu sat up.

The scout was a young man in his early twenties, surnamed Zhou, who was panting heavily from running. He squatted down and pointed eastward.

"There are so many cars coming from over there."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the edge of the ravine, and looked east.

In the distance, under a hazy gray sky, dust swirled. Through the dust, the silhouettes of a convoy could be seen. One after another, they formed a long line, heading this way. The first few were tanks.

Yang Xiaobing followed and stood next to him.

How many people?

The scout swallowed hard.

"A division. Tanks, artillery, everything."

Yang Xiaobing fell silent.

He Yuzhu stood there, looking at the dust. The wind blew in from that direction, carrying the smell of diesel fuel and earth.

He turned around and looked at the people in the ditch.

Some were still soaking in the stream, some were dozing off against the rocks, and some were cleaning their guns. They all looked up at him.

He Yuzhu remained silent for a few seconds.

"withdraw."