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

When the mountain wind swept by, He Yuzhu was lying on the edge of the cliff behind a moss-covered rock.

The stone surface was slippery, and pressing it with my palm made my skin numb with cold. Below was the enemy's command post, tents pitched in the ravine, their lights illuminating the small patch of ground. The wind carried intermittent laughter from inside the tents, mixed with the crackling of a radio and someone shouting something in a foreign language.

Yang Xiaobing lay down next to him and handed him the binoculars.

"Commander, look at that guy wearing a hat—"

He Yuzhu took the binoculars. The man in the video was slamming his hand on the table, pointing at the map with exaggerated gestures, while several people beside him were bowing and scraping. He looked at it for a few seconds, then handed the binoculars back to Yang Xiaobing.

What time do you change shifts?

Yang Xiaobing glanced at his watch but didn't answer immediately. He licked his lips and looked at it again.

"Commander, there are only two of us."

"What time is it?"

"...Half an hour left."

He Yuzhu moved his gun forward a little, his eyes fixed on that side.

"wait."

Half an hour later, the sentry changed shifts.

He Yuzhu led Yang Xiaobing down the side of the cliff. The slope was steep, with many loose rocks that crunched underfoot; some rocks rolled down without a sound for a long time. They clung to the rock face, inching their way down. After twenty minutes, they were less than fifty meters from the command post.

Two sentries stood ahead, smoking. The red glow of their cigarette butts flickered in the darkness.

He Yuzhu made a gesture to Yang Xiaobing.

Yang Xiaobing pulled out a crossbow from behind his waist and set it up. His hand was steady, but his breathing was heavier than usual.

Whoosh—the first sentry fell, cigarette butt still clutched in his hand, sparks flying as he hit the ground.

The second one was stunned for a moment, and before he could even open his mouth, the second arrow arrived.

He Yuzhu rushed forward and dragged the two corpses into the shadows. There was blood on the ground, so he used his hands to shovel some dirt over it.

The largest tent was just ahead, and people were still talking inside. A woman was laughing, followed by the clinking of glasses.

He Yuzhu lay on the ground, peering into the tent. Four pairs of feet were moving around. The one wearing a hat sat in a chair, legs crossed, holding a cup in his hand.

He gestured to Yang Xiaobing. Yang Xiaobing nodded, squatted down beside the tent, and pointed his gun outwards.

He Yuzhu pulled a dagger from his waist and slashed a gash in the tent. The sound of the blade cutting through the canvas was faint, but he felt everyone could hear it.

Go inside.

There were three people inside, their backs to him. Two officers stood in front of a map, and an adjutant poured wine beside them. The division commander sat opposite him, facing him directly.

The division commander's eyes widened.

The cup in my hand fell to the ground.

Before the cup could hit the ground, He Yuzhu rushed forward, covering the division commander's mouth with his left hand while slashing his neck with a dagger in his right.

Blood spurted out, splattering on the table, on the map, and on the back of his hand. It was warm.

The division commander's body went limp, his eyes still wide open.

[Kill one enemy major general/division commander, score +5,000,000 points]

The two officers turned around. One opened his mouth to shout, but He Yuzhu's dagger was already piercing his throat. The other ran towards the door, but Yang Xiaobing rushed in from outside and smashed him on the back of the head with the butt of his rifle.

Shouts came from outside.

"Who goes there!"

Footsteps. Lots of them.

He Yuzhu grabbed Yang Xiaobing and retreated.

"Walk!"

They ran towards the cliff. More and more pursuers followed, their flashlight beams flailing wildly in the darkness, gunfire ringing out, bullets striking the rocks, sparks flying, and stone chips stinging their faces.

They ran to the edge of a cliff, but there was no way out.

Below was a canyon tens of meters deep. The moonlight couldn't reach the bottom; it was pitch black, and nothing could be seen. The wind blew up from below, carrying moisture.

Yang Xiaobing looked at him.

"Commander..."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything. He took out a few explosives from his pocket, bit off the pull ring, and threw them towards the pursuers.

The first one exploded, and people were thrown over in the flames.

The second one exploded, and there was a scream.

The third one—

He grabbed Yang Xiaobing and jumped.

The speed of the fall was faster than expected.

The wind was so strong he could barely open his eyes. He bumped into something—a tree branch—which snapped with a crack. He bumped into something else—a rock—and felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. He heard Yang Xiaobing shouting, but he couldn't make out what he was saying; the wind tore his voice apart.

Then it crashed to the ground.

Suddenly everything went black, and I couldn't see anything anymore.

I don't know how much time passed, but then that voice rang in my head, sounding very distant, as if separated by a layer of water.

[Special combat suit damaged 57%, under repair...]

He opened his eyes. His mouth tasted earthy. He moved slightly; his whole body ached, but he could still move.

Yang Xiaobing snorted from the side.

He Yuzhu got up. Yang Xiaobing lay there, one leg twisted unnaturally, his trouser leg soaked in blood.

"Yang Xiaobing!"

Yang Xiaobing opened his eyes, baring his teeth in a grimace.

"Commander, my leg is broken."

He Yuzhu squatted down and touched his leg. The bone was broken, the stump protruding from under the skin. Yang Xiaobing gritted his teeth, his forehead covered in sweat, but he didn't cry out.

He Yuzhu took out a first-aid kit from the system space and strapped it on him. Yang Xiaobing stared at the first-aid kit, wanting to say something, but didn't.

"Can you walk?"

Yang Xiaobing tried, but couldn't stand up.

He Yuzhu carried him on his back and walked deeper into the canyon.

The shouts of the pursuers behind them grew fainter and fainter.

After taking two steps, Yang Xiaobing said on his back.

"Commander, that first aid kit from earlier—"

"Don't speak."

"..."

After walking for two hours, it was almost dawn.

He Yuzhu placed Yang Xiaobing on a rock and sat down himself. He had several cuts on his body, and the blood stuck his clothes to his skin, causing a sharp pain when he pulled them off. He glanced down at his left arm; the deepest cut was there, the flesh torn open, revealing the fascia inside.

Yang Xiaobing leaned against the rock, his face pale, staring at his left arm.

He Yuzhu took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. His hand trembled slightly.

It was already afternoon when we got back to the camp.

The medic carried Yang Xiaobing away. Before he was carried away, Yang Xiaobing grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly, without saying a word.

He Yuzhu sat inside the tent, having his wounds bandaged by a nurse. He had seven cuts in total, some deep and some shallow. The nurse paused when she bandaged the cut on his left arm.

"This needs to be sewn up."

He Yuzhu nodded.

The needles dug into his flesh, one stitch after another, tearing at the skin. He stared at the tent ceiling, thinking about last night. The division commander's eyes as he fell. The two officers. The cliff. The fall. Yang Xiaobing gritted his teeth and didn't scream when his leg broke.

The nurse finished stitching and left.

He was the only one left in the tent.

It started raining outside. At first it was sparse, but then it got heavier and heavier, pattering against the canvas.

He pulled a crumpled piece of paper and half a pencil out of his pocket.

The first name is Zhou Dayong.

He continued writing, the pen tip tearing through the paper, ink spreading in a small blot. Just the night before last, he had asked He Yuzhu how to adjust the sights on the new gun. He Yuzhu had taught him, and he had nodded and smiled. That smile was still etched in He Yuzhu's mind.

The second name is Liu Gensheng. Old Liu once said that after the war, he would build a house for his son and help him get married.

The third, the fourth, the fifth...

When I got to the sixth one, the pencil broke.

He stared at the broken lead piece, but didn't move.

The rain outside was getting heavier and heavier.

The phone rang behind me.

He went back and answered the call. It was Old Sun on the other end, his voice lower than usual, with a crackling sound from the electricity.

"Old He, news from back home—"

Old Sun paused, and the sound of turning pages came from the phone.

"The water level of the Yangtze River has risen. Several counties in Hunan and Hubei have already been flooded."

He Yuzhu held the microphone but didn't speak.

Old Sun continued, "The higher-ups are organizing rescue efforts, but they're lacking supplies, manpower, and—"

He didn't finish speaking.

It's still raining outside.

He Yuzhu watched the raindrops fall to the ground at the tent entrance, splashing mud. He thought of the names he had written in the letter earlier. Living and dead, they were all in this country.

He put down the microphone.

The rain shows no sign of stopping.