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

It's been raining for three days and shows no sign of stopping.

He Yuzhu lay prone in the bushes, rainwater streaming down his neck from under his hat, sending a chill down his spine. The mud and water beneath him had soaked through his cotton trousers, and the cold seeped into his bones. He dared not move, remaining there, his eyes fixed on the row of tents four hundred meters away.

A light was on inside the tent, and shadowy figures moved about, back and forth, busy with something.

Yang Xiaobing lay on his right, his lips pale. He wiped his face with his sleeve and licked his chapped lips.

"Commander, it's been three days."

He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone knew what he meant—could the intelligence be wrong? Would that lieutenant general really come?

He Yuzhu spat out the grass stem he was holding in his mouth and lowered his voice.

"What's the rush? The more fragrant the bait, the bigger the fish will be."

Old Lu was lying on the left, keeping his eyes glued to that side through binoculars. Suddenly, his hand tightened.

There's some noise.

He Yuzhu took the binoculars and looked in that direction. A group of people were standing at the tent entrance, holding umbrellas, and walking towards the largest tent in the middle. The one leading them was fat, wearing a peaked hat, and had two stars slung over his shoulder.

Lieutenant General.

He Yuzhu returned the binoculars to Lao Lu and set up the sniper rifle. The butt of the rifle rested against his shoulder, cold and seeping through his soaked clothes, touching his flesh.

"Attention all groups, target detected."

A few soft sounds came through the headphones.

He aimed at the fat man's head.

The rain was still falling, the wind was blowing, and visibility was poor. He adjusted the muzzle of his gun, waiting for the wind to subside a bit.

three seconds.

two seconds.

one second.

The wind stopped.

He pulled the trigger.

puff--

Four hundred meters away, the fat man stumbled forward and fell to the ground. In the rain, the group of people scattered like a swarm of wasps.

[Defeat one enemy lieutenant general, score +10,000,000]

He Yuzhu didn't look at the string of numbers. He stared at the fallen figure, confirming it for three seconds.

"withdraw."

After retreating 500 meters, the pursuers caught up.

He Yuzhu glanced back. It was a dark mass, with firelight flickering wildly in the rain, gunfire ringing out rapidly, bullets whizzing past his ears.

Yang Xiaobing ran beside him, panting heavily.

"Commander, we've... gotten ourselves into a trap."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything and continued running forward.

After running for two miles, they came to a ravine ahead. The ravine wasn't deep, but it was long, with steep slopes on both sides. He Yuzhu stopped and surveyed the terrain.

"Enter the ditch."

They slid down and crouched at the bottom of the ditch. The pursuers were above, gunfire still ringing out, but they couldn't get in.

Old Lu looked around, and his expression changed.

"Commander, this is a dead end. There are torches on the other side of the gully."

He Yuzhu looked up at the mouth of the ditch. Sure enough, the firelight flickered and people were making a racket.

There were obstacles blocking their way ahead and pursuers behind.

Yang Xiaobing's face turned pale, and he didn't say anything.

He Yuzhu raised the gun in his hand.

"beat."

That battle lasted four hours.

He Yuzhu lay prone behind a rock, firing one shot at a time, picking off the enemies who peeked out one by one. The gun barrel was so hot it could fry an egg, but he used his sleeve to cushion it and continued firing. Yang Xiaobing was to his right, Lao Lu to his left, and the others were scattered in the ditch, each finding cover.

When the bullets run out, use a pistol. When the pistol runs out, use a dagger.

Old Lu's knife had become dull, so he simply swung the butt of his rifle and smashed it down. Yang Xiaobing, in his frenzy, didn't even notice his hat flying off.

The enemy charged down three times, and was repelled each time.

On the fourth charge, He Yuzhu's gun was empty. He pulled out a dagger from his waist, lay down, and waited.

The enemy is getting closer. Fifty meters, forty meters, thirty meters—

Suddenly, gunshots rang out from the other side of the ditch. They weren't from the enemy; they were from our own people.

Zhao Dayong led his men in. He was at the front, shouting as he charged, his voice hoarse from yelling.

A stray bullet grazed He Yuzhu's scalp, and Zhao Dayong tackled him to the ground, cursing as he did so.

"Director He! If you fucking die, I won't be able to face my sister-in-law when I get back!"

He Yuzhu pushed him away and raised the dagger.

"kill!"

When it was daylight, the ditch was full of corpses.

Enemy's and friend's were mixed together, indistinguishable from one another. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and blood, and a few greenbottle flies had already begun to buzz around the corpses.

He Yuzhu leaned against a rock, covered in blood, it was hard to tell if it was his own or someone else's. Yang Xiaobing was beside him, a cut on his arm being bandaged. Old Lu squatted on the ground, looking at each person one by one, counting their heads.

He stood up and walked over.

"Commander, we killed over a hundred. Our men suffered seven casualties and eleven wounded."

He Yuzhu nodded.

He stood up and walked over. He looked at them one by one.

He stopped when he reached the third one.

He was a young soldier with a very youthful face, probably not even twenty. Before setting off, he had asked him with a silly grin, "Commander, can I join the Party if I kill a lieutenant general?" He Yuzhu ignored him at the time, and the soldier scratched his head and chuckled twice.

He was lying there with his eyes closed, riddled with bullets. His clothes were soaked in blood, but his face was clean, and he didn't seem to be in pain; he looked like he was asleep.

He Yuzhu squatted down and closed his eyes.

It felt like there was a piece of lead stuck in my throat, and I couldn't speak.

He stood up and carried the fallen soldiers together one by one, arranging them neatly. The sun rose, shining on their faces and on their closed eyes.

It was already the afternoon of the second day when we returned to the camp.

In the camp, exhausted soldiers lay scattered about. Some leaned against the wall, some lay on the ground, and some were asleep with their guns in their arms.

He Yuzhu sat in the corner, placing the sniper rifle on his lap and wiping it carefully with a cloth. The barrel was still covered in mud, and the buttstock was slightly scraped. He touched it with his fingers—it was with this rifle that, on that rainy night, he had ended the life of an enemy lieutenant general.

The phone suddenly rang loudly.

He walked over and picked up the microphone.

The voice on the other end was that of the old leader, filled with barely suppressed excitement, yet also a hint of urgency.

"Xiao He, I heard you did a great job! But now there's a more important battle to fight. The theoretical calculations for the atomic bomb are stuck, and that computer isn't enough. Your 'Star River III' must be launched ahead of schedule. This is a no-brainer."

He Yuzhu held the microphone, his gaze falling on Yang Xiaobing and Lao Lu, who were sleeping in the corner, and on the enamel mugs that hadn't been put away yet.

The smoke of battle outside has not yet cleared, and a new battlefield is already waiting ahead.

He remained silent for a long time.

"OK."

The call ended. A deathly silence returned to the office.

He Yuzhu put down his gun and walked to the window.

Outside the window, it was almost dawn. The distant mountains were beginning to take shape in the morning light, layer upon layer, hazy and indistinct.

He knew that from this day forward, the war would shift for him from this scorched earth littered with blood and flesh back to that quiet laboratory filled with blueprints and data.