He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The early autumn night was cool with dew. He Yuyang leaned against the wooden post of his sentry post, holding his rifle. His military cap was pulled low, obscuring most of his face. Moonlight shone through the gaps in the cap, falling on his still chubby chin—even though he had grown to the height of a grown man, the lingering childishness in his eyes always showed unintentionally.

"Brother, shift change." Zhao Dayong's loud voice broke the silence. He walked over carrying two steamed buns, rubbing his rough hands on his cloth shirt. "The cooks just steamed them, they're still warm."

He Yuyang took the cornbread, his fingertips touching the warm grain, and felt a little more at ease. He broke off half a piece and handed it back: "You eat some too."

"I'm not hungry." Zhao Dayong chuckled, revealing two rows of white teeth. "A fellow villager gave me some sweet potatoes this afternoon, and I ate three." He squatted on the ground, gazing at the dark mountain shadows in the distance, and suddenly sighed. "Brother, when do you think we can go home? My mother said she's found me a wife, and she's just waiting for me to go back for the wedding ceremony."

He Yuyang took a bite of the cornbread, the coarse grain fibers making his throat a little itchy. He was only twelve years old this year, making him a real "little guy" in the team, but his comrades all liked to call him "brother" - not because of his age, but because in the past two years, he had led everyone to avoid more gunfire than the veterans had experienced.

"Almost there," he mumbled, but his eyes were never idle. As he circulated his internal energy, no sound within a hundred meters could escape his ears: the sentry on the west side had changed shifts, the warhorses on the east side were snorting, and... in the grove of trees in the northwest corner, there were deliberately light footsteps.

"You stay here and keep watch, I'm going to the outhouse." He shoved the remaining cornbread into Zhao Dayong's hands, patted his arm, and said, "Be quick-witted."

Zhao Dayong didn't think much of it and nodded vigorously: "Don't worry, brother!"

He Yuyang crouched low and slipped into the shadows, his steps as light as a night owl. He didn't go to the outhouse, but instead, using the shadows of the trees as cover, he silently made his way to the grove. The footsteps grew clearer, mixed with hushed voices speaking in a broken local dialect that sounded awkward.

"...The higher-ups said we must ascertain the Communist army's deployment within three days, especially the location of the ammunition depots..."

"Don't worry, I've buried people in their mess hall. We'll have the roster tonight..."

"You'll get your share of the rewards once it's done. Remember, don't ruin the Japanese commander's plans like last time..."

The word "Taijun" pierced He Yuyang's ears like needles. He held his breath and leaned forward in the moonlight—two men stood in the shadows of the trees, one wearing an old uniform of a puppet army, the other wrapped in a black cotton-padded coat with his hat pulled low, but clutching a pocket watch in his hand, the Nazi symbol on the dial gleaming coldly in the night.

He was a Kuomintang agent who had also colluded with remnants of the puppet army.

He Yuyang's heart sank. The atmosphere had been delicate these past few days due to the troop reorganization, and the veterans' private discussions about "an impending civil war" weren't unfounded. He touched his pocket—he had just redeemed a miniature camera that morning when he checked in; it was palm-sized and hidden in his clothes, unnoticed by anyone.

He quietly took out his camera and, using the moonlight filtering through the leaves, aimed it at the two figures. A soft "click" sounded, almost inaudible amidst the chirping of insects. The two were still whispering to each other, completely unaware that they were being watched.

After they parted ways, He Yuyang drifted out like a leaf, following the man in the black cotton-padded coat at a distance. This man was quite wary, making several turns and meandering paths towards the town before finally entering a courtyard with a sign that read "Inn".

"Jixiang Inn..." He Yuyang memorized the name and turned to run back. He had to quickly develop the photos and hand them over to the company commander—this matter couldn't be delayed.

When he returned to camp, Zhao Dayong was pacing anxiously. Seeing him come back, he quickly went to greet him: "Brother, why are you so late? The company commander just came to check on us!"

"I have a bit of diarrhea." He Yuyang casually brushed the bits of grass off his clothes. "Are you alright?"

"No, no." Zhao Dayong scratched his head, then suddenly lowered his voice, "Brother, I just heard Squad Leader Wang and the others say that the higher-ups want us to move south, it seems... we're going to fight the Kuomintang?"

He Yuyang's heart sank, but he didn't show it on his face: "Don't make wild guesses, just follow orders."

But he knew this wasn't just wild guessing. The conversation between the two spies, and the sudden increase in sentries at the camp these past few days, all pointed to one thing: the days of peace were probably really coming to an end.

He made an excuse to slip back to his bunk and pulled a tin box from under his pillow—a modified artillery shell box he used to hide his "treasures." Inside the box lay several items: Grandpa Wang's military medals, a lucky charm embroidered by his mother, and the camera he had just used.

He took the film out of the camera, thought for a moment, and then pulled out a developing box from his spiritual spring space. The small villa in the space had a darkroom, which he had prepared for processing intelligence. He slipped into the space and began operating it skillfully—under the red light, the two furtive figures gradually became clear, even the logo on the pocket watch was clearly visible.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, hanging the photos on the rack. Outside the window, the new rice paddies were already heading, a golden expanse. Time flowed quickly in the space; these were all high-quality seeds he had cultivated with spiritual spring water. He had originally planned to bring them home for his parents to plant after the war, but now it seemed he didn't know when that would be.

When he emerged from the space, it was already dawn. He tucked the photo into his pocket and went straight to find the company commander.

"What did you say? A spy?" The company commander, who was cleaning his gun, jumped up upon hearing this, his boots clattering on the ground. "Where?"

He Yuyang handed over the photo. The company commander picked it up, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper, before finally slamming it on the table with a "thud": "Good lad! If you hadn't discovered it, our camp might have been wiped out!" He stared at the photo for a long time, then suddenly looked at He Yuyang, his eyes filled with inquiry, "Where did you get this camera...?"

"I found it." He Yuyang said without changing his expression. "I found it on the Japanese soldiers' corpses when I was cleaning up the battlefield last time. I haven't dared to take it out until now."

The company commander didn't press further, but patted him on the shoulder, a little harder than usual: "Well done. I'll report this immediately. You go back first, and don't make a fuss."

"yes!"

Stepping out of the company headquarters, the morning light had already bathed the camp in gold. The soldiers were doing their morning exercises, their shouts deafening. He Yuyang gazed at those young faces—some even younger than him, their skin still bearing the fuzz of unshaven hair, yet the light in their eyes shone brighter than the sun.

He suddenly remembered his mother's letter.

The letter arrived yesterday, folded neatly and hidden in his tin box. He found a secluded haystack and carefully opened it. The letter paper was made of coarse cloth spun by Liu Yan, carrying a faint scent of soapberry. The handwriting on it was crooked and uneven, written stroke by stroke by his mother:

"My dear son, Yu Yang: It's like seeing you in person after reading this."

Everything's fine at home, don't worry. Yushui can walk now; yesterday she wobbled to the well and almost fell in, but your dad caught her. She cried her heart out, and now she's happily chewing on the peace lock you gave her. She can draw little figures now; I'll send you one of her drawings. Does it look like her?

Zhu Zi won first place at the martial arts school, and his master rewarded him with a wooden sword, which he carries with him every day, saying he'll be your bodyguard. Uncle Yan's general store got some new cloth, and I bought a red piece to make a little jacket for Yu Shui, which will be perfect for you when you come back.

I heard the Japanese surrendered, and the neighbors are all looking forward to your return. Your father said that when you come back, he'll slaughter a pig for you and stew a big pot of it so you can eat your fill.

Don't worry about home, focus on fighting the war, and come back soon.

"娘字"

Sure enough, in the corner of the letter, there was a crooked little figure with a head as big as a winter melon and legs as thin as bean sprouts. Next to it was an even smaller circle, probably the peace lock.

He Yuyang's fingers gently brushed over the little figure, and his eyes instantly welled up with tears. He remembered Yushui's wrinkled appearance when she was born, her indistinct baby voice when she first called "brother," and her mother's gentle smile when she held her... His heart felt like it was blocked by something, both sour and tender.

"Brother, you're here!" Zhao Dayong's voice suddenly rang out. He was holding an envelope and was sweating profusely as he ran. "The messenger said there was a letter from home for you, so I snatched it for you!"

He Yuyang quickly folded the letter and hastily wiped his face: "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Zhao Dayong leaned closer, looking at him curiously. "Brother, why are you crying? Did Auntie scold you?"

"No." He Yuyang put the letter away, stood up, and patted the grass off his pants. "The wind got in my eyes."

Zhao Dayong looked up at the sky, dumbfounded: "The sky is quite clear..."

He Yuyang ignored him and strode towards the camp. The sunlight shone on him, casting a long shadow. Although he was only twelve years old, his back was as straight as a poplar tree braving the wind and rain.

He knew the road ahead would be even more difficult. The Kuomintang's equipment was better than the Japanese's, and the battle would likely be far more dangerous. But he couldn't retreat—behind him were the little figures his mother had drawn, the wooden sword on his younger brother's back, the thunderous slogans of his comrades, and countless homes longing for peace.

Back in his bunk, he carefully placed his mother's letter into the tin box, along with his medals and amulet. Then he took out two White Rabbit candies from his storage space—they were redeemed from the last sign-in event; he had intended to save them for Yushui, but now he wanted to try them.

As he unwrapped the candy, a sweet and cloying aroma filled his mouth. He remembered his grandfather always saying, "Sweet days are made through hardship," when he was a child in modern times. He didn't understand then, but now he finally did.

A sharp, urgent whistle sounded in the distance signaling assembly. He Yuyang folded the candy wrappers, stuffed them into his pocket, grabbed his rifle, and ran outside. Zhao Dayong followed behind, muttering, "It's definitely a mission, bro. Don't you think we should set off?"

He Yuyang didn't speak, but just gripped the gun tighter.

The wind blew across the red flag at the camp, making it flutter. He looked up and saw the five-pointed star on the flag shining in the sunlight, like countless expectant eyes.

Undercurrents were stirring, and a storm was brewing. But he was not afraid.

He is He Yuyang, his mother's son, his younger siblings' brother, and the trusted "Brother Yuyang" among his comrades. He possesses martial arts skills, a spiritual spring space, and, more importantly, a heart determined to protect everything to the end.

No matter how many thorns lie ahead, he will keep going. For his family, for his brothers, and for those who haven't yet had the chance to experience a sweet life.

This battle must be won.