He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The north wind whipped up snowflakes that stung his face like needles. He Yuyang lay on the bare earthen slope, gazing at the distant grain silo surrounded by barbed wire, his brows furrowed in worry.

The granary sat on a high ground at the eastern end of the town. It was a square brick and tile building with machine guns mounted in the corners. Two heavily armed enemy soldiers stood at the entrance, their boots stomping on the snow. The company commander said that it contained at least 100,000 jin of grain and served as the main granary for several nearby towns. It was also a supply point they had to capture this time—the troops' food rations were already empty, and if they couldn't find food, they wouldn't be able to sustain a march, let alone fight.

"A direct assault is definitely not going to work." Zhao Dayong hunched over and leaned closer, his breath instantly dissipating in the wind. "Look at that wall, it must be three meters high, with broken glass on top. The machine gun emplacement is facing the main gate; if we charge in, we'll be sitting ducks."

He Yuyang didn't speak, but traced the outline of the granary in the snow with his finger. He had clearly seen during the reconnaissance that there was a grove of low trees behind the granary, and there was an inconspicuous gap in the barbed wire fence, which must have been dug by wild dogs. Moreover, the sentry post there only patrolled once every fifteen minutes—this was the only breakthrough.

"Brother, what are you thinking about?" Sun Erzhu came over, his ears were red from the cold, but he still gripped his rifle tightly. "The company commander said if we can't think of a solution, we'll have to fight."

He Yuyang raised his head, his eyes shining brightly: "No need to fight. Tonight, I'll go 'move' the grain."

"Move?" Zhao Dayong and Sun Erzhu exclaimed in unison, then quickly covered their mouths, looking nervously towards the granary. "How are we going to move it? There's so much grain, even twelve of us from the third shift aren't enough to carry it all, and besides, we have to avoid the sentries..."

"I'll go alone." He Yuyang's voice was soft, but it carried an undeniable certainty. "You guys stay here and wait for my signal."

He didn't go into details about how to move it—he couldn't very well tell them that he had a spiritual spring space that could hold tens of thousands of acres of fertile land. In the past two weeks, the time flow rate in the space had been slowed down again, from 1:1000 to 1:100, because he simply didn't have the energy to manage it. Most of the land was planted with potatoes and corn, which are easy to store, just in case. But now, this space has become the best "grain transport vehicle".

As evening fell, the snow fell even heavier, turning the world white. The company commander called a meeting with the squad leaders, and under the oil lamp, everyone's face showed anxiety.

"...That's the situation," the company commander tapped the map with his finger, "The brigade headquarters ordered that the granary must be captured before dawn tomorrow, otherwise the main force will have to move on an empty stomach."

Several squad leaders frowned. One suggested, "How about we organize a suicide squad and charge head-on?" Immediately, someone objected, "No way! One burst of machine gun fire and a whole bunch of men would fall!"

He Yuyang suddenly stood up: "Company Commander, I have a solution."

All eyes were on him. The twelve-year-old boy looked particularly small among the group of rough men, but the calmness in his eyes was reassuring.

"Go ahead and say it," the company commander said, looking at him.

"Tonight I'll sneak into the granary and 'get' the grain out," He Yuyang said vaguely. "When the enemy finds out the grain is gone tomorrow, they'll definitely panic. Then you can lead your troops in a feigned attack, and they'll think it's an inside job and retreat. We'll be able to take the granary without losing a single soldier."

"Get it out?" An old squad leader couldn't help but laugh. "Xiao He, that's 100,000 jin of grain! How are you going to do that? Do you have some kind of magic?"

He Yuyang didn't explain, but just looked at the company commander and said, "Please give me a chance, company commander."

The company commander stared at him for a long time, recalling how he single-handedly blew up the machine gun stronghold at Eagle's Beak Cliff, and finally nodded: "Alright! I trust you! What do you need? Manpower? Weapons?"

"Nothing is needed." He Yuyang saluted. "Just leave me a rendezvous point, under the old locust tree three miles from the granary."

After the meeting, Zhao Dayong grabbed He Yuyang's arm and wouldn't let go: "Brother, what are you going to do? Take me with you, I'm strong, I can help you carry the bags!"

"Listen to me." He Yuyang patted his shoulder, took out an oil paper package from his pocket, and stuffed it into his hand. "These are steamed buns soaked in spiritual spring water. You and Erzhu can share them. Don't sleep tonight. Keep an eye on the granary. If you see a fire in the south, send a message to the old locust tree."

He had specially steamed it in his spatial dimension last night, using spiritual spring water to make the dough; it was filling. Zhao Dayong wanted to say something more, but He Yuyang pushed him back: "This is an order."

At midnight, the snow finally stopped. The moon peeked out from the clouds, casting a cold light on the snow-covered ground. He Yuyang changed into a black night-clothes made from fabric from his spatial storage—lightweight yet warm. He tucked a silenced pistol into his waistband, took a deep breath, and like a raccoon in the snow, silently crept towards the granary.

The gap in the barbed wire on the back was smaller than he had expected, barely enough to squeeze through. He held his breath, carefully avoiding the spikes, ignoring the tears in his sleeves, and finally managed to slip into the granary compound during a break in the sentry patrol.

The courtyard was quiet, save for the whooshing sound of the wind blowing through the granary windows. He moved close to the wall, channeling his internal energy to its limit, his ears picking up on the sounds around him: two sentries were snoring in the east wing, the sound of mahjong tiles being rubbed came from the west wing, and... the granary's main gate was locked, secured with a large brass padlock.

He went around to the back door of the granary, where it was indeed unlocked, with only a bolt. He gently loosened the bolt and peeked through the crack in the door—by the moonlight, he could see rows of neatly stacked grain sacks, including millet, wheat, and several bags of white flour, the air filled with the fresh scent of grains.

He Yuyang's heart pounded, not with nervousness, but with excitement. This much food was enough to feed the troops for half a month! He slipped inside, closed the door behind him, took a deep breath, and focused his mind—

The grain sacks in front of him began to disappear into thin air—one sack, two sacks, three sacks… In the spiritual spring space, the once empty warehouse was instantly filled with grains, millet sacks next to wheat sacks, flour sacks on top, all neatly arranged. He dared not stop, speeding up his pace, while also keeping an eye on the sounds outside, afraid of being discovered.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside, along with a sentry's cough. He Yuyang quickly stopped, hid behind a grain sack, and his heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

"This awful weather is freezing," a sentry said.

"I'm almost done patrolling. I'll go back and have a drink of soju to warm myself up," was another reply.

The footsteps faded into the distance. He Yuyang breathed a sigh of relief and continued "moving". He deliberately left more than a dozen empty grain bags, piled them in a corner, and scattered some grain on the ground to make it look like they had been visited by thieves.

After the last bag of grain disappeared into the space, he glanced out the window. The moon was already setting in the west, and there were still two hours until dawn. He quietly slipped out of the granary, closed the door again, and returned the way he came. When he crawled out of the barbed wire fence, he realized that his palms were sweaty and aching in the cold wind.

He didn't return to the camp, but ran straight to the old locust tree. There was a long-abandoned earth god temple there, perfect for storing grain. He flashed into his spatial dimension, and with a thought, the grain sacks were "moved" out, filling almost half of the earth god temple. He deliberately left a crack in the door for the follow-up troops to transport the grain.

After doing all this, he took out a tinderbox and lit the pile of firewood he had prepared beforehand—a signal for Zhao Dayong. The firelight was particularly conspicuous in the snow, and soon, the sound of dogs barking came from afar, indicating that Zhao Dayong and the others had spotted them.

He Yuyang leaned against the wall of the earth god temple, panting heavily from exhaustion. His internal energy was severely depleted, and he felt a little dizzy. He took out a bottle of spiritual spring water from his spatial storage, unscrewed it, and took a couple of sips. A warm current instantly flowed through his body, and he felt a little better.

As dawn approached, a commotion suddenly erupted from the direction of the granary, accompanied by gunfire. He Yuyang knew that the company commander had launched a feint attack. Standing on higher ground, he looked over and saw black smoke billowing from the granary, likely a fire set by the company commander's men. The enemy's gunfire was chaotic and disorderly, indicating they were clearly panicked.

Not long after, a group of enemy soldiers were seen running out of the granary, fleeing in disarray towards the edge of town, not even having time to take their machine guns. The company commander led his troops into the granary in a grand procession, and soon, a signal flare soared into the sky—success!

He Yuyang smiled and turned to walk towards the Earth God Temple. He had to make sure the "transporting" of grain was done before the main force arrived. He took out a few more bags of grain from his spatial storage and piled them at the entrance of the Earth God Temple. He then carried a bag of wheat, pretending to have just come out of there.

"Brother!" Zhao Dayong and Sun Erzhu ran over, followed by the company commander and several soldiers. "You really got the grain out? How did you do it?"

He Yuyang put down the grain sack, wiped his sweat, and made up a story he had prepared beforehand: "I found the secret passage to the granary. It must have been used by the people to store grain in the past. I transported the grain here through the secret passage."

"A secret passage?" The company commander walked into the earth god temple in surprise, his eyes lighting up when he saw the room full of grain sacks. "Good lad! Your skill is truly amazing!"

He patted He Yuyang on the shoulder and laughed heartily, "I knew you could do it! Now the army is saved!"

The soldiers all gathered around, asking in unison, "Squad leader, where's the secret passage? We want to go get it too!"

He Yuyang pointed in the direction of the granary: "It can only be opened from inside the granary. I've marked it; go and look for it."

There's no secret passage at all. When they get there, they won't find it. They'll just assume it's blocked by grain or collapsed—after all, the grain has already been transported out, so who cares where the secret passage is?

For the rest of the day, the soldiers were busy transporting grain from the local temple to the granary. Zhao Dayong and Sun Erzhu followed He Yuyang, their eyes filled with admiration.

"Brother, you're amazing!" Zhao Dayong exclaimed, carrying a sack of millet as he ran at breakneck speed. "The enemy must be completely bewildered; how did their food disappear?"

"They probably thought it was haunted," Sun Erzhu said with a smile, his face red from the cold but he didn't feel cold at all.

He Yuyang smiled but didn't speak. He leaned against the wall of the granary, basking in the rare sunshine, feeling quite at ease. There was still plenty of food in his storage space, enough to last until the next supply point. He touched the tin box in his arms, inside which was a letter written by Liu Yan, the paper slightly wrinkled from his handling.

"Yu Yang," the company commander walked over and handed him a steamed bun, "It's freshly steamed, have a taste."

He Yuyang took it, took a big bite, and the warm, fragrant dough spread in his mouth. He remembered that Liu Yan had used the flour he sent back to make a red cotton-padded jacket for Yushui, and his heart felt warm.

"Company commander, where to next?" he asked.

The company commander gazed at the distant mountains, his eyes resolute: "Head south, rejoin the main force. This battle must continue."

He Yuyang nodded and swallowed the last bite of his steamed bun. He knew that seizing the granary was just a small victory, and there were still tougher battles to fight. But he wasn't afraid. With the secret weapon of the Spirit Spring Space, his trustworthy brothers, and the concern of his family far away, he had the confidence to keep going.

As the sun set, the troops began their retreat. He Yuyang carried his rifle and walked in the ranks, with Zhao Dayong and Sun Erzhu beside him, humming off-key songs. Grain from the granary was loaded onto trucks, which followed the column in a long, winding procession.

He Yuyang glanced back at the granary, which stood quietly in the setting sun, the bullet holes in its blue brick walls standing out clearly in the afterglow. This place had once been an enemy stronghold, but now it had become their supply depot, just like the war itself, seemingly difficult, yet always with a chance for a turn of events.

He gripped the rifle tightly, the butt warm from his body heat. The road ahead might be fraught with wind and snow, but as long as there is light in his heart, something to care about, and someone to protect, he will surely reach the day when spring arrives and flowers bloom.

For the sake of our comrades who are crying for food, for our sister with her crooked braids far away, for the words in the letter, "Mom will make you sauerkraut dumplings," this battle must be won.