He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

In the late autumn of 1949, the chill had seeped into the bones. He Yuyang lay prone behind the broken wall outside the city, his ear pressed against the cold bricks. He could clearly hear the patrolling footsteps coming from inside the city, as well as the faint sound of bugles in the distance—the enemy troops changing shifts.

The city before us, known as "Nandu," was the last bastion of the Kuomintang army's stubborn resistance. The city walls were over three zhang high, riddled with firing ports, and machine gun emplacements were arranged like honeycombs. The moat outside the city gates was covered with a thin layer of ice, and the water beneath the ice was dark and murky, exuding a chilling atmosphere.

"Commander, the signal for the general offensive is almost here." Sun Erzhu crawled over, his face smeared with soot, revealing only two incredibly bright eyes. The explosive pack in his hand was frozen solid. "The Third Battalion has reached the West Gate and is just waiting for us to blow open the breach."

He Yuyang nodded, his finger tracing across the map—a high-precision map he had created using his spatial storage, densely marked with enemy firing positions and defenses. This time, he was personally leading the elite platoon, tasked with blasting a breach in the east gate, then charging straight to the city wall, and planting the red flag as soon as the general offensive began.

"Remember the route." He lowered his voice, pointing his finger at a dent on the map. "After blasting open the city gate, rush in through the gap in the arrow tower on the left. The firepower there is the weakest. Erzhu, lead the first group to clear out the defenders on the city tower. Li Gensheng, lead the second group to provide cover. I'll take Hongqi to the top floor."

"Don't worry, Commander!" Sun Erzhu patted his chest. He was now the platoon leader of the elite platoon. The gun on his shoulder was polished to a shine, and the determination in his eyes was exactly the same as that of Zhao Dayong back then.

He Yuyang pulled out a paper package from his pocket, inside which were several freshly steamed buns—he had taken them from his spatial storage in the early hours of the morning, and they were still warm. He shared them with the soldiers around him, took a bite himself, and the aroma of wheat mixed with a faint sweetness spread in his mouth. These were "peace buns" that his mother had taught him to make, saying that eating them would ensure peace.

"Once the red flag is planted, we'll have a victory celebration banquet on the city wall," he said with a smile, the scar at the corner of his eye faintly visible in the firelight—a mark left from the breakout on the snowy night, now the most prominent mark on his face.

"Boom—"

A sudden, deafening roar echoed in the distance, shaking the earth. It was the signal for the final assault! Searchlights on the city walls swept across the area instantly, beams of light darting like venomous snakes behind the broken walls. He Yuyang sprang to his feet and roared, "Blow up the gate!"

Holding the explosive charge, Sun Erzhu charged toward the city gate like an arrow. Enemy machine guns immediately opened fire, bullets hitting the ground and kicking up dust, but he seemed not to see it. He crouched down and rushed to the city gate, quickly lit the fuse, and rolled onto the ice of the moat.

"Boom!"

Another deafening explosion shattered the city gate, sending splinters of wood and bricks flying. He Yuyang waved his hand: "Charge!"

The soldiers surged out like a tidal wave, the sounds of rifle fire, grenade explosions, and battle shouts mingling together, deafening everyone. He Yuyang followed closely behind, rushing across the moat. The ice creaked beneath his feet, and he could even feel bullets whizzing past his scalp, carrying scalding hot air.

"Left!" he shouted, and was the first to squeeze into the gap in the arrow tower. The enemy soldiers inside were obviously not expected to arrive so quickly, and were frantically changing their magazines when He Yuyang raised his hand and fired two shots, and two enemy soldiers fell to the ground.

"Clean up the remaining enemies! Quickly!" Without turning his head, he rushed towards the stairs of the city tower. The stairs were made of stone, steep and narrow, each step feeling like stepping on a knife's edge. Suddenly, an enemy soldier rushed out from around the corner, brandishing his bayonet and thrusting it at him. He Yuyang dodged to the side and punched the enemy soldier in the chin with his backhand. The enemy soldier groaned and fell to the ground.

He clutched the red flag tightly in his hand—it was made of red cloth from his spatial dimension, thicker than ordinary cloth, with white edges sewn on. The flagpole was a jujube wood stick he had specially found, heavy and easy to hold. He had been preparing this flag for half a year, waiting for this day.

"Commander, I'll cover you!" Li Gensheng led several soldiers up the stairs and fired fiercely at the enemy troops upstairs. Taking advantage of the cover fire, He Yuyang climbed up using both hands and feet. The sound of his military boots clattering on the stone steps blended with the sound of his heartbeat.

With just a few steps left to the top floor, a grenade suddenly rolled down, its fuse hissing and sparking. Without a second thought, He Yuyang kicked the grenade back, followed by a loud explosion, and the machine gun fire from above ceased.

He leaped to the top floor and saw several enemy soldiers lying on the ground groaning. The heavy machine gun on the city wall had fallen silent. He had no time to care about that. He rushed to the highest crenellation of the city wall, from where he could overlook the entire city—people could be seen peeking out from the streets, and the distant gunfire continued, but the scales of victory had already tipped.

The wind was strong, making his military uniform flutter and the red flag in his hand wave wildly. He Yuyang took a deep breath, and with a forceful push, firmly planted the red flag into the crack of the crenellation.

The red flag unfurled and fluttered in the gale, like a burning flame, shining brightly against the gray sky.

The moment the red flag was raised, a thunderous cheer erupted from below the city. He Yuyang looked down and saw that the streets were filled with people, holding up banners, waving hats, and some even kneeling on the ground and kowtowing. The sounds of crying and laughter were deafening.

"We're liberated! We're liberated!"

"Long live the Communist Party! Long live the People's Liberation Army!"

Cheers surged like waves, crashing against the city walls and bouncing back, echoing through the city. He Yuyang stood there, gazing at the scene before her, when suddenly her nose stung, and tears fell without warning.

He recalled that morning when he was eight years old, when his soul transmigrated from a peaceful era to this one. Filled with fear in the unfamiliar environment, he absorbed the original owner's memories, staring blankly at the unfamiliar earthen bed. He had transmigrated into the body of He Yuyang, the elder brother of He Yuzhu, a character with the same name as him, who hadn't appeared in the "Full House of Love" storyline before it even began. Later, he learned why the original owner hadn't appeared in the story: he had died while serving in the army. He was only 11 years old at the time. Looking back now, he realized he had changed the fates of many characters.

He recalled how, before he died, Grandpa Wang had stuffed his military medal into his hand and said in a weak voice, "Guard...guard this land well..."

He remembered when his mother sent him off to join the army, she secretly wiped away her tears and gave him a jade pendant with the character "An" (peace/safety) on it, saying, "I don't ask you to become an official, I only ask that you be safe and sound..."

He remembered Zhao Dayong's last grip on his hand, blood and foam gushing from the corner of his mouth: "My mother...please take good care of her..."

He recalled his comrades frozen stiff in Eagle's Beak Valley during the breakout on that snowy night; he remembered the young faces that disappeared into the river when they crossed it; he remembered the old locust tree in Wangyue Town, the stone mill in the threshing ground, and the rice paddies of the Jiangnan water towns...

So many people and events flashed before his eyes like a movie. He transformed from a bewildered time-traveling boy into a wounded warrior; from a child who trembled even holding a wooden sword into a commander capable of leading thousands of troops. Along the way, he lost too much and carried too much on his shoulders.

"Uncle Wang, Dayong, and our fallen brothers..." he choked back tears, his voice broken by the wind, "Look... the red flag is flying over the city wall... we've won..."

He slowly knelt down and respectfully kowtowed three times towards his hometown in the north. His forehead struck the cold bricks with a "thud," but he felt no pain.

"Mother, Father, Yuzhu, Yushui..." He gazed into the distance, towards home, "I did it... Our lives are peaceful now..."

Sun Erzhu and Li Gensheng rushed forward and were stunned to see He Yuyang kneeling on the ground. The young leader's shoulders were trembling slightly, and it was impossible to tell whether the water on his face was tears or sweat. Only the red flag behind him fluttered in the wind, as red as blood and as vibrant as fire.

"Commander..." Sun Erzhu wanted to say something, but Li Gensheng stopped him. The old soldier shook his head, tears welling in his eyes—they all understood that at this moment, any words were superfluous.

The distant gunfire gradually subsided, replaced by increasingly loud cheers. The sun finally broke through the clouds, its golden rays shining on the city walls, the red flag, and He Yuyang's dust-covered face.

He slowly stood up, brushed the dust off his knees, glanced one last time at the jubilant crowd below the city walls, then turned to Sun Erzhu and the others, offering a very faint smile. In that smile lay weariness, relief, and a touch of youthful innocence.

"I'm leaving," he said, his voice regaining its calm. "I'm going to see our city."

The soldiers followed behind him, descending the steep stone steps. The red flag fluttered above them, like a pair of invisible eyes watching over this land that had been reborn.

He Yuyang walked at the front, his military boots clicking firmly on the stone steps. He knew the war was over, but a new path was just beginning. He would carry on, bearing the last wishes of his fallen comrades, the expectations of his family, and the hopes of this land.

As he reached the bottom of the building, he glanced back at the top of the city gate. The red flag was still fluttering in the wind, dazzlingly red in the sunlight. He seemed to see Grandpa Wang's smiling face, Zhao Dayong's grinning face, and countless fallen comrades smiling at him from the red flag.

"Peaceful life..." he murmured to himself, clutching the jade pendant with the character "Peace" on his chest.

Yes, peaceful days have finally arrived.

They have sacrificed so much for this day. But as long as it brings peace to this land and allows their families and people to live a stable life, it is all worth it.

The moment the red flag was planted on the city wall was not only a declaration of victory, but also the beginning of a new era. He Yuyang knew that he and his comrades would be the guardians of this era, protecting this hard-won "peace and tranquility" with their lives and blood.