He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

On a snowy night with temperatures dropping to minus thirty degrees Celsius, the forests around Songgufeng resembled a frozen giant beast, even the wind carried icy shards that stung the face. He Yuyang lay prone in a snowdrift, his military overcoat already frozen solid, frost clinging to his eyelashes, yet he dared not move an inch—through the lens of his binoculars, three kilometers away on the highway, a string of dim yellow headlights slowly rolled towards them, the American flag on the vehicle gleaming blindingly under the searchlight.

"Deputy Brigade Commander, the enemy's transport convoy is here!" Staff Officer Xiao Chen whispered, his breath instantly turning into white mist. "There are two more armored vehicles than the intelligence indicated, and an infantry platoon is escorting them."

He Yuyang didn't speak, but lightly tapped the frozen map with his fingertips. This "simple radar location map" had just been updated by the check-in system three days ago. It was much more accurate than the military maps issued to the troops, clearly marking even the hidden culverts and steep slopes beside the road. The ambush point circled in red on the map was the canyon in front of them, which the US military called the "death bend"—with cliffs nearly 100 meters high on both sides, the road made a near 90-degree sharp turn here, making it impossible for armored vehicles to utilize their advantages.

"Proceed according to the original plan." He whispered into the walkie-talkie in his throat, his voice cold and hard, filtered by the wind and snow. "Third Battalion to block the head, First Battalion to cut off the tail, Second Battalion to deal with the armored vehicles, and be careful to preserve manpower."

"Yes, sir!" came the responses from the battalion commanders over the walkie-talkie, their voices brimming with barely suppressed excitement. A month into their deployment in Korea, the troops had suffered greatly from the American mechanized equipment—last week's ambush had seen an entire company blocked by a single enemy tank, and it took three soldiers rolling under the tank with explosives to finally secure the opportunity to destroy it. Now, it was finally their turn to catch these "heavily armed pampered soldiers" off guard.

He Yuyang's gaze fell on the lead armored vehicle through his binoculars. The heavy machine gun on its roof was aimlessly sweeping the surroundings, the camouflage netting hanging from the barrel standing out starkly against the snow. He recalled the "Anti-Tank Tactics Manual" sent to him by the sign-in system. The sentence on the title page, "To defeat the strong with the weak, it's not about equipment, but about accurately calculating the vital points," now burned into his heart like a branding iron. The manual meticulously marked the weak points of the armor of the US M48 tank, the lethal threshold of track tension, and even clearly indicated the blind spots in the driver's observation window—this information was more precise than even the US military's own equipment manuals.

"Wait until they're all at the bend." He Yuyang licked his chapped lips, tasting a hint of blood. He pulled out a small silver-gray medicine bottle from his pocket, unscrewed the cap, poured out three drops of spiritual spring water, mixed it with snow water, and drank it down—not to heal his injuries, but because in this extreme cold, only spiritual spring water could keep him clear-headed and agile. He had been using this bottle of water sparingly for half a month, only daring to use the smallest dose each time, afraid of being discovered.

The headlights drew closer, and the roar of the engine shattered the deathly silence of the mountain forest. Just as the lead armored vehicle rounded the bend, He Yuyang suddenly raised his right hand and slashed down fiercely.

"beat!"

At a command, countless logs bundled with explosives suddenly rolled down the cliff, crashing into the middle of the road with a deafening roar, instantly blocking the way. Immediately afterward, grenades rained down on the convoy from the hillsides on both sides, the explosions echoing one after another, the flames illuminating the snow-covered ground as if it were daytime.

The American troops were clearly caught off guard by the ambush. The soldiers on the transport vehicles panicked, firing wildly at the cliff face, bullets sparking as they hit the cliff. The lead armored vehicle tried to retreat but was blocked by the trucks behind it. The commander leaned out and roared, but before he could utter a single curse, he was shot in the head by Zhang Shuan, a sharpshooter from the Second Battalion. Zhang Shuan's rifle had been specially modified by He Yuyang, optimized with "high-precision rifling blueprints" obtained through the sign-in system, giving it a range nearly a hundred meters greater than ordinary rifles.

"Armored vehicle!" Xiao Chen pointed at the armored vehicle that was trying to crash into the roadblock, his voice strained.

He Yuyang had already spotted it. He shouted into the walkie-talkie, "Rocket launcher squad, target the left front track! There's a dent at the three o'clock position, fire there!"

Two rocket launcher operators rolled through the snow, weapons in hand, and once they found cover, with a "whoosh," the rockets, trailing flames, hurtled towards the left track of the armored vehicle. A deafening crash followed as the track snapped, and the armored vehicle, like a dog with a broken leg, spun around in place, its cannons spewing flames haphazardly.

"Well done!" Xiao Chen couldn't help but cheer, but He Yuyang stopped him—he saw a US military officer holding a signal gun in the cab of the last truck, obviously wanting to call for air support.

"Shoot the signal gun!" No sooner had He Yuyang finished speaking than Zhang Shuan fired. The bullet struck the American officer's wrist precisely, and the signal gun fell to the ground in the carriage with a "thud," before it could even send a signal.

The battle went more smoothly than expected. In less than half an hour, most of the escorting infantry platoon was wiped out. The remaining soldiers, guns in hand, crawled out of the trucks to surrender, shivering from the cold. When He Yuyang stood up, he realized that his left leg was already numb—he had been hit by a frozen rock while rolling to avoid stray bullets, and it was now throbbing with pain.

"Deputy Brigade Commander, you're injured!" Xiao Chen helped him up and turned pale when he saw the bloodstains seeping from his trousers and spreading in the snow.

"It's nothing, just a minor injury." He Yuyang waved his hand, telling him to go and check the supplies. After the truck bed was pried open, everyone gasped – it was filled with canned goods, chocolate, compressed biscuits, boxes of bullets, several heavy machine guns, and even two truckloads of blankets and medicine.

"We've got them! Now we have enough supplies for winter!" The soldiers cheered, rubbing their frozen hands against their faces and smiling. He Yuyang looked at the cans printed with "USA" and suddenly remembered what He Yuzhu had said in his letter: "We have enough food at home, but Yushui always wants to eat the chocolates you brought back." Her heart softened, and she had the communications officer secretly hide two boxes in her backpack.

Just then, the roar of airplanes came from afar. He Yuyang's expression changed; the US air support had arrived after all!

"Quick! Move the supplies to the shelter, and destroy the armored vehicles and trucks on the spot!" he roared, dragging his injured leg as he directed the retreat. The bomb landed at the ambush site, flames shooting into the sky, and the shockwave sending snowflakes flying high. He Yuyang was pushing a wounded soldier towards the culvert when a piece of shrapnel suddenly flew from behind, grazing his elbow and drawing a trail of blood.

"Deputy Brigade Commander!" Xiao Chen reacted quickly, tackling him to the ground in the snow.

The wound on his arm burned with pain, and blood quickly stained half of his sleeve. He Yuyang pressed the wound, feeling his strength rapidly draining away—the wound didn't look deep, but the chill made his vision blur with pain. He knew he couldn't collapse here, so he gritted his teeth and stood up, only to stumble after taking two steps.

"I'll carry you!" A tall soldier squatted down.

"No need." He Yuyang pushed him away, and taking advantage of the moment when no one was looking, he took out a small silver-gray medicine bottle from his pocket, poured out half a bottle of spiritual spring water, and applied it to the wound. The moment the cool liquid touched his skin, the pain miraculously lessened, and a slight warmth even rose from the wound. He quickly wrapped his arm tightly with a bandage to cover the rapidly healing wound.

"Deputy Brigade Commander, what's going on here...?" Xiao Chen looked at him in confusion.

"It's a family heirloom herbal medicine, my mother gave it to me before I left," He Yuyang lied, trying to make it sound natural. "It's effective for knife and gunshot wounds."

Xiao Chen was skeptical, but didn't ask any more questions—in this battlefield where medicine was scarce, who didn't have some "family secret recipes"? He just assumed He Yuyang was lucky and followed him into the culvert.

The culvert was crowded with soldiers. Some were counting captured supplies, while others were bandaging the wounded. The flickering light of the kerosene lamps illuminated the tired yet excited redness on everyone's faces. The medic, holding anti-inflammatory medicine found in an American truck, applied it to each wounded soldier. Seeing that the bandage on He Yuyang's arm hadn't bled, he exclaimed in surprise, "Deputy Brigade Commander, how did your wound stop bleeding so quickly?"

"I told you it's a family-inherited herbal medicine." He Yuyang smiled and tucked the medicine bottle into his pocket. "Never mind me, give the seriously wounded the American medicine first, that stuff works well."

He walked to the cave entrance, gazing at the still-intense bombing outside, and pulled out the "Anti-Tank Tactics Manual" from his backpack. The pages of the manual were slightly wrinkled in the dampness of the cave, but the handwriting was still clear. He knew that the victory of this ambush was due not only to the bravery of the soldiers, but also to this knowledge that was ahead of its time—but he couldn't say that, he could only record this "miracle" in the merit book of "precise reconnaissance by the troops" and "heroic fighting by the soldiers."

"Deputy Brigade Commander, the inventory is complete!" The Second Battalion Commander ran over, his face covered in soot, but he grinned, revealing his white teeth. "There are over five hundred boxes of canned food alone, plus ten heavy machine guns and three truckloads of ammunition! That's enough for our entire brigade for a month!"

"Okay." He Yuyang nodded, his gaze falling on the gradually subsiding artillery fire outside the cave. "Notify each battalion to take turns on guard duty tonight, and move the supplies to the rear warehouse first thing tomorrow morning. Also, have the comrades in the propaganda section write a report, focusing on the soldiers' tactical coordination, and don't mention those... 'special discoveries'."

"Understood!" The second battalion commander was stunned for a moment, but quickly realized what he meant, stood at attention, saluted, and turned to leave.

The culvert gradually quieted down, with only the hissing of the kerosene lamp and the soldiers' snores. He Yuyang leaned against the cold stone wall and slowly unwrapped the bandage on his arm—the wound had almost healed, leaving only a faint red mark; in another two days, it probably wouldn't even leave a trace. He touched the mark, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside him.

This spiritual spring water in the space was his greatest secret, and also the source of his confidence to survive on the battlefield and protect his brothers. But he knew even more clearly that the real "secret weapon" was never a magic trick, but those soldiers who lay frozen in the snow without moving, those young figures who rushed towards tanks with explosives, and those hands that, though they were crying because they missed home, still gripped their rifles tightly.

He stuffed the manual and location map into his inner pocket, then touched the amulet on his chest. The plum blossoms embroidered by Xu Xiuli pressed against his heart under the rough fabric, like a small spark burning brightly on this frigid foreign battlefield.

"There's still a tough battle ahead..." He Yuyang sighed softly, gazing at the pale sky outside the cave. The American counterattack would certainly be even fiercer, but he wasn't afraid. With his brothers by his side, with these "good supplies sent from the rear," and with the vibrant spirit of Nanluoguxiang in his heart, he could overcome any obstacle, no matter how difficult.

The snow was still falling, settling at the culvert entrance and accumulating into a thin layer. In the distant mountains, a few startled rabbits darted across, leaving a trail of shallow footprints that were quickly covered by fresh snow. He Yuyang knew that by tomorrow's sunrise, the smoke of battle would dissipate, and the snow would conceal the traces of the fight. But the story of this "battlefield hero" would, through word of mouth among the soldiers, become a legendary tale of war—only no one would know that behind this legend lay a soul from the future, and his unspeakable secret.