Courtyard House: I, the eldest son of the Jia family, have returned from the battlefield.

When Wang Dapao described Jia Dongming's methods, not only did Chen Jianfei turn pale, but even Xiao Ma's heart pounded.

It wasn't until he was called out that he snapped out of his daze, released his grip on Chen Jianfei, and quickly walked behind the interrogation table to pick up a pen.

About half an hour later, the door to the interrogation room opened.

Wang Dapao strode out, his face filled with barely suppressed excitement.

He spotted Jia Dongming waiting in the corridor at a glance and immediately stepped forward, lowering his voice to say, "Dongming! Chen Jianfei confessed everything—this guy is actually Japanese, his real name is Tagawa Shiro."

When he was very young, his biological parents sent him to China to be raised by a farming family in northern China.

When Shiro Tagawa was nine years old, he was sent to a school run by the Japanese in Fuyukichi.

After Japan's defeat, he infiltrated our ranks following instructions from Japanese intelligence.

Because his household registration had always been with his adoptive parents, his true identity was not discovered during the initial investigation.

According to his confession, he was not the only child like him who had been placed in Dongbei since childhood.

When Japan was defeated, some of these people infiltrated our side, while others infiltrated the other side's forces.

After liberation, he came to Beijing with the army and was eventually assigned to a steel rolling mill to work as a security guard.

"Two years ago, Shiro Tagawa suddenly received instructions from mainland Japan, which led to his reactivation by the undercover organization."

It was then that he learned that Zhou Xudong—also known as Koizumi Taro—was, like him, a spy planted in China long ago.

According to Shiro Tagawa's confession, Taro Koizumi was his superior.

Their mission was to find ways to sabotage important factories and mines vital to national development, thus slowing down our progress.

As Jia Dongming listened quietly, memories of the blood and fire of the past suddenly surged up within him.

A cold glint flashed in his eyes, and his voice deepened: "The Japanese have surrendered, but their treacherous hearts have never died."

Otherwise, we wouldn't have planted such people on both sides.

If I ever have the chance, I will raze Tokyo to the ground and make them taste the consequences.

Wang Dapao looked at his clenched fist and continued, "Dongming, Tagawa Shiro also revealed that the Japanese have several secret warehouses in Beijing."

I need to report to Director Li immediately and take men to raid these hideouts as soon as possible.

Upon hearing this, Jia Dongming recalled that the enemy agents he had uncovered were all hiding inside the steel rolling mill, and there must be people waiting to meet them on the outside.

He immediately pressed, "Big Cannon, did Shiro Tagawa reveal his accomplices outside the steel mill?"

Wang Dapao subconsciously shook his head: "He said his superior was Koizumi Taro, and he only knew the list of people lurking in the factory."

Those on the periphery were all contacted by Taro Koizumi through a single line.

I think he was terrified by what you said before; he doesn't seem like the type to lie anymore.

Jia Dongming nodded, recalling yesterday's actions, his expression turning serious: "Dapao, we acted too early yesterday in order to protect the special workshop."

I reckon those rats outside have already gotten wind of the situation. Even if they pry Zhou Xudong's mouth open now, it'll be difficult to catch those who have already burrowed away.

Wang Dapao's expression turned solemn: "Dongming, regardless of whether they've hidden or not, these people lurking in the shadows are all ticking time bombs."

Therefore, we absolutely have to pry open Taro Koizumi's mouth, get the list, and dig out all these shady characters from the gutter.

Jia Dongming pondered for a moment, then looked up and asked, "Should I go and meet with Zhou Xudong?"

Wang Dapao quickly waved his hand: "Dongming, your methods are too ruthless."

Let our people conduct the trial first.

If you really can't crack this nut, I'll call you over again.

A cold smile appeared on Jia Dongming's lips: "Dapao, these Japanese spies are worse than animals."

Why bother with mercy towards animals?

Wang Dapao didn't reply.

Jia Dongming knew perfectly well why he hated the Japanese so much.

Jia Dongming's face was taut like a block of iron in the shadows. Wang Dapao felt a pang of anxiety and quickly softened his tone: "Dongming, those years... are all in the past."

The world has changed now, we have to look forward, right?

As soon as he finished speaking, Jia Dongming's Adam's apple bobbed.

He didn't reply, but exhaled a deep breath from his nose, the breath hot as if it carried sparks.

After a long pause, he finally managed to squeeze out a voice through gritted teeth: "I can't get through."

As long as I'm still breathing, one day sooner or later...

He didn't finish his sentence, but Wang Dapao understood.

The room was eerily quiet, with only the ticking of the old wall clock, as if counting down an unseen number of days.

Wang Dapao sighed and reached out to press on his stiff shoulder: "If Xiuer knew you were like this, she would be heartbroken."

"Xiuer"

The two words were like a rusty key, unexpectedly unlocking the lock of memory.

Jia Dongming's eyelids twitched, and he suddenly lost all his strength, but his back straightened even more.

How long ago was that? He was pulled out of the pile of corpses outside Xiaowangzhuang by the Eighth Route Army and placed in Old Man Wang's house.

Xiuer was Old Wang's daughter. She wore two yellow braids and always looked timid when she saw him.

I don't know when it started, but my timidity turned into a smile with crescent-shaped eyes.

She sewed shoe soles while he chopped firewood; she embroidered while he sharpened his knife at the courtyard gate.

Two teenagers, not very talkative, yet they lived their lives like an eternity in a silent film.

Under the moon when he was fifteen, his face flushed, he said, "After we drive the Japanese devils away, we'll get married."

She didn't answer, but instead stuffed the tobacco pouch she had just embroidered into his hand. On the pouch were a pair of crooked ducks.

What happened next? He then followed the troops to intercept the Japanese army's grain carts.

When I went there, the wild jujube trees in the gully were just bearing green buds; when I returned, Xiaowangzhuang was gone.

The old locust tree at the village entrance had burned to charcoal, and when the wind blew, ash fell down in a rustling sound.

He found Xiuer under the broken wall, covered with half a tattered mat that her neighbor had torn off.

He didn't cry. He squatted down and pried the tobacco pouch out of her tightly clenched hand. The pair of ducks on it were soaked in blood.

He disappeared that very night.

Three days later, the dozen or so Japanese soldiers and puppet troops in the blockhouse ten miles away were found dead.

Even more horrifying was the small hill in front of the pillbox, built with the heads of Japanese soldiers, which gleamed with a bluish-gray light in the morning mist.

From then on, Jia Dongming became a different person. On the battlefield, he was like the King of Hell, but in daily life, he was as silent as a dry well.

Over the years, matchmakers have been lining up at his door, but he always shakes his head, saying he's used to living alone.

"That happened so many years ago."

Jia Dongming suddenly spoke, his voice dry and hoarse like sandpaper, "It's long gone."

Wang Dapao did not expose this clumsy lie.

He stared at the deep wrinkles around his old comrade's eyes, as if they were carved by a knife, and his mind was filled with the memory—some scars looked like they had scabbed over, but underneath they were still festering.

We need to find some fresh water to stir up this stagnant pool.

Thinking this, he said, "Come over for dinner on Sunday. Your sister-in-law has been talking about it for a while now, saying she wants to cook you a nice stew."

Jia Dongming's lips moved, and a rare look of embarrassment flashed across his face: "This Sunday... I'm afraid it won't work."

My mother arranged a meeting through someone.

"Looking for a girl?"

Wang Dapao's eyes lit up, but he quickly suppressed his laughter. "Great news! Then I won't make any more arrangements. I was originally thinking of asking your sister-in-law to keep an eye out..."

He stood up, grabbed the crumpled hat from the table, and said, "I have to go report the interrogation to Director Li. I'm leaving now."

"Notify me immediately if you hear anything."

Jia Dongming stood up and saw him to the door.

"rest assured."

Wang Dapao turned around and waved to him in the morning light.

The figure outside the threshold was stretched long and swayed, as if trying to blend into the charred earthen wall of Xiaowangzhuang from that year.

Jia Dongming stood in the shadows inside the door, his hand reaching into his pocket, slowly tightening his grip on the tobacco pouch that had long since become hard.

When Jia Dongming rode his bicycle into Tongluoguxiang, the sun was already setting.

He pushed the car through the threshold of the courtyard house and bumped into Yan Bugui tending to the few half-wilted potted plants at the door.

Yan Bugui looked up, his face crinkling with wrinkles: "Oh dear, Section Chief Jia! It's past noon, what's wrong...?"

"I was out all morning and missed lunch at the cafeteria."

As Jia Dongming pushed his cart inside, he casually replied, "I'll just grab something to eat at home."

Yan Bugui slapped his thigh: "What a coincidence! Qin Huairu just went in with her lunchbox. If you rush back now, it'll still be warm."

Jia Dongming smiled and stepped into the courtyard.

Inside the main room, Jia Zhangshi was holding a white steamed bun, with crumbs stuck to the corner of her mouth.

She glanced sideways at Qin Huairu sitting opposite her, her voice tinged with smugness: "See? As soon as Dongming came back, the roof tiles in our house became bright."

Remember this well: who brought you this good fortune?

Qin Huairu kept her head down and ate her rice without saying a word.

These days, the burden on her shoulders has indeed lightened—Jia Dongming not only brings money home, but also gave her an easy job.

More importantly, she could finally warm up the few coins in her pocket.

Thinking of this, she swallowed the food in her mouth and replied softly, "Mom, I know."

Before he finished speaking, the sound of cart wheels rolling over stone slabs came from the courtyard.

The boy sitting next to me, Bang Geng, with his sharp ears, slammed down his chopsticks and exclaimed, "It's Uncle!"

Madam Jia was taken aback, then muttered, "Why is he back at this hour?"

Qin Huairu had already stood up.

The curtain was lifted, and Jia Dongming walked in, carrying an old briefcase, his forehead still damp with sweat.

She hurried over to him: "Uncle, you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

"not yet."

Jia Dongming glanced at the dishes on the table. "Is there anything left?"

"Yes! Grandma steamed two baskets of them today!"

Bang Geng jumped up and dashed into the kitchen.

Jia Dongming sat down on the bench and casually placed his briefcase on his lap.

As if remembering something, he unzipped the bag and took out a brown paper bag.

Both Jia Zhangshi and Qin Huairu looked over.

"I took care of something at the factory this morning."

Jia Dongming pulled out Dongxi from his bag. "I was supposed to receive a 500 yuan bonus, but I didn't take it."

Five hundred yuan?!

Jia Zhangshi's throat tightened, and she almost dropped the steamed bun in her hand. "You silly boy! Is money too hot to handle?"

Jia Dongming frowned: "Mom, can you let me finish what I have to say?"

Madam Jia choked for a moment, then awkwardly shut her mouth, her eyes fixed on the stack of papers in her son's hand.

Jia Dongming unfolded a yellowed sheet of paper and pushed it to the center of the table. "I used that money to buy a Dongxi—the deed to the house we're living in now."

He paused for a moment, then said, "I don't feel safe living in government-owned housing."

With this, no one can chase us away anymore.

Jia Zhangshi was illiterate, yet she possessed a "house deed".

She heard those two words very clearly.

Her hands trembled as she touched the paper, her fingernails scraping against the surface with a soft, scratching sound. "Dongming... this... this really is the deed to our house?"

"Absolutely true."

Jia Dongming nodded, then turned his gaze to Qin Huairu, "The name on the list is Huairu."

She is Dongxu's wife, so it's her turn.

With this, Mom can transfer her household registration to the city and start receiving ration coupons and subsidized grain.

Qin Huairu was stunned.

She stared at the thin piece of paper, then looked up at Jia Dongming. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

After a long while, she heard her voice grow dry: "Uncle...you mean...this house...belongs to me?"

"It's yours."

Jia Dongming spoke calmly, as if stating something perfectly ordinary: "Dongxu is gone, so his Dongxi should naturally be left to you."

Although Jia Dongming said that she should inherit Jia Dongxu's estate, Qin Huairu knew perfectly well that the house they were currently living in was still owned by the steel mill.

Jia Dongming gave up the factory's reward and bought the house out of his own pocket, giving it to her.

This gesture warmed Qin Huairu's heart, and a silent emotion quietly welled up inside her.

Madam Jia held the house deed tightly, her hand trembling slightly.

She slowly placed it on the table, then looked up at her youngest son: "Dongming, tell me honestly, how much did this yard, plus Dongxu's original house, cost in total?"

What should have been a tender moment was suddenly interrupted by his mother's question about money. Jia Dongming frowned slightly, his voice tinged with weariness: "Mom, is money really that important to you?"