Rebirth in a Courtyard: I Am a Little Hunter

This explanation, coupled with Wei Chen's daily, rain or shine, training of Da Huang, gradually gained acceptance. Even Wei Changzheng, passing by once, stopped to watch for a moment, a rare hint of approval appearing on his usually serious face. He said to Zhou Jianjun beside him, "This kid has the makings of a leader. He's also got a knack for training dogs, tailoring his approach to each individual and persevering. That dog is a good helper; it wasn't a waste of his time raising it."

Thus, in the eyes of the security personnel, Wei Chen's image became more three-dimensional: a "freak" with outstanding physical abilities on the training field, Master Li's capable assistant in the equipment room, and—an indispensable "dog training expert." He quietly occupied a unique and stable position: outstanding in ability, low-key in personality, and possessing rare skills (dog training).

When there were no field duties or training missions in the afternoon, Wei Chen would return to the equipment depot on time to continue his work as a "warehouse keeper." This place seemed like a completely different world from the bustling or dusty training grounds.

The warehouse was filled with a slightly musty yet reassuring scent of engine oil, leather, gun oil, and old cotton. Sunlight streamed through the tall, dusty windows, casting hazy patches of light on the concrete floor. Countless dust particles danced slowly within the beams of light, and time seemed to flow more slowly here.

Li Zhijun remained as lazy and carefree as ever, spending most of his time nestled in his old rattan chair, hugging his chipped enamel mug, either closing his eyes to rest or slowly wiping his seemingly endless "treasures"—parts salvaged from scrapped firearms, various types of brass whistles, old badges, and even some oddly shaped, unidentifiable small pieces of iron.

But his seemingly half-open, cloudy, and lifeless old eyes could always accurately capture the slightest oversights or commendable details when Wei Chen was counting, classifying, wiping, and registering the equipment.

The work Wei Chen did was very trivial; in fact, it was all done for Li Zhijun. This used to be Li Zhijun's job, but he assigned Wei Chen to be his assistant. Wei Chen's core work wasn't here; he could be pulled away at any time when there was a task.

With no missions these past few days, Wei Chen meticulously checked the quantity, model, and condition of the equipment returned and received by each team, recording it in a thick, yellowed, and curled equipment ledger. He also checked every rubber baton for hidden damage or cracks, every flashlight bulb for its integrity and batteries for leaks, and every cotton coat and fur coat for damage that needed mending.

The items awaiting repair, those in good condition, and those to be scrapped were categorized and arranged orderly on the tall iron racks; the Type 56 semi-automatic rifles in the gun cabinet were regularly oiled and maintained, and key components such as the firing pin and springs were inspected...

His movements were swift and steady, his methods clear and his attention to detail impeccable. The cold, hard steel, the rough, heavy leather, and the sweat-stained cotton and linen seemed to be imbued with a certain spirit in his hands, becoming orderly and each piece returning to its proper place.

"Master Li, the switch on this flashlight has a bad connection, it keeps turning on and off. I took it apart and checked, the spring inside is a bit rusty and the contacts are dirty. Cleaning and oiling it should make it usable." Wei Chen placed an old-fashioned tin flashlight on the workbench in front of Li Zhijun.

Li Zhijun glanced at it, grunted, and said, "The third drawer from the left, at the very back, has a small metal box containing spare springs and sandpaper. Mark it 'Repair' when you're done."

"Okay." Wei Chen found the tools and parts as instructed, and skillfully disassembled, cleaned, polished the contacts, replaced the spring, reassembled, and tested. After the light returned to a stable state, he carefully noted the item in the ledger: "February XX, switch repaired, spring replaced, function restored."

Over time, this old man and the young man, nearly thirty years apart in age and with vastly different experiences, developed a peculiar, unspoken understanding and closeness in this warehouse filled with the atmosphere of the old era and the smell of metal grease.

Li Zhijun admired Wei Chen's composure, steadiness, quick thinking, meticulousness, and humility, which far exceeded his age. Wei Chen, in turn, respected the veteran's profound experience, his seemingly aloof yet insightful wisdom, and his hidden past, which may have been marked by bloodshed.

When the warehouse work is quiet, the stove is burning brightly, and the aroma of tea fills the air, it's time for Li Zhijun to reminisce about the glorious past. After a few sips of hot tea, feeling warm all over, he starts to chatter.

"...In 1947, we attacked Shijiazhuang. The city walls were as thick as mountains! Our company was a commando team, and the demolition team went up to blow up the breach. With a loud bang, bricks and stones flew everywhere... Before the smoke cleared, we had to rush in."

"Back then, I was a hotheaded squad leader. I grabbed my submachine gun and was the first to jump through the gap. I slipped, and guess what happened?" Li Zhijun squinted, looking at the gray sky outside the window, as if he had returned to the battlefield amidst the gunfire.

"What did you step on?" Wei Chen asked at the right moment, gently wiping a brass bullet casing in his hand.

"I stepped on a piece of intestine! I don't know if it was enemy's or ours, it was sticky and slippery..." Li Zhijun smacked his lips, as if recalling the feeling. "I almost tripped! The brothers behind me thought I'd been shot! Hey, lucky me, I was fine! I got up and kept charging! That street fighting was incredibly fierce, bullets were whizzing by, coming from windows, rooftops, and cracks in the walls..."

Sometimes, he would recount the perils of suppressing bandits: "...In the Dabie Mountains, we chased a gang of bandits for three days and three nights. Those bastards were smarter than monkeys in the mountains, always choosing to run along cliffs where there were no paths. At night, we camped out, afraid to light a fire for fear of being exposed. We ate fried noodles that were as hard as rocks, drinking mountain spring water. We had to keep our ears perked up, listening for any movement in the wind, for any sound of broken branches..."

Once, we set a trap, deliberately placing the wounded in a conspicuous ravine, while the main force ambushed them on both sides of the mountain. The bandits took the bait, hoping to gain an advantage… That battle lasted from the latter half of the night until dawn; the dew in the forest soaked our clothes, making it impossible to tell if it was sweat or blood…”

Wei Chen always played the role of the most patient listener, offering a timely question: "And then? Are the wounded alright?" or displaying just the right amount of admiration: "In that kind of terrain, to be able to set up an ambush, Master Li and your team were truly amazing back then!"

"What's so impressive about it?" Li Zhijun would usually wave his hand, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes would smooth out, and a glint of light would flash in his cloudy eyes. "It's all because we were forced into that situation. It's either you die or I die. When it comes to fighting, three parts depend on training, two parts on weapons, and the rest depends entirely on your spirit! A spirit of not being able to lose or retreat! Plus... luck." He rubbed the missing finger on his left hand, his voice lowering.

Most of the time, Li Zhijun talked about the ups and downs of his years in the security department of the steel rolling mill after his demobilization. He talked about which year the blast furnace taphole spewed hot iron, burning and injuring many people, and how the factory suppressed and handled the situation; which party secretary was tough and focused on production, but also offended many people; and which factory director was good at building relationships, providing good benefits, but with lax management.

How did the various factions within the factory form? Which workshop foreman was promoted by which leader? Who is related to whom by marriage? Who is the sworn enemy of whom because of housing allocation years ago? Even which leader likes to listen to reports, which leader likes to wander around the workshops, which department has its own set of "rules," and how to visit each other during holidays...

These seemingly trivial, even somewhat gossipy, pieces of information, after being filtered and commented on by Li Zhijun's voice, heavy with the smell of cigarettes and the vicissitudes of life, often have their surface peeled back to reveal the intricate network of human relationships and the unspoken rules that operate within.

"Our Zhou Dapao (his nickname for Zhou Jianjun in private) is a tough guy. He's a master at fighting and also likes to be straightforward in management. He's very principled. If he thinks something is good for the factory, he'll support it; if he thinks something is wrong, he'll resolutely crack down on it. If you work under him and don't make any big mistakes, he'll usually protect you. But he also hates two-faced people and those who betray their own company the most. If you break that rule, even if the Emperor himself pleads for you, it won't help." Li Zhijun sipped his strong tea and said slowly, as if he were commenting on an old story that had nothing to do with him.

"Jin Aiguo (Jin the Glasses) is meticulous, has a strong pen, keeps clear accounts, and is very frugal. He's a master at managing supplies, but he's also stingy. When working under him, you have to be clean and have all the receipts; don't even think about finding loopholes. However, he's a sentimental person. If you treat him well, he'll sometimes repay you tenfold, provided you've caught his eye."

"Wei Heizi..." Li Zhijun lowered his voice and glanced towards the door. "He's really ruthless when it comes to training troops, and his standards are high. But he values ​​ability and hard work. You can't hide your true capabilities from him. He'll show you what you're made of. He hates those who talk big, and he despises those who cheat and stab you in the back even more. To him, solid results are more important than anything else."

Wei Chen listened quietly, occasionally interjecting with a question at a crucial point or nodding to show understanding. He had extremely high emotional intelligence, knowing when to listen attentively, when to express empathy, or when to ask well-timed questions to guide Li Zhijun to reveal more details.

He never showed the slightest impatience, nor did he question Li Zhijun's narratives, which might be tinged with personal emotion or be based on distant, hazy memories.

This heartfelt respect, attentive listening, and timely feedback allowed Li Zhijun, a veteran who had spent most of his life in solitude and was used to being forgotten in this rusty corner, to feel the long-lost value of being "seen," "understood," and even "needed."

Those long-forgotten memories, accumulated experience, and insightful understanding of human nature seemed to have found a safe and reliable outlet.