The Courtyard House: The Little Red Devil Returning from the Peninsula

Seven o'clock in the morning.

The old brigade commander rode his skinny donkey into Willow Gully.

The skinny donkey was the only animal in the brigade headquarters. It was gray-haired and so thin that you could count each of its ribs. When it walked, its hooves dragged on the ground as if it were shuffling. A burlap sack was draped over its back, containing bedding and dry rations. The old brigade commander sat on the donkey's back, his body bobbing up and down with the donkey's gait, the wrinkles on his face shaking with each movement.

The brigade chief of staff and his adjutant walked behind, both on foot, their trousers caked with mud. Before even entering the village, the three of them could smell the burning odor. The acrid smell of wood, ammunition, and cloth burning together was pungent and made their throats ache.

The chief of staff frowned. The adjutant covered his nose with his hand, then put it down again.

The old brigade commander didn't cover himself. He sat on the donkey's back, his expression unchanged, as if he were smelling the aroma of food.

Beside the mass grave at the village entrance, the bodies of several sentries from the Independent Regiment lay unburied. Some lay face up, others face down, with blackened ligature marks on their necks, made by steel wire. Some still bore the expression of their dying moments, mouths agape, eyes wide open, half a word stuck in their throats.

The old brigade commander dismounted from the donkey.

He walked over to a corpse and squatted down. The corpse was a young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old, his face blue from the cold, his lips purple, and his eyes half-open. The old brigade commander reached out and untied the wire from the young man's neck. The wire was very tight, embedded in the flesh, and when he untied it, a piece of skin came off with it. The old brigade commander held the wire in his hand, squeezed it, and then loosened it.

The adjutant squatted down beside him, opened a small notebook, and wrote in it with a pencil.

Nineteen years old. From Pingyao, Shanxi.

He then looked at the next body.

"Seventeen years old. From Xingtai, Hebei."

Next one.

Fourteen years old.

The adjutant paused, his pencil clicking. Fourteen years old, the same age as Zhao Weiguo.

The old brigade commander stood up, stared at the corpses for a long time. He didn't curse, didn't sigh, didn't say anything. He put the wire in his pocket, turned and walked back into the village.

Inside the regimental headquarters cave dwelling, Kong Jie lay on the kang (a heated brick bed).

His left shoulder was wrapped in a new, white bandage, without any bloodstains; the bullet had been removed. His right leg also had a new bandage, and the bullet had been removed. The incision in his abdomen had been re-stitched, the stitches dense and numerous, like sewing a shoe sole. The medic's skill was excellent; the stitches were neat and there was no seepage.

The sulfanilamide powder worked. The wound wasn't infected, and although my complexion was pale, it was much better than last night.

Seeing the old brigade commander enter, Kong Jie shifted his body, trying to sit up. He strained his left shoulder, hissed in pain, and fell back down.

The old brigade commander held him down.

"Don't move."

Kong Jie lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at the old brigade commander. The old brigade commander's face was very thin under the lamplight, his cheekbones protruding, his eye sockets deep-set, and his eyes dark-rimmed, as if he hadn't slept for several nights. But his eyes were bright, bright like two nails, fixed on Kong Jie's face.

"How many brothers died?" the old brigade commander asked.

Kong Jie opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again. His Adam's apple bobbed twice, and a sound was squeezed out from his throat.

"Over two hundred dead. Over forty seriously wounded. Of the three battalion commanders, two were killed in action, and one was seriously wounded. Of the seven company commanders, most were lost."

The old brigade commander didn't say anything.

The cave was quiet. In the distance, someone was groaning softly, as if the sound were coming from underground.

"Did you receive Zhao Weiguo's warning?" the old brigade commander asked.

Kong Jie responded.

"received."

Why didn't you listen?

Kong Jie's mouth opened again. He wanted to say something, but couldn't. His eyes were fixed on the cave ceiling, which was arched, with a crack at the highest point of the arch, filled with dry grass.

Kong Jie opened his mouth. His voice was very soft: "I thought the small group of Japanese wouldn't dare to approach Willow Gully. I thought a regimental-level outpost wasn't a target for special agents. I thought they wouldn't dare."

"What do you think?" the old brigade commander interrupted him.

Kong Jie shut his mouth.

The old brigade commander stood up, walked to the entrance of the cave dwelling, and lifted the tarpaulin to look outside. It was already broad daylight; sunlight shone on the hillside, on the half-collapsed cave dwelling, and on the ruins of the ammunition depot. Smoke was still rising from the ruins; the white smoke drifted into the air and was dispersed by the wind.

He put down the oilcloth and turned around.

"Kong Jie, your temperament is no longer suitable for leading the Independent Regiment."

Kong Jie's body stiffened for a moment.

"The Independent Regiment has just been severely damaged. What the brothers need isn't a commander who dares to fight tough battles, but a commander who can rebuild the vigilance and system." The old brigade commander's voice was calm, as if he were talking about something very ordinary. "You're too stubborn; you can't listen to other people's judgments. You didn't listen to Zhao Weiguo's warning, and you didn't investigate Lao Peng's interrogation thoroughly. This time it cost more than two hundred lives, but what about next time?"

Kong Jie didn't speak. His hands gripped the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), his knuckles turning white.

"I'm transferring you to the New Third Regiment as deputy regimental commander," the old brigade commander said. "You'll be working alongside Ding Wei. First, you'll recover from your injuries, and then we can temper your temper."

Kong Jie's mouth agape. Demotion from regimental commander to deputy regimental commander was a rank reduction. His battalion commander, company commander, and over two hundred brothers were all gone. Now, even the Independent Regiment was lost.

His eyes were fixed on the cave ceiling, on the crack. The dry grass inside the crack swayed in the wind.

"I obey orders."

The old brigade commander nodded. He walked to the entrance of the cave dwelling, lifted the tarpaulin, and shouted outside.

"Zhao Weiguo."

Zhao Weiguo walked in.

He was still wearing the clothes from last night; his cotton-padded jacket was covered in mud and blood, some of it his own, some of others'. His trouser legs were smeared with mud, and his boots were covered in grass clippings and pine needles. There was a gray streak on his face, rubbed off from a stone, running from his forehead to his chin.

He stood in the middle of the cave dwelling, looking at the old brigade commander.

The old brigade commander looked at him.

Where is Yamamoto?

"He escaped," Zhao Weiguo said. "He escaped from the south slope. Zhi Zi shot him twice, killing two of his henchmen, but he tore his coat to feign a shot and fled into the woods. He was wounded, but not seriously."

"Where is Masuko?"

"Alive. Severely wounded, leg broken, haven't been interrogated yet. A map of infiltration was found on him, marking the locations of the four corners of the ironclad fortifications, which the brigade headquarters circled in red."

The old brigade commander narrowed his eyes.

"What about the remnants of the Independent Regiment?"

"Temporarily under my command. Of the more than three hundred men who could move, the seriously wounded were sent away," Zhao Weiguo said. "Last night, during the pursuit of Wild Chicken Ridge, most of the special agents on the front were killed, and Yizi was captured. Liu Dashan's unit suffered eleven dead and seven seriously wounded."

The old brigade commander looked at him for a few seconds.

"good."

He walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and looked at Kong Jie. Kong Jie lay on the kang, staring at the ceiling of the cave dwelling, and didn't say anything.

"Zhao Weiguo will take over the Independent Regiment," the old brigade commander said. "He will officially take over in three days."

Zhao Weiguo did not refuse. He looked at the old brigade commander and asked a question.

"Do the five conditions I mentioned before for establishing the group still stand?"

The old brigade commander looked at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched, it was hard to tell whether it was a smile or something else.

"Independent mobility authorization approved. Full reinforcement of the gifted youth class approved. Machine tools assigned to the independent regiment approved. Captain Zhao Tieshan's rank approved by division headquarters. Independent logistics request approved."

All five measures were approved.

Zhao Weiguo remained silent.

"The framework of the new Independent Regiment," the old brigade commander continued. "The original Independent Regiment had a remnant of over 300 men, the assault battalion had 350, the brigade headquarters had added 500 new recruits, and the youth cadets were incorporated into the battalion headquarters. Adding the more than 300 newly recruited young men in the supplementary company, the total strength after the reorganization is approximately 1,600."

Sixteen hundred men. That's twice the number of the original independent regiment.

"Three months," the old brigade commander said. "We need to rebuild the Independent Regiment within three months. In the next battle, we must let both sides know that the Independent Regiment has not collapsed."

Zhao Weiguo hummed in agreement.

The old brigade commander walked to the entrance of the cave dwelling, lifted the oilcloth, and glanced back at Kong Jie. Kong Jie lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at Zhao Weiguo, his lips moving slightly.

"Defend the country," Kong Jie said.

Zhao Weiguo walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed).

Kong Jie reached his hand out from the kang (a heated brick bed) and grasped Zhao Weiguo's hand. His hand was still cold, but a little warmer than the night before. His fingers clasped Zhao Weiguo's palm, not tightly, but not loosely either.

"These brothers. Don't let them suffer the same loss again."

Zhao Weiguo looked at him.

"Commander Kong, don't worry, I'll take care of the Independent Regiment's reputation."

Kong Jie loosened his grip. His eyes closed, and his Adam's apple bobbed—it was hard to tell whether it was from laughter or pain.

Zhao Weiguo stood up and walked out of the cave dwelling.

The sunlight outside was so bright it was blinding. Smoke from the ammunition depot was still drifting in the air, dispersed by the wind. The distant mountain ridges gleamed with a bluish-gray light in the sunlight, dazzlingly bright.

He stood at the entrance of the cave dwelling, looking at Willow Gully.

Half of the cave dwelling had collapsed, spent shell casings were scattered all over the ground, the carcasses of mules and horses lay by the roadside, and an ammunition depot was still smoking. This was the independent regiment he had taken over.

Sixteen hundred people. Three months.

He gripped the pistol tightly and walked forward.