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

three days later.

The brigade headquarters courtyard was packed with people.

The courtyard was small; it was the front yard of a landlord's house, surrounded by earthen walls and paved with blue bricks.

Grass grew in the cracks between the blue bricks, and it was all trampled flat.

A platform was set up against the wall, made of door panels and benches, and a red cloth was laid on top.

The red cloth had faded, and the edges were frayed.

There were three rows of people standing below the stage.

The first row consists of eighteen former officers of the Independent Regiment.

Some had bandages wrapped around their arms, some had scars on their faces, and some had torn trouser legs tied with strips of cloth.

Their faces were expressionless, like they were carved from stone.

The blood in Liushugou hadn't dried yet, and they had something pressing on their eyes.

The second row consists of the core members of the assault battalion.

Liu Dashan stood at the very front, a straw in his mouth, which he had chewed to pieces.

Old Hu stood next to him, holding a brass ladle from the cookhouse, polished to a shine.

Zhi Zi stood next to Lao Hu, a Mosin-Nagant rifle slung over her shoulder, with two marks etched on the butt.

Those were the marks left from the two shots she fired at Yamamoto.

Chen An stood next to Zhi Zi, holding a bamboo medicine box in his hands, with a cross painted in red on the lid.

The third row consists of students from the gifted youth program and brigade staff officers.

Shuanzi stood at the very front of the gifted youth class. His face was noticeably thinner than it had been three days ago, and his cheekbones were protruding.

A layer of bluish stubble had grown on his chin.

He had his hands in his pockets, with a bullet casing tucked inside; he'd picked it up in Liushugou.

Zhao Tieshan stood among the staff officers. The cast on his left leg had been removed and replaced with a splint, and he still walked with a limp.

The cotton thread on the temple of the gold-rimmed glasses was replaced with a new one, and it was wrapped more tightly.

The old brigade commander stood on the stage, with the brigade chief of staff and adjutant beside him.

He wore a new cotton-padded coat today, gray in color, with a white cloth trim around the collar, which was shiny from washing.

His face looked older than usual in the sunlight, with wrinkles that looked like they were carved with a knife.

He was holding a red velvet bag in his hands. The velvet was old, the color was dark, and the edges were frayed.

"Today," the old brigade commander announced in his hoarse voice, immediately silencing the courtyard, "the 386th Brigade's Independent Regiment is officially handing over."

He opened the red velvet bag.

Inside is a bronze seal.

The copper seal was a size larger than the battalion commander's seal. It was square, with rounded corners, and the copper color was dark and dull.

The seal is engraved with "Independent Regiment of the 386th Brigade of the Eighth Route Army of the National Revolutionary Army".

The characters were engraved in relief, with deep strokes, filled with vermilion ink. The ink dried, revealing several cracks.

The old brigade commander raised the bronze seal so that everyone below the stage could see it.

"Zhao Weiguo."

Zhao Weiguo walked from the audience to the stage.

He also changed into a new cotton-padded coat today, which was a modified version of an old uniform from the assault battalion, but a shade darker in color.

The collar still bore the bloodstains from the last battle, not yet cleaned.

The boots were newly issued by the brigade headquarters; the soles were still hard, and they creaked when you walked in them.

The old brigade commander handed him the bronze seal.

Zhao Weiguo accepted it with both hands.

The copper seal was heavier than he had imagined; it felt like a lump of iron in his hand.

His fingers gripped the edge of the seal, his knuckles turning white.

"From today onwards, you are the commander of the Independent Regiment of the 386th Brigade."

The audience fell silent for a second.

Then the original officers of the eighteen independent regiments shouted in unison.

"Commander!"

The voices were clear and even, but somewhat hoarse, as if they were being torn from the throat.

Their eyes were fixed on Zhao Weiguo; something inside him was moving.

Things that have been bottled up for too long have finally found an outlet.

Zhao Weiguo looked at them without saying a word.

The old brigade commander continued.

"Independent Regiment, Independent Regiment. What does 'independent' mean? It's not just about having a fancy designation."

It means independent thinking, independent action, and independent decision-making.

Zhao Weiguo wanted independent command, and he was given that today.

But independence isn't about recklessness; it's about being able to withstand pressure.

He looked at Zhao Weiguo.

Can you handle it?

Zhao Weiguo pressed the copper seal into his palm.

"We can handle it."

The old brigade commander stepped forward and began announcing the appointments.

"Liu Dashan is appointed as the company commander of the guard company of the Independent Regiment."

Liu Dashan walked out from the second row and stood in front of the stage.

He spat out the straw from his mouth and stood up straight.

His face was covered in wrinkles, each one seemingly filled with the sand and dust of a lifetime.

Half of his left ear was missing, leaving only a fleshy lump.

"Old Hu, appointed as the company commander of the Special Service Company of the Independent Regiment."

Old Hu came out, still holding the spoon in his hand.

He paused for a moment, put the spoon in his pocket, and stood next to Liu Dashan.

"Zhizi, appointed as the sniper platoon leader of the Independent Regiment."

Gardenia walked out, the barrel of the Mosin-Nagant rifle on her shoulder flashing in the sunlight.

Her face was freckled and tanned to a bronze color by the sun, making it look like a medal.

"Chen An is appointed as the captain of the medical team of the Independent Regiment."

Chen An came out, clutching the medicine box even tighter in his hands.

He looked excited, his lips were pursed, and he didn't say anything.

"Shuanzi, join the special operations company and become a squad leader."

Shuanzi walked out from the third row, his hand still clutching the bullet casing as he pulled it out of his pocket.

He put the bullet casing back in his pocket and stood next to Lao Hu.

"The twelve students from the special class for gifted children were all assigned to the regimental headquarters as trainee staff officers and technical staff."

Map reading, drafting, gun repair, and communications were assigned according to individual abilities.

The students from the gifted youth program walked out from the third row and stood in a line.

Their faces still looked childish, but their eyes were bright as they looked at Zhao Weiguo.

"Zhao Tieshan."

Zhao Tieshan limped to the front of the stage.

He was awarded the rank of captain. He was appointed as the technical staff officer and head of the arsenal of the independent regiment, reporting directly to the regimental commander.

Zhao Tieshan pushed up his glasses, and the cotton thread on the temples glittered in the sunlight.

He nodded.

After announcing the appointments, the old brigade commander mentioned something else.

"Zhao Gang will take office within one month. At the regimental level and above, a dual leadership system is mandatory."

You can't carry a regiment just by fighting.

Zhao Weiguo remained silent. Rules are rules.

After the ceremony, the old brigade commander called Zhao Weiguo aside.

The two people stood in the corner of the yard, next to a jujube tree with all its leaves gone, leaving only bare branches.

Sunlight filtered through the branches, illuminating the old brigade commander's face, half of it bright and half dark.

"Yan'an has a very high opinion of Liushugou's counterattack against Yamamoto," the old brigade commander said in a low voice. "You might be sent to Yan'an at the end of the year to meet the Grand Elder."

Zhao Weiguo remained silent for a while.

"Don't be too happy yet," the old brigade commander said. "Seeing the Grand Elder isn't about receiving a reward, it's about settling accounts."

You need to lead the Independent Regiment to a respectable standard before you have the nerve to go there.

Zhao Weiguo hummed in agreement.

"Three months," the old brigade commander said. "After three months, I want to see what kind of battle the Independent Regiment can fight."

That night, Zhao Weiguo returned to his new post at Baimaling.

Baimaling is a larger village, located thirty li east of Liushugou, with more than a dozen rows of cave dwellings, an ancestral hall, and a threshing ground.

The new headquarters of the Independent Regiment was set up in the ancestral hall. The four characters "Loyalty, Filial Piety, Integrity and Righteousness" were still pasted on the door. Although the characters had faded, they were still recognizable.

Zhao Weiguo walked into the regimental headquarters and placed the bronze seal on the table.

The copper seal gleamed dimly under the oil lamp, and the characters on the seal were clearly visible under the light.

He stared at the bronze seal for a long time.

Then he drew his pistol from his waist and placed it next to the bronze seal.

The pistol was a gift from the brigade commander. Old strips of cloth were wrapped around the handle, with the words "The gun is a good gun, but where is the man?" written on them.

He wiped the gun clean.

I used an oiled cloth to wipe it, from the barrel to the grip, and from the grip to the magazine, wiping every inch.

After wiping it, he put the gun back on his waist and picked up the copper seal.

Below the copper seal was a blank regimental affairs paper, issued by the brigade headquarters, with the heading "Independent Regiment of the 386th Brigade of the Eighth Route Army of the National Revolutionary Army" printed on it, and the rest of the paper was blank.

He dipped the copper seal in ink and stamped it on the paper.

The vermilion mark fell, square and neat, the characters clearly legible.

He looked at the imprint, and the system panel in his mind lit up.

"Mission accomplished: Take over the Independent Regiment of the 386th Brigade."

"Reward: Unlocked radio communication module, upgraded tactical simulation (intermediate consolidation)."

Current score: 1020 points.

He didn't look at the panel, turned it off directly, put the bronze seal back on the table, stood up and walked to the entrance of the ancestral hall.

The moon was bright outside, shining on the slopes of Baimaling, on the roofs of the cave dwellings, and on the open ground of the threshing ground.

The distant mountain ridges gleamed with a layer of silvery-white frost under the moonlight, like fire quenched on the back of a knife.

The lives of 1,600 people rest on this seal.

He put the copper seal in his pocket and turned to walk back.

The copper stamp in his pocket was digging into his thigh, causing it to chafe with every step he took.