A courtyard house; Li Yunlong, a subordinate of the deputy director of Harbin Military Engineering I

In early April,

Zhang Renfeng arrived at the General Front Committee of the Crossing the Yangtze River Campaign in Anhui Province, the headquarters of the East China Bureau. The original General Front Committee was in Xuzhou, and it had just been moved to Yaogang Village, Feidong County at the beginning of the month.

As a former subordinate, I was ordered to work in Beiping. Upon completion of my duties, I naturally had to return immediately to report to the old political commissar.

Moreover, Zhang Renfeng was well aware that finding his elder brother would have been impossible without the old political commissar's mediation.

After all, he was based in Central China, so going to Beiping (Beijing) was a very low-probability event.

He was carrying a roast duck from Bianyifang, which he had brought from Beiping. Why not Quanjude? Because his elder brother said that Bianyifang had the best value for money.

As soon as the car came to a stop, the guard standing at the gate snapped to attention and saluted, his back ramrod straight: "Commander Zhang!"

Zhang Renfeng jumped out of the car and sized up the guard.

This kid's name is Zhao Tiezhu. He used to be in the guard battalion of his column. He was quick-witted and agile. Later, because of his outstanding performance, he was recommended to the General Front Committee.

Zhang Renfeng remembers that Zhao Tiezhu was only nineteen years old at that time. Now, two years later, he has become much tanned and looks more energetic.

Zhang Renfeng walked forward carrying a canvas bag. He glanced at the entrance of the command center and asked, "Is everyone here?"

Zhao Tiezhu nodded with a smile and lowered his voice, saying, "They're both here. They just got back. The two leaders took a walk in the village after the rain, saying they wanted to stretch their muscles. They just came inside to change their clothes."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Renfeng's face immediately darkened, and he pointed his finger at Zhao Tiezhu's nose and began to curse:

"Are you bodyguards just eating shit? It rains a lot in the south, the ground is never dry, don't you know to bring an umbrella?"

"A major battle is imminent, and the commander's health is extremely precious. If he gets caught in the rain and catches a cold or fever, can you take responsibility?"

Zhao Tiezhu was stunned by the scolding, his face full of grievance. He murmured a couple of times, wanting to defend himself but not daring to, so he could only stand there with his head down.

He felt wronged. It wasn't that he didn't want to bring an umbrella; it was the 501 chief who waved his hand and said he didn't need one, saying something like "getting a little rained on is comfortable." How could a bodyguard like him argue with the chief?

Just as Zhang Renfeng was about to continue cursing, a person came out of the house, wiping the water droplets from his head.

He burst out in Sichuan dialect: "You idiot! Saying goodbye to a bodyguard all the time! Are you saying goodbye to him or me? You should be thinking about me! What kind of health does your old political commissar have? He dares to take a cold shower in the dead of winter. What's wrong with getting caught in the rain? He won't die!"

Zhang Renfeng looked up and saw the person approaching, immediately stood up straight, and snapped to attention in a salute: "President Chen!"

501 waved his hand and walked over, pointing at Zhang Renfeng with his finger. His smile had that familiar fiery edge: "You little Red devil, no wonder everyone calls you Zhang Blast. Blast, blast, you're ready to explode at any moment! I bet you've been stuck in Beiping for a few days, your temper has really gotten a bit irritable."

Zhang Renfeng chuckled, lowered his hand, and softened his tone: "I was just worried about your health. With a major battle imminent, if either of you gets a headache or fever, there are two field armies, hundreds of thousands of men, to worry about."

"I'm in great health!" 501 patted his chest, then turned and shouted into the house, "Old Deng, come out and take a look! That little devil from your house has come back, and he brought some things. I wonder what good stuff he has this time."

Footsteps sounded from inside the room, and then the old political commissar came out wearing a worn gray cloth jacket.

"Oh, is it Xiaofeng who's back?"

"Don't talk about people during the day, and don't talk about ghosts at night. The moment you mention people, they gather around. Has everything been settled in Beiping?"

Zhang Renfeng quickly stepped forward, first stuffing the canvas bag into the old political commissar's hand, then taking another cloth bag from the car, which contained dozens of packs of cigarettes.

"All done, all done. I heard that the cigarettes you've been smoking lately have been provided by the headquarters. Those aren't authentic. I brought you some from Beiping. Please try them."

The old political commissar took the bag, glanced at it, and nodded in satisfaction.

501 craned his neck to take a look, and immediately became unhappy:

"Oh, you're giving cigarettes to your political commissar, but what about mine? Does that mean I won't get any? Xiao Feng, you should be fair in your dealings with people."

The old political commissar laughed heartily, stuffed his pipe into his coat, and waved to 501:

"Can't we split it 50/50? What are you panicking about? Renfeng, what's in this canvas bag you're talking about?"

"Roast duck from Bianyifang." Zhang Renfeng patted the canvas bag.

"Thankfully the weather is cooler now, otherwise it would have spoiled on the road. After all that bumpy ride, I don't know if it will still be intact."

Upon hearing about roast duck, 501's eyes lit up: "Then what are we waiting for? Let's hurry inside and sit down, eat and set the table. You should give us a proper explanation of the situation over there."

The three entered the command post. Zhang Renfeng unwrapped the roast duck, and as soon as the oil paper was opened, a savory aroma of soy sauce wafted out.

Without any hesitation, 501 tore off a duck leg and started gnawing on it, nodding as he chewed: "Yes, yes, it's definitely much tastier than what our mess team makes."

Zhang Renfeng sat down and recounted the key points of the situation in Beiping, from his meeting with his elder brother Zhang Rende to arranging the meeting between the two brothers, to Huang Shaohong's reaction, and finally to the back-and-forth exchanges at the negotiating table, talking for more than an hour.

The old political commissar listened and nodded, while 501 ate with his mouth full of grease, occasionally interjecting to ask about the details.

After the report was finished, it was already late at night.

The flame of the kerosene lamp flickered twice, casting a swaying shadow on the map on the wall.

501 tossed the last duck bone onto the table, clapped his hands, and stood up: "That's about enough. I'm going to go outside for a walk to digest."

The old political commissar glanced at the dark night outside the window, but didn't get up to see him off. He simply nodded to Zhang Renfeng's retreating figure, then turned to Zhang Renfeng:

"Xiao Feng, don't rush off, come out for a stroll with me."

Zhang Renfeng stood up: "Okay."

The two walked out of the command post one after the other. The night wind, carrying the dampness of late spring in the south, rushed towards them, and the grass on the ridges of the fields creaked underfoot.

After walking for a while, the old political commissar reached into his pocket and clicked his tongue, "Oh dear, I forgot my cigarettes."

Zhang Renfeng was quick; he pulled out a pack of unopened cigarettes from his pocket, tore it open, handed one over, and then took out a match to mark the name.

The old political commissar leaned over, lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, exhaled a cloud of white smoke, and looked Zhang Renfeng up and down by the moonlight. His gaze moved from Zhang's shoulder to his face, then swept over the two old scars on his face, and finally settled on his eyes.

"Xiao Feng, if I remember correctly, you were born in 1919, on October 1st, right?"

Zhang Renfeng nodded: "Yes."

"Twenty years." The old political commissar took a drag of his cigarette, his gaze drifting to the dark furrows in the distance. "Back in Baise, you were only ten years old, a short little thing, not even up to my shoulder. Look at you now, over 1.8 meters tall, much taller than me."

Zhang Renfeng laughed: "Tall people waste food. I eat more than you but do less than you. I'm at a disadvantage."

The old political commissar chuckled twice at his words, then remained silent for a while before slowly speaking:

"My superiors have asked me about your future work arrangements. Don't say anything yet, let me finish."

He raised his hand and waved it to silence Zhang Renfeng, then continued, "Once the whole country is liberated, you certainly can't stay in the army forever. The organization's intention is for you to go back to Beiping to work on national defense. This is a very important matter, and you need to understand it clearly."

Zhang Renfeng's mouth moved, but the old political commissar waved his hand to interrupt him:

"I haven't finished talking to you yet. Aside from work-related matters, there are also your personal issues."

"You've been with me since you were ten, and I've watched you grow up. Although I'm not your biological father, you lost your father a long time ago, so I'm practically your second father. Therefore, you should let me make the arrangements for this matter."

He paused, flicked the cigarette butt onto the edge of the field, and stomped it out.

"I studied in France with Commander Nie back then, and we became very close friends. He had led an uprising in Guangdong earlier, and he had an old comrade-in-arms surnamed Zhang who was the commander-in-chief of the Guangzhou Uprising. Unfortunately, he was later killed in action."

This old comrade-in-arms has a daughter named Zhang Xiyue, who is just nineteen years old this year. She has lived with Commander Nie for many years and is considered his adopted daughter.

I only recently learned that Commander Nie's biological daughter, Xiaoli, has also been found, but Xiaoli is too young to be a suitable match.

Later, I discussed unification with Commander Nie and planned to bring Xiyue and you together as a revolutionary couple.

He spoke calmly, his tone revealing little hint of discussion, as if it were an arrangement already made.

Zhang Renfeng walked with his head down, his steps never stopping, his face expressionless, but his heart was churning.

He had heard of Zhang Xiyue before. He had met her once a few years ago when he went on a business trip to North China. She was only fifteen or sixteen years old at the time, tall and thin, with two braids. She stood next to Commander Nie, serving tea and water like a little adult.

He was handsome, with a heroic air about him, and looked a lot like Zhu Lin, the female lead in a movie he had seen in his previous life.

He thought the girl was pretty, but he didn't think much of it. After all, he was a rough guy who had come from the battlefield, and he was a world apart from girls who grew up in the city.

Seeing that he remained silent for a while, the old political commissar stopped and turned around: "What's wrong? Are you unhappy about this arranged marriage?"

"No way!" Zhang Renfeng quickly shook his head, grinning, "Nonsense! I'm extremely satisfied! Okay, I'll go find Commander Nie as soon as I get back to Beiping!"

The old political commissar nodded emphatically, a satisfied look on his face.

He patted Zhang Renfeng on the shoulder, his hand landing lightly and steadily, carrying the affection of a father towards a younger generation:

"That's right! I asked Aunt Zhuo to prepare some gifts in advance. Let's not delay too long, let's do it next year. Let's get the wedding done next year. The sooner we get married, the sooner we can have a baby."

Zhang Renfeng opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but then felt that anything he said would be superfluous.

As he looked at the not-so-tall figure of the old political commissar in the night, a surge of warmth welled up inside him.

I've been following him since I was ten, and now I'm thirty—it's been a full twenty years. I've grown from a barefoot, dark-skinned boy chasing dogs and chickens on the ridges of the fields into a commander leading 50,000 troops.

In these nineteen years, the old political commissar has shielded him from bullets, taken the blame for him, taught him to read and write, taught him how to be a person and fight, and now even arranged his marriage. He has planned everything for him.

His heart was churning, and there was something stuck in his throat. In the end, he could only manage to utter, "Thank you."

The old political commissar waved his hand, said nothing more, and turned to walk back.

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Zhang Renfeng was summoned to the command post.

The old political commissar and 501 were both inside. There were two bowls of millet porridge and a dish of pickled vegetables on the table.

501, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, leaned back in his chair. When he saw Zhang Renfeng come in, he nodded at him.

The old political commissar put down his bowl of porridge, glanced at 501, and the latter waved his hand: "You're the secretary, so you should announce it."

The old political commissar took a drag of his cigarette, picked up the document on the table, and read aloud: "After the Central Military Commission has studied it, it has been decided that Comrade Zhang Renfeng, the commander of the 15th Army, will be promoted to deputy commander of the 4th Army Corps. He will still concurrently hold the position of commander of the 15th Army."

After he finished reading, he put the document down, looked up at Zhang Renfeng, and said, "This has been approved by the higher-ups."

501 chuckled and added, "This is truly the youngest deputy corps-level officer in the entire army! Renfeng, you'd better keep up the good work and not embarrass your political commissar!"

Zhang Renfeng paused for two seconds, then snapped to attention, his salute crisp and clean.

"Thank you for the organization's trust. I guarantee I will complete the mission."

He spoke with a straight face, but inside he was seething with rage.

He understood better than anyone what the arrangement of being a deputy corps level officer and concurrently serving as an army commander meant.

He became a regimental commander at twenty, a brigade commander at twenty-three, a division commander at twenty-five, an army commander at twenty-eight, and now at thirty, he has reached the deputy corps level.

This speed is among the best in the entire army.

Moreover, once the level is set at this critical juncture, it is very difficult to change it later!

There are only 19 corps in total, and even though they are deputy corps, it means that they are extremely rare.