Courtyard House: I only wiped out 30,000 Japanese pirates

After a while, Sato Shin lit a cigarette and lit one for Madoka as well.

He held it in his mouth and said as he walked, "The matter of the defeated soldiers isn't urgent. We still need to keep an eye on the steel mill; the workers are to report for duty today. Lord Sasaki said the factory needs to be repaired as soon as possible; the military's orders are very urgent."

"The workers are easy to handle." Yuan Mu touched the holster at his waist. "Kill the ones who don't obey. Kill one, and the rest will all obey."

The two went out the door and headed towards the military base.

Ten Japanese soldiers quickly followed behind them, as they had only recently occupied Beijing and there were still some scattered resistance forces.

On the other side, Xu Wude came out of He Dajun's house, stood in the courtyard, and began calling for people.

"Listen up, everyone! The Imperial Army says that every family of every worker who worked at the Lou's Steel Rolling Mill must send at least one person to report to the factory today! Help clean up the garbage and repair the factory buildings! Anyone who doesn't go will be treated as a traitor!"

His voice echoed in the courtyard. Doors of every household were open; some people peeked out, while others huddled inside cursing.

In the context of the fall of Beijing, the phrase "treat for treason" was tantamount to execution on the spot.

After Xu Wude shouted, he felt a chill run down his spine.

He was Lou Bancheng's driver, usually picking people up and dropping them off, and had never done anything like standing in the yard relaying messages for the Japanese.

But now that the Japanese have specifically assigned him to take charge, he dares not refuse.

Thinking of this, Xu Wude couldn't help but wonder how Lou Bancheng was doing now.

I thought to myself, this richest man in Beijing must be under even more pressure.

The courtyard was quiet for a few seconds, and then people from each household began to walk out.

Yi Zhonghai came out of the east wing, dressed in clean work clothes and carrying a tool bag.

Liu Haizhong came out of the west wing, wearing a jacket with fewer patches. He stood up straighter than usual, as if he was going to the factory not to work for the Japanese, but to be a foreman.

Yan Bugui no longer works at the steel rolling mill; he's now a teacher.

Standing at the entrance of the south room, looking at the people in the courtyard, the expression on his face was strange, a mixture of relief and fear.

The deaf old woman sat on the steps in the backyard, muttering something to herself.

Those whose names were called were all very nervous.

Although they can work for the Japanese, it means they still have some value.

Valuable people won't be killed arbitrarily, at least not until the job is done.

But what if you anger the Japanese soldiers while working? If they're not happy, they might hit you with their rifle butts, stab you with their bayonets, or hang you out to dry in the sun at the factory gate for three days.

You can't reason with them.

Trying to reason with the Japanese is no different than charging your head into a bayonet.

That's why it's said that in chaotic times, human life is as cheap as paper.

Soon, thirteen people emerged from the courtyard. Yi Zhonghai, Liu Haizhong, He Dajun, and several workers from the steel rolling mill, including Lao Zhang, Lao Li, Da Zhou, and Xiao Zheng, all came out.

Some are masters, some are apprentices, some have worked for more than ten years, and some have been in the factory for less than a year.

Now it's all the same, we're all just laborers working for the Japanese.

Thirteen people stood in the courtyard, each holding their own tool bag, and no one spoke.

He Dajun went along because the Japanese had another order: each family had to provide at least one laborer.

Xu Wude stood at the front and glanced back at the thirteen people.

He wanted to say something, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

What should we say? Should we say thank you for your hard work? Or should we tell you to be careful?

Working for the Japanese, safety wasn't something you could control.

He turned around and strode out of the courtyard gate.

Thirteen people followed behind him, forming a loose line, walking along the alley toward the steel rolling mill.

The alley was quiet, and all the doors and windows on the street were closed.

The gunfire from last night has stopped, but traces remain on the streets.

There were several bullet holes in the wall, and a pool of dried blood in the corner, whose blood it was.

A wrecked car was parked on the side of the road.

Meanwhile, the faint sounds of gunfire could be heard in the distance. The defenders of Beijing were continuing their fight.

It's just sporadic.

He Dajun walked in the middle of the group, carrying a tool bag in his hand, with no expression on his face.

The group walked out of the alley and onto the main street. All the shops were still closed. The doors of several shops were smashed, the shelves inside were overturned, and everything had been looted.

Two Japanese soldiers were standing guard at the street corner, holding guns. When they saw the group of people coming over, one of them came over and questioned them.

Xu Wude quickly stepped forward to explain, bowing and scraping for a long time before the Japanese soldier finally waved his hand and let them pass.

The group continued moving forward.

The steel rolling mill was at the end of the street, about five miles from the courtyard house.

When they reached the entrance of the steel rolling mill, everyone paused for a moment.

The factory gate is still there, but a large section of the wall next to it has collapsed. Looking through the gap, you can see the roof of the factory building, which is half collapsed, and the chimney of the boiler room, which was blown down.

There was a burnt smell in the air, mixed with gunpowder smoke and the metallic stench of rust.

Two Japanese trucks were parked at the entrance, and several Japanese soldiers were eating rice balls.

He Dajun stood at the factory gate, looking at the ruins before him.

He caused this explosion last night, and now he has to come and fix it himself.

After walking for a while, He Dajun and his group discovered that other workers were already working in the steel rolling mill. There were more than one hundred people in total.

Clearly, the steel rolling mill was not just run by workers from the courtyard house.

The entire steel rolling mill has more than 1,200 employees; it's a truly large factory.

No wonder the Japanese took it so seriously.

Next came the division of labor. Xu Wude and the others were assigned to the western corner, the place where Zheng Guodong had sacrificed his life the day before.

Upon realizing this, He Dajun became somewhat agitated.

After that, other workers came one after another, bringing the total number of workers to more than 170.

Some were assigned to repair machines, some were assigned to clear the rubble, and a few climbed onto the roof of the half-collapsed factory building to temporarily patch the leaks with wood and sheet metal.

The factory area was filled with the sounds of hammering, shoveling stones, and shouts from the Japanese overseers.

The newly arrived workers were shocked to see the steel rolling mill destroyed like this.

The boiler room was mostly destroyed, and the steel beams of the workshop roof were twisted and deformed by the blast, resembling a twisted rope. The machines were covered with a thick layer of ash and broken bricks, and several rolling mills were overturned, their bases warped.

Old Zhang, a worker, stood in front of the ruins, muttering, "When will this ever be repaired?" No one answered him.

At this moment, a middle-aged man in his thirties, accompanied by several Japanese officers, strode in.

The middle-aged man was wearing a silk short-sleeved shirt, the fabric of which was clearly of high quality, but his face was filled with panic and anger.

He trudged through the rubble, his eyes wide and lips trembling, shouting, "What happened! What happened! Who blew up my steel mill!"

This person is none other than Lou Bancheng, the current richest man in Beijing.

After a few shouts, his voice was almost cracking; he had been shouting too loudly before.

The surrounding workers all pretended to keep their heads down and work, and no one dared to speak.

Sasaki stood to the side, looking at Lou Bancheng with a smile that made people very uncomfortable.

He waited until Lou Bancheng had finished shouting before asking, "Boss Lou, doesn't your factory usually have security?"

Lou Bancheng said yes, he had hired several people to watch over the factory and take turns on duty, but he didn't know why this was happening.

Sasaki smiled again, the smile on his face, but his eyes remained perfectly still. "Then, Boss Lou, where are your security personnel?"

Lou Bancheng paused for a moment, then gave a few names: Old Zhao, Old Liu, and two other temporary workers whose names he couldn't quite remember. He then said they were all missing, and he hadn't been able to find them since last night.

Sasaki, still sporting that same smile, asked in a nonchalant tone, "Why have all these security personnel disappeared?"

Lou Bancheng said he didn't know either.

His voice was much lower than before, and sweat was streaming down his forehead and temples.

Sasaki stopped asking.

He turned around, looked at the workers who were working, his gaze swept back and forth across the ruins, and then called over a Japanese soldier.

Sasaki whispered something in Japanese, his voice so low that no one around him could hear him.

The Japanese soldier nodded, turned around, took the Type 38 rifle off his back, held it in his hand, and began to aim.

The whole movement was unhurried, like practicing shooting at a shooting range.

Then a shot rang out.

With a "bang".

The bullet struck a worker who was bending over to clean up trash directly in front of him.