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

Old Yang stood in the courtyard of the siheyuan (traditional courtyard house) carrying a cloth bundle, and several residents who were queuing up to register all looked at him.

Old Yang's expression was both submissive and aggrieved, with the corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes filled with a resentment of being forced into a corner.

That expression was half feigned, and half a way of keeping it in that state at all times.

He walked up to He Dajun, placed the cloth bundle on the ground, and opened it. Inside were more than twenty written notices and a huge recruitment notice, written on large yellow paper with neat and upright handwriting.

He Dajun took the notice, looked at it, and nodded in satisfaction.

The two exchanged a few simple pleasantries in the courtyard. Old Yang said the notice was all written, and He Dajun nodded and said thank you for your hard work, and asked him to give the notice to Liu Haizhong.

Bai Ling stood next to He Dajun, glanced at Lao Yang, and Lao Yang glanced at her as well. Their eyes met briefly before looking away without saying a word, but they both understood each other perfectly.

They all knew that the resistance was rapidly expanding through He Dajun's connections, and He Dajun's status as a puppet army soldier was the best cover.

He Dajun called Liu Haizhong over, handed him the twenty-odd notices and banners, and asked him to take some glue to post notices in the four nearby courtyards and also to verbally promote the event, telling everyone who wanted to sign up to come to the courtyards early the next morning.

When Liu Haizhong took the stack of notices, his fingers were trembling slightly, and his expression was as excited as if he had received a letter of appointment.

He stood up straighter than ever before, and spoke in a loud and clear voice, promising to complete the task.

Then, clutching the notice, he strode out of the courtyard gate.

He Dajun watched his retreating figure, his lips twitched slightly, then he turned around, leaning on his wooden stick, and went back into the house.

Of course, Bai Ling came back too.

He closed the door behind him.

The two sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), and before they could exchange more than a few words, a series of chaotic footsteps and voices came from the courtyard outside.

He Dajun peeked out through the window and saw seven or eight people standing in the courtyard. They were all somewhat familiar faces, registering around the registration point.

People started arriving to sign up.

He Dajun walked into the courtyard with his wooden cane and stood there.

He didn't speak, but just stood there leaning on his wooden cane, his gaze sweeping over the faces of everyone who signed up.

His eyes were calm, but everyone he stared at unconsciously shrank back.

Yan Bugui sat behind the table, his brush flying across the ledger, writing down names, ages, addresses, and previous occupations.

As a cultured person, the future Third Uncle is very suitable for this role.

At this moment, a man in his early thirties squeezed to the front of the table, bowing and scraping as he introduced himself as Zhao Dayong, living in the innermost courtyard house in Nanluoguxiang, and saying that he used to carry heavy loads at the docks and was very strong.

He Dajun looked him up and down, then suddenly asked, "Why did you join the puppet army?"

Zhao Dayong was stunned for a moment, then immediately straightened his chest and said loudly that it was an honor to serve the Imperial Army.

He Dajun stared into his eyes and asked again, saying that after joining the puppet army, one should dare to shoot when encountering resistance fighters, and asked him if he dared to.

Zhao Dayong patted his chest and said he dared to, "Whoever the Japanese commander tells me to hit, I'll hit."

He Dajun nodded, his tone carrying a hint of admonition, saying that not only should they dare to fire, but they should also dare to take action even if their relatives and friends are resistance fighters.

"To be a puppet soldier, you have to treat the Japanese devils as your masters."

Zhao Dayong nodded vigorously, saying, "That's right, that's right, the Imperial Army is my master."

He Dajun stared at him for several more seconds before tilting his head slightly towards Yi Zhonghai, signaling to register the next person.

He will repeat this same line to every person who signs up today.

Some said "Dare," their voices so loud they could be heard throughout the courtyard. Others said, "The Imperial Army is my own father," their expressions even more fawning than He Dajun's.

When asked, "What if a relative is a resistance fighter?" someone hesitated for a moment, then gritted their teeth and said, "Arrest them anyway."

He Dajun observed and remembered everyone's reactions.

He silently marked those who hesitated, those who looked away, and those who answered too quickly as if reciting lines.

But now is not the time for screening; let's fill up the pool of people first.

Once the team is assembled, he has plenty of ways to sift out the sand.

Or send them to their deaths.

If these people knew that He Dajun was planning to deal with them this way, they would probably cry.

On that day, people came to register in droves, lining up from morning until afternoon.

Yan Bugui's account book was filled with dense writing, and the ink had run out several times.

As it was getting dark, he counted the names in the ledger; there were a total of 123 people.

When he reported the numbers to He Dajun, He Dajun was sitting and thinking about the organization of the puppet army.

The final decision was that, no matter what, we should first form a team and organize it into ten squads, with a squad leader for each squad. Once the squad leaders were determined, the others would be selected gradually.

At this moment, Bai Ling whispered, "But with so many people and no one knowing their backgrounds, it could be very troublesome if there are Japanese spies or people with ulterior motives mixed in among them."

He Dajun tapped his fingers lightly on the wooden stick and said that this is why a political vetting process is necessary to investigate these people's backgrounds, find out what they did in the past, whether they colluded with the Japanese, and whether they have any suspicious origins.

This is interesting.

This is still doing the political vetting process in reverse.

Upon hearing this, Bai Ling couldn't help but laugh.

If the Japanese devils knew this, they'd probably be furious.

Meanwhile, He Dajun already had a preliminary plan in mind: to connect Lao Yang's intelligence network, his connections with Deng Hanyong of the Central Bureau of Investigation and Statistics, and his own understanding of the residents of the courtyard house, and weave a mutually verifying information network.

But he didn't say any of this. Although Bai Ling was already one of his own, there were some things that were safer to know the less one knew.

Meanwhile, Lao Yang was also taking action.

After returning from the courtyard house, Old Yang was busy until late at night. He stayed in the pharmacy until closing time, and only after Xiao Zhou locked the counter and went back to the back room did he quietly take out a hand-cranked telegraph machine from a hidden compartment at the bottom of the medicine cabinet.

This telegraph machine has been hidden for a long time; the last time it was used was before the Japanese invaded the city.

He wrapped the transmitter in a thick quilt, hid in the innermost small compartment of the medicine storehouse, put on his headphones, and began sending messages.

The intelligence contained what He Dajun had repeatedly told him: the Japanese were about to march south to launch the Battle of Shanghai, with their target being Shanghai, and then they would continue westward to attack Jingzhou.

He added his own assessment at the end of the telegram: the intelligence source is reliable, and he suggested that it be verified as soon as possible and relayed to the relevant parties.

The telegram was relayed up the chain of command, level by level.

After hundreds of millions of days, this intelligence was finally placed on the desk of a bigwig in the major party.

The bigwig read the telegram several times, lightly tapping the two characters "Songhu" with his red pencil.

He handed the telegram to a comrade on the other end, who was holding another document. The comrade said that this intelligence corroborated previous reports from other channels, and that there was a very high probability that the Japanese would march south to attack Shanghai.

"I suggest we compile this into official intelligence immediately and forward it to the Guo Party for their reference."

This bigwig finally made a decision.