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

He Dajun squatted against the wall for several seconds to catch his breath, then stood up. His legs went weak, and he quickly reached out to hold onto the wall.

He took a deep breath, slowly walked to the door of the side room, and gently knocked twice on the door.

The door opened almost immediately.

Bai Ling stood behind the door, the pin already pulled on the grenade in her hand, her thumb gripping the safety pin.

Seeing that He Dajun's face was covered in dust and his clothes had several cuts from broken bricks, they quickly pulled He Dajun into the house, bolted the door, and asked him in a low voice why he was so late again and what had happened outside.

He Dajun leaned against the door and let out a long sigh, trying to sound relaxed, but the hoarseness in his voice was unmistakable: "We blew up the new machines at the steel mill, and also blew up an ammunition depot at a Japanese garrison. Good results tonight."

Bai Ling stood there, looking at his face, blackened by gunpowder smoke.

He pulled He Dajun to sit down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), went to the kitchen to fetch a basin of cold water, brought it in, soaked a towel, wrung it out, and handed it to him, saying, "Quickly wipe your face; it's covered in ash."

He Dajun took the towel and wiped himself; the towel was covered in black marks.

Bai Ling then retrieved the wound medicine that He Dajun had exchanged, and carefully applied the powder to the bloodstain on his cheek with cotton.

He Dajun gasped in pain, but did not flinch.

Bai Ling's fingers were very cold, and her movements were very light, a completely different world from when she was throwing grenades outside.

……

When He Dajun woke up, the dim morning light was already filtering through the window paper.

Bai Ling wasn't on the kang (heated brick bed), but the sound of water being scooped came from the kitchen.

He sat up and stretched his shoulders. The exhaustion from blowing up the ammunition depot last night hadn't completely worn off; his arms ached as if someone had hit them with a stick.

The main problem was that the Japanese ammunition depot was blown up at close range, and the shockwave was very painful.

But deep down, he felt a sense of satisfaction. The new machines at the steel mill had exploded, the ammunition depot had been destroyed, and all of Sasaki's hard-earned possessions had been turned into scrap metal and bomb craters overnight.

Bai Ling pushed the door open and came in, carrying a half-basin of cold water. Seeing that he was awake, she placed the basin on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and asked him if he was still in pain.

He Dajun said it didn't hurt.

Bai Ling glanced at him, said nothing, and handed him a wet, wrung-out towel.

He Dajun took the towel and wiped his face; the towel was covered in ash.

I only rinsed my ears briefly when I got home last night, and there's still some fine sand left in my ears from the explosion.

After breakfast, He Dajun rode his three-wheeled motorcycle to the steel rolling mill.

The streets were quieter than usual, with fewer people even walking briskly along the walls.

All three checkpoints along the road were doubled, and the Japanese soldiers looked more tense than usual. A sergeant recognized He Dajun's motorcycle license plate, but still stopped him to check his documents before letting him pass.

The situation at the factory gate was even more exaggerated.

The Japanese soldiers who were originally stationed there were only one squad, but today the number has doubled. Two light machine guns have been set up behind the sandbag fortifications on both sides of the gate.

Suzuki stood at the door, his eyes puffy, clearly having not slept all night.

Seeing He Dajun arrive on his motorcycle, Suzuki quickly went to greet him and said that Major Sasaki was waiting for him in his office.

He Dajun was very much looking forward to it, wondering what kind of expression Sasaki would have.

Of course, there are still some minor concerns.

The fact that Sasaki came to the factory so early and specifically asked to see him meant that what happened last night was bigger than he had imagined.

With that standard sycophantic smile plastered on his face, he asked Suzuki if he knew what was going on. Suzuki just shook his head and said that the major was in a bad mood.

Very bad.

The area around the office was eerily quiet.

Normally, there are always a few staff officers and translators walking around, but today they are all huddled in their respective offices, with the doors tightly closed.

He Dajun, leaning on his wooden cane, walked to the door of Sasaki's office, took a deep breath, and raised his hand to knock.

A short "Come in" came from inside.

He Dajun pushed open the door and bowed.

Sasaki sat behind the table with a document spread out in front of him and a cigarette between his fingers, but the ash had piled up quite a bit and he hadn't flicked it off.

He Dajun noticed that the ashtray was full of cigarette butts, roughly counting at least a dozen.

Sasaki's military uniform collar was unbuttoned by two buttons, his hair was not as neatly combed as usual, and the dark circles under his eyes were even deeper than when they last met.

"He Dajun," Sasaki said without offering him a seat, "did you hear an explosion last night?"

He Dajun bent over, his expression instantly switching from horror to lingering fear: "I heard it! Sir, I heard it at home last night, the noise was so loud that the kang (a heated brick bed) was shaking! My brother He Daqing was so scared that he rolled off the kang."

At this point, He Dajun showed a shy expression, "My wife Bai Ling thought it was an earthquake, so she pulled me and ran into the yard. Later, I stood in the yard and looked west, and the sky was all red, like half the sky was on fire."

When the translator finished reading the vivid description, Sasaki neither laughed nor interrupted, but simply stared at He Dajun's face as if he were looking at a painting.

After he finished translating, he remained silent for several seconds, then suddenly smiled.

The smile was cold, like a knife had been used to cut a gash on the face.

"He Dajun, did you go out last night?"

He Dajun was on edge, but his expression remained unchanged.

He immediately shook his head, both firmly and naturally: "No. Sir, when I saw the sky turn red, I thought it was the resistance fighters attacking important Imperial Army facilities, and I was ready to fight to the death with any resistance fighters who dared to come in."

After speaking, he pointed to the bandage still wrapped around his left leg: "Sir, my leg injury hasn't fully healed yet, and I need a cane to walk, which is really inconvenient in the middle of the night. However, I've told everyone in the courtyard not to wander around and to wait for the Imperial Army to handle it."

After listening to the translator's account, Sasaki remained silent for a few seconds before stubbing out the cigarette, which was covered in long ash, in the ashtray.

Looking at He Dajun, he suddenly smiled again. This time, the smile was a bit milder than the cold, scathing laugh from before, but the scrutinizing look in his eyes was still there.

"General He, the Imperial Army's ammunition depot in Beijing was attacked by rioters last night. The losses were significant."

He Dajun's face instantly showed a shocked expression, his mouth opened and closed, as if he was too shocked to speak.

He spoke after several seconds, his voice carrying a mixture of anger and grief.

"Sir! These thugs are too outrageous! The Imperial Army should arrest and execute them all! The new machines at the steel mill were bombed as soon as they were installed, and now they even dare to attack the ammunition depot. These resistance fighters are simply lawless!"

"They should all be shot!"

Sasaki leaned back in his chair, watching He Dajun's impassioned manner, and his lips twitched slightly: "The resistance fighters are very arrogant. I'm preparing to send puppet troops to conduct a house-to-house search."

He Dajun thought to himself that the Japanese were probably out of options, which was why they were looking for him like this.

His expression shifted from anger to difficulty and then to determination within seconds.

He bent down, his voice carrying just the right amount of concern: "Sir, it's not that I'm unwilling. I've only recruited a little over five hundred puppet troops under my command, and most of them are still undergoing background checks."

"Go and search now. What if there are spies among the resistance fighters who go and make things worse with guns? That would only ruin the Japanese commander's important plans. Give me a few more days. I'll sift through the ranks first. Once they're clean, they'll definitely serve the Japanese commander."