The War of Resistance Against Japan: Starting with a Calm View of Life and Death

"Disassembled, easier to carry. When we go into the city for checks, they're looking for complete guns. Hiding them separately makes them less likely to be discovered," Zhou Jindong said as he packed the bag. "Take the sniper scope too."

He hesitated for a moment, but still stuffed the bundle into the box.

That sniper rifle was too valuable and too conspicuous, so he kept it.

Zhou Jindong wrapped the disassembled Type 38 rifle parts in cloth, then wrapped them in a tattered burlap sack, and tied them into a narrow roll with straw rope, making it look like a bedding roll carried by a traveler.

He checked the package again to make sure it was sturdy and wouldn't make a metallic clanging sound even if it were bumped occasionally.

"The barrel is nearly a meter long. Even though it's been disassembled, it's still quite conspicuous when wrapped in cloth." Wang Quan looked at the roll of cloth in Zhou Jindong's hand and followed suit, disassembling another gun.

He had watched Zhou Jindong disassemble it a few times before, so he was a little rusty, but he still remembered the steps.

He removed the bolt, carefully set it aside, and then went to tighten the retaining screw on the barrel handguard.

"We need to think of a way to avoid attracting attention."

Zhou Jindong didn't say anything. He rummaged through a pile of miscellaneous items in the corner and pulled out two old bamboo poles with hollowed-out sections. They were used to make carrying poles or shed supports. They were about the thickness of an adult's arm and slightly longer than a gun barrel.

He tried it out, stuffing the wrapped gun barrel and bolt together into the bamboo pole. It fit perfectly. He then stuffed both ends tightly with rags, grabbed a handful of semi-dry yellow mud from the ground, and smeared it on both ends and the seam between the middle of the bamboo pole.

"Do the same for yours." Zhou Jindong propped up the prepared bamboo pole against the wall. "We'll pretend to be farmers going to Shuoxian to visit relatives or look for work, or peddlers going from street to street collecting mountain goods. Carrying things on a shoulder pole, just like any other ordinary person."

Wang Quan nodded and, imitating him, stuffed the disassembled rifle parts into another bamboo pole.

Zhou Jindong took out a tattered satchel from the rattan box, stuffed two steamed buns and two tattered shirts into it, and draped the satchel over his shoulder.

After changing their clothes and smearing some soot on their faces, the two looked at each other.

Wearing tattered cotton-padded jackets, black cloth trousers, and old felt hats, their faces were streaked with black and yellow, their feet were shod in cloth shoes with worn-out soles, a satchel was slung over their shoulders, and they were leaning on an inconspicuous bamboo pole—two men who looked every bit like weary country folk on the road.

"Brother Yuan," Zhou Jindong called out towards the outside of the shed.

Wang Yuan immediately walked in, carrying the bamboo tube and a small cloth bag. Zhang Fang, Ren Wuliu, and Zhao Laosi also followed, blocking the doorway and dimming the light.

"Give me the things." Zhou Jindong held out his hand.

Wang Yuan returned the bamboo tube to him and handed him a small cloth bag: "Inside are two silver dollars, a few strings of copper coins, and two good citizen certificates. The names and addresses are... the old way."

The old method he mentioned involved filling in the blank documents that had been seized, then stamping them with a counterfeit government seal to pass general inspections.

These kinds of certificates carry significant risks, but they're better than nothing.

Zhou Jindong took the cloth bag and tucked it into his coat, close to his skin.

He then stuffed the bamboo tube containing the secret order into a sewn-closed hidden pocket inside his cotton-padded jacket.

"After we leave, the house will be in your and Brother Zhang's care."

Wang Yuan nodded emphatically: "Dongzi, be careful in everything. When you get to the outskirts of Shuoxian, find the tea stall under the old locust tree at the three-way intersection. The stall owner is a lame old man surnamed Meng, one of our own."

The code is "A bowl of hot tea, with two slices of ginger to ward off the cold." He'll say, "It's freezing cold, ginger tea is too spicy, can you handle it, sir?" You reply, "I'm feeling hot inside, I need something spicy to calm me down." Got it?

"I've got it." Zhou Jindong repeated, "Get a bowl of hot tea, with two slices of ginger to ward off the cold. If you're feeling hot inside, you need something spicy to calm you down."

Zhang Fang stepped forward and stuffed a heavy cloth bag into Zhou Jindong's satchel: "Here are some firecrackers made in the border region. They're not very powerful, but they make quite a racket. There are also two Japanese cantaloupe grenades. They might come in handy in a pinch."

After hesitating for a while, Ren Wuliu said in a muffled voice, "Captain, how about... I go? My marksmanship isn't as good as yours, but I'm ruthless..."

"Five or six," Zhou Jindong patted his shoulder with considerable force, "I understand what you're thinking. Stay here, lead the troops well, and take good care of the home. When I return, I want to see a platoon of soldiers who can shoot more accurately than you and fight with bayonets more fiercely than you."

Zhao Laosi didn't say anything, but simply stuffed his pipe and some tobacco leaves into Wang Quan's hand: "To relieve fatigue on the road, and if you encounter a checkpoint, offering a cigarette will make things easier."

Zhou Jindong didn't say anything more, slung his satchel over his shoulder, and grabbed the specially made "carrying pole" bamboo pole. Wang Quan followed suit.

"I'm gone."

The two lifted the straw curtain, bowed their heads, and walked out of the shed.

It was already dark outside, and everyone on the training field had finished their work and were gathering in twos and threes to eat. When they saw Zhou Jindong and Wang Quan come out dressed like this, many people stopped what they were doing and followed them with their eyes.

Zhou Jindong ignored them and walked straight towards the village entrance.

Wang Quan kept his head down and followed closely behind.

Wang Yuan and his group stopped at the stone mill at the village entrance.

Zhou Jindong glanced back at Dongzhai Town. Under the cover of night, the outlines of the houses were blurred, with only a few dim oil lamps shining through the paper windows. On the threshing ground, only a small portion of the mountain of captured supplies remained, covered with tarpaulins, resembling silent grave mounds in the twilight.

He didn't say anything more, turned around, leaned on his bamboo cane, and walked north along the uneven dirt road. Wang Quan followed half a step behind him.

The road narrowed further and further, turning from a dirt path into a mountain trail. No more lights from houses could be seen; only the dark shadows of the mountains and a few scattered stars overhead. A chilly night wind blew from the ravine, stinging my face.

Without lighting torches, the two walked forward by the faint starlight, their steps uneven.

Zhou Jindong walked ahead, his steps slow but steady. When he encountered steep slopes or ditches, he would slow down and wait for Wang Quan to catch up.

"Captain," Wang Quan whispered after walking for a while, breaking the silence filled only with the sound of footsteps and wind, "Are we really going with just the two of us?"

"Um."

"That Fuyuan Grocery Store... can we trust their inside information? Could it be a trap set by the Japanese?"

Zhou Jindong didn't stop walking: "Orders from the military region, intelligence passed on at great risk by our inside contacts, are most likely true. Even if it's a trap, we have to go in and see if we can tear a hole in it. Scared?"

"I'm not afraid," Wang Quan tightened the straps of his satchel on his shoulder, "but... I'm not confident. Shuoxian is not like our base area; that's the Japanese devils' den."

"The Japanese devils' den is also inhabited by people. There are Japanese devils, traitors, lackeys, cowardly civilians, and even their own people who dare not show their faces."

Zhou Jindong's voice drifted on the wind, "We're not going to take down the pillbox, we're going to strangle a rat hiding in its hole. No matter how clever a rat is, it still needs to come out for some fresh air and find food. As long as it's in the open, it has a chance."

Wang Quan stopped talking and kept walking in silence.

He knew Zhou Jindong had a point, but the truth still weighed heavily on his mind.

In the middle of the night, they crossed a mountain ridge and could vaguely see a grayish-white ribbon stretching across the distance ahead—that was the highway.

Occasionally, beams of headlights would sweep across the night sky, only to disappear quickly. Those were Japanese patrol cars.

"Go around this way." Zhou Jindong didn't head towards the highway, but instead turned onto a small path that was almost completely overgrown with weeds.

The road was lined with dense bushes and dark stones that crunched underfoot.

As dawn approached, they stopped to rest in a sheltered mountain hollow.

Zhou Jindong found a large rock to sit on, took out a cornbread from his satchel, broke it in half, and gave it to Wang Quan.

The two of them silently ate their cornbread, drinking the cold spring water from the kettle. The cornbread was dry and hard, and it took them a long time to chew before they could swallow it.

"Captain, you said that traitor... Liu Shunfa, why did he betray us?" Wang Quan swallowed a mouthful of cornbread and asked in a low voice.

Zhou Jindong chewed slowly, his gaze fixed on the gradually brightening horizon. "I don't know. Maybe they're afraid of death, maybe they're greedy, maybe... they feel there's no future with us."

He paused, then continued, "No matter the reason, he killed seven of our couriers, as well as the wounded soldiers and doctors hiding at the transfer point. For that alone, he deserved to die."

Wang Quan nodded and took a big bite of the cornbread.

After resting for less than half an hour, the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn.

Zhou Jindong stood up and dusted himself off. "Let's go. We need to cross that river before dawn. Once we're across, we'll be in Shuoxian County."

The two continued on their way. The further north they went, the flatter the terrain became, and the density of villages seemed to increase, but most of them were lifeless, with hardly any smoke rising from their chimneys.

Occasionally, when passing through one or two villages, one would find walls collapsed and houses crumbling, with charred marks from previous scavenging efforts visible in some places.

Around noon, they finally saw the river.

The river is not wide, but the current is quite rapid, and there is a wooden bridge across it.

At the bridgehead, there was a simple guard tower built of wood and thatch. Inside, one could vaguely see figures moving about, guarded by puppet troops and possibly Japanese soldiers.

On the other side of the bridge lies the territory of Shuoxian County.

"We can't use the bridge," Zhou Jindong said after a quick glance.

He led Wang Quan upstream along the riverbank until they reached a place far from the bridge, where the river bends and the trees on both banks are relatively dense.

"Swim across from here. The current is strong, stay close to me." Zhou Jindong said as he took off his cotton-padded coat and outer shirt, leaving only a pair of shorts.

He carefully wrapped the clothes he had taken off, along with his satchel and bamboo pole, in the oilcloth he carried with him and tied them securely.

Wang Quan did the same.

The river water at the end of March was still covered with ice shards and was bitterly cold.

Zhou Jindong put the oilcloth bag on his head and went into the water first.

The icy water quickly reached his thighs, then his waist. He shivered, gritted his teeth, and slowly made his way towards the center of the river.

The water flow was very strong, and the pebbles on the riverbed were slippery.

Wang Quan followed behind, his breath coming in gasps from the icy water, closely following Zhou Jindong's footsteps.

The water was getting deeper and deeper, almost up to my chest.

Zhou Jindong gripped the oilcloth bag on his head even tighter and pushed forward, half swimming and half walking.

Wang Quan was shorter, and the water was already up to his neck, so he had to paddle to maintain his balance.

Finally, my feet touched the soft mud and sand on the other side.

The two climbed ashore, soaking wet, their skin blue from the cold, their lips trembling. Ignoring the cold, they quickly found a dense thicket behind which they dried themselves off and changed into dry clothes.

He wrung out the wet clothes and stuffed them into the oilcloth bag.

A cold wind blew, and my body, which had just changed into dry clothes, still couldn't stop shivering.

"Move around a bit, don't stop, it'll get even colder if you stop," Zhou Jindong said, jogging in place and vigorously rubbing his arms and face.

Wang Quan also jumped around a few times, his teeth chattering loudly.

It took a while for my body to gradually warm up.

The two slung their satchels back on their backs, picked up their bamboo poles, and continued northward. The ground beneath their feet seemed different; it was more compacted, the villages were more densely packed, and occasionally they could see farmers carrying hoes in the fields.

They avoided main roads and obvious villages as much as possible, choosing instead to walk along country paths and barren slopes.

As the sun began to set in the afternoon, the outline of Shuoxian County finally came into view in the distance.

The city wall was grayish-brown and not particularly high, but it looked very sturdy.

There was a queue at the city gate, with some carrying loads, some pushing carts, and some walking empty-handed. Several puppet soldiers in yellow fur coats and two Japanese soldiers carrying Type 38 rifles were conducting inspections.

Zhou Jindong stopped and observed carefully for a while.

The city gate checks weren't particularly strict, but people carrying loads or pushing carts were checked more thoroughly, their goods were examined, and sometimes they would be poked a few times with bayonets.

Ordinary people who walk empty-handed and look poor are usually questioned briefly and then let go.

"Check everything again. Hold the bamboo pole firmly and don't give anything away. Prepare the good citizen certificate. Just say you couldn't make a living in Ningwu and came to Shuoxian to seek help from your distant cousin. Your cousin's surname is Ma. He works as a night watchman on West Street. If you ask too many questions, just cry poverty and say your family suffered a disaster," Zhou Jindong instructed in a low voice.

Wang Quan nodded, then rearranged the bamboo pole and satchel to ensure the dagger was hidden in the most convenient spot in his bosom, so it wouldn't accidentally fall out.

Zhou Jindong also took out the two crumpled good citizen certificates from his pocket, glanced at the blurry stamps and crooked names on them, and then stuffed them back in.

The two of them mingled behind several farmers who were pushing wheelbarrows and looked like they were there to sell firewood. They kept their heads down and hunched their necks as they walked toward the city gate.

As they drew closer, they could hear the gruff shouts and interrogations of the puppet troops, as well as the timid replies of the local people.

"Halt! What are you doing?" A puppet soldier with a black mole on the corner of his mouth stopped the old man selling firewood in front of them and nudged the bundle of firewood with the butt of his rifle.

"Boss... Boss, I... I'm going into town to sell some firewood and exchange it for some salt..." the old man stammered.

"Open it and take a look!" The puppet soldier impatiently used his bayonet to pry open the straw rope binding the firewood, rummaged around for a few moments, found nothing, and waved his hand: "Go, go, next!"

It was Zhou Jindong and Wang Quan's turn.

The puppet soldier looked them up and down, his gaze sweeping over their faces and tattered clothes, before lingering on the bamboo pole in Zhou Jindong's hand and the satchel on his shoulder.

"Where are you from? What are you doing in the city?" the puppet soldier asked, his tone not fierce, but with a lazy scrutiny.

Zhou Jindong, his back slightly hunched, forced a fawning smile, his accent carrying a hint of Ningwu's local dialect: "Reporting to the general, we are from Wangjiayao, north of Ningwu. Last year, we suffered from hailstorms and lost our entire harvest. We couldn't survive, so we came to Shuoxian to seek refuge with a distant cousin, hoping to find some work to make a living."

"Uncle? What's his name? Where does he live?"

"My uncle's surname is Ma, and his name is Ma Youtian. He works on West Street... as a night watchman. We've never been here before, we only know the general area," Zhou Jindong said haltingly, looking like an honest but somewhat timid farmer.

"A night watchman?" The puppet soldier scoffed, seemingly thinking this relative was poor enough to offer no profit. He then looked at Wang Quan. "And him?"