Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

Political Commissar Wang from the division personally delivered the medal.

When the green velvet box was opened, the bronze seal and red ribbon were placed side by side, shining brightly in the dim light of the tunnel.

"Special Merit Citation, First-Class Combat Hero—both." Political Commissar Wang handed the box to He Yuzhu. He had a smile on his face, but the dark circles under his eyes couldn't hide his exhaustion. "Headquarters issued a commendation order; this is the only one of its kind on the entire Korean battlefield. Regiment Commander He, you've really brought honor to our division commander."

The regimental headquarters tunnel was crowded with battalion and company officers, all craning their necks to look. Third Battalion Commander Liu, the big guy, grinned and nudged Wu Dayong beside him: "See that? Our regimental commander."

Wu Dayong gave a low "hmm," but his gaze was fixed on the tunnel entrance—two jeeps with their canvas tarpaulins covered tightly were parked outside, their license plates unfamiliar.

The ceremony was simple. After reading the commendation order, Political Commissar Wang shook hands with He Yuzhu and said a few words of encouragement, then turned to Political Commissar Zhao: "Old Zhao, arrange a quiet shelter. The comrades from headquarters want to talk to Regiment Commander He." He paused and added, "Just Regiment Commander He alone."

The air in the tunnel paused slightly.

The buzzing murmurs subsided, leaving only the occasional crackling of the oil lamp wick. He Yuzhu closed the medal box and handed it to the communications officer: "Put it on my bed." He followed Political Commissar Wang outside, and as he passed Wu Dayong, Old Wu's lips moved almost imperceptibly.

"Stay calm." The voice was as soft as a breath.

He Yuzhu walked out without any expression on his face.

The so-called "quiet shelter" was an empty, hardened ammunition depot. A table and a few chairs were set up, and a battle map hung on the wall. Three people sat at the table—two men and one woman—all wearing cotton military uniforms without rank insignia. Their faces lacked the marks of frontline service, and their skin was slightly pale.

In the middle was a thin man in his forties with high cheekbones and wearing round-framed glasses. When He Yuzhu came in, he was looking down at his notebook and didn't look up.

"Comrade He Yuzhu, please have a seat."

The one speaking was the woman next to her, in her early thirties, with short, neatly styled hair and a flat voice.

He Yuzhu sat down in the empty chair. His palm rested on his knee, touching the slight dampness beneath the fabric—he couldn't tell if it was from water seeping from the tunnel or sweat. He subtly rubbed his palm against his trouser leg.

The man in the middle finally raised his head.

He took off his glasses, slowly wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt, and then put them back on. Only then did his gaze fall on He Yuzhu's face. His eyes didn't look at a person; they looked more like a sapper examining a landmine waiting to be defused.

"My surname is Shen, Shen Lian," he said, his voice low but clear. "These two are my colleagues. There are some things I need to ask you about."

He Yuzhu nodded: "Comrade Shen, please ask."

Shen Lian opened his notebook, his finger tracing the paper before pausing: "The coded telegram you sent to the division headquarters on the evening of November 4th, 'Thunder is approaching, prepare for counterattack.' Is that true?"

"have."

What does "thunder" in the telegram refer to?

He Yuzhu paused slightly: "Referring to our regiment's planned counterattack. At the time, the enemy's offensive was fierce, and we wanted to take advantage of their fatigue to launch a counterattack."

"Just a battle plan?" Shen Lian raised his eyes, his gaze sharp behind his glasses. "Why use a metaphor like 'thunder'? It doesn't seem like that's how it's written in a standard battle report."

"The situation was urgent, and I didn't think about how to phrase it."

Shen Lian didn't speak, but kept his head down taking notes. The scratching sound of the pen nib gliding across the paper was exceptionally clear in the enclosed space.

A faint, muffled cannon shot rang out in the distance, making the map on the wall tremble.

He waited until the echoes of his voice faded before speaking again. The topic had already shifted: "You were aware that enemy positions were attacked by unidentified air forces in the early morning of November 5th."

"We know. We all saw it."

"What do you see?"

He Yuzhu licked his dry lips: "A dark shadow swept across the sky, and the opposite position exploded. The fire burned for half the night." He spoke steadily, but his heart was taut—they had indeed grasped the key.

"What did the shadowy figure look like?"

"Too fast, I couldn't see clearly. I just felt... it was quite large, and it was silent."

The young man next to Shen Lian suddenly interjected, "Commander He was at the regimental command post at the time, less than 500 meters from the front line. In your experience, if it were a conventional bomber, you would have been able to hear the engine, right?"

He Yuzhu looked at him: "The artillery fire was so intense at the time that I couldn't hear anything."

"But many soldiers mentioned in their post-battle reports that they 'didn't hear anything,'" the young man pressed, "how do you explain that?"

"I don't know." He Yuzhu shifted his gaze back to Shen Lian. "My memory might be faulty, or it might have been too chaotic at the time. I can't remember it myself."

Shen Lian raised his hand to stop his colleague from speaking.

He lightly tapped a spot on the notebook with his fingertip—He Yuzhu caught a glimpse of what appeared to be the words "Special Merit"—before slowly saying, "Regimental Commander He, you are nineteen years old this year, and have been in the army for less than two years. From cook to regimental commander, you have earned seven major merits, including four special merits. This speed of promotion is rare in the history of our army."

He Yuzhu remained silent.

"Your tactical style is also quite unique." Shen Lian continued flipping through his notebook. "You're adept at taking risks, skilled at infiltration, and your predictions of the battlefield situation are often so accurate... that they exceed your experience. For example, this time, the timing of the warning and counterattack was absolutely perfect."

He closed the notebook, leaned forward slightly, and rested his elbows on the table.

"Who taught you these skills?"

"I learned it in the war," He Yuzhu said in an unchanged voice. "The veterans in the regiment taught me a lot, like Comrade Li Dashan. After fighting so many battles, I naturally learned it."

"Comrade Li Dashan has already sacrificed his life," Shen Lian said calmly. "We also know about the other veteran comrades you mentioned. They are experienced, but it seems that their experience is insufficient to fully explain all your tactical decisions."

He paused, his gaze sharp as a needle.

"Commander He, let's get straight to the point. Headquarters takes this air raid extremely seriously; it could affect the overall war effort and even national security. Any anomalies or suspicious points must be thoroughly investigated. This isn't about targeting any individual; it's about being responsible for the revolutionary cause."

He Yuzhu met his gaze: "I understand. Comrade Shen, please feel free to ask any questions you may have."

Shen Lian stared at him, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses.

Suddenly, the conversation shifted: "How's your arm injury?"

He Yuzhu paused for a moment, then said, "It'll be ready soon."

"I heard he was grazed by a stray bullet while saving his soldiers during the counterattack?"

"Yes."

"What was that soldier's name?"

"Wang Xiaoshuan".

"Where are you now?"

"Third Battalion, Seventh Company".

Shen Lian nodded and gestured to his female colleague. The woman took a document from her briefcase and pushed it in front of He Yuzhu.

It is a statement with a red handprint. The person being questioned: Wang Xiaoshuan.

Shen Lian's voice was calm and even: "We spoke with Comrade Wang Xiaoshuan. He said that when the American soldiers were aiming their guns at him, you rushed over and knocked them away, taking the bullet yourself. He also said that after being shot, you picked up a machine gun with one hand and killed the American soldier."

He paused deliberately, letting each word sink in.

"With one hand. I used my injured arm."

The bunker was deathly silent.

Even the distant artillery fire seemed to have temporarily fallen silent. He Yuzhu looked at the transcript, the edges of the paper slightly curled. He noticed a small note at the bottom: "During the interrogation, the soldier was nervous and repeatedly asked, 'Will the regimental commander be alright?'"

"It was an emergency, I didn't feel any pain." He heard his own voice, calm to the point of being hollow. "Later, when the medic bandaged it up, we found that the wound had reopened."

"yes."

Shen Lian leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, making a rhythmic tapping sound.

"I have reviewed your medical records. You have been injured four times this year: two gunshot wounds and two shrapnel wounds. The healing speed of all of them is significantly faster than that of ordinary people. The medic made a special note: 'The wounds healed exceptionally quickly.'"

He leaned forward again, his voice lower but sharper.

"Commander He, is there anything... unusual about your body?"

He Yuzhu felt the hairs on the back of his head stand on end.

He looked at Shen Lian, at the undisguised probing and scrutiny behind the glasses, and understood completely—this was no mere formality. This was a precise excavation, targeting his deepest, most unspeakable secret.

"I don't know," He Yuzhu replied, his throat tightening slightly. "Maybe... it's because I'm young and have a strong recovery ability."

Shen Lian stared at him.

There was a long silence of more than ten seconds, broken only by the soft tapping of fingertips on the table. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched very slightly—it wasn't a smile, just a slight movement of a muscle.

"it is good."

He stood up and extended his hand.

"That's all for today. Commander He, go back and rest. Keep the medal safe; it's an honor you deserve."

He Yuzhu also stood up and shook hands with him. Shen Lian's hand was icy cold, like holding a piece of iron.

"We may meet again." Shen Lian released his grip, his tone returning to businesslike. "During this time, please do not leave the regimental headquarters."

He Yuzhu nodded, turned around and walked out of the shelter.

The sky outside was overcast, with low, leaden clouds. A damp chill swept over him, carrying the mixed smells of gunpowder and earth. He walked back along the trench, his boots crunching in the mud.

As they passed the Third Battalion's position, they saw Wang Xiaoshuan engrossed in cleaning his rifle. The young soldier looked up, saw him, and immediately stood up to salute: "Regimental Commander!"

He Yuzhu walked over: "Have the members of the review team spoken to you?"

Wang Xiaoshuan's face turned pale, and he stammered, "Yes, yes... Commander, I didn't make things up, I told the truth..."

"It's alright." He Yuzhu patted his shoulder with the same force as usual. "You did the right thing. You should have told the truth."

He continued walking. After rounding a bend and making sure he was out of sight, he suddenly stopped.

My back slumped against the cold, damp trench wall.

He opened his hand, and in the dim light of the trench, he saw several deep marks on his palm, etched by his own fingernails, slowly blurring with sweat. Only then did his heart begin to pound in his chest, each beat heavy like a drumbeat.

Shen Lian's cold, scrutinizing eyes, seen through his glasses, seemed to still be etched in my mind.

The faint sound of artillery fire drifted from afar; a new round of bombing had begun. Shockwaves traveled along the trench walls, and dirt clung to his shoulders. He Yuzhu closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the cold air, a mixture of gunpowder smoke and earthy smell.

The medals are still being laid out.

Honor and doubt were both attached to him.