Courtyard House: I Rely on Time-Space Trade to Build a Nation

Zhao Ping'an sat down at the table, spread out a very thin sheet of cotton paper, and began to write with a fine brush dipped in specially made ink.

The content is concise yet crucial: it states Zhao Dongliang's regiment's intention to revolt in the front lines, lists the number of troops, a list of major equipment, the scheduled departure time, and the approximate route.

The request is for assistance to be provided in the mountainous areas of Jixian and Sanhe, bordering the liberated areas, from Beiping via Xianghe and Baodi towards Yutian.

They also agreed on the initial identification signal: during the day, all soldiers would wear white cloth strips on their left arms; at night, they would communicate using three long and two short light signals.

After he finished writing, he carefully folded the cotton paper, inserted it into a small copper tube, and sealed it with wax.

Then he changed into an inconspicuous old outfit, took Liu Dazhu with him, led two horses, and left the camp under the cover of night.

They didn't go to Lou Bancheng's residence—that conventional route was too slow and not necessarily reliable.

Zhao Ping'an recalled that during a previous exchange of technical data with the other party, they had hinted at the location of an extremely well-hidden dead mailbox within Beiping City.

—It is located in a crevice of the old city wall inside the Xizhimen barbican, in a tricky spot that is extremely difficult to find and monitor unless you know the inside story.

The two men spurred their horses on, arriving at Xizhimen near midnight. The city gates were already closed, but Zhao Baoguo's men had clearly received word, as a side gate had been quietly opened a crack.

Zhao Baoguo waited personally in the shadows behind the door. When he saw Zhao Ping'an, he simply squeezed his hand tightly and whispered, "Ping'an, be careful. I'm here."

Without further communication, Zhao Ping'an led Liu Dazhu into the city.

Following the route they remembered, they avoided the patrols, huddled close to the shadows of the wall, and silently made their way to that section of the city wall.

After careful examination, Zhao Ping'an found the slightly loose brick. He quickly inserted the copper pipe deep into the crack, restored the brick to its original position, and wiped away the traces.

The whole process took less than five minutes. Afterward, the two immediately returned the way they came, left the city, mounted their horses, and disappeared into the night.

When we returned to Wayaocun, the sky was already beginning to lighten in the east. The camp was starting to awaken, and the sounds of preparations for departure gradually rose.

Zhao Ping'an stood in front of his house, looking at the busy scene. He felt a mix of excitement at the impending grand opening and a heavy sense of responsibility.

The message has been sent.

Every step that followed was fraught with peril. But there was no turning back once the arrow was released; he and the team he had quietly transformed had embarked on a thorny path leading to light, but also one fraught with risks.

Zhao Baoguo, like a nail, will remain in Beiping and Xizhimen, becoming a possible hidden move or a way out in the future.

Now, what they need to do is lead this team, which has already taken on a different look, to set off "on time" and head towards that predetermined historical turning point.

The soldiers silently slung their bundled luggage over their shoulders, checked their weapons, and lined up.

A suppressed restlessness permeated the air; the usual pre-departure complaints and clamor were gone, replaced only by heavy footsteps and the snorting of mules and horses.

Zhao Dongliang rode a black warhorse, his face stern, his gaze sweeping over the assembling troops.

Zhao Ping'an stood beside him with his luggage on his back, observing in silence as well.

They saw that Wang Dashan's company had already assembled. Although the soldiers looked serious, their ranks were neat, their eyes relatively calm, and there was even a subtle sense of unspoken understanding between them. In contrast, the other companies appeared somewhat chaotic, with many soldiers' faces filled with confusion and unease.

"Let's go!" Zhao Dongliang didn't say anything more and pointed his whip forward.

The team, like a long gray dragon, slowly crawled away from Wayaocun, where they had been stationed for several months, and embarked on a dirt road leading northeast.

Dust rose, gradually obscuring the camp and the outline of the distant Beiping city wall.

The march was tedious and slow. According to the "orders," they needed to head north and then east, passing through Shunyi and Pinggu, before entering eastern Hebei.

Zhao Dongliang strictly adhered to military discipline, keeping his daily itinerary within a reasonable range, neither rushing nor delaying.

The scouts advanced ten miles ahead, and sentry squads were also deployed on both flanks, displaying extreme caution. When they set up camp, the camp was arranged in a very orderly manner, with tight sentry posts.

But beneath this apparent "normality," undercurrents are surging.

Zhao Ping'an's heart was in his throat. The message had been sent three days ago, and even with the most optimistic estimate, if the other side reacted quickly, the liaison officer should already be on his way, or even possibly already lurking nearby.

But he couldn't reveal anything, so he could only encourage the company and platoon leaders in the most subtle way through Zhao Desheng, Wang Dashan, and others.

They emphasized that "the regimental commander has his own arrangements" and "following the regimental commander is the right thing to do," while also strictly controlling the troops' marching pace and campsite locations.

During a break in the march, Zhao Desheng used the pretext of "strengthening wartime management" to extend the simplified version of the "food committee" and "discipline mutual assistance" system that had been piloted in the first company to several other key companies.

Although rushed, it did play a certain role in uniting and calming people.

The soldiers found that although the future was uncertain, the internal order and the atmosphere of "reasoning" were still there, which reassured them somewhat.

Most importantly, the content of the "lecture" was quietly changed by Wang Dashan and several other company commanders during a march and rest period.

They stopped talking about famous generals from ancient times and started talking about "why this war is different" and "who soldiers are fighting for".

The words were still spoken in a veiled manner, but the core meaning was gradually becoming clear:

Fighting is not for the officers' official titles, but for survival, for future peace, and for the people and folks on this land.

These words, like tiny sparks, landed in the hearts of some previously confused soldiers.

On the evening of the fifth day, the troops arrived at Zhanggezhuang, a large village about 20 miles north of Pinggu County, and camped there.

The atmosphere of the front lines could already be faintly felt here. The villagers were few in number, mostly the elderly, women, and children, and their eyes were filled with fear when they saw the army.

Zhao Dongliang strictly ordered that the troops not to disturb the people, and the troops set up camp in an open space outside the village.

In the dead of night, apart from the footsteps of patrolling sentries and the faint barking of dogs in the distance, the camp was completely silent.

Zhao Ping'an lay on a makeshift cot, wide awake.

The agreed-upon rendezvous area—the mountainous region around Ji County and Sanhe—is not far away.

If all goes well, the liaison officer should appear within the next day or two.

Just then, a very low voice came from outside the tent from Dazhu, who had been appointed as the company commander of the 1st Company of the 3rd Battalion:

"Battalion Commander, there's movement. Under the old locust tree at the east end of the village, the agreed-upon signal—three long flashes and two short flashes—was heard twice."

Zhao Ping'an sat bolt upright, his heart pounding. It's here!

He quickly dressed, checked the dagger and pistol he was carrying, and said to Liu Dazhu, "You stay here and keep watch. I'll go check it out."

"Battalion Commander, I'll go with you!" Dazhu said urgently.

"No, that's too conspicuous. You stay here and hold the line. If anything changes, proceed with the second plan."

Zhao Ping'an patted him on the shoulder without giving him a chance to argue, and then quietly led Zhu Zi and Shuan Zi through the cordon of the Third Battalion, First Company and slipped out of the camp.

Avoiding the camp's sentries, both visible and hidden, Zhao Ping'an, relying on his memory from the daytime, quickly made his way towards the east end of the village. The old locust tree appeared as a huge black shadow in the night.

He lay in ambush behind a section of ruins about thirty meters from the tree, observing quietly.

A moment later, in the shadows under the tree, a figure almost blending into the darkness once again covered a cloth with a flashlight, emitting a faint glow of three long and two short beams.

Zhao Ping'an took a deep breath, pulled out a flashlight that was also covered by a cloth from his pocket, and responded with the agreed signal—two short and three long.