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

The mountain road back to the camp was covered with snow, making a crunching sound when you stepped on it.

Zhao Ping'an walked at the front of the group, pondering how to make the most of this little thing, so that it wouldn't be too conspicuous and attract unnecessary attention, but at the same time, it would make everyone in the camp remember his good deeds.

Just then, a loud shout suddenly came from around the bend in the mountain road ahead: "Who goes there?! Stop right there!"

Zhao Ping'an looked up and saw a group of about ten soldiers carrying guns rushing down the slope. The leader was a dark-faced man, Zhao Desheng, the third company commander of the battalion, who was also Zhao Ping'an's old rival who loved to find fault with him for "lax military discipline and poor leadership".

Zhao Desheng clearly recognized the newcomers, especially the bulging sacks and baskets carried on the shoulders and in the arms of the soldiers behind Zhao Ping'an. A hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, but his habitual sternness quickly prevailed: "Zhao Ping'an? You...where did you come from? What are you up to?"

Zhao Ping'an felt a surge of anger rising within him.

He quickened his pace, went straight to Zhao Desheng, and practically pointed his finger at him and started cursing:

"Who are you? It's your grandpa Zhao Ping'an! Zhao Desheng, you bastard! You always pick on me, find fault with me, say I'm a terrible leader and have bad discipline. Fine, I admit it! I just didn't pay attention before, so you're right!"

His voice was urgent and forceful, echoing along the mountain path and stunning everyone on both sides.

Before Zhao Desheng could react, Zhao Ping'an suddenly waved his hand, pointing to the panting but excited soldiers behind him:

"But are you blind now? Didn't you see that I, your grandpa, got life-saving stuff for all the brothers in our regiment?"

Do you see what this is? This is pork, and this is rice and flour! Can you see it clearly?

In this freezing weather, our brothers are freezing and starving to death, and you, Company Commander Zhao, are still here putting on airs and checking up on us?

What the hell are you investigating?! Don't you have any common sense? Hurry up and send your people over to lend a hand!

What, all you do is talk and nitpick, but when it comes to actually doing something, you chicken out?

This barrage of insults left Zhao Desheng completely stunned, his face turning red and then white.

The soldiers behind him exchanged glances, their eyes involuntarily drifting towards the sacks, their throats bobbing silently.

The bright red pork peeking out from the gaps in the burlap sack, and the faint... meaty smell wafting from it?

Zhao Desheng opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but looking at the tangible supplies and the longing eyes of his men, the words stuck in his throat and he couldn't utter them.

The regimental commander went to headquarters to request supplies, but after so many days, he hadn't received a single item.

Zhao Ping'an, whatever method he used, actually got the item back; that's a fact. With the entire camp on the verge of collapse, that's more admirable than anything else.

His imposing manner immediately diminished, and he looked somewhat embarrassed, stubbornly saying:

"You...you stop talking nonsense! I was just...I was on patrol duty, who knows what you're up to..." Her voice trailed off.

"Execute a mission? Fine, you continue!" Zhao Ping'an snorted coldly, his tone softening slightly, but still sharp.

"Half of you go back to your patrols! The rest of you, come with me and move the stuff!"

Also, don't be in such a hurry to send someone back to camp to report and make a fuss, as if you're afraid others won't know we have some stock here, right?

These days, there are plenty of people who are desperate for money. Wouldn't it be better to keep a low profile?

Zhao Desheng was so cornered that he lost his temper, but he knew in his heart that Zhao Ping'an was right.

He waved his hand impatiently: "Squad One, continue patrolling along the route! Squad Two, come over here and help!"

After saying that, he walked over to one of Zhao Ping'an's men who was carrying a heavy sack of rice and silently took it from him.

Zhao Ping'an glanced at him, then stopped arguing and instead spoke to Zhao Desheng and the soldiers who had come with him:

"Listen up, everyone, move your things back to my place first. Tonight, everyone line up for dinner in my yard. All you can eat!"

With just those words, the eyes of Zhao Desheng's soldiers lit up instantly, and they even became more efficient in their work.

Zhao Desheng silently carried the rice sack, but his mind was in turmoil.

Zhao Ping'an, after going out for a while, came back completely different.

It wasn't just that he brought things; his manner of speaking and acting was completely different from that of the reckless platoon leader he used to be.

The group quickened their pace in silence. The atmosphere was somewhat subtle, but the previous tension had subsided.

The supplies were finally all moved back to the fairly spacious farmhouse where Zhao Ping had arranged for them to be stationed.

The wounded soldiers who remained behind and the soldiers who hadn't gone with them were stunned by the sight of the things that filled almost half the courtyard, and then they burst into suppressed cheers.

Zhao Ping'an didn't let everyone sit idle.

He first ordered people to distribute the cotton-padded coats roughly according to the number of people, so that everyone could put them on. The thick cotton-padded coats and the long-lost warmth brought tears to the eyes of many soldiers.

Then, he called over Dazhu and pointed to the pile of pork that looked like a small mountain: "Cut off thirty catties and divide it into several pieces. Take a few people, carry it, and go to the village."

"Platoon leader, what's this?" Liu Dazhu asked, puzzled.

"Let's trade something," Zhao Ping'an said. "Meat and rice won't do. Go to the village and see if anyone has scallions, ginger, garlic, star anise, pickled mustard greens, or even dried chili peppers. Talk to the villagers nicely; we'll trade pork, a fair trade, and we won't take advantage of them. Be polite!"

Liu Dazhu understood; this was about dealing with the villagers and easing tensions.

He immediately agreed, picked out a few soldiers who looked clever and articulate, and carried the pork out of the yard.

"By the way, no need to exchange the salt, I have some top-quality refined salt here." Zhao Ping'an said, exchanging for more than ten kilograms of refined salt.

"Platoon leader, can I have some salt?" Liu Dazhu dipped his hand in the salt, put it in his mouth, and his eyes lit up.

"Huh?" Zhao Ping'an was puzzled for a moment.

"Platoon leader, the villagers' families are even more lacking in salt than meat," Liu Dazhu explained.

"Okay, you handle it." Zhao Ping'an understood immediately and waved his hand, letting Da Zhu make the arrangements himself.

"Alright, platoon leader, just you wait and see." Liu Dazhu smiled, filled half a bag with refined salt, and left with his men.

The villagers of Wayaocun were initially terrified when they saw the soldiers coming again, carrying meat and salt.

Once they understood that the purpose was "fair exchange," everyone was skeptical.

But when the real, perfectly marbled pork and snow-white refined salt were laid out, in exchange for their not-so-expensive seasonings and groceries, their doubts quickly turned into delight.

The exchange went unexpectedly smoothly. Following Zhao Ping'an's instructions, Liu Dazhu and the others even made some concessions, and received more in return than expected.

The villagers finally showed some smiles. Although they remained vigilant, at least their eyes looked at the soldiers with less fear and disgust than before.

In the courtyard, several large pots had already been set up, the snow water had melted, and the brown rice was being cooked.

The soldiers, now wearing new cotton-padded coats, were full of energy, some chopping wood, others tending the fire.

Zhao Pingan personally oversaw the preparation of the filling—the pork was minced and mixed with the exchanged chopped scallions and ginger. The seasonings were limited, but the aroma was already irresistible.

As dusk fell, the firelight and steam illuminated the expectant faces.