Chapter 124

The Spring Festival of 1949 arrived in a peculiar silence. On the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month, the gunfire in Beiping City suddenly ceased; only the northwest wind swept snowflakes, lightly tapping on the windows of thousands of homes.

Li Ping'an's braised meat stall, for the first time, did not set up. Early that morning he took Ping Le to sweep snow in the courtyard; the sound of the broom scraping over the blue‑brick floor carried far in the quiet alley.

Brother, will we put up spring couplets this year? Ping Le asked, exhaling white vapor.

Yes. Li Ping'an took out red paper from inside the house, larger than in previous years.

He wielded his brush, ink flying, the characters dancing like dragons and snakes: 'Heaven adds years, people add longevity; spring fills the universe, blessings fill the gate.' Ping Le tiptoed, watching entranced: 'Brother, your calligraphy is truly beautiful, even better than the couplet seller's!'

Suddenly, orderly footsteps came from afar. The siblings exchanged a glance and both ran to the alley mouth.

A mighty procession marched down Chang'anjie. Soldiers wore earth‑yellow uniforms, leggings, cloth shoes, and carried their weapons in neat unison. Most astonishing was that, in such freezing weather, the troops slept on the street curb, not a single one knocking on civilians' doors.

Ping Le widened her eyes: 'Brother, aren't they cold?'

Li Ping'an gazed into the distance: 'That is the People's Liberation Army.'

On the first day of the first lunar month, the city suddenly bustled. Stalls selling New Year goods sprang up again, and children in new cotton jackets set off firecrackers in the streets.

Then a group of soldiers approached the braised meat stall. The leading man, in his forties, with thick brows and large eyes, stood ramrod straight. He stopped in front of the stall, his gaze falling on Li Ping'an's hands.

'Boss, weigh two jin of soy‑braised beef.' His voice was loud and strong.

Li Ping'an lowered his head to slice meat, his knife work flying. The man suddenly smiled: 'Fine knife skill. During the war I once saw a blade master who could chop off a Japanese soldier's head just as cleanly.'

The knife paused on the cutting board. Li Ping'an lifted his head; their eyes met.

Suddenly, the man slapped his thigh: 'Li Ping'an!'

'Zhou Zhengwei!' Li Ping'an's knife clanged to the floor.

The two gripped each other's hands tightly across the stall. Zhou Zhengwei's eyes shone: 'Well done, Li Ping'an! After the victory you said you'd return to Beiping to find your sister, then you vanished for three years without a word! This is...'

'This is my sister, Li Pingle.' Li Ping'an pulled the little girl forward: 'Le'er, call him Big Brother Zhou.'

Ping Le timidly called out, and Zhou Zhengwei burst into laughter: 'What a fine lass! Your brother was a legend of our Northeastern Anti‑Japanese Alliance, the captain of the Flying Eagle Special Team—just the mention of his name made the little devils tremble with fear!'

A crowd gathered around the stall, all listening with mouths agape. Ping Le tugged at her brother's sleeve: 'Brother, you never told us...'

Li Ping'an gave a faint smile: 'Old stories—why bring them up?'

Zhou Zhengwei was about to say more when a guard ran up and whispered a report. He nodded and told Li Ping'an: 'Give me your address; I'll come visit another day.'

After the person left, Ping Le's eyes sparkled: 'Brother! You really were the captain of the Special Forces?'

Li Ping'an's meat‑cleaver rose and fell heavily: 'All that is past. Years ago, to find you I trekked from Henan all the way to Four Nine City, then was forced to leave, went to Northeast China, met Zhou Zhengwei, saw that they sincerely treated the common folk, so I joined them, and only after the victory against Japan did I return to Four Nine City to look for you.'

Early on the second day of the first lunar month, a jeep entered the alley. Zhou Zhengwei stepped down holding two packets of snacks, his uniform crisp, face beaming: 'I've come to pay New Year's respects to the elders!'

Li Ping'an came out to greet him, and the two sat on a stone bench in the courtyard. Ping Le brewed tea; Zhou Zhengwei took a sip: 'Excellent tea! Far better than the leaves we drank on the mountain.'

Speaking, he produced a cloth bundle from his pocket: 'New Year's money for the little girl.'

Ping Le opened it to find a whistle made from a polished bullet casing. Zhou Zhengwei winked: 'Back then your brother used this to blow the assembly call; the little devils hearing it would go weak‑kneed.'

Li Ping'an shook his head and smiled. The three talked about their experiences over the years; when the conversation grew poignant, Zhou Zhengwei suddenly turned serious: 'Ping'an, the new China needs talent. The Public Security Bureau lacks a criminal investigations captain—come join us!'

The courtyard fell silent at once. Ping Le watched her brother anxiously.

Li Ping'an remained silent for a long time, then spoke slowly: 'Commissioner, I know you mean well. But all these years I've just wanted to live a peaceful life and raise my sister to adulthood.'

Zhou Zhengwei urged: 'With your abilities...'

Precisely because I do have some skill, Li Ping'an interrupted him, and thus he knows all the more how precious peaceful days are. He gazed toward the courtyard gate; outside, children were setting off firecrackers, laughter ringing in waves.

I now sell braised meat, and it's fine. Whenever a family holds a celebration they come to weigh meat; neighbors with any red‑white event come to lend a hand. This kind of life is what I've hoped for over a dozen years.

Zhou Zhengwei let out a long sigh: 'What a pity... the Flying Eagle Team back then...'

'Wasn't the Flying Eagle Team's purpose to let ordinary folk live good lives?' Li Ping'an smiled. 'Now that wish has come true, I'll just be an ordinary commoner.'

Having said that, he rose: 'Come taste my cooking today—authentic Beiping braised dishes.'

Fragrance filled the kitchen. Zhou Zhengwei leaned against the doorframe watching Li Ping'an bustle about, then suddenly said: 'Do you still remember how, in the White Mountains and Black Waters, you single‑handedly took out a Japanese pillbox?'

The knife paused on the cutting board. 'I remember.' That day it was snowing heavily; on the way back I also picked up a frozen stiff rabbit.

What about the rabbit?

I stewed it. To give nourishment to the wounded.

The two exchanged glances and burst out laughing. Ping Le listened, entranced: 'Brother, can you still take out pillboxes?'

Li Ping'an tossed a handful of spices into the pot: 'It was all forced upon us. In peaceful times, who would want to fight and kill?'

At the table, Zhou Zhengwei ate with praise: 'Excellent skill! Far better than our mess hall crew!' Then he lowered his voice: 'However, there have been spy activities in the city lately...'

Li Ping'an slipped him a morsel of vegetables: 'The common people's eyes are sharp. If anything seems off, I'll pay attention.'

As he was leaving, Zhou Zhengwei said solemnly: 'Ping'an, although you don't want to leave your retreat, the new China may need you at any time. If you encounter any difficulties, come find me.'

The jeep drove away. Ping Le whispered: 'Brother, why don't you take an official post?'

Li Ping'an was clearing the bowls and chopsticks: 'Being an official means sitting in an office—who would make my braised meat? Who would keep me company while I embroider?'

But...

'Little one,' Li Ping'an stroked her head, 'some people are suited for charging into battle, others for guarding the homeland. I am suited to watch over this courtyard, to see you grow up safe and sound.'

At dusk, Li Ping'an practiced his fists in the courtyard. His silhouette flickered and weaved in the twilight; the force of his punches made the old locust tree rustle.

Ping Le suddenly said: 'Brother, Big Brother Zhou said you are a hero.'

He gathered his stance, stood firm, and gave a slight smile: 'Anyone who enables ordinary folk to live good lives is a hero.'

Night fell, and Beiping City's lights began to glow. In the distance came the cheerful sound of gongs and drums—it was the masses dancing the yangge to celebrate liberation.

Brother, will next year's Spring Festival be even better?

Yes. Each year will be better than the last.

In the kitchen, the fragrance of freshly braised meat drifted out. It is the most ordinary, yet most precious, flavor of peaceful times.