Chapter 126

After the founding of New China, the first spring saw Beiping City immersed in a completely new atmosphere; willow trees had just sprouted new buds, and the Military Control Commission's notices were posted all over the streets and alleys, black‑on‑white calling for a full household registration and verification of housing conditions.

Early that morning, a knocking sounded in the alley. Ping Le was hanging clothes in the courtyard; peeking through the crack in the door, she saw two young people in military uniforms, with armbands of the Military Control Commission on their sleeves.

Comrade, we are here to register the population. The young soldier gave a salute, his face still showing a touch of youthfulness.

Li Ping'an wiped his hands and came out of the kitchen: "Please come in." The courtyard isn't big; it's just the two of us siblings.

The soldier produced the registration form: "Head of household's name?"

Li Ping'an. The "Ping'an" meaning peace and safety.

Age?

Nineteen in traditional age reckoning.

The soldier's pen paused, he looked up and assessed this young man who seemed unusually steady for his age: "You're so young and already the head of the household? Where are the adults in your family?"

They starved to death in Henan in 1941. Li Ping'an spoke calmly, as if talking about someone else.

The young soldier fell silent for a moment, then neatly filled in the family members column: Father Li Shoucheng (deceased), Mother Wang Xiuying (deceased). His handwriting was heavy, the ink bleeding through the paper.

When it was Ping Le's turn, the little girl nervously tugged at her collar: "Li Pingle, the 'Le' of peace and happiness, I'm fifteen this year."

The soldier smiled: "That's a good name, peace and happiness." As he spoke, he pulled a fruit candy from his satchel: "Here, little sis, take it."

Ping Le took it with a flushed face and whispered: "Comrade, why are we registering this?"

To establish a new order. The soldier explained earnestly, "From now on everyone will have a household register, proving identity wherever they go."

At that moment, Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei strode into the courtyard: "How's it going? Finished the registration?"

The young soldier snapped to attention: "Reporting to the commissar, we are currently verifying the housing situation."

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei patted Li Ping'an on the shoulder: "This kid is an old revolutionary; he earned merit in the Flying Eagle Team during the War of Resistance."

He then turned to Li Ping'an: "Do you still have the lease contract? Take it out for registration."

Li Ping'an took out an iron box from the inner room, inside which a yellowed lease was wrapped in oilcloth. Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei took it and glanced: "You've rented it for over two years, right?"

Mm. Li Ping'an nodded, "I came back from Dongbei, found my sister, and first rented this courtyard."

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei pondered: "Now New China emphasizes the rule of law; leases are also protected." He turned to the soldier and said, "The situation of this house is clear; make a note of it."

The young soldier curiously asked: "Comrade Li, your parents never came to Beiping?"

Li Ping'an gazed at the old locust tree in the courtyard: "My parents never left Henan in their whole lives. Before they died, they said they wanted to see what Beiping's city walls looked like." Unfortunately...

The courtyard fell silent for a moment, only sparrows chirping on the branches.

Ping Le suddenly said: "Brother, when Qingming comes, let's go burn a photo of Beiping for our parents."

Okay. Li Ping'an ruffled his sister's hair, "We'll burn a picture of Tiananmen."

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei cleared his throat: "Let's get down to business. We need to thoroughly clear out enemy property; some ownerless houses are to be confiscated. Ping'an, you know this area well—help us see which houses have problems."

Li Ping'an thought: "The household surnamed Wang diagonally opposite fled with the Nationalists last year; their house has remained empty."

The young soldier hurriedly noted it down. Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei nodded: "Such houses should be reclaimed by the state and allocated to disadvantaged groups."

He said, suddenly lowering his voice: "There's another matter. Recently we discovered that some secret agents have built bunkers in civilian homes..."

Li Ping'an shook his head: "Around here are all long‑term tenants; building a bunker would cause too much noise. If they wanted to hide, at most they'd use a cellar or a hidden wall."

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei's eyes lit up: "Exactly! Exactly! That's what I mean! Please keep an eye out for it."

After seeing off the Military Control Commission personnel, Ping Le leaned over the table studying the newly issued temporary household register: "Brother, this paper feels really substantial."

Li Ping'an flipped through the lease: "At least we have a place to settle down."

A few days later, the alley indeed became lively. The vacant house diagonally opposite was taken in by three households, all worker families. A woman about the same age as Su Shifu even brought over a jar of her own homemade pickled vegetables.

Half a month later, the city began to improve household registration. That day Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei personally delivered two red‑covered registers: "Ping'an, do you feel more secure now?"

Li Ping'an opened the household register; his name as head of household stood out prominently. He gently stroked the paper, his eye sockets feeling warm.

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei sighed: "Back when we fought the Japanese soldiers, how many comrades longed for this day." He turned and saw Ping Le embroidering, smiling, "Little girl, what are you embroidering?"

Ping Le held up the embroidery hoop: "A five‑star red flag! I want to hang it in the center of the main hall."

Good! Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei gave a thumbs‑up, "You've got awareness!" As he spoke, he recalled something: "Ping'an, with everything waiting to be rebuilt, aren't you considering taking a job?"

Li Ping'an brewed tea for the commissar: "I'm doing fine now. Whenever a neighbor needs help, folks come over; just the other day I even helped the Military Control Commission identify a secret agent hiding in the alley."

Oh? Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei became interested, "What happened?"

It was Old Feng, the sesame‑oil seller. Li Ping'an said flatly, "His oil jar is never full; underneath he hides a radio transmitter."

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei slapped his thigh and laughed loudly: "I was wondering how we caught him so easily! Turns out you've been helping behind the scenes, you little rascal!"

After laughing, he turned serious: "But don't take risks anymore. Now we have the public security organs; professionals should handle professional matters."

Understood. Li Ping'an smiled, "I'm just a braised‑meat vendor now."

Just then, neighboring Aunt Zhao came over with a bowl: "Ping'an, try my newly made fried‑sauce noodles!"

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei sniffed: "Really fragrant! It seems your relations with the masses are quite good."

Li Ping'an took the bowl: "Distant relatives are no match for close neighbors."

At dusk, the sunset gilded the courtyard gold. Ping Le hung the newly finished five‑star red flag under the eaves; the red cloth with gold stars fluttered lightly in the breeze.

Brother, do you think it looks like the one at Tiananmen?

Yes. It's just a bit smaller.

Ping Le said earnestly: "Next National Day, I'll embroider an even bigger one!"

Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei watched the brother and sister, then suddenly felt moved: "If your parents could see this now..."

They can see it. Li Ping'an gazed at the evening clouds on the horizon, "They certainly can."

In the night, spring rain fell. Ping Le leaned on the windowsill watching raindrops hit the flag: "Brother, will the rain wash away the color?"

No. Li Ping'an wiped the household register under the lamp, "This cloth was given by Su Shifu; he said it's German dye, so rain won't fade it."

That's great. Ping Le whispered, "We don't have to worry about anything anymore."

When the rain stopped, a new moon hung on the treetops. Li Ping'an put the household register back into the iron box, then suddenly thought: "Le'er, let's take a photograph."

Ping Le jumped up in surprise: "Really? Where should we go to take a photo?"

Wangfujing has a photo studio; I heard their skills are good. Li Ping'an said, after the photo is taken, burn a copy for Mom and Dad.

We need another copy! Ping Le exclaimed excitedly, to hang it in the main hall so Mom and Dad can see us every day.

Outside the window came the Patrol Squad's footsteps, neat and strong. These are the footsteps of New China, Ping Le said pressing against the glass, different from the old soldiers.

Li Ping'an smiled: "Because this is the people's army."

Night deepened; Ping Le fell asleep holding the new household register, a smile still on his lips. Li Ping'an practiced a set of fists in the courtyard; as he finished the move, he saw the national flag silently fluttering in the moonlight.

He recalled his father's oft-repeated words: "Ordinary folks, all we seek is to live in peace and work in contentment."

Now, this wish finally has something to look forward to.

The next day at the braised meat stall, the regular customers were discussing the newly issued household registers. Aunt Zhang beamed: "Now we're settled; we're finally proper Beijingers!"

The vegetable-selling Lao Sun Tou leaned over: "Ping'an, I heard you helped the Military Administration Committee catch spies?"

Li Ping'an was slicing meat: "Just a coincidence."

"Not a chance!" Lao Sun Tou gave a thumbs-up, "I've known since you were little that you're not ordinary!"

Ping Le snickered on the side, then got a glare from his brother.

Just then, Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei came by on a bicycle, a fish hanging from the handlebars: "Ping'an, let's have stewed fish tonight! Today really is a good day!"

"What good day?"

"The whole country is improving household registration!" Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei laughed loudly, "From now on, we Chinese all have an identity!"

Sunlight shone on everyone's smiling faces, warm and cozy. In the distance, the school's class bell rang, clear and pleasant.

"It's the bell for the new semester," Ping Le said. "The teacher said we'll be taught a new song."

"What song?"

"《Ode to the Motherland》."

Li Ping'an nodded, knife rose and fell; the meat slices on the cutting board were thin as a cicada's wing.

"Just like these days of the new era—clear, solid, full of promise. Although the house is rented, my heart is at ease."