Chapter 131: Resist America, Aid Korea

In the spring of 1950, the willow catkins drifting over Beiping City made people's hearts anxious. In front of Li Ping'an's braised-meat stall, old regulars crowded to read the People's Daily, each filled with righteous indignation.

The vegetable-selling Lao Sun Tou slapped his thigh in anger: "Those damn Americans are bullying us too much! They've bombed all the way to the Yalu River!"

Li Ping'an's hand paused while wiping his knife. The four large characters "Resist America, Aid Korea" on the newspaper seared into his heart like a red-hot branding iron.

After closing his stall, he rushed straight to the military district compound. Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei was in a meeting; hearing that Li Ping'an had arrived, he dropped the meeting and ran out.

You little Flying Eagle! Zhou Zhengwei grabbed his arm, "I knew you couldn't sit still!"

"I want to rejoin the unit, I want to fight the Americans." Li Ping'an spoke softly, yet it made the guards in the hallway straighten up.

Zhou Zhengwei stared at him for a long moment: "Have you really decided? Life has just stabilized, and you still have a sister to look after—can you bear to leave her?"

"Precisely because life has stabilized, we must not let anyone ruin the pot." Li Ping'an's gaze swept over the battle map on the wall; the northeastern direction was heavily circled in red.

When Ping Le heard the news, she was embroidering a magpie perched on plum blossoms. The needle pricked her finger, and a bead of blood stained the white silk.

Brother... are you really leaving?

Li Ping'an squatted down, wrapping his sister's hand in his palm: "Le'er, I taught you Tai Chi—practice it every day. When you encounter difficulties, solve them yourself; if you can't, go find Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei."

The little girl's tears fell onto her brother's hand: "I'm going with you!"

Nonsense! Zhou Zhengwei put on a stern face: "Your brother is going to war! From now on you'll live at school, and I'll pick you up on weekends."

That night before leaving, Li Ping'an practiced boxing in the courtyard all night. The force of his Baji Quan shook the old locust tree, making leaves rustle and sparrows flutter from the whole courtyard.

On the day of seeing him off at the train station, Ping Le slipped the embroidered peace charm into her brother's pocket: "I'll wait for you to come back."

Zhou Zhengwei handed over a cloth bag: "Take this, it's the things you left behind in the unit years ago."

When the train whistle blew long, Li Ping'an breathed on the window and drew a smiley face.

The special train headed north all the way. The carriage was filled with young men in their early twenties; a Henan soldier named Tie Zhu curiously asked, "Company Commander, did you really fight the Japanese?"

Li Ping'an was cleaning his gun; hearing this, he looked up: "How so? Doesn't look like it?"

Tie Zhu scratched his head: "Like a meat seller."

The whole company burst into laughter. Li Ping'an wasn't annoyed; he assembled the rifle in a few moves: "When I sold meat, my knife work was more precise than now."

After arriving in Dongbei and night fell, the air-raid siren suddenly wailed. The new recruits scrambled in chaos; Li Ping'an kicked open the train door: "Everyone out! Scatter and take cover!"

Enemy aircraft roared overhead, dropping a few bombs. One recruit had pissed his pants from fear; Li Ping'an dragged him into a shell crater: "What are you afraid of? American planes aren't eagles—they can't carry you off."

While he spoke, his hand didn't stop, using the bayonet to carve an anti-bullet groove into the crater's rim. Tie Zhu shivered and asked, "Company Commander, why aren't you afraid?"

Li Ping'an pointed to his ears: "Listen to locate them. Bomber engines sound deep, fighter engines sound sharp—just now that was a reconnaissance plane, just to scare us."

Sure enough, the plane circled twice and flew away. As the new recruits climbed out of the crater, their looks at the company commander changed.

The next day on the march, Li Ping'an taught everyone to sing "The Motherland Will Not Forget." When they reached the lines "The mountains know me, the rivers know me," he suddenly stopped: "Remember this—when we reach Korea, the mountains are your father, the rivers your mother."

Tie Zhu didn't understand: "What does that mean?"

Li Ping'an kicked at the snow under his feet: "Snow can quench thirst, trees can provide cover. The Americans rely on equipment; we rely on heaven and earth."

He casually plucked some dry grass: "This stops bleeding." Then he pointed to a pine tree: "Its bark is edible." The new recruits hurriedly noted it in their little notebooks.

On the day they reached Ji'an, the river surface was already frozen. Explosions could be heard from the opposite bank, lighting the horizon red.

Suddenly the air-raid siren wailed shrilly. Three US fighter planes dove down, their machine guns kicking up ice shards.

Take cover! Li Ping'an shouted, shoving the nearby recruit aside. Seeing the enemy aircraft about to drop bombs, he whipped out a peculiar long rifle from his pack in a flash.

Tie Zhu exclaimed in shock: "Company Commander! That's..."

A Type 93 sniper rifle, its barrel gleaming coldly in the sunlight. Li Ping'an lay prone, his breathing suddenly extremely shallow. He narrowed his eyes to a slit, fixedly staring at the lead aircraft's fuel tank.

Bang!

The bullet traced a strange arc, actually drilling into the engine from the side. The enemy plane trailed black smoke and plunged into the river's middle, while the other two scrambled to climb.

Silence fell over the position. After a moment, Tie Zhu stammered, "Company... Company Commander... your marksmanship is divine—can you teach me?"

Li Ping'an lowered his rifle and rose: "It's a skill passed down from our ancestors. Hurry and rescue the wounded! I'll teach you when I get the chance."

He earned a commendation for this, but he stuffed the medal deep into his pack. That night the unit crossed the Yalu River, walking on the ice toward the burning mountains.

On the seventh day in Korea, the company encountered a US vanguard in a valley. The enemy was well-equipped, with tanks leading the way and machine guns pinning everyone down.

Tie Zhu yelled from the shell crater: "Company Commander, what do we do?"

Li Ping'an narrowed his eyes to observe: "See that guy gesturing? That's the commander. And point at that flamethrower heavy machine gun—take out that 'chicken neck' first."

He set up his sniper rifle; the bullet pierced the smoke, and the commander fell dead at the sound. As the machine gunner moved to take his place, a second bullet blew off his skull.

The US formation fell into chaos. Li Ping'an leapt from the trench: "Charge!"

The melee combat was extraordinarily brutal. An American soldier lunged with his bayonet at Tie Zhu; Li Ping'an leapt to block, his arm sliced deep. Blood dripped onto the snow, and he twisted the enemy's neck in reverse.

When the battle ended, over half the company were casualties. Tie Zhu clung to his fallen comrade, sobbing: "Ergouzi! We promised to go back home together and get wives!"

Li Ping'an silently bandaged the wounded. A young soldier with his intestines spilling out still struggled to ask: "Company Commander... do I... count as a hero?"

"Yes!" Li Ping'an pressed the last piece of staunching grass onto his wound, "The motherland will not forget."

Late at night, he alone carved a wooden plaque on the hilltop. By moonlight, over a hundred names were visible, the topmost belonging to the old comrades of the Flying Eagle Team.

When Tie Zhu arrived, he saw the company commander saluting the wooden plaque. His figure stood straight in the snow, like a pine tree that won't fall to frost.

The next day on the march, Li Ping'an taught everyone to wrap their feet with cloth strips to prevent frostbite. Passing a burned-out village, he suddenly stopped: "Did you hear that?"

Tie Zhu cocked his ear: "What sound?"

There was a child crying in the cellar.

They cleared the rubble and rescued a Korean little girl. Her lips were purple from the cold, and she clung tightly to Li Ping'an's collar.

Tie Zhu sighed: "What do we do now?"

Carrying her on his back, Li Ping'an wrapped the girl in his cotton jacket and began singing "The Motherland Will Not Forget." Amid the off-key tune, the little girl gradually stopped crying.

That night the company received an urgent order: seize the main peak of Flying Tiger Mountain. Li Ping'an handed the girl to a Korean villager, then turned, his eyes turning cold: "The whole company will go light, each with five grenades."

The mountain path was steep, with US artillery laying down a dense barrage. Tie Zhu was hit and fell; Li Ping'an dragged him onward, shouting, "Coward! Are you just going to lie down and quit?"

Near the summit, they ran into an enemy stronghold. Machine guns spewed flames, and the soldiers charging forward fell like wheat being cut.

Li Ping'an removed all the grenades and bundled them: Tie Zhu, give me covering fire!

He crawled forward, bullets whizzing past his ears. As he neared the bunker, he suddenly sprang up, and at the moment of pulling the string, he smashed the firing slit open with his rifle butt.

Boom—

The smoke cleared, the bunker reduced to ruins. As the soldiers charged the summit, they saw the company commander standing on the cliff edge, his cotton uniform soaked in blood.

While the medic was rescuing him, they discovered he still had half a roasted potato tucked in his pocket—intended for that Korean child.

After three days in a coma, Li Ping'an woke up in the field hospital. Tie Zhu, eyes red: Company Commander! Headquarters reports a commendation, saying our company is the steel nail on Flying Tiger Mountain!

Li Ping'an looked out the window; snowflakes drifted down softly. He hummed a tune softly, the melody being the Beiping little song that Ping Le often hummed while embroidering.

The nurse delivered a family letter forwarded by Political Commissar Zhou Zhengwei. Ping Le wrote in the letter that the school had granted her a scholarship, and Master Su had taught her to embroider a piece titled 'Safe Return'.

He folded the letter neatly and kept it against his chest, then told Tie Zhu: Tell the brothers, the folks back home are watching.

In the distance, cannon fire rose again—a new battle was imminent. From the position came the soldiers' newly learned song, slightly off-key, yet sung with such vigor it shook the mountains.