Chapter 140: Warmth Amidst the Beacon Fires

In the early summer of 1951, in a rear valley, the mud left by melting ice and snow finally sprouted specks of green. Li Ping'an watched the soldiers huddled in the foxholes picking lice and felt a sour pang—after the battle at San Suoli, fewer than forty men of the whole company could still stand, their eye sockets sunk like walnuts, exhausted and hungry, malnourished, subsisting on fried noodles that never even included a bite of meat; Li Ping'an saw this and was anxious.

"We're not holding the class meeting today," he leapt onto the ammunition box, clapped his hands, "let's have a Chat Meeting!"

New recruit Wang Da Niu, wrestling lice out of his torn cotton coat, froze and asked, "Company Commander, what's a Chat Meeting?"

"Just idle chatter! In Sichuan dialect it's called 'setting up a dragon gate formation'!" Li Ping'an pulled out a crumpled notebook, "Who wants to go first? How many people in your family? What's your significant other's name?"

Amid a burst of laughter, Shandong soldier Da Ge Li started, "My family has six members, my wife is named Xiulan…," then choked up. He recalled a letter saying his child could now call him 'dad'; once we win, I'll go home and name my kid Li Shengli…

A Sichuan soldier followed up, "My wife works in a silk mill and keeps complaining in her letters that the cotton stuffing irritates her… He wiped his face, saying that after the war he'll get her a lighter job, no matter what."

As the campfire crackled, the soldiers' talk boxes opened. Someone said they dreamed of mother's thousand‑layer cake, another muttered about the lamb soup with flatbread from the hometown market. Li Ping'an noted in his notebook: "Da Ge Li's child is three years old, Sichuan soldier's wife has poor lungs…"

"Your turn, Company Commander!" Tie Zhu shouted, "What's your significant other's name?"

Li Ping'an laughed, gave him a playful kick, "I don't have a partner yet. It's just me and my sister at home. My sister's name is Pingle, she studies embroidery in Beiping! After the war, she'll stitch you all Mandarin Duck Pillowcases!"

While they were still laughing, Cooking Squad Leader Lao Wang came over with a worried face, "Company Commander, the cornmeal will only last three days."

"Watch this!" Li Ping'an hoisted his rifle, "Today I'll improve everyone's meals!"

He and Tie Zhu trekked into the rear hills. By the stream where meltwater flowed, there were indeed wild boar tracks. Li Ping'an held his breath, aimed, and when the gun cracked, a two‑hundred‑jin wild boar fell. Tie Zhu jumped for joy, "Company Commander, your aim is as precise as ever; this boar will feed us for ten days, maybe half a month!"

"Hold on!" Li Ping'an suddenly grabbed him, "Did you see that bunch of wild greens? Stewed wild mustard with boar meat is the most fragrant!"

At dusk, the two returned fully loaded as the sunset painted the hilltops orange‑red. Lao Wang, startled by the boar, dropped his ladle into the pot and exclaimed, "Heaven above! How are we supposed to handle this?"

"My turn!" Li Ping'an rolled up his sleeve,

grabbed dry firewood from the kitchen and lit it, burned off the boar's hair, then cleaned it, split open the belly, the blade flashing as the meat was cut into chunks, ribs braised, hind leg made into sauce meat, the offal simmered in brine…

Suddenly he cried out— the knife tip sliced his finger. While no one was looking, he quietly dropped a few drops of Spirit Spring Water into the big pot. That night at dinner, the soldiers were amazed to find even the toughest sinews and gristle turned melt‑in‑your‑mouth.

"Incredible!" Lao Wang slurped the soup, "How does this meat taste better than any restaurant?"

The campfire evening show began as the stars fully appeared. Tie Zhu played the captured harmonica, blowing "Coming in February," Da Ge Li sang Shandong folk tunes with a raspy voice. The most spectacular was the Sichuan soldier, who used two rice ladles as bamboo clappers and improvised a fast‑paced rap: "American Japanese Soldiers are like rats; when they see us they run away…"

When Li Ping'an was prompted to perform, he executed a set of Tai Chi. Finishing, he laughed, "This art can nurture health and also kill enemies on the battlefield, preserving life. Anyone who wants to learn can find me!"

The laughter startled the night birds in the forest. A young soldier quietly wiped away tears, "If every day were like this, how wonderful…"

"There will be such a day, not too far off!" Li Ping'an ruffled his hair, "When we build socialism, every day will be a good day!"

The next day, the commendation ceremony was held in the division headquarters hall. When they recited that Li Ping'an had annihilated over two hundred enemies and captured countless pieces of equipment, thunderous applause erupted. The Army Commander personally pinned a medal on him, "Any thoughts? Share them so everyone can learn."

Li Ping'an cleared his throat into the microphone, "I just want to say, the wild boar meat stewed by Cooking Squad Leader Lao Wang is truly fragrant!"

Amid the uproar, he spoke seriously, "Actually the credit belongs to the nineteen fallen brothers. Er Gouzi clutched a comb he bought for his mother right before he died, and Xiao Shandong still has unsent love letters hidden in his pocket… The hall fell silent; this medal should bear every soldier's name!"

After the order promoting him to Battalion Commander was read, Li Ping'an went to the Division Commander, "I'd rather stay as Company Commander; I'm used to the brothers."

"Nonsense!" the Division Commander glared, "It's what the revolution needs!"

"Then you must accept my condition," Li Ping'an replied with a sly smile, "let the mess hall add a meat serving each week!"

"Your idea is beautiful, but the wounded can't even afford meat; you still want weekly meat? Get lost!"

On a moonlit night with sparse stars, the newly promoted Battalion Commander Li Ping'an was still engraving bullet casings. Tie Zhu delivered a letter from Pingle; the paper was embroidered with a crooked plum blossom: "Brother, I've learned Su embroidery; wait for you to return so I can make new clothes."

He ran his fingers over the stitching thread when laughter drifted from the wounded's tent—it was Lin Xueqing teaching the injured to identify herbs; the moonlight made the bullet‑shell stethoscope on her white coat shine brightly.

"Battalion Commander," she looked up with a smile, "I heard you refused the promotion?"

Rank and title didn't matter; Li Ping'an handed the engraved bullet casings to the wounded, "What matters is that we all live to see victory."

The valley wind carried the scent of herbs far away. At this moment there were no gunshots, only the snoring and murmurs of the soldiers. A child soldier giggled in his sleep, "Mother, I finally get to eat meat…"

Li Ping'an gently tucked the blanket corner for him and hummed a Beiping folk tune. The melody drifted through the tents, melting into the spring night, adding a gentle hue to this brutal war. Yet tomorrow the steel rifles must still be gripped tightly, for spring has only just begun.