Chapter 1: Hand Over Your Mind

On October 25, 1928, on the western outskirts of Shanghai, Li Haibo gazed at the great city of Asia before him, his heart swelling with emotion. At last, he was going home. He had left to join the army six years ago, and he wondered how his mother was doing, alone by herself.

Suddenly, with a sharp crack of gunfire, Li Haibo, lost in his thoughts, jolted hard all over.

He wondered to himself, “A Mauser rifle? And just as I’m about to enter Shanghai, there’s still gunfire?”

Without another thought, Li Haibo darted straight toward the sound.

About three minutes later, like a nimble ape, he climbed a tree and took out his binoculars to study the situation ahead.

In the distance, two Japanese soldiers and four plainclothes collaborators had blocked a group of more than twenty people in a mountain hollow.

Though the trapped group outnumbered them, their weapons were pitifully crude. Among more than twenty people, there were only three guns, two long and one short, and the long guns were the old-fashioned antiquated type; the rifling in their barrels was probably long gone.

The others carried all manner of makeshift weapons: broadswords, spears, and even two men holding manure forks.

Such a ragtag band, armed with flimsy weapons, was pinned in the hollow by the superior firepower of the six guns opposite them, four long and two short, and could not move an inch. The situation was dire.

Just then, one of the collaborators bellowed in a ragged voice, “Listen up, Red Party guerrillas! You’ve got nowhere left to run! Drop your weapons and the Imperial soldiers will spare your lives!”

“Girls! And girl prisoners too!” one of the Japanese soldiers, a squat, knock-kneed runt, howled wildly as well.

His cry drew laughter from the other Japanese soldier and several collaborators.

Hearing the words “Red Party,” a thought flashed through Li Haibo’s mind: our people!

Without the slightest hesitation, he climbed down from the tree at once, then swiftly took out all manner of weapons from his personal storage space: a box pistol, a Kar 98k, grenades, a broadsword...

A minute later, Li Haibo, now armed to the teeth, used the surrounding trees for cover and quietly worked his way toward the enemy position.

He was close now, close enough to see the ugly expressions on the faces of the Japanese and collaborators as they toyed with their prey like a cat with a mouse. Li Haibo did not hesitate for a moment. He hurled two grenades.

With two thunderous blasts, the place was instantly filled with screams and howls.

Before the smoke from the grenades had even dispersed, Li Haibo burst from cover like a war god descended to earth, box pistol in hand. While running, he fired with both hands in rapid succession, unleashing a fierce hail of bullets at the enemy.

In just a few breaths, the Japanese soldiers and collaborators all fell silent.

Li Haibo calmly reloaded the box pistol, then strode forward, drew his broadsword, and stabbed each corpse in turn to make absolutely certain that the Japanese and collaborators were dead beyond all doubt.

Only then did the guerrillas finally begin to recover from their immense shock, each of them staring over in disbelief.

“Come out! I’m one of our own, here to fight the Japanese!” Li Haibo shouted as he put away his gun after checking the bodies.

The guerrillas looked at one another, still not fully recovered from their shock.

“That was incredible... He wiped out all the Japanese and collaborators in just a few moves!”

Seeing the bodies of the Japanese and collaborators strewn across the ground, and then looking at Li Haibo, who was waving for them to come out because it was safe, the others gradually emerged one after another.

At that moment, a burly man, well over six feet tall, strode over. As he walked, he laughed heartily. “Many thanks for your help, brother. I’m Li Dong, commander of the Jiading guerrilla detachment of the Red Party. May I ask your name, and what unit you belong to?”

Li Haibo silently marveled: Wow, a dead ringer for Zhu Shimao. Broad brows, big eyes—clearly a good man.

Out loud, he hurriedly replied, “Names don’t matter. We’re all fighting the Japanese, so that makes us comrades.”

“Ha ha! Well said, brother. With the nation in peril, anyone who can fight the Japanese is a hero!” Captain Li said loudly, giving him a thumbs-up.

Captain Li came closer and, looking at the corpses on the ground, asked tentatively, “Since we’re all fighting the Japanese, I’d like to discuss something with you.”

“Go right ahead,” Li Haibo answered without hesitation.

“Look, all these Japanese soldiers and collaborators were killed by you. By rights, these weapons...?”

Li Haibo immediately understood what he was after and waved a generous hand. “Take them. I can’t use them anyway!”

Upon hearing this, Captain Li’s face lit up with joy. He thanked him repeatedly. “Brother, you’re truly a generous man. With this, my guerrilla detachment will be much better equipped, and we’ll have far more confidence in resisting the Japanese invaders in the days ahead.”

With that, he gestured behind him, and the guerrillas, who had long been itching to move, rushed over at once to strip the spoils.

Li Haibo waved them off. “No need to be polite. They’re only a few lousy guns. Don’t make a fuss over them.”

Captain Li’s eye twitched. Lousy guns? These were Arisaka rifles. In any unit, they were top-quality equipment!

Seeing that these guerrillas were all dressed in rags, thin and threadbare, with winter already approaching, and some of them still wearing straw sandals, Li Haibo felt a pang. Life was hard for these comrades.

“Li Haibo!” A sudden cry startled him so badly that he nearly jumped.

He could not help but think in surprise: Damn, I haven’t even entered Shanghai yet. Could I really have run into an acquaintance by such coincidence?

At that moment, a handsome young man was hurrying toward him with a look of delight. “Li Haibo! It really is you!”

“You are...?” Li Haibo looked at that handsome face with some helplessness. Why is every Red Party man handsomer than I am?

“I’m Zhou Zhengguo! We were classmates in primary school. Don’t you remember me?” the handsome young man called out excitedly.

Li Haibo muttered to himself: Remember you? After so many years? How on earth would I remember a primary school classmate that clearly?

Still, he replied politely, “Of course, of course! The moment you said your name, I remembered!”

During the interval while they were clearing the battlefield, the two of them began an enthusiastic yet awkward conversation, one genuinely excited, the other merely making awkward talk.

Only then did Li Haibo learn that the man really was his primary school classmate. Zhou Zhengguo’s parents were both university professors; his father was a chemist, and his mother was a writer and musician.

Several years earlier, the two professors had gone to the northwest, leaving Zhou Zhengguo alone in Shanghai to attend university.

After graduation, Zhou Zhengguo went underground and began anti-Japanese activities.

“Classmate Zhou, where are you headed?” Li Haibo asked.

“We organized several progressive doctors and nurses in Shanghai and planned to escort them to serve as military doctors for Commander Four.

Who would have thought that just after leaving Shanghai, we’d run into a group of Japanese and collaborators going into the countryside to requisition grain? Luckily, we ran into you. Otherwise, we probably would have lost our lives here today!” Zhou Zhengguo said, still shaken.

Only then did Li Haibo notice that there were seven or eight men and women with glasses in Zhou Zhengguo’s group. They all carried a strong scholarly air, and at a glance one could tell they were educated people. “So you only transport people to Commander Four?”

“Not only people, but supplies as well. Sometimes it’s Commander Four, sometimes Commander Eight!”

Ah, so this was a transport line for personnel and supplies. Guerrilla units like this did not often get chances to fight.

“Old classmate, weren’t you in the Nationalist Army? How did you end up here?”

Li Haibo answered calmly, “My unit was scattered by the Japanese. I had nowhere else to go, so I planned to return to Shanghai to find my mother.”

“A deserter?” Zhou Zhengguo blurted out without thinking.