SHADOWS OF THE VALLEY
Chapter 4: Echoes and Enlargements
Date: May 1, 1936
Location: Coyote's Den, Shaanxi
The millet was a game-changer. For the first time since his arrival, Li Fan's small unit wasn't staring down the barrel of starvation. The six sacks, carefully rationed and supplemented with foraged greens and the occasional hare snared by Chen Rui's clever traps, bought them time. Precious, intangible time to train, to think, to plan beyond the next meal.
But action creates reaction. The raid on the levy cart was a stone thrown into the pond of the Yan River valley, and the ripples were now reaching their secluded canyon.
Liu Feng, returning from a solitary dawn observation patrol to the Den's eastern approaches, moved with urgent grace. He found Li Fan conducting morning rifle drills with Chen Rui and Bao, having them dry-fire at small stones placed at varying distances.
"Sir," Liu Feng said, foregoing a salute but coming to a precise halt. "Movement on the southern ridgeline. A patrol. Eight men."
Li Fan lowered the stick he was using to correct Bao's posture. "Militia? Regulars?"
"Not Gaojiashan men. Better equipped. Four Mauser rifles, two with scopes. One light machine gun—a Type 11, Japanese. They wore a mixture of uniforms… grey, and blue. They moved with purpose, searching."
"Searching for us," Zhao Quan stated, joining them from the latrine dig detail.
"Likely," Liu Feng nodded. "They were scanning the ground, looking at tracks. They found the old trail from our first week—the one we used to fetch water before we rigged the seep. They followed it to the dead end where we'd circled back. They seemed frustrated."
Li Fan processed this. The two riders Liu Feng had seen at Magistrate Gao's had reported upward. This was the response. A hybrid patrol, possibly from a regional warlord aligned with, or selling captured arms to, the Japanese. They were professionals, or at least semi-professionals. The game was escalating.
"Did they pick up our current trail?" Li Fan asked.
"No, sir. The spring rains and our disciplined route masking have seen to that. But they know someone is in this area. Someone capable. They will widen the search."
"Then we widen our world," Li Fan decided. "Fall in, all of you."
The five men assembled before him. He saw no fear in their faces, only a focused anticipation. They had been tempered in the small fires of failure and success over the past seven weeks. They were no longer refugees; they were a nascent tactical unit.
"Our sanctuary is compromised," Li Fan said without preamble. "The Den has served its purpose. But a shadow cannot live in one hole. We must become many shadows, in many places. Phase one—survival and basic training—is complete. Phase two begins now: expansion and operational dispersion."
He knelt, smoothing the dirt with his hand. "We will establish a network of hidden camps—caches, observation posts, fallback positions—through this sector of the valley. We will never again be tied to one location. Liu Feng, your primary mission shifts from inventory to intelligence and mapping. You will scout and identify three secondary sites within a day's march. Criteria: defensible, concealed, with water access."
"Understood."
"Zhao Quan, you will take Wang and begin constructing the first cache at Site Alpha, which Liu Feng will identify today. We will bury ammunition, grain, and basic medical supplies. Use the waxed cloth from the levy sacks for waterproofing."
"Yes, sir."
"Chen Rui, Bao. You're with me. We have a different task." He looked at Chen Rui. "You mentioned a cousin, in a village to the north. Yuhuangmiao?"
Chen Rui's eyes widened. "Yes, sir. My mother's sister's son. Zhang Wei. He's a blacksmith's apprentice."
"Is he trustworthy? Is he… discontent?"
The boy thought hard. "He wrote to me once, before I was conscripted. He said the local garrison commander took his master's best anvil for scrap and paid with a worthless IOU. He was angry. He has a good heart, but a hot temper."
"A hot temper can be cooled and forged into purpose," Li Fan said. "We need more men. Not just any men. Men with skill, with grievance, with loyalty. We are going recruiting."
---
Date: May 5, 1936
Location: The foothills north of Yuhuangmiao Village
The smell of woodsmoke and pig dung announced Yuhuangmiao long before they saw its low, sod-roofed houses. Li Fan, Chen Rui, and Bao observed from a copse of pine trees on a hill overlooking the village. It was larger than Gaojiashan, with a visible, walled compound flying a faded Kuomintang flag—the local garrison.
"The smithy," Chen Rui whispered, pointing to a building on the village outskirts, distinguished by a leaning chimney. "He should be there."
"Bao, you stay here as overwatch," Li Fan instructed. "If you see any movement from the garrison, or if we are not back by sunset, return to the rendezvous point and inform Zhao Quan. Chen Rui, lead the way. Casual pace. We are travelers, nothing more."
They walked down the winding path, their rifles concealed under bundled blankets. As they neared the smithy, the rhythmic clang of hammer on iron grew louder. Inside the dark, soot-stained shop, a young man in a leather apron, his muscles corded from labor, was beating a red-hot plowshare. An older man, presumably the master, pumped the bellows.
Chen Rui stepped into the doorway, blocking the light. "Cousin Wei. Does your master need more coal? I have some to trade."
Zhang Wei looked up, squinting. His face, streaked with grime, went from irritation to shock to cautious recognition. He shot a glance at his master. "Old Tong, I'll handle this. Probably trying to sell us Shanxi dust." He set down his hammer and walked out, wiping his hands on his apron. He pulled Chen Rui and Li Fan around the side of the building, out of sight from the road.
"Rui? Is that you? They said your unit was wiped out at the pass!"
"It was," Chen Rui said quietly. "I ran. This is my… my commander now. Li Fan."
Zhang Wei's eyes darted over Li Fan, taking in the strange camouflage, the calm, assessing gaze, the bearing that screamed soldier in a way the garrison troops never could. "Commander of what? There are no armies here but the ones who steal anvils."
"An army starts with a grievance," Li Fan said, his voice low. "I hear you have one. We specialize in rectifying such injustices. Not with petitions, but with applied force."
"You're bandits," Zhang Wei stated, but there was curiosity, not accusation, in his tone.
"We are shadows," Li Fan corrected. "We took Magistrate Gao's levy cart and fed a hungry child with part of it. We move unseen. We strike where we choose. We are recruiting men who are tired of being the anvil, and wish to learn to be the hammer."
Zhang Wei's gaze flickered to the garrison compound. Hatred burned there, pure and undiluted. "What would you have me do?"
"Your skills are valuable. Metalwork. Strength. Endurance. You would train with us. You would learn to fight, to move, to think. The pay is food, shelter, and the chance to hit back at the men who think they own you."
"And my master? If I vanish, the garrison will punish him."
Li Fan had anticipated this. "You will not vanish. You will have an argument with your master today. A loud one, about the stolen anvil. You will quit. You will be seen leaving the village in a rage, heading south. No one will be surprised when you don't return. We will be waiting a mile down the south road."
Zhang Wei chewed his lip, the calculation clear in his eyes. It was the calculation of a man with nothing to lose but his chains. He nodded, once, sharply. "Give me an hour. I'll make it a good argument."
The argument was, in fact, spectacular. From their position back in the foothills, Li Fan and Chen Rui could hear Zhang Wei's shouting, the old master's querulous replies, and the final, satisfying crash of what sounded like a bucket being kicked across the yard. Zhang Wei stormed out of the village, a small bundle over his shoulder, drawing a few bored looks from a sentry at the garrison gate who clearly couldn't care less about a disgruntled apprentice.
They collected him silently and melted back into the hills.
---
Date: May 15, 1936
Location: Site Bravo (a limestone cave system), Western Valley
The unit was now six. Zhang Wei's integration was a new kind of test. He was strong, fiercely loyal to Chen Rui and, by extension, to the unit that had given him an outlet for his rage. But he was also undisciplined, loud, and prone to acting before thinking.
The cave system, discovered by Liu Feng, was their new temporary base—Site Bravo. It was damp and cold, but vast, with multiple entrances and a hidden water source. On this day, Li Fan was conducting a squad attack drill on a simulated "enemy position" (a pile of rocks) in a clearing near the cave mouth.
"Fire team assault," Li Fan ordered. "Chen Rui and Zhang Wei as assault element. Wang as base of fire. Move on my signal."
Wang began dry-firing his Hanyang 88 from a prone position, calling out "Bang! Bang!" to simulate covering fire. Chen Rui tapped Zhang Wei, and the two broke from cover, advancing in a low crouch.
The drill was to advance ten meters, go prone, provide their own covering fire for Wang to advance, and repeat. Chen Rui went down on cue. Zhang Wei, over-eager, charged ahead another five meters, leaving his partner exposed.
"Stop!" Li Fan's voice cracked like a whip. "Zhang Wei! What was Chen Rui's position?"
Zhang Wei, panting, looked back. "He… he was behind me?"
"He was isolated. You broke the rhythm. You left your partner's flank open. If Wang was a real machine gunner, he could not shift fire to cover both of you at once. You are a fire team. The root word is team. You do not run ahead. You are a single organism. Again. From the beginning."
They ran the drill four more times. Zhang Wei improved, but his impatience was a palpable thing. During a water break, Li Fan pulled him aside.
"Your strength is an asset," Li Fan said. "Your anger is fuel. But uncontrolled fuel explodes and burns your friends. You are not a lone blacksmith here. You are one link in a chain. If you rush, the chain breaks. Do you understand?"
Zhang Wei stared at the ground, his jaw working. "I just… I want to get at them. The ones in the garrison."
"And you will," Li Fan promised. "But not by running at them headlong. You will do it by being where they do not expect, striking where they are weak, and vanishing before they can blink. That requires discipline. More discipline than they have. That is our only advantage."
Later that evening, around a carefully shielded fire deep within the cave, Liu Feng presented his map. It was a thing of beauty, drawn on layered pieces of bark with charcoal, showing the valley, the villages, known patrol routes, and the three sites he'd identified (Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie). He'd even noted seasonal water sources and goat trails.
"The patrols from the south have increased," Liu Feng reported. "They are now in pairs of eight, covering a grid. They are serious. But they stick to the main ridges and trails. They do not like the broken ground we favor."
"Good," Li Fan said. "We will use that. Next objective is not defensive. It's proactive. We need more rifles. We need to test our cohesion in a live action, not a drill. And we need to send another message."
He pointed to a spot on Liu Feng's map, a section of the trail used by the hybrid patrols. "Here. We ambush a patrol. Not to wipe it out—to maim it, to steal its weapons, and to sow fear. We show them that even their professionals are not safe."
He looked around the circle at the six faces illuminated by the flickering light: steady Zhao Quan, cunning Liu Feng, earnest Chen Rui, solid Wang, reliable Bao, and the fiery new recruit Zhang Wei. They were a platoon in truth now. A fragile, nascent, but potent weapon.
"We will rehearse for five days. Detailed reconnaissance, withdrawal routes, casualty evacuation plan. This will not be a raid on sleepy militiamen. This is a fight against soldiers. We will respect them, and we will defeat them by being better. Any questions?"
There were none. Only a grim, shared resolve. The shadows were learning to hunt.
End of Chapter 4