You Must Come Back Alive  2

 by Chen Chin

This novel has been adapted into a feature film screenplay.
The film adaptation rights are available for USD 1,000,000.

For licensing inquiries, please contact:

Chen Qingyang
📧 54088rabbit@gmail.com

Episode One

1

Yang Zhao-jia’s adoptive father, Yang Cheng-ruo, had served as District Head of Niumatou since 1917, with all practical affairs handled by Yang Zhao-jia on his behalf. In 1920 (Taishō 9), following the reform of the local administrative system (see note), Yang Zhao-jia became the first Chief of Qingshui Township. At just twenty-five years old, he was eager to accomplish something meaningful.

In Taichū Prefecture, Taikō District, Qingshui Township—inside the Fourth-Grade Class A classroom of Qingshui Public School—Mr. Miura Tomokazu (40) was teaching fraction division in algebra. Liao Ying-jun (10) was playing marbles at his desk when the teacher called him out:

“Liao Ying-jun, you seem very busy. Come up to the blackboard and solve this problem.”

Looking utterly confused, Ying-jun replied,
“Sir, I don’t know how.”

Tomokazu said displeased,
“Of course you don’t. You haven’t been paying attention. Go stand in the corridor.”

Ying-jun lowered his head and walked out, standing in the hallway outside the classroom.

Tomokazu addressed the class,
“Everyone, let’s work through this problem together.”

Turning sideways, he wrote on the blackboard as the students recited the steps in unison:
“First convert the mixed number into an improper fraction, change division into multiplication, flip the numerator and denominator of the divisor, reduce first…”

Note 1:
In October 1920 (Taishō 9), the Taiwan Governor-General’s Office promulgated the Taiwan Prefectural System, Taiwan Municipal System, and Taiwan Township and Village System, reforming local governance. Prefectures, cities, and townships were defined not only as administrative divisions but also as local public bodies. Ten western prefectures were reorganized into five prefectures, under which were three cities and forty-seven districts. The eastern region retained Hualien and Taitung Prefectures, under which were six sub-prefectures, two towns, and eighteen districts.

2

During recess, groups of students passed through the corridor. Ying-jun stood there, head lowered, glancing sideways at classmates playing mock cavalry battles on the playground, envy written all over his face.

Hashimoto Ryūta (10), holding a ball, walked over.
“Ying-jun, come play ball with me.”

Ying-jun shook his head.
“I don’t dare. Mr. Miura will twist my ear.”

Ryūta sneered,
“Since when did you become such a coward, Liao Ying-jun?”

Ying-jun replied,
“I didn’t do yesterday’s math homework. I don’t even know if the teacher’s going to hit me with the ruler. Don’t drag me into trouble.”

Bored, Ryūta said,
“Forget it. I’ll go by myself.”

He left with the ball.

Back in the classroom, Mr. Miura called Yang Xin-tai (10) to the desk.

“Xin-tai, I need your help with something.”

“Yes, sir,” Xin-tai replied respectfully.

Pointing toward the window, Miura said,
“That Liao Ying-jun—he’s always distracted in class and often submits his homework late. It gives me a headache. I’d like you to keep an eye on his studies. If he doesn’t know how to do an assignment, help him during recess. I know you’re close friends.”

“Yes, sir.”

Miura stood up.
“I’ll be in my office grading papers during the next music class. Collect all the arithmetic workbooks and bring them to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Miura left the classroom.

Xin-tai returned to his seat, gathered a stack of workbooks, and stepped outside, where Ying-jun was still standing in punishment.

“Ying-jun, you haven’t given me your arithmetic workbook yet.”

Scratching his head, Ying-jun laughed sheepishly.
“I forgot to bring it today.”

“Oh, come on—same excuse again,” Xin-tai said.
“If you really don’t know how to do it, I’ll teach you now. Otherwise, you’ll just get punished again.”

“Really? You’ll teach me?” Ying-jun asked.

“Yes. Come inside. I’ll work through it for you now.”

“But the teacher told me to stand here. I don’t dare leave,” Ying-jun hesitated.

“The teacher told me to supervise your studies. Come with me,” Xin-tai said.

“Thanks! Class monitor Xin-tai! I’ll buy you a popsicle after school!” Ying-jun said happily.

“No need. Just get your homework done—that’s more practical,” Xin-tai replied.

They returned to their seats. With textbooks and workbooks open, Xin-tai finished explaining all ten problems in just over ten minutes.

“As long as you’re willing to learn, math isn’t that hard,” Xin-tai said.

Grinning foolishly, Ying-jun replied,
“When the teacher explains, I hear it—but I don’t understand it.”

Xin-tai snorted.
“You call that listening? Every time I see you, you’re playing with something.”

Ying-jun sighed.
“It’s boring when you don’t understand. So I find something to play with to kill time.”

Gratefully, Ying-jun handed over his workbook. Xin-tai collected the stack and left, while Ying-jun watched his back disappear.

3

On the playground, Yang Xin-tai, Liao Ying-jun, Lin Qing-long (10), Cai Ting-kai (10), Chen Mu-yan (10), Wang Da-wang (10), Wu Wen-zhang (10), Hashimoto Ryūta, and other classmates were playing mock cavalry battles. Over thirty boys split into two sides, each side divided into four teams of four, crashing, shoving, and grappling with one another.

Ryūta sat astride the arms of Cai Ting-kai and Lin Qing-long, gripping Ying-jun’s hair as the “horse’s head,” shouting majestically,
“Charge!”

Ying-jun’s scalp burned with pain, but he clenched his teeth and endured it, afraid that crying out would earn him a scolding.

On the other side, Xin-tai teamed up with Wu Wen-zhang, Chen Mu-yan, and Wang Da-wang. Da-wang played the horse, with Xin-tai as the rider.

“Charge!” Xin-tai shouted.

Chaos erupted. Boys were pulled off their “horses,” piling into a heap. Ying-jun ended up crushed beneath the chubby Da-wang, with more than ten boys stacked on top.

Groaning, Ying-jun said,
“You fat pig! You’re squashing me flat—get up!”

Da-wang protested innocently,
“I’m being crushed too!”

From underneath, Ryūta pinched his nose.
“Who was it? Who farted? It stinks!”

“Not me,” Wen-zhang said.
“I didn’t,” Qing-long added.
“It was me—sorry!” Mu-yan admitted.

Ryūta scowled.
“That’s disgusting! Couldn’t you hold it in?”

Laughing, Xin-tai said,
“How can anyone hold in a fart?”

4

After school, Xin-tai walked with Lin Qing-long, Wang Da-wang, and Chen Mu-yan.

Ying-jun ran up.
“Wait up! Want to go see the lanterns at Ziyun Temple?”

“Not now,” Xin-tai said.
“I’ll go after dinner with my dad and mom.”

“That’s no fun—with adults,” Ying-jun said.
“Qing-long, Da-wang, Mu-yan—how about now?”

“I have to help at our rice-cake shop,” Da-wang said.
“I can’t either—lots of chores waiting for me,” Mu-yan added.
“My grandpa’s waiting for me to rub his back and heat bathwater,” Qing-long said.
“You’ve got it easy.”

Bored, Ying-jun said,
“If none of you are going, I’ll go myself.”

He pulled a slingshot from his schoolbag.
“I’ll go shoot lanterns with Young Master Ryūta.”

He dashed off in a flash.

5

On the evening before the Mid-Autumn Festival, Xin-tai went with his father Yang Zhao-hua (32), mother Nishikawa Riko (30), to stroll around Ziyun Temple. Lanterns of all shapes hung everywhere, and food stalls lined the temple entrance—dough figurines, sugar painting, candied bird pears, licorice guava, cotton candy, rice-wine snails, steamed peanuts, sausage shooting games—buzzing with excitement.

This year, the temple invited two opera troupes to perform Tang Bohu Courts Qiuxiang and The Butterfly Lovers, both literary operas. The family sat on long benches watching. Riko was thoroughly absorbed, but Xin-tai found it dull. In past years, he preferred plays like Yue Fei, The Generals of the Yang Family, and Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

By chance, Ying-jun arrived with his younger sister Mei-xiu (8).

“Mom, I’m going to see the lanterns with Ying-jun and his sister,” Xin-tai said.

“Don’t stay out too long,” Riko replied.

“Got it.”

Walking along the temple corridor, the three children admired lanterns while licking bird-pear candy skewers.

Pointing to a Journey to the West lantern, Xin-tai laughed,
“Mei-xiu, look—doesn’t this Pigsy look just like Wang Da-wang?”

“It really does!” Mei-xiu giggled.
“Bro, come see!”

“Yeah—fat head, big ears, and a drooping snout!” Ying-jun said.

“And this Tang Sanzang—so delicate, he looks like a girl,” Xin-tai joked.

“Nonsense! How could a girl be a monk?” Mei-xiu protested.

The children chattered on, innocent and carefree.

6

In the morning market, Patrol Sergeant Koizumi Shigenobu (28) and Officer Musashi Jirō (26) were on duty, maintaining traffic order and cracking down on unlicensed vendors. A Japanese couple, Tanaka Fumima (35), was arguing with a fish vendor named Fire Dragon (30). Several vendors and passersby gathered around. Two grass carp lay in the wife’s basket.

“Don’t slander me—I clearly gave you twenty sen!” Tanaka shouted.

“You’re lying!” Fire Dragon retorted.
“I only have ten sen from you!”

“I saw my husband give you twenty sen,” the wife insisted.

A butcher chimed in,
“They did the same thing to me yesterday—always cheating people.”

“Forget it,” a vegetable seller whispered.
“Careful—they’ll call the four-legged ones.”

“Yeah, we shouldn’t sell to them anymore,” said a fruit vendor.

“That won’t do—I only earn two sen per fish,” Fire Dragon protested.

“The four-legged ones are coming!” someone warned.

Sure enough, the two policemen arrived.

“What’s all this noise?” Koizumi asked.

“Sir,” Tanaka said,
“This filthy fish vendor took my twenty sen for two carp, then accused me of only paying ten. Please judge fairly.”

“So you took twenty sen and accuse him of shortchanging you?” Koizumi said sternly.
“You sell your fish at quite a price.”

“I’ve been wronged!” Fire Dragon cried, opening his palm to show a single ten-sen coin.

“You must have hidden the other ten sen,” Koizumi barked.
“You Qing slaves are all like this—incorrigible!”

“I’ve been wronged, sir! He really only gave me ten!” Fire Dragon pleaded.

“Enough!” Koizumi snapped.
“If you keep accusing him of underpaying, I’ll lock you up at the station.”

As onlookers murmured, Koizumi’s favoritism toward the couple was obvious.

At that moment, Township Chief Yang Zhao-jia (26) and his wife Miyoko (24) happened to pass by. Vendors swarmed them with complaints.

“Chief, please judge for us—this Japanese couple always pays only half,” a butcher said.
“They even shorted me on vegetables,” another added.

“What kind of behavior is that?” Zhao-jia frowned.

“Officer Koizumi keeps siding with them,” the butcher said.

Zhao-jia stepped forward, Miyoko following.

“Officers, please handle this fairly,” Zhao-jia said.

“I am enforcing order impartially,” Koizumi replied.

“Really?” Zhao-jia challenged.
“So many people say this couple cheats—can they all be lying?”

“The market order is under my authority,” Koizumi snapped.

Turning, Koizumi and Musashi waved their batons to disperse the crowd. Furious vendors surrounded them. In the scuffle, the officers took several punches.

“Who hit me? Who did it?” Koizumi shouted.

They charged again but were blocked by carrying poles.

“Stop! All of you, stop!” Zhao-jia shouted.

He calmed the vendors and escorted the officers out toward the station. The Tanaka couple were also chased and beaten by vendors, fleeing in disgrace.

7

Inside the duty hall of Qingshui Police Station, Koizumi and Musashi stood in disarray, uniforms torn.

“What happened to you two?” Station Chief Hashimoto Eizō (40) asked in shock.

“We were attacked by over a dozen vendors while handling a dispute at the market,” Koizumi said gloomily.

“Attacked by vendors?” Hashimoto thundered.
“How dare they assault law enforcement and challenge public authority—utter lawlessness!”

“They attacked us with carrying poles and brooms,” Musashi whimpered.

“Koizumi!” Hashimoto roared.
“Assemble all officers with swords and whips. Five minutes—front gate!”

“Yes, sir!”

“I’ll lead the team myself,” Hashimoto said.
“We’ll arrest those dogs and punish them severely.”

Koizumi and Musashi exchanged glances, a sly smile flashing across their faces.

8

Chief Hashimoto led a squad of officers toward the market, bristling with menace. Pedestrians quickly stepped aside under the arcades.

A vendor spotted them from afar and ran shouting,
“The four-legged ones are coming! Run for your lives!”

Temporary vendors scattered instantly. By the time the police arrived, only fixed stalls remained.

“Where are those dogs?” Hashimoto barked.

“They must’ve fled after hearing we were coming,” Koizumi replied.

“I have a way,” Hashimoto said coolly.
“Split up—arrest some fixed vendors and shop owners for questioning.”

Over a dozen were taken back to the station.

9

Market section head Cai Ji-cheng (30) led several vendors to the township office. Yang Zhao-jia put down his bowl mid-meal.

“Something terrible’s happened!” a shopkeeper cried.
“The police took over a dozen vendors away!”

“Why would they arrest you?” Zhao-jia asked.

“Because two officers got beaten by roaming vendors this morning,” Cai explained.
“They couldn’t catch them, so they blamed us.”

“They all ran when the police showed up,” another added.
“So the police arrested us instead.”

“This is unjust,” Zhao-jia frowned.
“How can Chief Hashimoto act so unreasonably?”

“That’s why we’re here—please stand up for us,” they pleaded.

“Brother Ji-cheng, let’s go to the station now and bring them back,” Zhao-jia said.
“The rest of you, wait for news.”

10

Inside the police station hall, Chief Hashimoto lectured the detained vendors:

“Listen carefully. Don’t even think about shielding the troublemakers. If you don’t confess, I’ll lock you up and prosecute you for assaulting officers.”

“Sir, be reasonable,” a shopkeeper protested.
“We had nothing to do with it. You should arrest the roaming vendors—they were the ones who attacked.”

“Enough,” Hashimoto said coldly.
“Someone must be punished.”

Koizumi leaned in to whisper a suggestion.

“If no one steps forward,” Hashimoto declared,
“I’ll shut down the entire market.”

“This kind of handling won’t convince anyone,” a vendor protested.

“Let’s detain them and record statements,” Koizumi said.
“They won’t dare hide anything.”

Hearing they would be detained, the vendors grew anxious.

“We’re really going to be locked up,” one whispered.
“Someone must notify Section Head Cai and Chief Yang,” another said.
“Let’s hope Chief Yang comes soon,” a third sighed.
“Otherwise, we’ll end up in the detention cell.”