Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

In mid-September 1958, the sky over Beijing was a clear, high blue, the sunlight having shed its summer heat and become warm and bright. Yet, in the study in the west wing of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang, the changing seasons seemed imperceptible. The heavy curtains were perpetually half-drawn, shutting out most of the light and noise, leaving only a few desk lamps casting a steady, focused glow, illuminating a corner.

Wang Huanbo had spent countless sleepless days and nights in this room. His desk, the floor, and even part of the wall were piled high with various blueprints, manuscripts, foreign language materials, disassembled parts of old telephone exchanges, and oddly shaped experimental components gleaming with a cold metallic sheen. The air was thick with the unique smell of machine oil, rosin solder, and old paper. His eyes were bloodshot, and his chin was covered in dark stubble, but his gaze was astonishingly bright, like two burning flames, fixed intently on the nascent, silver-gray metal device on the table.

That was the prototype of an automatic telephone exchange. Based on the crossbar principle, it incorporated his profound understanding of digital program-controlled switching technology, far ahead of its time, and underwent extensive simplification, optimization, and adaptation to local industrial capabilities. Lacking the sophisticated integrated circuits of later generations, he used reliable relay arrays, precision-manufactured stepper selectors, and a quasi-programmable control mechanism he designed himself, based on rudimentary transistor technology and simple logic circuits, to achieve automatic connection. The winding parameters of every relay coil, the contact pressure of every selector contact, and the punching code of every section of control paper tape all embodied countless calculations, experiments, and complete redesigns.

Wang Huanbo ran his fingers over the still somewhat rough but structurally sound mechanical parts and neatly bundled cables, took a deep breath, and pressed a green button on the side of the prototype. A soft, rhythmic "click" sounded, and inside the machine, the intricate mechanical structure began to operate. The relay indicator lights flashed, and the control paper tape moved slowly. He picked up a modified test telephone beside him, one that had eliminated the hand-cranked generator, and dialed the dial. A clear dial tone came from the receiver. He slowly and firmly dialed a three-digit internal test number.

"Click, click, click..." The sound of the switchboard operating was clearly audible. A few seconds later, at the other end of the room, another similarly modified telephone suddenly rang with a crisp ring!

Wang Huanbo put down the receiver, walked to the ringing telephone, and picked up the receiver. There was no operator, no manual transfer; on the other end of the line was himself. A clear, steady voice, almost without any noise, came from the receiver—it was a test recording he had pre-recorded on a tape and connected to the line via a simple converter.

Success! Automatic connection, successful on the first try!

A surge of immense joy coursed through my body like an electric current, instantly dispelling the fatigue accumulated over the past few days. This was not merely the success of a prototype automatic telephone exchange; it was the most solid and crucial first cornerstone in building that grand blueprint! With it, an efficient, stable, and high-capacity automatic telephone exchange network became possible; with it, the concept of data transmission via telephone lines and remote computer interconnection had a physical foundation for realization!

He calmed his agitated emotions; there was no time for celebration. The work that followed was like a finely tuned gear, each link connected perfectly.

The success of the automatic switch prototype verified the feasibility of the basic approach. Wang Huanbo immediately compiled more detailed design drawings, key production processes, and testing specifications into a booklet, and sent it, along with the prototype, through top-secret channels to the "Red Star Precision Machinery Research Institute" and "Red Star Electronic Equipment Factory," both subsidiaries of the Red Star United Industrial Corporation. There, top mechanical engineers, electronics experts, and skilled craftsmen drawn from across the country gathered. Based on this "blueprint," they would utilize existing domestic materials and processes, as well as those being developed under Wang Huanbo's guidance, to conduct small-batch trial production and rigorous testing and optimization. What Wang Huanbo wanted was not a fleeting miracle in the laboratory, but an industrial product that could be mass-produced stably and meet the needs of the national backbone communication network.

Meanwhile, another "battle" on his desk was also reaching its climax. The automated switching network was the "blood vessels" and "nerves," while the actual flowing "blood" and processing "brain" were the computer and its peripherals.

A 5GB mechanical hard drive was practically a fantasy in an era when computer memory was measured in kilobytes and storage relied mainly on punched paper tape and magnetic drums. But Wang Huanbo, with his profound understanding of Winchester technology principles and his forward-thinking design concepts (such as more advanced head levitation technology, more efficient encoding methods, and more stable disk material processing), managed to turn it into reality from blueprints and experiments. Although the initial product was quite bulky (equivalent to two shoeboxes stacked together) and its read/write speeds were far inferior to later models, 5GB of capacity was sufficient to store massive amounts of data, programs, and even early graphical user interface systems.

Accompanying the hard drive was the overall design of a miniaturized electronic computer codenamed "Loongson II". It abandoned the bulky vacuum tubes and magnetic core memory of the "Loongson I", fully adopting highly integrated transistors and rudimentary integrated circuits (small-scale integration) based on silicon planar technology. At its core was the "Loongson 2" CPU with a clock speed of 1GHz. Although the number of transistors was incomparable to later processors, its Reduced Instruction Set Computing (RISC) architecture, pipeline design, and cache concept already gave it computing efficiency ahead of its time. The memory used a 64MB improved version of magnetic core memory, which was faster and more stable.

The most revolutionary aspect lay in the "interface" and the "system." Wang Huanbo, overcoming opposition, resolutely introduced the concept of "Universal Serial Bus (USB)." A unified, hot-swappable interface standard supporting multiple peripherals. This allowed "Longteng II" to connect via USB to his concurrently designed dot-matrix printer, thermal fax machine, and countless other peripherals that might emerge in the future. Imagine, in the late 1950s, computers, printers, and fax machines seamlessly connected through a simple little interface—what an astonishing scene!

What brought all this hardware to life was a graphical operating system called "HarmonyOS 2.0." It was entirely written in the "Hanyu" programming language, developed under the leadership of Wang Huanbo and more aligned with Chinese thinking habits. Although the graphical interface was relatively rudimentary, containing only basic windows, menus, and icons, compared to the command-line interfaces commonly used in foreign computers at the time, which required complex command input, "HarmonyOS 2.0" was undoubtedly a product of a different era. It greatly lowered the barrier to entry for computer use, enabling non-technical and administrative personnel to complete many operations through intuitive mouse clicks and simple menu selections.

Printers and fax machines also embody Wang Huanbo's painstaking efforts. The printhead design and precise control of the paper feeding mechanism in the dot-matrix printer; the image scanning, photoelectric conversion, modulation/demodulation, and thermal printing restoration in the fax machine… every technical challenge was overcome through his ingenious combination of fragments of futuristic knowledge and current industrial manufacturing capabilities. They are not merely output devices, but bridges connecting the electronic world to the physical world.

When the first prototype of "Longteng-2," equipped with an automatic switching network interface (via a modem), a 5GB hard drive, running HarmonyOS 2.0, and connected to a printer and fax machine via USB, was successfully started up in the most confidential laboratory of the Red Star Research Institute, the simple yet elegant Chinese characters for "HarmonyOS" flashed on the gray screen, followed by the graphical desktop; when researchers, with trembling hands, clicked the icon with the mouse, opened a text file, typed "Long live the People's Republic of China," and clicked print, the printer beside them hummed and clearly printed the line on paper; when an email with a simple text attachment was sent from one "Longteng-2" to another via the automatic switching network and modem, and the recipient successfully received and opened it a few seconds later…

The entire laboratory fell into a deathly silence. Then, a deafening roar of cheers and applause erupted, a mixture of ecstasy, awe, and disbelief that could have lifted the roof off! Many elderly experts, their temples graying, were moved to tears, stroking the still-warm chassis as if touching a miracle of an era.

"It's done! It really is done!" "Email! No need for postmen, no need for days and nights, it arrives instantly!" "This graphics...this mouse...good heavens, even my grandson could use it!"

Standing at the back of the crowd, Wang Huanbo watched all this with a relieved yet gratified smile. He had done it. In 1958, on this land, devastated yet brimming with hope, he had personally ignited the spark of the information age. Automatic switching networks, second-generation miniaturized high-performance computers, graphical operating systems, unified peripheral interfaces, email, printing, and faxing… any one of these technologies, taken individually, would have been enough to astound the world. But when they were combined to form a preliminary, operational prototype of the "Internet," its significance went beyond mere technological breakthroughs; it represented a monumental leap forward at the national strategic level!

The message, classified as top secret, was sent into the lake overnight.

In the following days, the Red Star Research Institute, a already heavily guarded and classified unit, received an unprecedented wave of high-level inspections. First to arrive were leaders from the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications and generals from the General Staff Communications Corps. They witnessed firsthand the smooth connection of the automatic exchange, saw the powerful performance of "Dragon Soaring II," experienced the instantaneous magic of email, and stroked the clearly printed, flawless national defense communications diagrams (for testing), speechless for a long time. An elderly communications general with white hair tightly grasped Wang Huanbo's hand, his lips trembling, and after a long silence, finally uttered, "Chief Engineer Wang…you've installed eyes and ears that can see and hear for miles around the nation's communications—no, eyes and ears that can hear and hear for ten thousand miles! Faster! More accurate! Safer!"

Following them were leaders from relevant ministries and commissions of the State Council, responsible for national science and technology planning and key projects. They were more interested in the system's large-scale production, application prospects, and potential disruptive impact on various sectors of the national economy. At the demonstration, when they saw production plan spreadsheets from one computer instantly retrieved by another computer via the internal network, directly driving a printer to print out production instructions for distribution to different workshops, the leaders' eyes lit up. Efficiency—an unparalleled increase in efficiency! What profound significance this has for the massive economic construction currently underway!

Then came the titans of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. Led by Qian Xuesen himself, a group of scientists of unparalleled stature in physics, mathematics, and engineering gathered together. Their focus was on principles, limits, and the future. After listening to Wang Huanbo's report on system architecture, design philosophy, and especially the concepts of "Chinese language" programming and the "HarmonyOS" operating system, Qian Xuesen remained silent for a long time, then patted Wang Huanbo firmly on the shoulder and said only one sentence: "Comrade Huanbo, you have opened a door that we wanted to open but didn't know where it was locked. This path must be firmly followed! Whatever support you need, the entire Chinese Academy of Sciences will be your backing!"

The final inspection was conducted quietly, yet with the highest level of protocol. Several elderly men, often seen on the front pages of newspapers, with resolute faces and deep-set eyes, entered the laboratory under tight security. They didn't inquire about many technical details, but simply observed and listened attentively. They watched the flickering screens, listened to the soft hum of the printer, and experienced the "instantaneous" arrival of emails. One of the elderly men picked up a clearly drawn mechanical design drawing (for testing) that had just been faxed over, examined it under the light for a long time, then gently put it down and said to Wang Huanbo and the institute leaders accompanying him: "This thing is very good. It must be kept secret, it must be accelerated, and it must be put into use first. The military, important research units, and key factories and mines can conduct pilot tests first. We must ensure that our information travels faster and more accurately than anyone else's. Our calculations are clearer and farther-reaching than anyone else's."

There were no enthusiastic praises, no lengthy instructions, but these few words carried immense weight. It was not merely affirmation, but a strategic statement from the highest level and a commitment to full support! Everyone present felt a profound sense of responsibility and unprecedented honor.

Following the inspection, a top-secret project codenamed "Net Weaving" was swiftly launched. The goal, under absolute secrecy, was to construct the first national-level, experimental intranet, using the technology developed by Wang Huanbo, with the Red Star Research Institute and a few designated key military and research units under extremely secure conditions as nodes. The military's command system, the exchange of crucial research data, the collaborative design of key projects, and the production scheduling of core factories and mines would all gradually attempt to connect to this invisible yet incredibly powerful "net."

Wang Huanbo became even busier. He needed to transform the laboratory's success into mass-producible industrial standards; he needed to compile detailed technical manuals and training materials; he needed to train key technical personnel for the first batch of users; and he also needed to deal with a deluge of inquiries and ideas from various fields regarding how to apply the new technologies. His time was divided into minutes, but he was tireless. Because he knew that the seeds he had sown were taking root and sprouting at an unprecedented speed on this ancient and vibrant land, soon to grow into towering trees that would provide shade for all.

Occasionally, late at night, dragging his weary body back to the west courtyard, he would hear the cheerful sounds of Yu Li and Sha Zhu discussing furniture arrangement coming from Sha Zhu's new house in the middle courtyard, or the faint murmur of Yan Fugui scolding his son for saving electricity drifting from the front yard. Wang Huanbo would feel a strange sense of detachment and fusion. On one side was the grand narrative that led the tide of the times and concerned the fate of the nation; on the other was the mundane life of a courtyard house, filled with the daily grind of cooking, weddings, and funerals. The two seemed distant, yet they were so realistically intertwined in his life. He changed not only the direction of technology, but perhaps also the trajectory of these ordinary people's destinies.

As autumn deepens, the jujube trees in the courtyard begin to turn yellow. In Wang Huanbo's study, the light remains constantly on. Outside the window, a new era, constructed of bits and radio waves, has quietly begun. That invisible "network," centered on Beijing, is quietly spreading deep into the fabric of this nation, connecting wisdom, transmitting power, and safeguarding hope. Its name may be unknown for now, but its influence will be profoundly etched into the annals of history. At the dawn of creation, as the dragon soars through the night, an information legend belonging to this ancient Eastern nation is slowly setting sail from this seemingly ordinary courtyard study, heading towards the stars and the sea.