Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

As autumn deepens, the towering ginkgo trees in Beijing begin to shed their golden leaves. But deep within this city, behind some ordinary alleyways, inside and outside those compounds bearing ordinary unit signs yet guarded by soldiers, a transformative atmosphere, richer and more intense than the colors of autumn, is silently surging and spreading.

The "blood transfusion" of the postal and telecommunications system is proceeding methodically yet swiftly. Following several central bureaus in Beijing, central telegraph bureaus and long-distance telephone bureaus in major regional core cities such as Shanghai, Tianjin, Shenyang, Wuhan, Xi'an, and Chengdu have also successively welcomed those silent, silver-gray "iron cabinets." Technicians dressed in blue overalls, from the joint working group of "Red Star Precision" and the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications, are like precise surgeons, transforming the noisy and chaotic manual exchange halls of the old era into quiet, clean, and futuristic automated machine rooms under strict confidentiality discipline and efficient operating procedures.

Conflict, confusion, and unease, like pebbles thrown into a lake, rippled across the vast workforce of postal and telecommunications workers. Old Zhang's feelings were not unique. Many veteran operators and telephone specialists, who had spent half their lives working among the cables and sockets with their exceptional skills of "identifying people by their voices" and "connecting devices with lightning speed," felt a deep sense of loss and bewilderment when faced with those cold machines, flashing indicator lights, and incomprehensible screens. Their skills, their proud experience, seemed to have lost their purpose overnight. Some complained privately, "No matter how good the machines are, can they tell if a user is in a hurry? Can they comfort a quarreling couple? What makes us in this line of work is our hearts, not our muscular physiques!"

The growing pains of change were real and tangible. But faced with the immense driving force of national will and practical efficiency, individual hesitation had to give way. Large-scale, high-intensity training was rolled out across the board. The teaching materials were "Principles and Maintenance of Automatic Switching" and "Fundamentals of Programmable Control and Simple Troubleshooting," personally co-authored by Wang Huanbo, presented in a clear and concise manner, accompanied by detailed illustrations. The training was no longer simply theoretical indoctrination, but combined with simulated operating consoles and real-world fault cases. The veterans were forced to sit in classrooms, starting with the most basic circuit principles and logic gates, taking notes, doing exercises, and participating in rigorous operational assessments.

The process was painful. Many veteran employees stared at the symbols and formulas as if they were reading gibberish, so anxious they were pulling out their already thinning hair. But the strict performance standards and the pressure of "change your mindset or be reassigned" forced them to put in the same effort they used to memorize phone book books. Gradually, some began to understand. When they independently restarted a remote module through the console interface for the first time, resolving a line noise fault; when they accurately analyzed the source of an abnormal call through system logs and worked with outside personnel to quickly resolve the issue, a new sense of accomplishment, different from the previous plugging and unplugging of cables, began to sprout in their hearts.

"This machine... it's inanimate, but it's also truly alive." During a late-night shift, Old Zhang pointed to the huge light and signal diagram on the wall displaying the status of the city's main lines, and unusually spoke at length to the new young apprentice. "Look at this green line, it means smooth traffic; the yellow line means slightly busy; the red line means congestion or a problem. It shows you exactly where all the phone lines in the city run, where it's smooth and where it's congested. Before? Before, we were like blind men touching an elephant, relying entirely on customers yelling and us guessing."

The young apprentices nodded, seemingly understanding, but their eyes gleamed. To their generation, these machines were not cold and impersonal; rather, they possessed an alluring charm, representing "modernity" and "high technology." They were natural learners, quickly mastering their operation and even beginning to attempt to grasp deeper logic.

The efficiency improvement was immediate. Automatic connection speeds were measured in seconds, connection rates were significantly increased, and human errors such as crosstalk and misconnections were virtually eliminated. More importantly, it provided a stable and reliable physical foundation for the upcoming data transmission network based on telephone lines. Reports from the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications began to frequently feature new terms such as "circuit utilization," "signaling methods," and "data carrying capacity." Long-distance backbone lines, having undergone testing and reinforcement, were quietly given higher priority, ready to carry "bit streams," which were even more important than voice signals.

If the reform of the postal and telecommunications system is like "building roads and laying foundations," then the deployment of the "Dragon Soaring No. 2" computer in key units is like "building vehicles and transporting goods."

In the heart of Southwest China, there lies a massive design institute involved in major national defense projects. Previously, the design hall was always piled high with blueprints, engineers hunched over their drafting boards, and the air was thick with the distinctive smell of ink and drafting instruments. In the computing room, the clicking of hand-cranked calculators and the clatter of abacuses filled the air, and mountains of draft paper piled up. Complex aerodynamic calculations, stress analyses, and material ratio optimizations often required the collaboration of dozens of people and took months to complete.

Today, deep within the design institute building, a temperature- and humidity-controlled computer room has been established. Three "Dragon Soaring II" computers are running quietly. Young, urgently trained computer engineers carefully input the vast amounts of design parameters and experimental data—which previously required manual input—into the computers via punched paper tape input machines (initially) or directly through keyboards. With the assistance of the relatively rudimentary but powerful graphical interface of the "HarmonyOS" system and its built-in engineering calculation software, a miracle has occurred.

A complex aerodynamic-thermodynamic coupling analysis report that previously required a senior engineer and his team to calculate for half a year was now readily available. After inputting parameters and starting the calculation program, the hard drive indicator light flashed regularly, and the fan emitted a steady hum. Just three days later, a detailed analysis report containing hundreds of pages of data tables, dozens of contour plots, and variation curves was printed out "whoosh" by the connected high-speed line printer, the ink still wet and slightly warm.

The chief designer, a serious-looking old expert with thick glasses, held the thick report, his hands trembling slightly. He quickly flipped through the data accurate to six decimal places, the color contour maps that clearly showed pressure distribution, temperature gradients, and stress concentrations (although printed in monochrome, they used different line types to distinguish them), and remained silent for a long time.

"Verification team! Immediately use traditional methods to verify the peak temperature data on page 37, Appendix B, under operating condition 5!" he ordered in a hoarse voice.

The engineers in the verification team immediately sprang into action, retrieving the original formula, setting up the slide rule, and cranking the calculator to begin the intensive calculations. Two days later, the results came in. The error between the results and the data in the computer report was within three ten-thousandths, well within the acceptable engineering error range, and even better.

A hush fell over the design hall, then erupted in thunderous cheers! The time saved was more than a hundredfold! More importantly, computers can handle complex models that are difficult for humans to comprehend, and can perform rapid, multi-parameter, large-scale iterative optimizations. This means they can explore previously unimaginable design solutions and find better, safer, and higher-performing solutions in a shorter amount of time.

"Immediately establish a computer application task force!" The chief designer took off his glasses, wiped them vigorously, and his eyes behind the lenses gleamed with excitement and determination. "All ongoing projects, re-evaluate them! Implement computer-aided design for everything that can be done! We need to revive all the solutions that were previously shelved due to the excessive computational demands! Quickly!"

Similar scenes are playing out repeatedly in key national research and development units in fields such as aviation, aerospace, shipbuilding, nuclear energy, and large machinery. Computers are no longer merely "fast abacuses"; they are beginning to become the "brain" of design, the "engine" of optimization, and the "sandbox" of simulation. Engineers' thinking patterns and working methods are being profoundly changed. Sketches are increasingly appearing on graphical terminals, discussions revolve around printed charts and data, and the iteration speed of solutions is measured in days or even hours. A nascent form called "Computer-Aided Design (CAD)" is quietly sprouting in this land.

Meanwhile, at the absolutely secretive base in the Northwest, the computing cluster composed of fifty "Longteng-2" satellites is playing an even more astonishing role. Complex fluid dynamics simulations, material property extrapolations under extreme conditions, extremely precise orbit calculations, and reliability analysis of massive systems... projects that previously required mobilizing top mathematicians from related fields across the country and spending years on theoretical breakthroughs and approximate calculations now have powerful tools at their disposal.

Qian Xuesen's figure appeared more and more frequently in the computer room. He not only learned how to operate the computer himself, but also focused on how to combine the powerful computing power of the computer with rigorous scientific theory and engineering practice. "It's a good thing that the machine can calculate quickly. But what should it calculate? How should it calculate? That's the key." He emphasized at an internal discussion meeting, "It can't become a case of 'garbage in, garbage out.' We need to better 'teach' our physical models and mathematical methods to the computer. 'Chinese language' programming is a very good bridge; it's closer to our natural thinking and engineering expression."

Under his guidance, researchers at the base began experimenting with writing program modules in Chinese to solve specific engineering problems. Although the early code was relatively primitive and its efficiency needed optimization, this path represented autonomy and control. They were no longer merely passive users, but began to try to become rule-makers and expanders.

The small, experimental local area network within the base began to take on real collaborative work. Data transfer, report review, and scheme coordination between different research labs were increasingly conducted via email and rudimentary file-sharing functions. Physical distances were shortened by bitstreams, and collaborative efficiency increased exponentially. An important structural modification suggestion could receive feedback and confirmation from the design group to the materials group and then to the experimental verification group on the same day, which was unimaginable before.

The military's interest in and exploration of this system is more direct and profound. In several highly secure command centers and intelligence analysis centers, the specially hardened and encrypted "Dragon Soaring II" system and its supporting network have begun trial operation. Previously, the translation, organization, and correlation analysis of encrypted telegrams required a large amount of manpower hunched over piles of paper documents. Now, intelligence entries, after preliminary digitization and standardization, can be input into computers for rapid retrieval, comparison, and filtering. Although artificial intelligence is still a long way off, this rudimentary "intelligence processing system" based on simple rules and keywords has already greatly reduced the burden on analysts and improved the timeliness and coverage of information processing.

In a highly confidential cross-military region joint exercise, a command and communication network based on automatic switching and computer processing was experimentally introduced. Frontline reconnaissance units transmitted encrypted enemy situation summaries back to the command post via portable terminals (still quite bulky) and dedicated lines. The command post's "Dragon Soaring II" system rapidly processed the data, combining it with existing intelligence databases to generate situation briefings and recommended solutions, which were then output to the commanders via high-speed printers. Simultaneously, encrypted orders and dispatch information were also rapidly distributed to various combat units through the same network. Although considerable manual operation still existed in the intermediate stages, and the system was far from smooth—with several communication delays and data errors occurring during the exercise—this experiment allowed participating senior commanders to see a completely new possibility of conducting warfare at "information speed" rather than "motorized speed." The closed loop of information acquisition, processing, transmission, decision-making, and feedback was accelerated and strengthened like never before.

"We must possess our own 'eyes that can see a thousand miles' and 'ears that can hear a thousand miles,' and react faster than any potential adversary!" These were the resounding words of a high-ranking official at the exercise debriefing meeting. The allocation of resources and the requirement for secrecy surrounding the "network" project were elevated to a new level.

Universities and research institutions serve as another crucial platform for application development and talent incubation. A few top universities, including Peking University, Tsinghua University, the University of Science and Technology of China, and Harbin Institute of Technology, were among the first to offer the course "Computer Principles and Applications" in departments such as mathematics, physics, and engineering mechanics. The textbooks were *A Brief Analysis of the "Dragon Engine" Computer Architecture* and *An Introduction to the "HarmonyOS" Operating System and "Chinese Language" Programming*, both edited by Wang Huanbo. The first batch of students were selected from across the university—few in number but exceptionally talented individuals in mathematics and logic.

The classroom was awe-inspiring. When professors used chalk to draw the logic diagram of the CPU on the blackboard, explaining how transistors represent 0 and 1 and perform calculations by being "on" and "off"; when students first entered the computer lab, pressed the power button of "Dragon II," saw the words "Hongmeng" flash on the gray screen, and typed their first Chinese language program to "print 'Hello, World,'" and heard the printer buzzing as it spit out paper with that line of text, a feeling of a new world suddenly opening up before them swept over everyone.

"Is this...is this the future?" A young student wearing thick glasses murmured to himself, touching the still-warm printed paper. In his eyes shone a burning thirst for knowledge and truth beyond his years, and an infinite yearning for a completely new field.

Wang Huanbo's figure can occasionally be seen in the lecture halls or computer labs of these top universities. He doesn't teach specific operations, but rather shares design ideas, explores the intersection of computer science with other disciplines such as mathematics, physics, and engineering, and paints a picture of a future composed of bits and networks. His words are not passionate, but the profound insights and grand vision they contain always make the teachers and students in the audience think deeply and then burst forth with a strong desire for exploration.

"Computers are not just fast computing tools," Wang Huanbo said to the sea of ​​eager young faces in the audience during an exchange at Tsinghua University. "They represent a new way of thinking, a new 'meta-tool' for understanding and transforming the world. They extend our brains. What we use them for depends on our wisdom and character. You, my fellow students, will be the first pioneers of this new frontier. I hope you will learn not only how to use them, but also how to create them, define them, and make them create real value for our country and our people."

Thunderous applause erupted. Seeds were sown in the hearts of these most outstanding young people. Many of them will soon become founders and pillars of various fields of computer science and technology in China.

The tide of change subtly rippled across the tranquil surface of No. 95 Nanluoguxiang. Under the strict supervision of his father, Yan Fugui, and the cold reality, Yan Jiecheng outwardly restrained himself, mechanically going to and from get off work every day. But the raging fire and resentment in his heart, like a compressed spring, did not disappear; instead, they grew in the shadows. He secretly observed the courtyard, watching Sha Zhu's new house being furnished day by day, watching Yu Li's increasingly radiant smile of happiness, watching them together, and his heart felt like it was being gnawed by a venomous snake. That twisted thought of "it should belong to me" grew ever more deeply rooted, fueled by jealousy and resentment. He began to inquire, intentionally or unintentionally, about the printing factory on the street where Yu Li worked, and about Yu Li's route to and from get off work, a strange and dangerous light flashing deep in his eyes.

Sha Zhu was completely immersed in the happiness that was about to arrive. The new house was perfectly furnished, with brand-new furniture, bright windows, a separate kitchen and bathroom (with a simple water heater designed by Wang Huanbo installed), and he was extremely satisfied with everything. He couldn't wait to announce to the whole world that he was getting married! As for Yan Jiecheng, he remained wary, but mostly with a kind of contempt that thought, "He's a clown, not worth worrying about." He was confident in protecting Yu Li and even more confident in managing their little family. Only occasionally, when Yu Li came home late or went out alone, would he unconsciously worry and give her repeated instructions.

He Yushui became Yu Li's "little shadow," adoring this gentle and quiet future sister-in-law. She loved to visit Yu Li's house whenever she had free time, or she would pull Yu Li aside to discuss where to put a potted plant or where to hang a painting in the new house. The deaf old lady treated Yu Li like her own granddaughter, holding her hand and rambling on about Sha Zhu's embarrassing childhood stories, her cloudy eyes filled with love and satisfaction.

Lou Xiao'e's pregnancy became increasingly obvious. Despite his increasingly busy work schedule, Wang Huanbo would always make time to accompany her for walks whenever he had a spare moment, speaking softly to the baby in her womb. The arrival of this little life gave him a more concrete and warmer connection to the word "future." The technological revolution he promoted was for a stronger nation; and the warmth of his family he protected was for a better home. Nation and family, the grand and the minute, were uniquely unified in him.

The autumn sunset bathed the gray bricks and tiles of the courtyard house in a warm golden hue. From Sha Zhu's new house in the middle courtyard, the soft laughter of him and Yu Li discussing the final purchases of small items drifted out; in the front courtyard, from the Yan family's house, the faint sounds of Yan Fugui fiddling with the abacus beads and the nagging of the third aunt urging the children to do their homework could be heard; in the study in the west wing, the light was still on, and Wang Huanbo was hunched over his desk, drafting the outline of the next phase of reports on "Standardization of Basic Network Protocols" and "Feasibility Study of Smaller Computers."

In all corners of this ancient city, in those unseen server rooms, laboratories, command posts, and design institutes, countless indicator lights flash, hard drives hum, and data flows invisibly on wires. A fledgling yet resilient, autonomous and controllable information network is being woven and extended at an unprecedented speed. It is still sparse, with limited nodes and nascent capabilities, but it carries the unwavering determination of a nation to catch up with the times and face the future, and the silent yet surging wisdom and sweat of countless people.

The spark has been ignited; though it has not yet spread like wildfire, its momentum is already established. In the beginning of time, as chaos gradually dissipated, a new era belonging to the East was quietly brewing and poised to take off in the late autumn air of 1958, accompanied by the ticking of bits and the flow of radio waves.