Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

When Yang Xiaobing pulled down the projection screen, his finger paused on the switch, as if he wanted to show He Yuzhu the picture first before listening to him speak.

"At the foot of Mount Fuji. An abandoned complex, three stories, underground." He tapped the gray area highlighted by contour lines on the screen, without turning around to check if He Yuzhu was looking. "The thermal signature of the ventilation system is increasing, not at the level of equipment testing. They've started operating. The frequency of vehicles entering and exiting has increased, concentrated at night, as if maintaining some kind of cyclical production rhythm."

He Yuzhu's hand remained motionless on the edge of the table. "Is the equipment already installed?"

"It's installed. And—" Yang Xiaobing turned around, "it's already in use."

He Yuzhu remained motionless, but his gaze shifted from the projection screen to Yang Xiaobing's face. "Are you sure?"

"I'm not sure," Yang Xiaobing said, "but thermal imaging doesn't lie. The three underground levels maintain stable power consumption and traces of human activity. If it's still being tested, it wouldn't use that much electricity."

He Yuzhu didn't ask any more questions. He turned around and walked towards the orbital control cabin. He Nianhua was sitting in front of the screen, checking the possible no-fly zone markings on the flight path one by one. He didn't look up when he heard footsteps, but simply saved the last check record locally, and then waited for He Yuzhu to speak.

"How long will it take for the Xuan Nu formation to arrive after taking off from the South China Sea defense platform, passing through Japan's air defense identification zone, and using ultra-low-altitude flight to avoid radar coverage?"

He Nianhua's fingers paused on the keyboard. "Two thousand four hundred kilometers. Three hours and forty minutes. Radio silence throughout, communication link maintains one-way reception, no active signal transmission. Ground crew needs to remove the last power cable before takeoff, otherwise the anti-gravity system might get the connector into the airflow during takeoff." He paused, "Ground crew needs to be notified in advance."

"Then notify them."

He Nianhua's fingers returned to the keyboard, but as he turned to the communication panel, his gaze swept over the calculated flight path one last time. After confirming, he sent the command without looking up. "Flight path and target coordinates have been uploaded to the Xuan Nu formation."

He Yuzhu stood behind him without saying a word.

Outside the defense platform, four ground crew members were crouching beneath the wings of the Xuan Nu formation's aircraft, the last power cable still plugged into the fuselage interface. One of them, using too much force to unfasten the clip, cut his finger on the metal edge. He didn't make a sound, simply wiping the blood on his trousers, pulling out the cable, and retreating beyond the safety line. The team leader checked all the interfaces, confirming no remaining cables connected to the fuselage, then raised a green signal light and drew an arc towards the control tower. The light flashed briefly at the runway edge. As the first Xuan Nu aircraft took off, its fuselage brushed past the edge of the trolley that hadn't completely evacuated. The trolley wobbled slightly on the ground. The team leader stood still, not retreating. The Xuan Nu had just passed overhead; he watched its steady ascent, confirming it had completed its turn at the designated altitude, before looking down at the trolley. He didn't push it away, only confirming it was still in place, perhaps slightly propelled by the airflow, but now firmly in place.

He Nianhua didn't see this. He stared at the formation status bar on the screen, and after seeing all twelve Xuan Nu aircraft take off, he waited two more seconds to confirm that all signals were locked, and then closed the tracking window.

Before entering the Japanese archipelago, the Xuan Nu formation descended to treetop level. As it skimmed the sea, the airflow condensed at the edges of its wings, forming a thin white line that lasted for about three seconds before being dispersed by the wind. The clouds in front of them contracted into a uniform gray curtain. As they passed through the clouds, a thin layer of ice formed on the surface of their wings. This ice layer shattered into powder after leaving the clouds and was carried away by the airflow without leaving a trace.

He Nianhua didn't update the flight status again, nor did he intend to check it again. His fingers had already left the keyboard.

He Yuzhu didn't wait in the orbital control cabin. He returned to the main control console and saw Yang Xiaobing standing under the light, his back to the door, not looking at the map on the projection screen. He wasn't holding anything, but his shoulder twitched slightly before he turned around. "The equipment won't stop."

Yang Xiaobing didn't say anything more. The gap between those two sentences lingered in the air for a moment, like a communication link that hadn't been closed yet, waiting for the next set of data frames.

When the Xuan Nu formation entered the airspace at the foot of Mount Fuji, the ground crew leader had already left the edge of the runway. As he walked back to the tool shed, the wheels of the cart left a shallow mark on the ground, which was quickly covered by the dust brought by the night wind, and no one would remember that it had ever existed.

As the first precision-guided bomb separated from the fuselage, its surface briefly gleamed coldly in the moonlight. As it passed over the top of the ground facility, the concrete layers cracked into a network of fissures under the pressure of the compression wave. The transmitted energy readings continued to rise until a red peak appeared on the screen, then began to decline. Yang Xiaobing watched the decaying curve without speaking immediately. He waited until the peak had completely disappeared before saying, "Seven bases, distributed from Kyushu to Hokkaido. The chips, receptors, and production lines are all located separately."

He spread the map out on the table; its edges were frayed from being folded so many times, and the creases showed signs of being repeatedly smoothed and flattened. His finger stopped at the first red circle, then slid over the other six in turn, each circle resting beneath a copy of a construction drawing. "Mount Fuji is just one of them."

He Yuzhu didn't look at the map, but instead looked at Yang Xiaobing's hand.

He Nianhua stood behind the half-open door at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall. He heard the locations of each of the seven outposts being announced, and the sound of Yang Xiaobing's fingers moving across the blueprints. He didn't enter the room, nor did he leave the corridor. He leaned against the wall, looking up at the window at the end of the corridor. Outside the window, no aircraft could be seen. Only the outline of the distant mountains was slowly being covered by the edge of night, becoming increasingly blurred, as if being reabsorbed by a part of itself. Behind him, the only sounds in the corridor were his own breathing and the faint sound of a blueprint being closed in the distance.