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

The landing craft hatch slammed shut, and seawater rushed in down the ramp, submerging the soles of the landing crew's boots. The pier at Yokosuka base was empty; the American flag still hung on the flagpole, its top bent by the sea breeze. The Marines' boots pounded on the concrete pier with a dull, steady thud. No one ran.

The column split into four lines, advancing deeper into the pier. The first line bypassed the warehouse from the north, the second approached the barracks from the south, the third went straight for the command post, and the fourth remained at the pier to inventory supplies. The blockade on the sea remained, and the position of the phoenix had not moved.

He Nianhua received the first batch of clearance reports from the ground at the control center. He stood up, walked to the projection screen on the side, and opened the first attachment. In the photo, three prototype neural crystallizers were wrapped in anti-static film and placed on a trolley. Two technicians were tightening the securing straps, preparing to transfer them to a transport helicopter. He clicked to enlarge the image, checked the interface type of the casing, and then dialed the terminal of the frontline commander.

The frontline commander's voice whistled through the air. "The scan is complete. No launch device detected."

"Okay. Seal it up and send it back to China. Have Sun Xiuying dismantle Unit 03 as soon as she arrives."

"Number 03?"

He Nianhua zoomed in on the label on the screen to confirm the line of text. "There's a note on the label on the side of unit 03's casing—'Adaptation not yet complete.' It's different from the other two. Let's disassemble it first."

The frontline commander responded and hung up.

He Nianhua didn't close the window. He stared at the handwritten annotation for a few seconds. The handwriting was darker than printed text, and the strokes were thinner, as if written with a fine-tipped pen, not a hastily made mark. He saved a screenshot and then closed the window.

Yang Xiaobing didn't go to the main dock. He took two men and walked along the west side of the base, passing through the empty barracks. The barracks doors were all open, the bed boards inside were lifted up to reveal the iron frames underneath, and the wardrobe doors were also half-open and empty. They walked to the end of a row of barracks and found a fire door. The door was secured with an iron chain wrapped around the handle several times, without a padlock.

Yang Xiaobing pulled off the chain and pushed the door open. Inside was a downward staircase; the motion-activated lights weren't on, but an emergency light emitted a warm yellow glow from the corner, making the edges of the steps visible. They reached the bottom of the stairs, where a metal door was closed. The indicator lights on the keypad lock panel were all off, indicating a power outage. Yang Xiaobing pressed a few keys, and the latch popped open.

As he entered, he noticed fingerprints on the doorknob—several overlapping ones, their edges blurred, suggesting they weren't left on the same day. He didn't stop to examine them closely.

The warehouse was small, about twenty square meters. Four rows of metal filing cabinets stood against the wall. An emergency light cast a ring of light from a corner of the ceiling, illuminating only the upper half of the cabinets, leaving the bottoms in shadow. Yang Xiaobing opened the first cabinet door—empty. The second row—empty. In the third row, a few forms remained in the two middle drawers. He flipped through them with his finger; they were material entry and exit records, dated three weeks ago. He closed the drawers. On the bottom shelf of the innermost cabinet, a stack of documents was tucked behind the shelf, in the gap between it and the cabinet wall, as if hastily stuffed in, with a corner peeking out.

He crouched down and pulled out the stack of documents. The pages were thick, made of business paper. The first page was in Japanese, the second in English, the clauses densely packed, but he didn't look at them closely. He flipped directly to the last page.

A code was printed on the signature panel, the ink faded to a dark blue. The edges of the handwriting were blurred, but he recognized the arrangement of the letters. Silver Fox. Next to it was a date stamp: November 1992. Three years ago, the US had already completed the signing of this agreement.

He flipped back to the first page and read the first two paragraphs. The content concerned the quantity, batch, and shipping method of the chips supplied, but didn't specify the receiving unit. He then flipped to the last page, confirmed the date stamp was correct, and stood up. The warehouse was quiet; the emergency light cast a short, slanted shadow along the edge of the bag. He stood there for a few more seconds before putting the documents into the sealed bag and sealing it.

As he walked out of the warehouse, a sea breeze blew in from the direction of Yokosuka Port, carrying the lingering smells of burnt plastic and insulation, along with a faint odor of fuel, as if seeping in from afar. Crossing the dock, he saw He Nianhua standing beside a landing craft, holding a piece of the packaging casing removed from the prototype. Yang Xiaobing didn't slow down; as he walked over, he turned the sealed bag around in his hand.

He Nianhua looked up. "Found what?"

"Attachment to the agreement. Signed by Silver Fox. Date: November 1992."

He Nianhua didn't reply immediately. He glanced down at the sealed envelope in his hand, then looked back at Yang Xiaobing's face. "They were already making preparations three years ago."

Yang Xiaobing nodded. "I'll take the documents back to the temporary command post to scan. You deal with the prototype first."

He Nianhua didn't ask any more questions. Yang Xiaobing had already taken a few steps away. He looked down and re-examined the cover in his hand. There was a handwritten note on the edge of the label, the handwriting darker than printed text and neat. "The adaptation of Unit 03 is not yet complete." He looked at it once, then again, before closing the cover and putting it into the anti-static box.

The stack of sealed bags was slightly deformed in Yang Xiaobing's hands, the seals tight. He walked to the door of the temporary command post, pushed it open, and the lights were already on. He placed the sealed bags on the table, unsealed them, pulled out the documents, and scanned them page by page. The scanner hummed. He stared at the scanning progress bar on the screen, waited for it to finish, then turned off the machine and put the original documents back into the sealed bags. He picked up the phone and dialed the control center's number.

"Director He, Silver Fox has confirmed it. It was signed in November 1992 at that mine in South Africa."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then He Yuzhu spoke. "Keep the documents safe. Send the originals back to China, in the same batch as the prototypes."

"It's already scanning."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything more. When the call ended, He Nianhua was walking back from the dock, carrying an anti-static box. He glanced inside as he passed the entrance to the temporary command post; Yang Xiaobing was sealing the bag. The two didn't speak. The sea breeze was still blowing, passing through the gap between them that hadn't yet closed.