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

The weather is starting to get hot, but what's even more alarming than the weather is the new notice posted on the wall at the entrance of the alley.

Bright red paper, bold ink characters, pasted neatly in squares. The title was eye-catching—"Resist America, Aid Korea, Protect Our Homes and Defend Our Country." Below, densely packed text explained the situation and called for action. The paste was still wet, reflecting the sunlight, and onlookers pointed and whispered among themselves.

He Yuzhu squeezed at the back of the crowd, glancing at the words. His face was calm, but his heart was taut with tension. They've arrived.

News about North Korea is increasing day by day, both on the radio and in the newspapers. The atmosphere on the streets has changed; there's less idle chatter, faster pace, and the hushed conversations always revolve around words like "soldiers" and "border."

He knew he couldn't wait any longer. The "seventeen years old" on the file was fake; he had to make it real, walk into the recruitment station, and get to the place where he could start accumulating points.

The registration point was set up in an old auditorium in the district. A red flag was planted at the entrance, and two long tables were set up, behind which sat several dark-skinned cadres in worn military uniforms. A health clinic had set up a booth next door to conduct preliminary examinations. People came and went, mostly young people in their twenties, but there were also a few more youthful faces, showing excitement or nervousness.

He Yuzhu took a deep breath, clutched the copy of his household registration booklet tightly in his arms, and walked over. It was a newly issued certificate from the neighborhood committee, with his birth year changed to 1933.

The registration officer was in his thirties, with a scar on his cheek and sharp eyes, as if he had just come from a battlefield. He glanced up at He Yuzhu, his brows furrowing habitually: "Name?"

"He Weiguo." He Yuzhu handed over the household registration booklet.

The cadre glanced at the notebook, then looked him over: "Age?"

"Seventeen. Born in the 22nd year of the Republic of China, the Year of the Rooster," He Yuzhu answered crisply.

"Seventeen?" The scarred cadre frowned, tapping the paper with his finger. "Your build doesn't look like seventeen. Too thin."

The young officer taking notes nearby also cast a suspicious glance at him.

He Yuzhu's heart sank; he knew the toughest hurdle had arrived. Simply altering the files wasn't enough; he had to convince people.

He didn't back down; instead, he took a half step forward and rolled up his right sleeve. His arm was thin, but covered with fresh abrasions and bruises from that night at the brick kiln, mixed with old scars, somewhat glaring. He stretched his arm out in front of the cadre.

"Comrade cadre," he raised his voice so everyone around could hear, "my father ran away, and I'm the only son in the family, with a five-year-old sister to support. I'm not strong, and we used to go hungry. But I have strength and courage!"

He pointed to his injury, his face unfazed: "A few days ago, some hooligans were bullying people in the alley, and I stopped them. I'm not afraid of fighting, much less afraid of dealing with bad guys! Now the country needs people to go north and fight those bastards who bully their neighbors, and I'll volunteer! I may be young, but I'm full of energy! Protecting my home and country, supporting my sister—two reasons, aren't they solid enough?"

His words were blunt, brimming with youthful impetuosity, yet they made sense. No adults at home, he had to support his younger sister—that was reality. He wasn't afraid to fight, he had guts—that met the conscription requirements. Finally, it came down to "defending the country"—hitting the core theme.

The scarred officer stared into his eyes, then glanced at the wound on his arm. His expression softened slightly, but he didn't relent: "Courage alone isn't enough. To be a soldier, you need to be physically fit, able to carry a gun and run..."

"He can do it!"

An aged yet resolute voice came from behind. Everyone turned around and saw the deaf old woman, leaning on a cane, approaching shakily. She wore a clean, old blue jacket, her hair was neatly combed, and her face held an unusual seriousness.

She walked to the table, nodded to the cadre, and pointed at He Yuzhu: "Comrade, I watched this child grow up. His father is a scoundrel; he ran away long ago. He raised his infant sister without ever complaining. He's a Rooster, already eighteen by the traditional age reckoning! It's just that he was starved before, which damaged his health. But he's tough, kind, and responsible! Who in this area doesn't know that? If he wants to join the army, I, this old lady, will vouch for him!"

The deaf old lady had lived here for decades, was of high seniority, and had never caused any trouble. Her words carried considerable weight. Several old neighbors nodded in agreement, whispering in support: "Yes, Zhu Zi has had a tough life..." "She's a Rooster, the old lady has a sharp memory..."

The scarred cadre glanced at the earnest old woman, then at He Yuzhu, whose eyes were stubborn and who stood ramrod straight, and remained silent for a moment. He understood; there was a genuine determination in the young man's eyes. His family was special, his elders had vouched for him, his age… everything was written in black and white, and there was also a certificate from the neighborhood committee.

"Go over there first, for a quick check-up." He finally relented, pointing to the health clinic's stall.

He Yuzhu felt a weight lifted from his heart. He cast a grateful glance at the old woman. The old woman didn't look at him, only nodded to the cadre, turned around and slowly walked back, her back straight.

The physical examination was simple: measuring height and weight, and checking for disabilities or infectious diseases. He Yuzhu was barely tall enough and underweight, but he didn't have any serious illnesses. The medic pressed on the bruise on his arm and asked what happened. He said, as usual, that he got it while doing something heroic, and the medic didn't ask any further questions and made a note of it.

"At first glance, there's no problem. But with your physique, you'll need to undergo rigorous training in the army," the medic said as he wrote.

"I can practice," He Yuzhu replied.

He received his medical examination certificate and a notice for the next detailed medical examination—the location was at the military post outside the city, and the time was three days later. The scarred officer gave him a final instruction: "Go on time with the notice in three days. The medical examination there is more stringent, and there is also a physical fitness test. If you don't pass, it's all for nothing."

"Yes!" He Yuzhu puffed out his chest.

When he returned to the courtyard house, it was already dusk. He didn't go back inside, but went to the backyard first. Yu Shui was practicing calligraphy at the small table. When she saw him come in, she happily called out, "Brother!" The deaf old lady was sitting on the kang (a heated brick bed), sewing shoe soles.

"Grandma," he said, standing in the doorway, "thank you for today...

The old woman didn't even look up: "No need to thank me. You chose this path yourself, and you're on your own. I was just telling the truth."

"rainwater……"

"Don't worry, the rainwater is with me. As long as I have food to eat, she won't go hungry." The old woman interrupted him, her voice flat. "Just take care of yourself. The outpost won't be easy to get through."

"I know," He Yuzhu nodded. The detailed physical examination and fitness test at the military station were the real hurdles. With his previous physique, he could barely do five pull-ups, let alone long-distance running.

We need to use that thing.

He returned to the west wing and locked the door. He retrieved the vial, which glowed with a faint blue-purple light, from his system space. The glass tube was cool, and the liquid seemed to be flowing slowly.

Without hesitation, he pulled out the cork, tilted his head back, and gulped it down.

The liquid is tasteless, flows smoothly down the throat, and has a slightly cool sensation. For the first few seconds, there is no feeling.

Then, a gentle warmth rose from my lower abdomen and quickly spread throughout my limbs. It wasn't hot, it was comfortable, like soaking in warm water. The soreness and dull pain in my strained right arm were clearly subsiding. My muscles felt slightly tight and warm, and I could hear a faint "crackling" sound deep within my bones, as if they were adjusting and strengthening themselves.

The process lasted about half an hour. There was no excruciating pain, no torment, only continuous warmth and transformation. Sweat seeped out, carrying very faint gray impurities.

Everything calmed down, and He Yuzhu opened his eyes and sat up.

The world seemed different. Not because his eyesight had improved, but because his bodily awareness was clearer. He could feel the state of every muscle, his heartbeat was steady, and his breathing was deep. He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking lightly, his palm full of power. His right arm moved freely, as if the strain had never existed.

He got off the kang (heated brick bed), jumped lightly, his body light, and landed silently. He picked up a rough porcelain bowl, his five fingers slightly clenched, the bowl creaking under the weight, and he quickly loosened his grip.

It's done. Is this the foundation of a top-tier soldier? Perhaps it's still a bit lacking; this is only the initial enhancement. But compared to before, it's a world of difference.

He washed his body and examined himself against the broken mirror. His face was still the same, but the features were more defined. His skin tone hadn't changed, but the blood and energy beneath his skin were abundant, his eyes were brighter, and he possessed a restrained yet powerful spirit.

He couldn't make it too obvious, he reminded himself. Starting tomorrow, he needed to "slowly" appear stronger and "slowly" increase his food intake. Fortunately, he had three days to prepare.

Three days later, at the military post outside the city.

The atmosphere was much more serious than in the district auditorium. The air was thick with the sounds of drills, barracks, commands, sweat, and dust. Young people from various street factories gathered here, a dark mass, most of them tense.

The physical examination was comprehensive, including internal medicine, surgery, vision, and hearing tests. He Yuzhu passed smoothly. His current physical indicators were so good that the military doctor took a second look, but he wasn't too surprised, simply assuming he had a good foundation.

Finally, there's the physical fitness test. You need to do at least eight pull-ups on a horizontal bar to pass.

He Yuzhu stood under the horizontal bar, took a deep breath, and leaped to grab the bar. Using his arms, he easily pulled himself up, his chin over the bar, then lowered himself, and rose again. His movements were precise, his rhythm steady. One, two… ten, fifteen… twenty!

The soldier counting hesitated for a moment before shouting, "Twenty! Excellent!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd. These days, being able to pull ten or eight people is considered good; to pull twenty in one go is definitely top-tier.

Next up is the 1000-meter race. One lap around the track is 400 meters, so it takes two and a half laps.

The whistle blew, and He Yuzhu dashed off. He didn't sprint, but maintained a steady and swift pace. His leg power flowed continuously, and his breathing was long and unimpeded. Halfway through the lap, he had already overtaken most of the other riders. In the final half-lap, he slightly increased his speed, and like a nimble leopard, he crossed the finish line first.

The official who had started the stopwatch glanced at it, rubbed his eyes, and exclaimed, "Three minutes and twenty-eight seconds?!"

This achievement is outstanding even among field troops.

Several selection officers whispered among themselves, their gazes occasionally drifting to He Yuzhu, who was calming his breathing at the sidelines. The scarred officer was among them; he walked over and patted He Yuzhu's shoulder forcefully. This time, He Yuzhu didn't budge.

"Good lad!" the scarred officer laughed, a genuine compliment. "You've been hiding your true abilities! You were putting on airs with me back in the district!"

He Yuzhu smiled sheepishly: "Reporting to the cadre, that day... I didn't eat, so I had no energy."

"Alright!" The scarred officer waved his hand. "He Weiguo, approved! Go home and wait for further notice; prepare to enlist!"

It became.

He Yuzhu stood at attention and loudly replied, "Yes, sir!"

Stepping out of the outpost, the afternoon sun was blinding. He glanced back at the barracks where red flags fluttered in the wind.

He Yuzhu's era has come to a temporary end.

He Weiguo's journey begins now.