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

As the car drove from the city to the foot of the mountain, the road narrowed. He Yuzhu rolled down the window, letting in a gust of wind carrying the scent of earth and grass. Night was falling, and the mountain shadows pressed down, painting the roadside trees a dark green. He leaned back in his seat, a thought flashing through his mind—this was a road he would likely be traveling frequently from now on.

The car stopped halfway up the mountain. The driver turned around and said, "Director He, we've arrived."

He Yuzhu got out of the car, stepped onto the newly paved cobblestone road, and looked ahead. The laboratory was still the same six brick buildings and a row of warehouses, but the walls had been painted white, the windows had been replaced with new glass, and there was a new sign at the entrance—"Chengshan Technology Experimental Station." The paint was not yet completely dry and reflected the light in the setting sun.

He walked inside. Over at the warehouse, people were moving wooden crates, shouting in unison. Several young men were squatting on the ground, arguing about something while looking at blueprints. As he got closer, he heard Ma Yuejin's voice: "No! There's definitely something wrong with these parameters; adjusting them again will burn it out!" Sun Fulai, standing beside him, was sweating profusely: "But that's what the manual says..."

He Yuzhu stood behind them, glanced at the blueprints, then at the newly unpacked spectrometer. The power indicator light was flashing. He asked, "Is the voltage stable?"

The group of people were taken aback and turned to look at him. Ma Yuejin stood up first: "Director He!"

"Is the voltage stable?" He Yuzhu asked again.

Ma Yuejin realized what was happening and quickly went to check the voltage regulator. Sure enough, the indicator light was red. "I, I'll adjust it right away!" he said, frantically turning the knob. He Yuzhu pressed down on his wrist: "Disconnect the power first, then reconnect the neutral wire." Ma Yuejin did as instructed, then turned the instrument back on. The spectrometer passed its self-test, and a line of text appeared on the screen.

The young men exchanged glances, then all looked at He Yuzhu. Ma Yuejin wiped his brow: "Director He, you know about this?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer, only glanced at the machine. He knew nothing about spectrometers; it was just that voice in his head that had said, "[Operational error detected: Neutral wire not grounded.]" He didn't want to explain further and turned to walk inside. The warehouse was filled with new equipment: a small smelting furnace, a hardness tester, and several other things he couldn't name. The metal casings gleamed coldly under the lights.

He stood in front of the spectrometer and looked at it for a long time.

Ma Yuejin followed over and said from the side, "This thing can reveal the composition of molten iron in just a few seconds. Before, we had to wait three days."

He Yuzhu nodded, turned around, and looked at the group of young men—Ma Yuejin, Sun Fulai, Li Chunsheng, Zhou Guoqiang, and Wang Erzhu were all there. Several other new faces stood behind them, curiously sizing him up.

"You all recognize me now?" Ma Yuejin laughed. "Of course, your picture is still in the newspaper."

He Yuzhu didn't smile. He looked at the people, at the banner on the wall that wasn't even properly hung yet—"Self-reliance and Striving for Progress." The voice in his head sounded again: [New environment detected, side quest pool refreshed. Currently available side quests: To be explored.] He closed the interface and walked towards the young people.

It was completely dark when He Yuzhu came out of the lab. He walked along the path into the mountains, and after twenty minutes, he rounded a grove of trees and the view suddenly opened up before him. Several tents were pitched on a flat area, with wooden crates and oil drums piled up beside them, and a campfire burning in the middle, the firelight illuminating several figures.

He stopped.

Beside the campfire, a man stood up—Old Lu. He was thinner, his hair whiter, but his posture and eyes remained unchanged. He walked over, stood in front of He Yuzhu, and stopped.

"Commander."

He Yuzhu looked at him: "Old Lu."

Behind Lao Lu, two more people stood up: Chen Dashan, the scar on his left arm gleaming in the firelight; and Yang Xiaobing, stronger than before, with two more scars on his face, but his eyes were still as bright as ever. They walked over and stood in a row.

Lao Lu, Chen Dashan, Yang Xiaobing.

The young people behind them also stood up and stood behind them.

No one spoke. The campfire crackled.

He Yuzhu took a step forward. Old Lu extended his hand, and He Yuzhu shook it. Both hands were rough and calloused. Chen Dashan also extended his hand, and Yang Xiaobing also extended his hand. After shaking hands, the four of them stood there, looking at each other.

Then Old Lu laughed: "Commander, you're still alive."

He Yuzhu laughed too: "You too."

Chen Dashan pulled an enamel mug from his pocket and handed it to He Yuzhu. He took it and took a sip—the liquor was spicy and pungent. He handed the mug back. Yang Xiaobing, standing nearby, said, "Commander, how many years has it been since we last met?" He Yuzhu thought for a moment, "Three years." Yang Xiaobing nodded, "Three years. Enough time to fight a battle."

Old Lu chimed in from the side, "Stop standing and talking, sit down. The fire's about to go out."

The four men sat down around the campfire. A few steps behind them, the younger men also sat down, listening to their conversation. He Yuzhu looked at the fire, at the flickering wood in it: "How did you get here?" Old Lu said, "Transfer orders. They said they wanted us to be security for the lab." Chen Dashan added from the side, "Actually, everyone knows it's not security." Yang Xiaobing laughed: "It's to be your soldier."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He stared at the fire for a long time.

Just then, footsteps sounded from not far away, and a middle-aged man wearing glasses walked over. He was the station chief, surnamed Zhou. He looked at Lao Lu and the others, then at He Yuzhu, his expression not very good: "Director He, who are these people... comrades from the security department? Our station is already at full capacity, and with so many people suddenly arriving, it's difficult to arrange accommodation and meals."

Old Lu remained silent, while Chen Dashan frowned. Yang Xiaobing tried to stand up, but Old Lu held him down.

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to Station Chief Zhou, and lowered his voice: "Station Chief Zhou, they're here to protect the equipment. You know better than I how much this batch of new equipment is worth. If anything goes wrong, none of us can afford the consequences." He paused, glanced back at Old Lu, and continued, "These men are all veterans; they won't cause you any trouble. If all else fails, give them my share of rations."

Station Chief Zhou hesitated for a moment, then looked at Lao Lu and the others, then at He Yuzhu, and finally sighed, "Alright, Director He, it's up to you. But you'll have to figure out your own accommodation." With that, he turned and left.

Old Lu walked over and patted He Yuzhu on the shoulder: "Commander, there's no need for that."

He Yuzhu didn't reply, but just glanced at him.

The campfire blazed brighter. He Yuzhu took off his coat and threw it on the ground: "Here, give it a try."

Old Lu was taken aback for a moment: "Try what?"

"Let's see if you've regressed in the last few years."

Old Lu stood up and took off his coat. Chen Dashan stood up, and Yang Xiaobing stood up. The four of them stood around the campfire, and the younger men stepped back a few paces to make room for them.

He Yuzhu looked at Lao Lu: "You go first."

Old Lu didn't hold back, throwing a punch straight at He Yuzhu's face. He Yuzhu dodged to the side, his knee aimed at Old Lu's abdomen, but he held back at the last moment. Old Lu blocked with his elbow, took a step back, and smiled: "Not bad, your leg isn't broken."

Chen Dashan rushed up from the side, and He Yuzhu grabbed his scarred arm. Both of them paused simultaneously—the scar was from Shangganling. After that brief pause, Chen Dashan smiled, putting his other arm around He Yuzhu's neck: "Commander, I've missed you so much!"

Yang Xiaobing circled around to the back, trying to hug He Yuzhu's waist, but He Yuzhu turned and shook him off. Yang Xiaobing then fell to the ground, pulling He Yuzhu down with him. The four of them were entangled, exchanging blows and kicks, panting heavily, wrestling in the firelight. It was less of a fight and more of a commotion—you punch me, I kick you, and then we all burst into laughter.

The young people watching from the sidelines had their eyes light up.

After they'd had their fun, the four of them lay on the ground, panting, looking at the stars. Old Lu said from the side, "Commander, is your leg really healed?" He Yuzhu moved his left leg: "Healed." Yang Xiaobing turned his head and asked softly, "Healed by a god?" He Yuzhu didn't answer. Old Lu kicked Yang Xiaobing: "Don't ask such nonsense."

The campfire was dying down, the flames flickering. He Yuzhu sat up and looked at the young men: "What are your names?" A tall man spoke first: "Reporting, sir, my name is Zhao Tiezhu." A shorter one next to him said: "Li Erniu." "Wang Shitou." "Zhang Xiaoshan."... One by one they gave their names, their faces briefly illuminated by the firelight. He Yuzhu listened and watched, his gaze finally settling on a young man with particularly bright eyes. The man didn't speak, but simply looked at him quietly.

Old Lu said from the side, "They're all new recruits, but they have a good foundation. After three months of training, they'll be ready to go."

He Yuzhu nodded. He stood up, walked to the fire, and added a few more pieces of firewood. The fire blazed up again, illuminating the surroundings. He looked at the people, at Old Lu and his men, at the newly erected camp—the new battlefield.

Back in the tent, it was quite late. He Yuzhu lay there, listening to the wind outside and the occasional bird calls in the distance. He pulled the letter from his pocket. The envelope was as soft as an old cloth, the edges frayed, and the dried bloodstains had turned a dark brown, patchy. He turned the letter over and looked at the seal—four years.

He tore open the seal and pulled out the letter inside. The letter was short, just one sheet of paper, with neat handwriting, containing only one sentence: "I'll wait for you to come back and talk."

He Yuzhu stared at the words for a long time. He folded the letter, put it back in the envelope, and tucked it into his left breast pocket. He lay down and closed his eyes. Outside the tent, the wind rustled through the trees.