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

He Yuzhu stood in front of the control panel, staring at the brand-new gasoline engine. It was smaller than a diesel engine, but its cylinder block was gleaming, and its pipes were densely packed, making it look far more complex than the older models. Ma Yuejin squatted beside him, clutching a wrench, seemingly tightening something.

"Dean, the pressure is on."

He Yuzhu nodded.

"ignition."

The motor roared to life, and the flywheel began to spin. At first, the sound was smooth, a buzzing sound like bees flying. Ma Yuejin's chubby face relaxed.

Three seconds later, the machine suddenly shook.

It was shaking violently; the entire platform was swaying. The needles on the gauges next to it started jumping wildly, up and down, making it dizzying. The exhaust pipe suddenly spewed out a cloud of black smoke, like a muffled thunderclap.

Ma Yuejin's face turned pale.

"wrong!"

Just as he reached for the stop button, the machine shook again, this time more violently. The cylinder emitted muffled "bang bang" sounds, like someone inside was pounding it with a sledgehammer. Thick black smoke billowed out, choking him and making it impossible to open his eyes.

He Yuzhu shoved him aside, rushed to the control panel, and twisted the throttle back.

The machine gradually quieted down. The shaking stopped, and the black smoke dissipated.

The workshop was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat.

Ma Yuejin squatted there, staring at the machine, his hands still trembling. The faces of the young apprentices beside him turned pale, and none of them dared to utter a sound.

"Dean... what happened?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything, walked up to the machine, and squatted down to look at it. There were no cracks on the cylinder block, and the pipes weren't leaking, but the fuel injector area was black, as if it had been soaked in ink.

He stood up.

"The oil line is clogged. Clean it and start over."

Ma Yuejin opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back.

Outside the door, the security guard poked half his head in: "Director, there's a man in military uniform outside who's looking for you. He's been waiting all morning."

He Yuzhu didn't even look up.

"Let him wait a little longer."

He took off his gloves, wiped his sweat, and put them back on.

The second ignition was at 2 PM.

The fuel injectors were replaced, the lines were cleaned, and everything was checked three times. This time, Ma Yuejin didn't dare stand close; he retreated three meters away, staring at the instruments. Several apprentices hid behind pillars, only half their heads showing.

He Yuzhu stood in front of the control panel, his hand on the accelerator.

"ignition."

The starter motor roared again. The flywheel began to spin, and the RPM slowly climbed. The sound was smooth, with minimal vibration, and the exhaust smoke was pale gray.

The pressure gauge started to climb. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred...

When it reached 800 meters, the machine's sound changed. It wasn't the sound of something breaking down, but the sound of the cylinders starting to work hard, a buzzing sound that made your ears tingle.

Having climbed to 1,500 meters, Ma Yuejin took a step forward.

He climbed to 2,000 meters and then stood still.

When we reached 2,500 meters, a ball of flame suddenly shot out of the exhaust pipe with a "whoosh"!

The flame, about half a foot long, was a bluish-green and danced at the exhaust pipe opening. Ma Yuejin recoiled in fright: "Dean!"

He Yuzhu didn't move. He stared at the ball of fire, his hand still on the accelerator.

"It's backfire." His voice was calm. "Don't stop, keep supplying fuel."

The flames continued to leap, and the workshop reeked of burning. Several apprentices shrank back, pressing themselves against the wall. Ma Yuejin tried to say something, but his throat felt constricted, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Thirty seconds felt like thirty years.

He Yuzhu squatted beside the machine, staring at the temperature gauge on the cylinder. Sweat dripped from his forehead, staining the cement floor and forming a small dark patch. His hands gripped the machine stand, his knuckles white.

The flames slowly died down.

The machine's sound was actually deeper and more steady, like an old ox pulling a plow, each stroke firm and controlled.

The pressure gauge kept climbing. Two thousand eight, two thousand nine, three thousand...

Ma Yuejin's legs went weak, and he leaned against the wall, his eyes reddening.

Three thousand one, three thousand two, three thousand three.

The pointer hovered around 3300 before settling down.

The machine was still running, its sound as steady as an old clock.

He Yuzhu slowly stood up, his clothes soaked through and clinging to his spine. He walked to the machine and touched the cylinder. It was hot, but not scalding.

"Keep running," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

Ma Yuejin looked at him and saw that the hand he was holding onto the cylinder was trembling slightly.

The machine ran for another forty minutes.

Three thousand three, staying at three thousand three.

Ma Yuejin squatted on the ground, holding his head, his shoulders trembling. The apprentices next to him were either rubbing their eyes or standing there dumbfounded, like wooden stakes.

He Yuzhu didn't say anything, just stood next to the machine, listening to the buzzing sound.

The people from the Ministry of Machine Building arrived very quickly.

On the morning of the third day, a jeep pulled up in front of the laboratory, and seven or eight people got out. The leader was a tall, thin man in his fifties, wearing a Zhongshan suit, and walking with a brisk pace. He stood in the workshop, circled the gasoline engine three times, looking at the instruments, the data, and the blueprints.

Ma Yuejin stood to the side, his palms sweaty.

After reading it, the tall, thin man turned around and looked at He Yuzhu.

"Three thousand three?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

"Three thousand three."

The tall, thin man remained silent for a few seconds.

"What can this thing be used for?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"High-speed cars. And... others."

The tall, thin man looked at him.

"What else?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

The tall, thin man laughed.

"Alright, I won't ask anymore. When will this thing be mass-produced?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"One year. We need to stabilize the process first."

The tall, thin man nodded.

"Okay. I'll wait."

He reached out his hand, shook hands with He Yuzhu, and left.

That evening, Ma Yuejin was packing up his tools when the door was pushed open. A tall, thin man stood in the doorway again, holding a brown paper bag.

"There are too many people during the day, so I need to talk to you privately." He handed over the paper bag. "This contains information on the latest Soviet gasoline engine, which we obtained with great difficulty. Take a look and see if your machine can surpass it?"

He Yuzhu pulled out the documents, flipped through them, and suddenly laughed.

"Sir, you asked me during the day where it could be used, and I didn't answer. Now I can say—this machine can make our cars run faster than those in the Soviet Union."

The tall, thin man stared at him for several seconds, then suddenly reached out and gave him a firm grip.

After the news got out, people came to the lab entrance every day.

There were representatives from FAW Changchun, Nanjing Automobile Factory, Shanghai, and Beijing, all carrying letters of introduction, all wanting to discuss cooperation. Ma Yuejin received them for three days, until his voice became hoarse.

"Dean, this is too much, I can't handle it."

He Yuzhu glanced at him.

"We have to recruit, even if we can't handle it. The technology needs to be promoted, but we can't give it away for free."

Ma Yuejin nodded.

"So what do we do?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"We collect technology transfer fees. One fee from each company. We give them the blueprints, but we keep the core technology in our hands."

Ma Yuejin scratched his head.

"Okay, I'll do as you say."

Qin Huairu arrived on the fourth day.

She stood at the lab entrance, carrying a bulging canvas bag. She was wearing that blue lab coat, and her short hair was a little messy from the wind. He Yuzhu came out of the workshop, saw her, and paused for a moment.

"Why are you here?"

Qin Huairu smiled and handed over the bag first.

"I asked Yushui to bring this, saying it's pickled radish that you like."

He Yuzhu took it, weighed it in his hand, and found it quite heavy.

"Why bring this from so far away?"

Qin Huairu looked at him.

She said you didn't go home for the Lunar New Year, and she's been talking about it several times.

He Yuzhu didn't say anything, and just held the bag in his hand.

"Come in."

He led her into the workshop, showed her the gasoline engine, the data, and the young people working diligently. Qin Huairu took notes in her notebook as she looked around, occasionally asking detailed questions.

After reading it, He Yuzhu took her to the lounge.

The lounge was small, with a table and two chairs, and certificates of merit hanging on the wall. He Yuzhu poured her a glass of water and sat down in a chair himself.

Qin Huairu put the notebook away and looked at him.

You've lost weight.

He Yuzhu touched his face.

"Yeah?"

Qin Huairu nodded.

"You weren't this thin the last time I saw you."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Qin Huairu stared at him for several seconds.

"You've been very busy lately, haven't you?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

"busy."

Qin Huairu picked up her water glass and took a sip. Sunlight streamed in through the window, brightening the room. She sat there, her profile glowing slightly in the sunlight.

She suddenly asked a question.

"He Yuzhu, have you thought about what to do in the future?"

He Yuzhu looked at her.

"What do you mean, 'after'?"

Qin Huairu put down the water glass.

"You and me."

The room fell silent.

He Yuzhu sat there, looking at her. She didn't avoid his gaze, just stared at him.

After a long silence, he spoke.

"After I finish this part."

Qin Huairu smiled.

"You always say that."

She stood up, walked to the door, and then turned back.

"I'm waiting for you."

The door closed.

He Yuzhu sat there, looking at the door. The jar of pickled radishes on the table sat there quietly.

He looked down at his hands.

Those gloves were still on his hands.