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

The press conference will be held in the Peking University Auditorium.

When He Yuzhu arrived, the entrance was already crowded with people. People carrying video cameras were squatting on the steps smoking, people holding cameras were wiping their lenses, and people clutching notebooks were tiptoeing to peek inside. He squeezed in sideways and heard someone call out "Dean He," but he ignored it. His shoulder brushed past a reporter's coat, and the reporter turned around and glared at him, not recognizing him.

The auditorium was filled with over twenty rows of chairs. Two more rows stood at the back, all sent by various organizations—some in military uniforms, some in Zhongshan suits, and some in blue work clothes. A banner hung on the stage, red with white lettering, reading "Galaxy One Computer Launch Event." The machine itself was placed under the banner, square and rectangular, with a silver-gray casing, about the size of a desk. Fluorescent lights shone on it, giving the casing a cold, gleaming appearance.

Lin Jianguo stood beside the machine, his hands in his pockets, but He Yuzhu noticed that his fingers were trembling. The trembling came from his cuffs, subtle, but it spread throughout his entire arm.

Ma Yuejin was sitting in the first row, talking to the person next to him. He Yuzhu recognized the man; he was from the People's Daily, surnamed Zhou, and had written several reports for them—a man with a strong pen. Ma Yuejin gestured with his hands as he spoke, while Zhou listened, nodding and jotting something down in his notebook.

He Yuzhu sat down in the last row, near the aisle. The people in front of him blocked his view, so he could only see half of Lin Jianguo's body.

The meeting was chaired by a vice president of the Academy of Sciences, surnamed Deng. He had gray hair and spoke slowly and deliberately, as if each word had been carefully weighed in his mouth. He introduced the guests and then gave a brief overview of the project background—the country needed it, the Academy supported it, and everyone worked hard—before nodding to Lin Jianguo.

"Next, Comrade Lin Jianguo will introduce the situation of Xinghe-1."

Lin Jianguo took a step forward and almost tripped over the microphone cord. He steadied himself and cleared his throat. The cough was amplified through the microphone, making the auditorium vibrate.

"Distinguished leaders, experts, and fellow journalists, good afternoon."

There was some applause from below. It was sparse and stopped quickly.

Lin Jianguo blushed. His face turned red from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, burning hot.

"Star River One was developed by our team over two years." His voice was a little tense, and he paused. "The chip it uses was made by ourselves, using a 90-nanometer process, called the Star River One chip. The overall computing speed..."

He glanced down at the manuscript in his hand. The paper was trembling.

"The entire machine can perform 500 million operations per second. That's about 10,000 times faster than the mainstream transistor computers currently used internationally."

There was a few seconds of silence. The sudden silence was as if someone had pulled the sound away.

Then someone raised their hand.

"Comrade Lin, you said it's 10,000 times faster, do you have any data to support that?" The person who stood up was a middle-aged man wearing glasses, and the nameplate on his chest read "Ministry of Machinery Industry".

Lin Jianguo nodded and gestured to Sun Xiaomei. Sun Xiaomei walked over from beside the machine, her steps steady, unlike his. She pressed a button on the side of the machine. The machine hummed a few times, the indicator light flashed, and the printer next to it began to spit out paper—the paper tape piling up longer and longer.

She held the paper up, pointing it at the audience.

"This is a problem we just solved. The most advanced transistor computer in the world would take three minutes to solve this problem. Galaxy-1 solved it in less than a second."

Some people stood up and pushed forward, trying to get a better look at the paper. More people began whispering, a buzzing sound rising from all directions, filling the entire auditorium. Flashbulbs started going off, click-click click, as someone rushed forward carrying a camera.

The host, surnamed Deng, tapped on the table.

"Quiet, quiet. There will be a Q&A session later."

The crowd gradually quieted down. But the commotion lingered, on everyone's face and in their eyes.

Lin Jianguo continued, his voice a little more steady than before.

"This machine only takes up the size of a desk." He patted the machine's casing. "While a transistor computer with equivalent computing power would take up a three-story building."

This time, no one raised their hand. Only the flashbulbs popped, clicking away.

He Yuzhu sat in the corner, watching Lin Jianguo's flushed face, watching his trembling lips as he tried to hold on, watching the reporters below with their eyes shining. Some were scribbling furiously in their notebooks, while others stared intently at the machine.

He lowered his head and curled the corners of his mouth upwards.

The Q&A session lasted forty minutes.

Questions came one after another. Some asked about technical details—instruction set architecture, storage bandwidth, and heat dissipation solutions; others asked about costs—how much would it cost to build one, and could it be mass-produced; still others asked when it would be available—whether the military needed it, and how research institutions could apply for it. Lin Jianguo answered haltingly, but he answered every question. Sun Xiaomei supplemented his answers, clarifying any unclear points. Ma Yuejin also chimed in a few times, arguing with the more meticulous experts.

Near the end, a young reporter raised her hand. She was a woman with a ponytail and a round face.

"Where is Dean He Yuzhu? We would like to interview him."

Lin Jianguo paused for a moment and looked down at the audience.

He Yuzhu stood up and waved to the stage. He didn't stand up, he just waved while still sitting.

"They know more about technical things than I do. Just ask them."

He turned and walked out. His steps were slow, but he didn't look back.

The reporters tried to follow, but were stopped by staff. Someone shouted "Dean He," and someone else shouted "Just one question," as the voices came from behind.

He didn't stop.

Three days after the press conference, He Yuzhu called everyone to the auditorium.

It wasn't the auditorium at Peking University; it was the research institute's own. The place was small and packed to the brim. The front row was occupied by people from the engine, tank, lithography, and computer teams—over three hundred people, filling every single chair; some had to sit on the steps in the aisle. Standing in the back row were the special forces team, led by Yang Xiaobing, their backs ramrod straight, like a row of pine trees.

He Yuzhu stood on the stage, looking at the people below. Lin Jianguo, Sun Xiaomei, Ma Yuejin, Zhou Guoqiang, and other young people whose names he couldn't recall—some he had seen working all night in the workshop, some he had seen sleeping with their lunchboxes in the canteen.

He took the paper out of his pocket.

"An award from the state."

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at the piece of paper in his hand.

"Engine development, tank development, lithography machine development, computer development—everyone, one thousand yuan in cash and a bicycle ticket each."

Someone took a deep breath. It was a long, drawn-out breath, as if it had sucked all the air out of the auditorium.

Ma Yuejin stood up.

"Dean, this is too much." His voice was a little hoarse. "It's our job, our duty. You yourself..."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"What do you mean, 'more'?" His voice wasn't loud, but every word hit the ground. "The work you did is worth this price. It's from the government, take it."

Ma Yuejin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there, his eyes a little red.

He Yuzhu handed the paper to the staff member next to him.

"The rewards will be distributed starting tomorrow. After you collect them, you'll have three days off. Those who want to go home can go home, and those who want to sleep can sleep—don't just lie in your dorm, go out for a walk."

People started clapping. First one or two, then more and more, the applause rising from all directions, making the whole auditorium vibrate. Some people stood up to clap, some threw their hats up, and some shouted "Long live the Dean!"—then paused for a moment, then laughed.

He Yuzhu stood on the stage, looking at the crowd. He saw Lin Jianguo with his head down, his shoulders shaking. He saw Sun Xiaomei smiling with her face upturned, tears streaming down her face. He saw the young people, some hugging each other, some clapping vigorously, and some just standing there, grinning.

He recalled that year at Changjin Lake, when he lay in the snow waiting for the bugle call to charge, and he wondered what he would do if he could make it back alive.

Now I know.

Qin Huairu's report was published on page three of the People's Daily, taking up half a page.

The title was "Galaxy-1: A Milestone in Chinese Computers." It described Lin Jianguo, Sun Xiaomei, and the tireless team—they hadn't gone home for Chinese New Year for two years, they were still debugging the machine on New Year's Eve, they used abacuses to verify data, and they ruined their eyesight from exhaustion. She paused for a moment when writing the last sentence, then continued.

"Behind this team, there is a hero who wishes to remain anonymous. His story may be written down in the future."

The newspaper was delivered overseas three days later.

In the Oval Office of the White House, a man slammed the newspaper on the table.

"What happened? When did they do this?"

No one answered. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the newspaper and the headline.

Back at the Pentagon, someone translated the report into English and circulated it among the upper echelons. One general read it, crumpled the paper into a ball, and threw it in the trash.

"Ten thousand times faster. Their machine is ten thousand times faster than ours."

A few seconds of silence fell over the conference room. No one spoke. A plane flew by outside the window, its sound carried in the distance.

Inside the Kremlin, someone was also reading that report. After finishing, the man put the newspaper down and lit a cigarette. The moment the match was struck, it illuminated his face.

"Chinese……"

He didn't finish speaking, but those around him knew what he wanted to say. Smoke drifted in the lamplight.

He Yuzhu was unaware of these things.

He stood at the entrance of the research institute, watching the young people who had received their money and bicycle tickets ride down the mountain. The bicycle bells jingled, and laughter drifted up the mountain road, carrying far away. Someone turned and waved to him; he nodded.

Old Sun walked over and stood next to him. He lit a cigarette and took a puff.

"Qin Huairu's report has spread all over the world," he said. "The White House is furious."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. A breeze blew by, and it was a bit chilly.

Old Sun exhaled a puff of smoke.

"Your phrase 'heroes who wish to remain anonymous' was well written."

He Yuzhu glanced at him.

"I didn't write it."

Old Sun paused for a moment, then laughed. His shoulders shook with laughter.

"Yes, you didn't write it."

He stubbed out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe, turned, and walked away. After a few steps, he turned back. "The cafeteria's making dumplings tonight, wanna come?"

He Yuzhu waved his hand.

Old Sun is gone.

He Yuzhu stood there, watching those figures recede into the distance. A mountain breeze blew by, carrying the scent of pine trees.

The voice in my head rang.

[Side Quest: Gazing at the Stars - Completed]

[Mission Reward Points: +3,000,000]

[Current total points: 45,330,000 + 240,000,000 = 285,330,000 points]

He didn't look at the number.

A cool breeze blew by. The sound of bicycle bells and laughter faded into the distance.