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

The smell in the ward made my throat tight.

The smell of disinfectant, medicine, and that distinctive odor of an elderly person mingled together. He Yuzhu stood at the door for two seconds before stepping inside. The fluorescent light bulbs hummed on the ceiling, casting a stark white light that made the person on the bed appear even more emaciated.

Qian Zhiyuan's hospital bed was by the window. Several medicine bottles, white and green, sat on the bedside table, along with an enamel mug whose water had long since cooled. His book, *Mechanics of Materials*, lay beside his pillow, its pages open, with a fountain pen tucked between the pages. A chipped piece of paint on the pen cap revealed the brass underneath.

He Yuzhu walked to the bedside and looked at that face.

Thin. Too thin. His cheekbones protruded, his eye sockets were sunken, and his lips were dry and chapped. He remembered a few years ago in Shenyang, when Qian Zhiyuan stood in the laboratory explaining those material formulas to him, his eyes shining like a young man's. Now those eyes were closed, and there were two dark circles under his eye sockets.

The sound of nurses' footsteps echoed down the corridor, tap-tap-tap, approaching from afar and then receding again.

Qian Zhiyuan opened his eyes.

He looked at He Yuzhu for two seconds, as if he didn't recognize him. Then his lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh.

"Xiao He is here."

His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against wood.

He Yuzhu sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Director Qian."

Qian Zhiyuan stretched his hand out from under the covers and patted the back of his hand. That hand was so thin it was just skin and bones, icy cold, with veins bulging out one by one.

"I heard you've been quite busy over there. How come you have time to come?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer, but looked at him.

Qian Zhiyuan felt uncomfortable under his gaze and smiled.

"It's nothing, just an old ailment. A few days of rest will do the trick."

He Yuzhu remained silent.

Qian Zhiyuan sighed.

"You've heard about it?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

Qian Zhiyuan stared at the ceiling and remained silent for a while.

"Xiao He, to be honest with you, this might really be tough. The doctor said that thing on the liver is difficult to treat."

He Yuzhu clenched his hands on his knees.

Qian Zhiyuan turned his head and looked at him.

"Do you still have any of those tea leaves?"

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

Qian Zhiyuan smiled faintly.

"I've heard about it. Old X and his gang, after drinking your tea, all seem to have become young again. I didn't believe it at first, but Old X called me and said he can sleep through the night now."

He paused.

"Xiao He, I won't ask where this tea came from. But you saved my old buddies, so thank you."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

Those eyes, so thin, still shone. He'd seen that kind of light before. In the lab, when looking at data, when discussing technical challenges.

He took the tea canister out of his pocket.

Qian Zhiyuan looked at the jar without saying a word.

He Yuzhu poured a cup of hot water and added a pinch of tea leaves. The tea slowly seeped in, turning a pale yellow color, much like ordinary tea.

He handed the cup over.

Qian Zhiyuan took it, his hand trembling slightly. A few drops of tea spilled out, staining the sheets a dark brown color.

"I'll do it myself."

He took a sip.

He Yuzhu stared at his face.

Qian Zhiyuan took another sip.

Then close your eyes.

He Yuzhu sat there, counting down the seconds.

Five minutes. Nothing happened.

Ten minutes passed. Still no movement.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor again, this time from a man, his leather shoes clicking on the floor.

He Yuzhu's palms began to sweat. He remembered the system's warning—exposure equals annihilation. Could this tea be…?

In the fifteenth minute, Qian Zhiyuan suddenly opened his eyes.

He Yuzhu was startled.

Those eyes were no longer unfocused and unfocused. Instead, they were bright, the kind of bright he was familiar with, the kind he only saw when looking at data in the lab.

Qian Zhiyuan stared at him for several seconds.

"Xiao He..."

His voice was still hoarse, but it had gained strength.

"Did this tea of ​​yours pull me back from the brink of death?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Qian Zhiyuan smiled. The smile looked somewhat strange on his gaunt face, but He Yuzhu recognized it as Qian Zhiyuan's smile—subtle, cunning, and full of hidden meaning.

"Fine, I won't ask."

He propped himself up and leaned against the headboard. His movements were much stronger than before.

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"Director Qian, how are you feeling?"

Qian Zhiyuan stretched his arms.

"Much better."

He looked at He Yuzhu.

"Speak, what do you want from me?"

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

Qian Zhiyuan snorted.

"You, Xiao He, wouldn't you make a special trip for no reason? Tell me, where's it stuck?"

He Yuzhu remained silent for a while.

"The tank production line is stuck."

Qian Zhiyuan nodded.

"Is it a problem with the materials?"

He Yuzhu looked at him.

How did you know?

Qian Zhiyuan leaned against the headboard.

"Your tank prototype is quite good. A prototype can be refined bit by bit, using the best materials and the best craftsmen. The production line is not up to par. A production line produces hundreds or thousands of units at a time, and if the materials can't keep up, it's all for nothing."

He paused.

"About the heat treatment of gun steel?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

Qian Zhiyuan looked at him.

"What technology are you using now?"

He Yuzhu explained the process.

After listening, Qian Zhiyuan remained silent for a while.

"The temperature difference is twenty degrees."

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

Qian Zhiyuan stretched out his hand and gestured on the bedside table.

"Your cooling curve is fine up to the beginning. But the tempering section is 20 degrees Celsius colder. The resulting product is hard on the surface, tough inside, but the middle layer is brittle."

He looked at He Yuzhu.

"You can't tell the effects of this thing after one shot. But after ten shots, it cracks."

He Yuzhu clenched his hands on his knees.

Qian Zhiyuan leaned back.

"Xiao He, when it comes to materials, even the slightest bit of inferiority won't do."

He picked up the book "Mechanics of Materials" from beside his pillow, opened it, and found it filled with annotations. Red ink, blue ink, pencil, pen, layer upon layer.

"I've spent my whole life figuring out just one thing."

He looked at He Yuzhu.

"If the materials are bad, everything else is useless."

He Yuzhu stood up.

"Director Qian, please take good care of yourself. I'll come back to consult you again later."

Qian Zhiyuan nodded.

"Go."

He Yuzhu walked to the door and glanced back.

Qian Zhiyuan leaned against the wall, still holding the book in his hand. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his face and making the wrinkles on his face clearly visible.

He pushed open the door and went out.

By the time we got back to the research institute, it was already dark.

As He Yuzhu entered the gate, a figure rushed out from the guard room and almost bumped into him.

It was Ma Yuejin.

His face was covered in grease, his work clothes were torn, and his hands were shaking.

"Dean..."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"What's wrong?"

Ma Yuejin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

"The engine... exploded again."

He Yuzhu tightened his grip inside his sleeve.

A commotion came from the workshop in the distance; someone was shouting something, but I couldn't make it out. I could vaguely see flickering flames, and someone was running inside with a fire extinguisher.

Ma Yuejin looked at him, his eyes reddening.

"This time the explosion was really bad. Lin Jianguo almost..."

He didn't finish speaking.

He Yuzhu didn't say anything and walked towards the workshop.

The night wind carried the smell of burning.

He recalled Qian Zhiyuan's words.

If the materials are subpar, everything else is in vain.