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

The well rope became rough from being rubbed in my hands.

He Yushui lowered the bucket, and the rope slid down section by section. One meter, one and a half meters, two meters—the sound of the bucket bottom hitting the water surface finally came, muffled, much deeper than usual. She pulled it up; the water in the bucket only covered the bottom, clear and bright, revealing the rust ring around the bottom.

She stood by the well, looking at the bucket of water for a long time.

At lunchtime, she held her bowl, poking at her rice with her chopsticks, without picking up any food. Qin Huairu glanced at her but didn't say anything. He Yuzhu, who was eating with his head down, heard her suddenly speak.

"Brother, this morning when we were fetching water, we had to lower the rope more than two meters before we touched it. It used to be less than a meter."

She looked up at him, and there was something in her eyes.

He Yuzhu's chopsticks paused in mid-air for two seconds, then he continued picking up food as if nothing had happened. But he chewed that mouthful of rice for a long time.

Three days later, everyone in the courtyard was talking about it.

Yan Bugui squatted by the well, tapped his pipe against the sole of his shoe, and looked up at the sky. The sky was an unrealistically blue, without a single cloud.

"The well in my house is shallow now. The water that comes up is murky and takes a long time to settle."

Liu Haizhong came out of the house, carrying an enamel mug filled with murky water. He stood at the doorway, took a sip, and frowned.

"The public water trough at the entrance of the alley is almost empty. People on the street say that if it doesn't rain soon, they'll have to go outside the city to fetch water."

The second aunt stood by the well, holding her child, watching people draw water, muttering to herself.

"What is God trying to do?"

No one responded.

He Yuzhu stood beneath the hanging flower gate, gazing at the well and the backs of the people standing beside it. The sun shone on them, casting long shadows. In the distance, the corn in the field had curled leaves, half-yellowed.

He remembered what his old leader had said.

"The sky will be dry, the land will be flooded, there will be war in the south, and there will be famine in the north."

That evening, He Yuzhu sat alone in his office.

He brought up the system interface, tapped his fingers on the table, then stopped. It was pitch black outside; he couldn't see the moon. He stared at that line of text for a long time.

Artificial Rainmaking Technology - Redeemable for 6,000,000 Points

Six million.

How much grain can we buy? How many artillery shells can we fire?

He remembered the well in the courtyard, Yan Bugui's sorrowful face, and the words that his second aunt had been repeating.

He tapped his finger down.

[Redeem successful.]

He retrieved the stack of documents from his system space; it was thick, the cover still smelling of ink. Opening the first page, a dense array of formulas and parameters immediately came into view. He read through them line by line: silver iodide, dry ice, urea, salt powder—various formulations, various uses, various conditions.

Cloud thickness. Cloud top temperature. Updraft speed. Water vapor content.

He memorized those data, going over them again and again.

In the meteorological bureau office, the weather map on the wall was densely covered with numbers. Deputy Director Zhang pushed up his reading glasses and looked at the few pages of paper over and over three times.

He looked up at He Yuzhu.

"Director He, this stuff... I've been working in meteorology for thirty years, and this is the first time I've seen such a detailed formula. Your approach is quite unconventional."

He Yuzhu did not respond.

A deputy section chief in his forties came over, glanced at it, and curled his lips down.

"Old Zhang, this thing hasn't even been successfully developed overseas, what are we doing messing around with? What if something goes wrong, who's going to take responsibility?"

Deputy Director Zhang ignored him and stared at He Yuzhu.

"You mean, this thing can really make clouds rain?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"Yes, but it depends on luck."

Deputy Director Zhang put down the documents, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside, everything was hazy, the sun hidden by clouds. His back was to He Yuzhu, and his voice came from the other side.

"Let's try our luck."

On the test site, the cloud slowly pressed in from the west.

He Yuzhu stood in the center of the open space, looking up at the cloud. The cloud was thick, with dark edges, and was being pushed this way by the wind. Behind him, several meteorological technicians were fiddling with the shells, their hands moving frantically.

Deputy Director Zhang stood next to him, holding a walkie-talkie.

"The cloud top temperature is -5 degrees Celsius, the cloud thickness is 3,000 meters, and the updraft is 5 meters per second. The conditions are suitable."

He Yuzhu nodded.

"put."

The shells fired, exploding in mid-air, sending white smoke billowing into the clouds. Everyone craned their necks to look, their necks aching, and no one dared to look down.

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.

Nothing happened.

The clouds continued to drift forward, disappearing into the distance.

Someone threw the tools on the ground.

"All for nothing."

The deputy section chief stood to the side, sneered, and turned to leave. After a few steps, he turned back.

"Old Zhang, I told you this stuff was unreliable. It's a waste of national resources."

Deputy Director Zhang ignored him and looked at He Yuzhu.

He Yuzhu didn't move.

He crouched down and picked up a shell casing. It was still hot to the touch, and a layer of grayish-white powder remained on the inside. He rubbed it with his fingertip and examined it in the setting sun. The powder was very fine and stuck to his hand; he couldn't wipe it off.

In the distance, an old farmer stood at the edge of the field, leading his ox and gazing in this direction. He had been standing there for a long time, ever since the experiment began. The ox lowered its head to nibble on the dry grass, chewed a couple of times, then raised its head and mooed.

Deputy Director Zhang came over and offered him a cigarette.

"Director He, should we continue with this matter?"

He Yuzhu took the cigarette, but didn't light it; he just held it there.

He saw another cloud slowly rising on the distant horizon. It was thicker and darker than the previous one, pressing down on the sky.

The phone in my pocket rang.

I took it out and saw it was Old Sun's number. I answered, and the voice on the other end was very low.

"Old He, that guy surnamed Qian, Director Qian, has just been taken away for investigation."

He Yuzhu's hand paused in mid-air for a moment.

The cloud in the distance was still drifting this way. The old farmer, leading his ox, hadn't left yet. Deputy Director Zhang stood beside him, waiting for his answer.

He didn't speak.