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

The train stopped.

He Yuzhu jumped off the car, his feet sinking into the mud. When he pulled them out, his shoes almost stayed behind. The rain wasn't just falling, it was pouring down. It stung his face, making it hard to open his eyes. He squinted as he looked ahead—the river embankment lay sprawled in the darkness, like a strip of cloth about to burst.

Director Zhou ran over, and only when he got close did he realize that the man was in his fifties. He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything, and first looked back at that section of the embankment.

The dam was in darkness; the river had risen to its maximum height.

"Director He..." he finally spoke, his voice hoarse, "It's good that you've come."

He Yuzhu looked at him.

Director Zhou lowered his head and wiped his face with his sleeve. After wiping, he looked up, his eyes reddening.

"I've worked in water conservancy for thirty years," he said. "This is the first time I've seen anything like this."

The embankment was full of people.

Those carrying sandbags and driving piles chanted work songs. The beams of searchlights swayed in the rain, illuminating their faces—it was impossible to tell if the water was rain or sweat, or if they were young or old.

He Yuzhu squatted down to examine the section of piping.

Water gushed out from the foot of the embankment, carrying mud, bubbling and gurgling. Hundreds of sandbags were piled up nearby to block the flow, but the water still seeped out, as if something was pushing against it from below.

Director Zhou squatted down next to him.

"We've been trying to plug it for three days. The more we try, the more it leaks."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He stared at the seepage point for a while, then stood up.

"This won't work. We need to block it from the inside."

Director Zhou was taken aback.

"Inside?"

He Yuzhu took out the document from his pocket and turned to the page on handling piping failure. The paper was wet and the ink had seeped through, but the diagrams were still legible.

"Have someone prepare clay, gravel, and straw bags. I will teach you."

Three days and nights.

He Yuzhu didn't know how he managed to get through it. When he was sleepy, he would lean against the embankment for a while, and when he woke up, he would continue working. The rain never stopped, and he was never dry. His gloves were soaked through, and his fingers were white from being soaked in water.

Director Zhou also stayed with them, and when his voice became hoarse from shouting, he used his hands to gesture.

On the third night, the rain subsided.

He Yuzhu stood on that section of the embankment, staring at the river. The water level was still rising, but the rise was slower. The seepage had stopped.

Director Zhou walked over and stood next to him for a while.

"Where does it grow?"

He Yuzhu did not turn around.

Director Zhou stopped talking. The two of them just stood there, listening to the sound of the rain gradually subside.

When it got light, the rain stopped.

The water level has started to recede. Very slowly, inch by inch, but it is definitely receding.

Director Zhou took two steps forward, then his legs gave way and he knelt on the ground.

It wasn't kneeling before He Yuzhu, it was kneeling before that section of the embankment.

He lay there, his shoulders twitching, without making a sound.

He Yuzhu went over and helped him up. Director Zhou was unsteady on his feet and leaned on him.

"Thirty years..." he began, his voice hoarse and unlike his own, "...it's been saved."

On the fifth night, something happened.

The dam collapsed in the village twenty miles downstream.

When He Yuzhu arrived, the water had already flooded into the house. Some people were clinging to the roof, some were hugging trees, and some were struggling in the water.

There are only three assault boats.

Director Zhou ran over.

"Where there's a long boat, there aren't enough!"

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He was calculating. Three boats, each capable of rescuing fifteen people at a time, with a round trip taking twenty minutes. The water level was rising at a rate of about one foot per hour.

It will be dawn in two hours.

"Save the elderly and children first," he said.

The first boat was rowed out. The second. The third.

The third boat was halfway across when its engine suddenly stopped.

The boat spun in the water, and the people on board started shouting.

He Yuzhu cursed and rushed into the water. The current was strong, pushing him downstream. He grabbed a piece of driftwood and used it to swim forward. When he reached the boat, he grabbed the gunwale and climbed aboard.

The engine was stuck in something. He reached in and pulled out a twig. His finger was cut, and blood oozed out, spreading in the water.

Restart.

Throttle thud—the boat started moving again.

The people on the boat looked at him, but no one spoke.

They made more than a dozen rescues, and the inflatable boats were full of people.

The last one was an old woman standing in waist-deep water, holding a bundle. He Yuzhu jumped in, and the icy water made him shiver. He went over and tried to pick the old woman up.

The old lady took a step back.

"I'm not leaving."

He Yuzhu was stunned for a moment.

The old lady hugged the bundle even tighter.

"My son's photos... are all in there."

He Yuzhu looked at the bundle, then at the old woman's face. Water streamed down her face; it was hard to tell if it was rain or something else.

He reached out and gently took the bundle, placing it on the boat. Then he picked up the old woman and carried her onto the boat as well.

The old lady sat there, looking at the bundle, reaching out to touch it, but didn't open it.

The boat rowed away. She never looked back.

Back at the command post, it was almost dawn.

He Yuzhu sat inside the tent, took off his gloves, and wrung them out. Water seeped from between his fingers, forming a small puddle on the ground.

the phone is ringing.

He answered the phone; it was Old Sun on the other end.

"Old He, there's something I need to tell you."

Old Sun's voice sounded off. He Yuzhu listened intently.

"Someone saw a person by the river last night."

Old Sun paused for a moment.

"That person stood in the water, watching our people rescue them. He watched for a long time. Then he left."

He Yuzhu tightened his grip on the microphone.

"Who?"

Old Sun remained silent for a few seconds.

"Someone recognized him."

He Yuzhu waited for him to continue.

"Sun Deming".

There was silence on the other end of the phone. And silence on this end too. Suddenly, the rain outside became very loud, pounding against the tent with a pattering sound.

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and lifted the curtain.

It was all gray and gloomy outside, and the rain was still falling. Nothing could be seen on the river, except for the beams of a few searchlights, flickering in the rain.

He stood there, looking at the muddy yellow river.

That person was standing there last night.