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

The courtyard of the Academy of Agricultural Sciences was even more dilapidated than He Yuzhu had imagined.

The rows of bungalows were dusty and gray, with moss growing at the base of the walls and cracked windowpanes covered with strips of paper. The corridor was piled with sacks and farm tools, and the air smelled of straw and earth, with a hint of mold. He pushed open the office door; it was dimly lit, with small windows, and an old desk taking up most of the space.

Several pots of rice seedlings were placed on the table; they were thin and their leaves were yellow.

The elderly expert, surnamed Yuan, sat at his desk with his back to the door, examining a rice stalk with a magnifying glass. He was wearing a faded Zhongshan suit, the cuffs frayed and the collar askew. Hearing the door open, he turned around, squinted at He Yuzhu for several seconds, and then slowly stood up.

"Where is your master? I've long admired you."

His voice was a little hoarse, but his eyes were bright.

He Yuzhu placed the cloth bag on the table.

"Mr. Yuan, I have something to show you."

Yuan opened the cloth bag and first saw the bag of seeds. He picked up a few seeds, placed them in his palm, and examined them for a long time in the light from the window. Then he brought the seeds close to his nose to smell them and licked them with the tip of his tongue.

His hands began to tremble.

Then he picked up the stack of documents and flipped through them page by page. He flipped through them very slowly, sometimes stopping on a page, staring at it for a long time, before moving on to the next page.

After flipping through the documents for more than ten minutes, he put them down.

"Where does it grow?"

His voice was very low.

"Where did this thing come from?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Yuan stared at him, something churning in his eyes. He then lowered his head, looking at the few unremarkable grains of rice in his palm.

"I've been involved in rice cultivation in Hunan for twenty years. I've seen Japanese, American, and Soviet rice growers. But none of them are like this."

He paused.

"This is something that our era doesn't have."

He Yuzhu remained silent.

Yuan raised his head and looked at him. His eyes slowly reddened, but he didn't cry. He clenched the few seeds tightly until his knuckles turned white.

"Director He, I won't ask where you're from. Just tell me one thing—"

He paused for a moment, then swallowed his anger.

"Can we keep this?"

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"able."

Yuan Lao loosened his grip. He lowered his head, looking at the few seeds in his palm, the stack of documents, and the pots of yellowing rice seedlings on the table.

"My father starved to death. In 1942, Henan suffered a severe drought."

His voice was muffled.

"I was twelve years old that year. I watched him lying in bed, getting thinner and thinner every day, until he was just a skeleton."

He looked up and gazed out the window.

Outside the window was an open space where several young people were squatting, planting rice seedlings.

"Later I studied agriculture and worked on rice. I did it for twenty years, just hoping to reduce the number of people dying like him."

He turned around, reached out, and grasped He Yuzhu's hand. The hand was cold, with large knuckles, but very strong.

"This thing you gave me—"

He paused for a moment.

"It could reduce the number of dead people like my father by more than half."

The funding was approved three days later.

The old leader read the report and remained silent for a long time. Then he handed the paper to He Yuzhu.

"Xiao He, can this really work?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

The old leader looked at him but didn't ask any more questions.

The experimental field was located in a low-lying area on the outskirts of the city.

Poplar trees surrounded the area, rustling loudly in the wind. The narrow ridge between the paddy fields allowed only one person to walk at a time, with lush green rice seedlings on both sides, knee-high, their leaves thick and much stronger than ordinary rice. Old Yuan squatted on the ridge, a notebook clutched in his hand, jotting something down. His trousers were covered in mud, and his shoes were wet, but he seemed oblivious, muttering to himself.

He Yuzhu went to see him every few days.

Every time he went, Yuan would pull him aside and talk non-stop, pointing at the rice seedlings.

"Look at the branches here, they're twice as many as ordinary rice."

"We'll see results in another two months."

"If it succeeds, we can start trial planting next year."

He Yuzhu listened and nodded.

The rice seedlings were lush and green, stretching across the field in patches, rippling in waves as the wind blew.

That night, the phone rang.

He Yuzhu answered the phone, and on the other end was Old Yuan's voice, trembling, as if he had choked on something.

"Director He...please come here."

He Yuzhu held the microphone.

"Mr. Yuan, what's wrong?"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end.

Then a sob was heard.

"It's gone...it's all gone..."

By the time He Yuzhu arrived, the moon had already risen.

Under the moonlight, the lush green rice paddy looked as if it had been trampled by wild beasts. The rice seedlings were leaning haphazardly, some uprooted with mud still clinging to their roots; some trampled into the mud, only half of their leaves showing; some were torn off and scattered here and there. The field ridges were littered with footprints, some particularly deep, left by running.

Old Yuan knelt in the field, holding a few uprooted rice seedlings tightly in his arms. The leaves of the rice seedlings drooped, and the mud on the roots rubbed against his faded Zhongshan suit, but he was completely unaware.

He Yuzhu ran over and squatted down next to him.

"Elder Yuan".

Mr. Yuan did not look up.

This is the fourth batch.

His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against a stone.

"The first batch was eaten by insects. The second batch was affected by drought. The third batch was hit by hail. This is the fourth batch..."

He buried his face in the rice seedlings.

His shoulders were trembling.

He Yuzhu put his hand on his back without saying a word.

The moonlight shone on the messy ground and on the two people squatting there.

After a long while, He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the edge of the field. There were many footprints, some deep and some shallow. But one set of footprints was particularly deep, left when he was running. He followed that set of footprints for a few steps, then squatted down to look at them.

The pattern on the sole is very clear. They're not canvas shoes, they're leather shoes, pointed-toe.

He looked up at the dark poplar grove in the distance.

The wind stopped.

The woods were quiet; there wasn't a sound.

He walked back to Yuan Lao's side.

"Mr. Yuan, let's go back."

Yuan was helped up, and after taking a few steps, he looked back at the land again.

"Where do those rice seedlings grow...?"

"It can be replanted."

Mr. Yuan nodded and said nothing more.

The two walked out of the experimental field and onto the dirt road. The moonlight cast long shadows of them.

As He Yuzhu reached the intersection, he looked back.

In the poplar grove, a figure flashed by and disappeared.