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

It was completely dark.

The moon hadn't risen yet, and it was pitch black beyond the edge of the field; nothing could be seen. He Yuzhu lay prone beside the destroyed experimental field, his face pressed against the soil, able to smell the raw, pungent odor of the trampled rice seedlings. Dew seeped into his clothes, making his back feel cold and damp, like pressing against a block of ice.

Yang Xiaobing's legs started to stiffen again. He shifted his position, his knee snapping a dry blade of grass with a sharp crack that pierced the night. Both men held their breath, staring at the other end of the paddy field.

The dogs in the distant village barked a few times, then stopped. The wind blew from the other side of the fields, carrying the chirping of insects, a squeaking sound, like someone playing an erhu in the distance.

Yang Xiaobing leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"Commander, it's been three nights. Will they really come tonight?"

He Yuzhu didn't look at him. He remembered how Old Yuan squatted in the field during the day—the old man squatted there, holding those trampled rice seedlings, like he was holding a dead child, his lips trembling for a long time, but he couldn't say a word.

After walking a few steps, he looked back at the ground again.

That look was more hurtful than being insulted.

"Will come."

Yang Xiaobing paused for a moment, then didn't ask any more questions.

I waited for three hours.

The moon finally rose, illuminating the field ridges with a white glow. The dew grew heavier, and He Yuzhu's sleeves were soaked through, clinging to his wrists, feeling cold. He shifted his position; his legs were numb, pricking him with needles.

Yang Xiaobing suddenly pressed his arm.

There was movement on the other side of the field.

Three figures crouched low, creeping in from that direction. In the moonlight, the leader could be seen clutching a sickle, its blade gleaming. They moved slowly, each step treading in the shadows, like three wild cats stalking the night.

Thirty meters. Twenty meters. Ten meters.

The one in the lead suddenly stopped.

He raised his head and glanced in the direction where He Yuzhu was lying.

He Yuzhu's heart tightened.

"Let's do it!"

Yang Xiaobing was the first to rush out. Old Lu led his men to flank from both sides.

The three men turned and ran, faster than rabbits. Yang Xiaobing chased after them, kicking one to the ground. The third was blocked by Lao Lu and pinned to the ground. The leader, the fastest runner, was about to disappear into the farmland—

He Yuzhu rushed in from the side and grabbed him by the back of the collar. The man struggled, trying to twist his elbow backward, but He Yuzhu dodged it and kneed him in the back of the knee. He knelt down, and the sickle in his hand fell to the ground, hitting the stone with a crisp clang.

Yang Xiaobing ran over, panting heavily.

"Commander, we've got him."

He Yuzhu flipped the man over and pinned him to the ground. In the moonlight, his face was thin and dark, with a fierce look in his eyes.

The man suddenly laughed.

"What's the point of arresting me? Those plots of land have all been sprayed with pesticides. Nothing will grow there."

He Yuzhu's hand tightened slightly.

The lights in the interrogation room were blindingly bright.

The man sat in a chair, head bowed, handcuffed, his fingers tapping lightly on his knees—once, twice, three times. The tapping was unhurried, as if he were counting something.

Old Sun sat opposite him, lit a cigarette, took a drag, and slowly exhaled. The smoke drifted over, and the man sniffed.

Do you have any cigarettes?

Old Sun glanced at him and pushed the cigarette pack towards him. The man reached for the cigarettes with his handcuffed hands, but couldn't reach them after a couple of tries. Old Sun took one out, held it to his lips, and lit it for him.

The man took a drag and exhaled a long breath. The smoke drifted in the lamplight, and he squinted, watching the plume of smoke.

"What do you want to ask?"

"Who sent you?"

The man didn't speak, and took another drag of his cigarette. He smoked very slowly, as if he was stalling for time.

Old Sun waited. The cigarette ash fell, but he didn't brush it off.

After a long while, the man stubbed out his cigarette on the table. With a hiss, the cigarette went out, and a burnt smell wafted up.

"blacksmith."

He Yuzhu stood outside the door, his hand on the doorknob, without moving.

Old Sun leaned forward.

Where is he?

The man shook his head.

"I don't know. He sent word that destroying a few experimental fields would throw society into chaos. That's all I know."

Old Sun stared at him.

"How many pieces did you destroy?"

The man looked up at Old Sun.

"Just this one piece. I hadn't even finished it when you guys caught me."

He paused.

"But those plots of land were all sprayed with pesticides. They won't grow."

Old Sun's hand tightened on the table.

The next morning, He Yuzhu gathered his people.

Yang Xiaobing, Lao Lu, Lin Jianguo, Ma Yuejin, and several people from the security department. He spread out the map, on which more than a dozen places were circled in red pen. The map was drawn three days ago, the edges were already worn, and there was a tear in the crease.

"From today onwards, all key experimental fields will be guarded 24 hours a day."

Yang Xiaobing nodded.

Old Lu asked.

"Commander, we don't have enough manpower."

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"Draw people from the special forces. If that's not enough, get the police to cooperate."

He pointed to the red circles on the map. He pressed his finger on one circle, which was Yuan Longping's experimental field, pressing it firmly so that the paper was dented.

"These few pieces, those on Elder Yuan's side, are the most important. Send more people."

Old Lu nodded.

He Yuzhu stood up.

"It's not just here. All key experimental fields across the country need to be reinforced with security measures."

He looked at those people.

"This matter cannot be delayed."

The phone rang as soon as the meeting ended.

He Yuzhu answered the phone. It was Commander Chen on the other end. His voice was lower than usual, but every word was delivered firmly.

"Xiao He, fighting has broken out on the border. It's not a small skirmish, it's a full-scale offensive."

He Yuzhu held the receiver, saying nothing. He heard the sound of cannons coming from the other end of the line, muffled and distant, but audible. Boom, boom, boom, like someone beating drums in the distance.

"Our tanks have taken over. Your guns have also been sent to the front lines."

Commander Chen paused.

"How long can it last? I don't know."

The phone hangs up.

He Yuzhu stood there, listening to the busy tone on the microphone. The beeping sound, one beat after another, sounded like a heartbeat.

Outside the window, the sky grew even darker. The clouds hung low, a hazy gray, threatening rain.

It's not the kind of rain that crops need.

It's a different kind of rain.