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

At three in the morning, the lights in the computer room were still on.

He Yuzhu stood outside the door, peering through the filthy glass. Lin Jianguo was slumped over the counter, oblivious to the overturned enamel mug beside him, spilling tea all over the table. Sun Xiaomei leaned against the corner, clutching a cold steamed bun in her hand, still asleep.

The machine was still running. Buzzing, buzzing, like a swarm of sleepy bees.

He Yuzhu pushed the door open and went in.

The door hinge rusted and creaked. Lin Jianguo suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot. He recognized He Yuzhu, his shoulders slumped, and he rubbed his eyes.

"Dean."

He Yuzhu walked over to him. A stack of papers lay on the table, covered with densely packed numbers and red circles around the edges. The clock on the wall, which had been running ten minutes slow the last time he'd seen it, was still running ten minutes slow.

"How did the calculation go?"

Lin Jianguo didn't say anything, but pushed the stack of papers in front of him.

He Yuzhu looked down. He didn't recognize all the numbers, but he recognized the red circles—they were the places where he was stuck.

"The conditions they gave us regarding the atomic bomb," Lin Jianguo began, his voice hoarse, "are that one equation takes three days to run. Our machine..."

He pointed to the buzzing second-generation aircraft.

"It will take a year."

One year.

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He looked at the newly sprouted white hairs on the back of Lin Jianguo's head, each one glaringly bright under the light.

Sun Xiaomei woke up. She opened her eyes, saw He Yuzhu, paused for a moment, and quickly hid the steamed bun she was holding behind her back. The movement was so fast that the bun fell to the ground and rolled to the corner of the wall.

"Dean, Dean..."

He Yuzhu bent down, picked up the steamed bun, and put it back in her hand.

"Let's talk after we finish eating."

At nine o'clock in the evening, He Yuzhu sat alone in his office.

It was pitch black outside, except for a few windows still lit up in the dormitory building of the research institute in the distance. He brought up the system interface, the screen glowing faintly in the darkness.

[Three Generations of Supercomputer Design Schemes]

[Redeemable Points: 1,000,000]

He stared at the line of text.

Twelve million. How much can that buy? Enough to build two new workshops, enough to replace a whole train carload of steel, enough to pay the salaries of everyone in the research institute for a year.

But the atomic bomb can't wait.

He recalled Lin Jianguo's gray hair, Sun Xiaomei's actions of hiding steamed buns, and the second-generation machine that had been whirring for three years without stopping.

I clicked "redeem".

[Redeem successful. Points consumed: 1,000,000]

[Current total points: 45,090,000]

He retrieved the stack of documents from the system space. It was thick and heavy, with the cover printed with "Design Scheme for Three Generations of Supercomputers." Opening the first page, the lines and data were densely packed under the light, making one's eyes dizzy.

He picked up the documents and walked out.

The door to the computer room creaked open again.

Lin Jianguo was still there, slumped over the table, pen in hand, drawing something in his notebook. Hearing the door open, he turned around.

He Yuzhu placed the stack of documents in front of him.

Lin Jianguo was stunned for a moment. He looked at the cover, at those words, reached out his hand, and then pulled it back.

"What is this?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Lin Jianguo picked up the first page and turned it over.

His hands began to tremble.

He turned to the third page, put down the document, looked up, and stared at He Yuzhu. His eyes held a mix of emotions—shock, doubt, and a hint of fear.

"Dean, this..."

He Yuzhu waited for him to continue.

Lin Jianguo opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked down at the documents again, flipping through them page by page. He flipped through them very quickly, as if afraid they would disappear.

He turned to the last page and looked up.

"Where did this thing come from?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

Lin Jianguo stared at him for several seconds. Then he lowered his head, looking at the stack of documents, and his voice softened.

"Dean, I can't do this."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Lin Jianguo pointed to those pictures.

"Look here, here, and here. I've never seen any of these things before. I don't know how to make them."

He paused.

"I'm just a calculator."

The room fell silent. Only the second-generation fighter jet continued its humming.

He Yuzhu took half a step forward and pushed the document a little further in front of him.

"Nation-building".

Lin Jianguo raised his head.

He Yuzhu looked at him.

"When you first arrived, you asked me a question."

Lin Jianguo was stunned for a moment.

"What should I ask?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer, he just looked at him.

Lin Jianguo lowered his head and looked at the documents. He looked at them for a long time.

Then he reached out and hugged the documents to his chest.

They were holding each other very tightly.

"I'll give it a try."

He said.

His voice was weak, as if he was afraid.

For the next three months, the lights in the computer room never went out.

The clock on the wall is still ten minutes slow, but no one bothers to adjust it anymore. The sky outside the window goes dark and then light again, then light again and then dark again. Lunchboxes are piled up in the corner, some covered in mold, and no one cares. The ashtray is filled and emptied, then filled again, leaving black rings on the table.

Lin Jianguo's white hair spread from the back of his head to his temples. He squatted among the pile of blueprints, pen in hand, drawing a stroke, pausing, glancing at it, then drawing another stroke. Sun Xiaomei was so thin that her cheekbones protruded, and there were two dark circles under her eyes, as if she had been beaten.

Qian Nian also arrived. He had just been discharged from the hospital and his right hand had not fully recovered. He squatted down next to Lin Jianguo, helping to hand him things and helping him flip through blueprints.

He Yuzhu would visit every few days. Each time he went, he would bring tea. The tea wasn't anything special, just ordinary millet tea, but Lin Jianguo would brew it strong, one cup of which could last all night.

One day in the fourth month, Lin Jianguo came over.

He was clutching a few pieces of paper in his hand, and the expression on his face was one that He Yuzhu had never seen before.

"Dean, it's done."

He Yuzhu followed him toward the workshop.

Lin Jianguo kept talking on the way.

"We revised that parallel architecture three times."

"The materials for the computing unit were obtained from Director Qian."

"The heat dissipation solution was designed by Qian Nian. He can't use his right hand, so he writes the formulas with his left."

He Yuzhu listened without saying a word.

Inside the workshop, the new machine was already standing. Its silver-white casing was smaller than the second-generation machine, but looked more compact. Qian Nian, wearing protective clothing, stood beside the lithography machine, holding a small box in her hands.

He Yuzhu walked over.

Inside the box lay a chip. It was about the size of a fingernail, dark green, with neat, clean edges.

"Let's install it and see," he said.

The moment the machine started, everyone held their breath.

The indicator lights came on. A row of green lights, from left to right, lit up one by one. The data on the screen started to jump, in strings, too fast to see clearly.

Lin Jianguo stared at the data, his palms sweating profusely.

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.

The sound of the fan suddenly changed.

It wasn't a steady hum, but a labored, hissing sound that came and went. Lin Jianguo's expression changed, and he rushed over to look at the instruments.

The voltage is fluctuating. Up and down, like a dying person on an electrocardiogram.

"The voltage is unstable!" he shouted.

Qian Nian rushed over to adjust the voltage regulator. Sun Xiaomei stared at the data on the other end, her lips pale.

Snapped--

A very soft sound.

It's like someone crushed a walnut.

The indicator light is off.

A wisp of smoke, thin and grayish-white, drifted out from the gap in the machine casing. It carried a burnt smell and instantly filled the entire workshop.

Lin Jianguo stood there, stunned. He stared at the machine, at the extinguished lights, at the plume of smoke.

Then he rushed over and opened the computer case.

He reached in and touched the chip.

hot.

He withdrew his hand and looked down. The chip lay in the slot, its dark green surface cracked, the edges blackened, as if it had been burned.

He reached out his hand, wanting to touch it again.

He Yuzhu grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch it."

Lin Jianguo looked up at him.

He Yuzhu didn't know how to describe that look in his eyes. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't anger, it wasn't despair. It was emptiness.

"Three months," Lin Jianguo said. His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself, "One hundred and twenty-seven days."

Sun Xiaomei stood beside her, her shoulders trembling. She covered her mouth, suppressing her sobs.

Qian Nian stood there, staring at the chip, motionless.

The workshop fell silent. Only the fans were still running, creaking and groaning like an old man's panting.

He Yuzhu let go of Lin Jianguo's hand and walked to his side.

He looked at the cracked chip, at the scattered blueprints, and at the people with dark circles under their eyes.

Lin Jianguo turned around and looked at him.

"Dean, I..."

He couldn't continue.

He Yuzhu placed his hand on Lin Jianguo's shoulder. The hand was steady, but Lin Jianguo felt it tremble slightly.

"I remember when you first came here," He Yuzhu said in a low voice, "you asked me a question."

Lin Jianguo looked at him.

"They asked us why we're doing all this."

Lin Jianguo lowered his head.

He Yuzhu withdrew his hand and looked at the chip.

I didn't answer you then.

He paused.

"I can't answer that right now."

He turned around and walked out.

They walked to the door and then stopped.

"If the chips burn out again, we'll start again. If people can't take it anymore, they'll rest. Once they've rested, they'll start again."

He pushed open the door and went out.

The door hinges creaked, like a sigh.

Lin Jianguo stood there, looking at the door, at the blueprints, and at Sun Xiaomei's trembling, bent back.

He lowered his head and reached his hand into the computer case.

This time, he grasped the chip.

hot.

He didn't let go.

His fingers trembled from the heat, but he still didn't let go.

He took it out and placed it in his palm.

The warmth penetrated from the palm of my hand all the way into my bones.

He looked at the crack, at the blackened edges.

Then he clenched his fist.

The edge of the chip was sharp, cutting into the flesh. Blood seeped from between his fingers, drop by drop, onto the blueprints at his feet.

He didn't feel any pain.

Sun Xiaomei looked up, saw the blood on his hands, and froze.

"Team Leader Lin..."

Lin Jianguo remained silent.

He raised the hand that was clutching the chip and looked at it against the light.

Blood smeared on the chip, staining the crack red.

"Next time," he said, "I guarantee it will work."

Outside the window, it was almost dawn.