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

The smell in the workshop has changed.

He Yuzhu stood at the door, the first thing he smelled was engine oil—still that pungent smell. But there was an extra layer underneath, faint, like the scorched smell of wires after a summer thunderstorm. Ozone. Left behind by the high-frequency discharge of the lithography machine.

It's been three months.

Sunlight streamed in obliquely through the skylight, falling on the silver-gray machine. The metallic paint gleamed under the light, and countless tiny dust particles floated slowly in the light, like a nest of lazy bugs.

Lin Jianguo squatted in front of the control panel, clutching a notebook in his hand. His hair had turned even whiter than it had three months ago, especially noticeable at the back of his head. The dark circles under his eyes had turned a deep purple, leaving two bruise-like marks hanging there.

Sun Xiaomei was handing over tools from the side, her hands trembling. She almost dropped the screwdriver several times.

Qian Nian was lying under the machine, his face, the half of it exposed, covered in machine oil. He was twisting something, his shoulders swaying, probably struggling.

He Yuzhu didn't walk forward; he just stood at the doorway.

Lin Jianguo straightened up and pressed his hand on his lower back—he had been squatting for too long, and the bone there made a cracking sound. He opened his mouth but didn't make a sound, then licked his dry, chapped lips.

"Dean..."

He paused, glanced at the lithography machine, and then looked away.

He Yuzhu didn't urge him.

Lin Jianguo took a deep breath. He held that breath in his chest for three seconds before slowly exhaling.

"You can try it now."

The machine didn't make a loud noise when it started up; it just buzzed like a swarm of bees flying in the distance.

The gauges began to twitch. The indicator lights flashed. Lin Jianguo stared at the numbers, his palms sweating, soaking a small patch of his notebook.

Sun Xiaomei stood behind him, biting her lip until her lower lip was almost bleeding.

Qian Nian crawled out from under the machine, squatted down beside it, and stared at it without moving.

Forty minutes.

For forty minutes, no one spoke, no one moved, and even breathing was suppressed.

The machine stopped.

Lin Jianguo rushed in, took out the silicon wafer, and placed it under the microscope. He leaned in, his eyes pressed against the lens, and stared at it for a long time without moving.

Sun Xiaomei stomped her foot on the spot, then held back.

"How is it?"

Lin Jianguo did not answer.

The workshop suddenly fell silent.

It wasn't just ordinary silence. It was the kind of silence where someone covers their ears. Everyone froze, staring at Lin Jianguo's hunched back.

three seconds.

Five seconds.

ten seconds.

Lin Jianguo straightened up. He turned around, clutching the silicon wafer in his hand, and tried to speak, but a strange sound came from his throat first—as if something was stuck in his throat.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse.

"...It's done?"

He didn't believe it himself. As he spoke, he glanced at He Yuzhu, as if seeking confirmation.

He Yuzhu walked over and took the silicon wafer from Lin Jianguo. He went to the window and looked at it in the sunlight. The thing was small, about the size of a fingernail, with neat edges and very clear internal patterns.

He nodded.

Lin Jianguo's legs suddenly went weak, and he had to grab the worktable to steady himself.

Sun Xiaomei let out a short, choked sob.

The sound was like a needle, puncturing the silent bubble.

Sun Xiaomei covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Qian Nian sat up abruptly from the ground, grinning, but after a while, her eyes reddened again. The young technicians were stunned at first, then some of them jumped up and hugged each other.

The workshop exploded.

Some people were shouting, some were laughing, and some were squatting on the ground wiping away tears.

He Yuzhu stood outside the crowd, watching them.

Lin Jianguo walked over and stood in front of him. He wanted to speak, but his throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

He Yuzhu looked at him.

Lin Jianguo opened his mouth, but the sound that came out didn't sound like his own.

"Dean..."

He paused.

He Yuzhu didn't urge him, he just stood there.

A few seconds later, Lin Jianguo lowered his head and looked at his hands. His hands were still trembling slightly.

He suddenly smiled, but the smile was brief and vanished in the blink of an eye.

"I don't know what to say."

He Yuzhu reached out and patted his shoulder.

The machine installation began that afternoon.

The chips were installed into the rack one by one, and the wires were connected one by one. Lin Jianguo pressed the start button himself. The indicator light came on. The fan started spinning, humming steadily.

Lin Jianguo sat down at the control panel and started running the nuclear explosion simulation program.

The data jumps on the screen.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes.

Fifty minutes later, the program finished running.

Lin Jianguo stared at the screen for several seconds.

Then he stood up and turned around.

"Dean, I'm done calculating."

He Yuzhu walked over.

"How much faster is it than the second generation?"

Lin Jianguo thought for a moment.

"One hundred times."

He paused.

"The data they need for the atomic bomb can be calculated in two days."

He Yuzhu looked at the group of people. Sun Xiaomei was slumped over the control panel, her shoulders still trembling. Qian Nian stood beside her, her eyes red-rimmed, but she wasn't crying. The young technicians looked at each other, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

He Yuzhu took out a pack of tissues from his pocket.

Qin Huairu stuffed it in yesterday, saying it was for wiping sweat because the workshop was dusty.

He handed the tissue to Lin Jianguo.

Lin Jianguo didn't take it. He looked down at his hands, which had stopped trembling, but he was still looking at them.

"Dean, I was just thinking..."

He paused and glanced at the chip again.

"If my dad were still alive, would he be happy?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

He stuffed the tissue into Lin Jianguo's hand.

"Wipe it off."

When the phone rang, He Yuzhu was staring blankly out the window.

He answered the call. First, there was static, a hissing sound like wind blowing across a wilderness. Then came a man's voice, panting, his words halting.

"Where did the first atomic bomb go... to Lop Nur...?"

The sound stopped, and he took a breath.

"Assembly is about to begin."

He Yuzhu gripped the microphone tightly. The metal casing was icy cold, making his palm sting.

He didn't speak.

They didn't hang up on the other end either, they just waited.

After a long time, He Yuzhu asked.

"When?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end. During those two seconds, He Yuzhu could hear the other person breathing, and the faint sound of wind from further away.

"Soon."

The phone hangs up.

The busy tone beeped, like a heartbeat.

He Yuzhu put down the microphone and glanced at the weather report on the table. It had been delivered by Deputy Director Zhang three days ago, saying that the drought in the north might arrive earlier than expected and that preparations should be made.

There was an unopened letter next to the report. He recognized the handwriting on the envelope—it was Old Sun's. Old Sun never wrote letters; he always spoke directly by phone.

He stared at the letter for two seconds.

It hasn't been dismantled.

Outside the window, the sky was an unreal blue.