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

The air conditioner in the control room was humming loudly, which gave people the creeps.

Lin Jianguo stood in front of the control panel, one hand pressed on the red button, not letting go. His knuckles were white, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged, like earthworms crawling under his skin. The ashtray next to him was piled high with cigarette butts, three of which were still lit, the smoke rising and twisting into thin threads under the light.

Qian Nian sat at the counter, a glass of water in front of him that had been sitting for three days, covered in a layer of dust. He neither drank it nor poured it out; it just sat there. His lips kept moving, but no sound came out.

Ma Yuejin leaned against the wall, clutching the notebook in his hand. The cover was worn white, and the edges were curled up; he had been taking notes since the first day of the rocket project. He kept his head down, not looking at the screen, nor at anyone else, just holding it there.

The countdown starts at ten.

"ten--"

Lin Jianguo's shoulders tensed.

"Nine--"

Qian Nian's fingers pressed on the button, his knuckles turning white.

"eight--"

Ma Yuejin gripped the notebook tighter, the pages making a slight rustling sound.

"Seven, six, five—"

Some people started reciting along, their voices very low.

"Four, three, two—"

He Yuzhu stood at the back of the crowd, without moving.

"ignition!"

On the screen, a ball of orange-red flame shot out from the bottom of the rocket. Not a bright orange-red, but a scorching, almost white orange-red. Thick smoke billowed out, engulfing the entire launch pad.

It trembled.

Then I started climbing.

It was very slow. As slow as if someone were pulling it up with a rope.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

It climbed faster and faster, leaving a long trail of flame until it became a tiny dot.

The control room was so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat.

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes.

Primary separation.

Secondary ignition.

Secondary separation.

Three-stage ignition.

Three-level separation.

When the satellite's orbital insertion signal arrived, Lin Jianguo suddenly stood up.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He opened his mouth again, but still no sound came out. On the third time, he finally heard his own voice.

"Did it work?"

It wasn't a certainty, it was a question. He turned around and looked at He Yuzhu. Something was shimmering in his eyes, glistening in the light.

He Yuzhu didn't speak, he just nodded.

Lin Jianguo stood there, motionless. Then he slowly squatted down, burying his head in his knees. His shoulders began to tremble.

Someone cried. Not a loud wail, but a choked sob, a sound squeezed from the chest. Someone jumped up, then jumped up again, and hugged the person next to them. The two of them just held each other like that, neither of them saying a word.

Qian Nian stood up from the control panel, stumbled back, and bumped into the wall. He leaned against the wall, slowly slid down, and sat on the floor. His lips were still moving; this time, he made a sound.

"It's done...it's done...it's done..."

They keep repeating those two words over and over.

Ma Yuejin was still leaning against the wall. He loosened the notebook, trying to put it in his pocket. His hands were trembling so badly that it took him three tries to finally slip it in. Then, leaning against the wall, he slowly slid down and sat next to Qian Nian. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn't wipe them away.

A voice came from the radio.

"The Dongfanghong-1 satellite was successfully launched... The melody of 'The East Is Red' resounded from space..."

That tune, melodious and soothing, drifted from the radio.

The control room fell silent.

Everyone was listening to that song.

He Yuzhu stood there, motionless.

He didn't look at the people who were both crying and laughing. He turned around and walked to the window.

The sunlight outside the window was bright, shining on the launch site and making the concrete appear white. On the distant horizon, the thin trail of smoke left by the rocket as it lifted off could still be seen, slowly dissipating in the blue sky.

He stood there, looking at the sky.

A picture suddenly flashed through my mind.

At Changjin Lake, in the snow, a man lay down beside him, his breath steaming in the air, and said, "Zhu Zi, after the war is over, I want to go home and farm."

That person never went back.

He blinked, banishing the image from his mind.

The sunlight outside the window is still so lovely.

When the phone rang, He Yuzhu was standing by the launch site.

He answered the phone, and it was his old leader's voice on the other end.

"Xiao He".

Just two words. Then silence.

He Yuzhu didn't say anything, and waited.

Several seconds passed before the old leader finally spoke.

"The satellite is complete."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. But the voice trembled slightly.

He Yuzhu nodded.

"It's done."

The old leader fell silent again.

Then he said.

"You are a hero of the nation."

He Yuzhu shook his head.

"I'm not alone."

The former leader didn't respond to that sentence.

"Come back. The victory celebration awaits you."

The phone hangs up.

He Yuzhu stood there, listening to the busy tone on the microphone.

A breeze was blowing, and it was a bit chilly.

The victory celebration banquet was held in the Great Hall of the People.

He Yuzhu, wearing his military uniform which he hadn't worn in a long time, sat on the side. Old Qian also came and sat next to him, holding a glass of wine, but he hadn't drunk any.

Someone on stage was speaking, saying a lot. He Yuzhu didn't hear a word. He looked at the lights, the flowers, and the smiling faces.

The old leader didn't go on stage. He sat at another table, occasionally glancing over here.

When the party ended, he came over and sat down next to He Yuzhu.

"Xiao He".

He Yuzhu looked at him.

The old leader didn't say anything, just stared at him for several seconds.

He Yuzhu waited for a while.

"Do you have something to say?"

The old leader nodded, then shook his head. He reached into his pocket, pulled something out, clenched it in his palm, and didn't take it out.

"We'll talk about it when we get back."

He stood up and left.

As He Yuzhu watched his retreating figure, something in his heart began to clench.

After the celebration banquet ended, he stood alone at the entrance of the Great Hall of the People.

A cold wind blew by, and I sobered up halfway.

In the distance, cars and vehicles come and go on Chang'an Avenue, their lights forming a flowing river.

He stood there, looking at the lights.

A red light suddenly flashed in my mind.

He didn't look at the notification.

He looked at the dark sky in the distance.

There's still a long way to go.