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

He Yuzhu stood in front of the precision grinding machine, running his finger across the machine body. The metal was cold, coated with a thin layer of machine oil; his fingertip left a mark as it passed. All the machine's indicator lights were off, and a piece of white paper was pasted on the control panel with the words "Under Repair" written on it in crooked handwriting.

Three old workers squatted nearby, against the wall, each with a cigarette. Ashes lay on the ground, unswept. They didn't speak, just squatted there, staring at the machine.

Footsteps came from behind. He Yuzhu didn't turn around.

Lin Jianguo walked over to him without saying a word. The two of them just stood there, staring at the stopped machine.

The workshop was very quiet. So quiet that you could hear the sound of water flowing in the heating pipes, gurgling and gurgling, making a sound every now and then.

After a long while, Lin Jianguo spoke.

"Dean."

He Yuzhu hummed in agreement.

"This is the third one," Lin Jianguo paused, "this month."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He pulled his hands off the machine and put them in his pocket. Inside were Qin Huairu's gloves, soft and warm.

"What about the steel rolling mill?"

Lin Jianguo was stunned for a moment.

"Something happened too. The temperature control system of the electric furnace broke down. Director Wang called this morning to ask if we could go and take a look."

He Yuzhu turned around.

"Walk."

The steel rolling mill workshop was much larger and noisier than the research institute's.

When He Yuzhu went in, the electric furnace had already been turned off. The furnace body was still hot; you could feel the heat even three meters away. Several workers were gathered around it, some squatting, some standing, but no one spoke.

An old craftsman was squatting on the ground, holding a multimeter, testing something. After testing for a while, he stood up, put the multimeter on the ground, and didn't say anything.

Factory Director Wang squeezed through the crowd. He was in his fifties, thin, and his face was covered in sweat—not from the heat, but from anxiety. He walked up to He Yuzhu, stopped, and rubbed his hands together until his knuckles turned white.

"Director He, you... have arrived."

He Yuzhu nodded and walked to the electric furnace. All the indicator lights on the temperature control system's control panel were off. He opened the control cabinet next to it; inside were a dense network of wires, red, yellow, and blue, enough to make one's head spin.

"What's wrong with it?"

The old worker who had been squatting on the ground stood up. His surname was Zhou, and he had worked at this factory for twenty-three years. He walked over, his hands still covered in machine oil, wiped them on his pants a couple of times, and then pointed to the module in the control cabinet.

"This is it."

He Yuzhu followed his finger and looked over. It was a small iron box, about the size of a palm, with Russian writing on it. A large patch of paint had peeled off, revealing the grayish-white metal underneath.

Master Zhou's hand remained suspended in mid-air, not retracting. That hand was rough, with large knuckles and black grime under the fingernails.

"It's from the Soviet Union," he said. "There are no blueprints. I don't know what it looks like inside."

Someone nearby whispered, "They used to be the ones who came to fix it. Now that they're gone, well..."

Before he could finish speaking, someone next to him nudged him, stopping him in his tracks.

He Yuzhu squatted down and examined the module carefully. The interface was Russian standard, the screws were metric, and there were several scratches on the surface, left during installation and removal.

He stood up and dusted off his knees.

"Can it be disassembled?"

Master Zhou was stunned for a moment.

"dismantle?"

"Yes. Let's open it and take a look."

Master Zhou looked at him with something else in his eyes. It wasn't suspicion, but something indescribable... how to put it, like looking at someone who didn't know anything about the industry.

"Dean He," he began, his voice low, "this thing is from the Soviet Union. There are no blueprints, so once it's taken apart, it can't be put back together."

Someone nearby muttered quietly, "Someone took it apart before, but couldn't put it back together, and that machine was ruined."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He stared at the module for several seconds.

The workshop fell silent again. The heating pipes gurgled a few more times.

"Master Zhou," He Yuzhu turned to look at him, "how many years have you worked here?"

Master Zhou was stunned for a moment.

"Twenty-three years."

He Yuzhu nodded.

"Twenty-three years. You've touched every single machine in this factory, haven't you?"

Master Zhou didn't say anything.

He Yuzhu turned his gaze back to that module.

"The Soviets left. They took the blueprints with them. No one will come to repair it anymore."

He paused.

"We have to learn it ourselves."

Master Zhou stood there, clenching his fist and then relaxing it.

After a few seconds, he took a step forward and stood next to He Yuzhu.

"A wrench," he said.

A young man next to him quickly handed it over.

Master Zhou took the wrench and gestured on the module. He looked up at He Yuzhu.

"Where is the head? If it can't be put back together..."

He Yuzhu didn't wait for him to finish asking.

"If we can't put it back together, we'll redesign it."

Master Zhou was stunned for a moment.

Then he nodded and wrench onto the first screw.

He Yuzhu didn't go home that night.

He squatted down next to the electric furnace, disassembling the module and examining each component one by one. Diodes, transistors, resistors, capacitors—he measured and recorded each one. Master Zhou helped him, handing him tools, shining a flashlight, and occasionally asking a question.

"Is this broken?"

"It's not broken. But the parameters are wrong."

"What about this one?"

"It's burned. It needs to be replaced."

He was writing until the wee hours of the morning, his notebook filled with data. Master Zhou leaned against the wall and fell asleep, his head tilted to the side, his mouth half-open, snoring softly.

When it was light, He Yuzhu found the problem.

One of the capacitors burned out. The model was too old and not available in China.

He closed the notebook and stood up. His legs were numb, so he leaned against the wall for a while.

Outside the window, dawn was just breaking. The workshop lights were still on, casting a dim yellow glow on the machines.

Back at the research institute, He Yuzhu brought up the system interface.

I flipped to the Industry section and scrolled down several pages.

【Automated Production Line Control System Retrofit Package】

[Includes: Temperature control system principles, control circuit design, selection of domestically produced components, and a fault diagnosis manual]

[Redeemable Points: 1,000,000]

He looked at the words and tapped his fingers twice on the table.

Three million.

How much stuff can you buy?

But he remembered Master Zhou squatting on the ground for a long time taking measurements, the sweat on Director Wang's face, and the machines that were idle.

He clicked "redeem".

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

Current total points: 73,811,233 - 500,000 = 73,311,233 points

A month later, the electric furnace at the steel rolling mill was repaired.

He Yuzhu stood in the workshop, watching the machine start running again. Master Zhou stood beside him, clutching the multimeter in his hand, staring intently at the fluctuating numbers, motionless.

"It's back to normal," he said.

Factory Director Wang squeezed through the crowd from behind and stood in front of He Yuzhu. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but didn't. Then he reached out and grasped He Yuzhu's hand, holding it firmly.

"Director He," he began, his voice a little hoarse, "you saved our factory."

He Yuzhu shook his head.

"I'm not alone."

Factory Director Wang looked at Master Zhou, the workers, and the machine.

"When the Soviets left, we thought it was all over." He paused, "but we didn't expect..."

He couldn't continue.

He Yuzhu patted him on the shoulder.

"If you have any problems in the future, come to me."

That night, He Yuzhu returned home.

Qin Huairu was sewing clothes under the lamp while He Nianhua was already asleep, still clutching the tank made from a bullet casing. The little thing was a restless sleeper; the blanket had been kicked to one side, revealing its two tiny feet.

He Yuzhu went over and covered her with the blanket.

Qin Huairu raised her head.

"Have you got a meal yet?"

He Yuzhu nodded.

"have eaten."

Qin Huairu looked at him without saying a word. After a long while, she spoke.

Your hair has turned white again.

He Yuzhu touched his temples.

"Is there?"

Qin Huairu sighed.

"You always say you're fine."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), took off the gloves, and placed them on the table.

Qin Huairu picked it up and looked at it.

"It's broken."

He Yuzhu took it and looked at it. Indeed, the index finger was worn raw, revealing the sutures underneath.

I'll knit you a new pair later.

He Yuzhu nodded.

"it is good."

The moon was bright outside the window. Suddenly the phone rang.

He Yuzhu walked over and answered the call. It was Old Sun on the other end, his voice very low.

"Old He, something's happened at the border again."

He Yuzhu tightened his grip on the microphone.

"What is it?"

Old Sun was silent for two seconds.

"The enemy has deployed new tanks. Our artillery can't hit them."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

Old Sun continued.

"The soldiers on the front lines asked if we could get a new gadget that could penetrate those tanks."

He Yuzhu looked out the window. Moonlight shone into the courtyard, casting a long shadow of the old locust tree.

"Let me see."

The phone hangs up.

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

Qin Huairu asked from behind.

"Leaving again?"

He Yuzhu turned around.

"Not necessarily."

Qin Huairu nodded. She didn't ask any more questions.

He Yuzhu walked back to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed) and sat down. He Nianhua turned over, mumbled something, and fell asleep again.

He stared at that little face for a long time.