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

On the day the desalination station was tested, He Yuzhu went again. It was just dawn when the ship docked; the sun rose from the sea, shining on the island and gilding the gray houses with a golden hue. Staff Officer Lin stood on the dock, his face still dark red, but his lips were no longer chapped, and his eyes shone with light.

"Hey, test drive! The water's coming out."

He Yuzhu followed him uphill. The desalination station was built at the foot of the mountain, a concrete building with white walls and a blue roof, conspicuous in the sunlight. The equipment inside hummed, not loud, but heavy. Pipelines were laid from the seaside, passing through the walls and connecting to the desalination station. Staff Officer Lin walked to the tap, reached out and grasped the valve, but didn't turn it immediately. He glanced back at He Yuzhu, who nodded.

He turned it on.

Water gushed out, clear and sparkling in the sunlight. The current was rapid, splashing against the cement pool floor, creating tiny droplets. Staff Officer Lin filled an enamel mug with water; the water sloshed inside, a little overflowing and trickling down the sides. He held the mug, not drinking from it, but first offering it to He Yuzhu.

"Hehe, please have a taste first."

He Yuzhu took the glass of water and looked down at it. It was clear and free of impurities. He brought it to his lips and took a sip. It was cool and refreshing, without any saltiness or bitterness, just like tap water in Beijing. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, and then handed the glass back to him.

"Let the soldiers have a taste."

Staff Officer Lin carried the mug out. The soldiers were already waiting at the door, craning their necks to look inside, no one speaking, just staring at the mug. Staff Officer Lin handed the mug to the young soldier at the front. He took it, his hand trembling. He looked down at the water for two seconds before bringing it to his lips. He took a sip, didn't swallow, and held it in his mouth, his cheeks puffing out.

The person next to them couldn't help but ask, "How about it?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. His voice was a little hoarse. "...Sweet."

The people nearby didn't believe it, so they snatched the jar and took a sip themselves. "It really is sweeter than rainwater."

The jar passed around among the soldiers. Some squatted down and cupped the water in their hands to wash their faces, letting the water drip down their cheeks without drying them. Others stood in front of the tap, turning it on and off repeatedly, listening to the rushing water. An old soldier stood at the very back, not pushing his way forward. When the jar reached him, only the bottom was left. He drank it all, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and turned away. His shoulder twitched, then twitched again.

He Yuzhu stood at the entrance of the desalination station, watching the people. He didn't speak, his hand unconsciously clenching the keys in his pocket, his knuckles turning white. Staff Officer Lin walked over and stood beside him.

"Thank you, Mr. He."

He Yuzhu shook his head. "It wasn't just me. We all did it together."

On the ship back to Beijing, He Yuzhu leaned against the railing, gazing at the sea. Yang Xiaobing squatted beside him, writing something in a notebook. Old Lu stood at the stern, hands behind his back, watching the distant islands grow smaller and smaller. He Yuzhu recalled the time at Changjin Lake, lying in the snow waiting for the bugle call, also thirsty. Now the people on the islands had water to drink.

Back in his office, He Yuzhu found a letter on his desk. The brown paper envelope was worn at the edges, and the words "To Comrade He Yuzhu of Chengshan Research Institute" were written on it in crooked handwriting. He opened it and found several sheets of paper inside, filled with dense writing, some parts of which had been scribbled over and over again.

"Commander He, I'm a soldier from the island. Before, we relied on boats for water, but when the winds were strong and the waves were high, the boats couldn't come, so we had to conserve our water. We used seawater to wash our faces and brush our teeth, and afterwards we felt sticky all over, and our skin would crack after a while. Now it's much better; we just turn on the tap and the water comes out. It's sweet. Our squad leader says it's sweeter than rainwater. Thank you."

He Yuzhu read the letter once, then again. He folded it, put it in the drawer, and placed it among the letters written by soldiers on the front lines.

That evening, He Yuzhu returned home. He Nianhua was hunched over the table doing her homework, the pencil stub scratching on the paper. Qin Huairu was busy at the stove, the spatula clanging against the iron pot. He Yuzhu sat down in a chair, took off his gloves, and placed them on the table.

After writing the last character, He Nianhua put down his pencil, tilted his head, and thought for a moment. He glanced at He Yuzhu, then lowered his head again, drawing the water radical of the character on the table with his finger.

"Dad, does the 'dan' in 'danshui' mean 'not salty'?"

He Yuzhu looked at him. "Yes."

He Nianhua thought for a moment, then added, "So, is the water we drink fresh water?"

He Yuzhu nodded. "Yes."

He Nianhua was delighted and slid off his lap, then lay back down on the table to write. Qin Huairu brought out the dishes: a plate of scrambled eggs, a plate of stewed cabbage, and a bowl of soup. He Nianhua climbed onto the stool, picked up his chopsticks, and popped a piece of egg into his mouth.

"Dad, fresh water tastes good."

He Yuzhu picked up a piece of cabbage for him. "Mmm. Fresh water tastes good."

Qin Huairu sat beside them, watching them without touching her chopsticks. He Yuzhu placed a piece of food on her plate, and she lowered her head to eat slowly.

The phone rang. He Yuzhu answered it, and a stranger's voice came through, with a heavy Shandong accent.

"Director He, I'm from Qingdao. The province said you've built a desalination plant on the island that can produce 50 tons of water a day. We're also short of water here, could you help us build one too? The people are almost out of water to drink."

There was a pause on the other end, and the voice lowered. "The province has given a death order: if it's not finished by next month, I'm done for."

He Yuzhu held the microphone, remaining silent. He recalled the expressions on the faces of the soldiers on the island when they drank fresh water. Those faces, and these faces, were the same.