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

When Ma Yuejin came out of the meeting room, his legs felt like lead. He plopped down in the chair opposite He Yuzhu, picked up the teacup on the table, and took a big gulp. Cold tea dripped down the corner of his mouth, which he wiped with the back of his hand before tossing the worn-out lecture notes on the table.

"Finally finished." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper grinding iron. "These people, they never stop asking questions. Old Zhou from Tianjin asked about the cost three times, he almost made me write a guarantee for him."

He Yuzhu didn't reply, but picked up the lecture notes and flipped through them. Ma Yuejin took another sip of water, caught his breath, and then continued.

"I explained the principles, processes, and equipment in great detail. Most people understood, but there were a few questions..." He rubbed his temples, the veins bulging, "My brain just couldn't process it at the time, so I wrote it down in my notebook. I'll have to look it up later."

He Yuzhu put down his lecture notes. "Which question?"

Ma Yuejin opened the lecture notes and pulled out several crumpled slips of paper covered with writing. He searched for a while and pointed to one line.

"Old Zhou from Tianjin asked if the cost could be reduced further. Right now, a ton of water costs more than 50 cents, which is significantly more expensive than tap water. He said that Tianjin is short of money and can't afford to use it because it's too expensive."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the window. The sky outside was overcast, looking like it was about to rain. The big-character posters on the courtyard wall had been replaced with new ones, the edges of the paper curling up and rustling in the wind. He looked at them for a while, then turned around.

"I'll figure out the cost issue. You should take them to Zhoushan to see for themselves; that will be more effective than listening here."

Ma Yuejin responded and stood up. He walked to the door, then turned back. "Director, among that group, there's a technician named Liu from Qingdao. He wears glasses, is tall and thin, and asks very detailed questions. He told me privately that their reservoir is almost empty, and people are queuing up to irrigate their fields."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. Ma Yuejin closed the door, and his footsteps faded into the distance in the corridor.

When Ma Yuejin returned from Zhoushan, it was already half a month later. He stood at the door of He Yuzhu's office, holding a thick stack of papers clipped together. His face was tanned darker than the bottom of a pot, and his lips were cracked in several places, making it painful to speak, and his voice was muffled.

"Dean, these are their investigation reports. They're from Tianjin, Qingdao, Yantai, Lianyungang, and Xiamen. Some are detailed, some are brief."

He Yuzhu took it and opened the top page. Old Zhou from Tianjin wrote neatly, each stroke like it was carved. The data was listed clearly: water volume, water quality, cost, construction period, land area, electricity consumption—nothing was missing. Turning to the last page, he saw a line of small characters, written with great force, the pen tip almost tearing the paper.

"Director He, the money approved by the city is only enough to build the factory, not enough to buy the membrane. The people are waiting for water, but they can't afford it at this price."

He Yuzhu put down the report. "What are they planning to do?"

Ma Yuejin sat down in the chair and placed the lecture notes on the table. "Tianjin wants to build a large factory with a daily output of 100,000 tons. Qingdao also wants to build one, a smaller one with a daily output of 50,000 tons. Yantai and Lianyungang will each build one with a daily output of 10,000 tons. Xiamen hasn't decided yet; they want to start with a small one to test the waters."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the wall, and looked at the map. Tianjin is on the Haihe River, not far from the sea, but the river water is salty and bitter. Qingdao is by the sea, and its freshwater comes from reservoirs; during droughts, the bottom of the reservoirs is exposed. Yantai, Lianyungang, and Xiamen are all the same. The water comes from the sea, but seawater is undrinkable.

"Where's the money?" He Yuzhu turned around.

Ma Yuejin opened his lecture notes and pointed to the page on costs. "Old Zhou from Tianjin said that the city can cover part of it, but the rest will have to be allocated from above. The same goes for Qingdao. Yantai and Lianyungang are facing financial difficulties and want to rely entirely on higher-ups."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He walked back to the table and sat down. After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"Let them choose a factory site, complete the environmental impact assessment, and get the equipment foundation in place first. I'll figure out the funding."

Ma Yuejin opened his mouth, as if to say something, but then swallowed it back. He stood up, walked to the door, and paused.

"Dean, Old Zhou from Tianjin also said something."

He Yuzhu raised his head.

Ma Yuejin said, "He said he wouldn't retire if the factory wasn't built. He's fifty-eight this year, he can afford to wait."

The door closed. He Yuzhu sat at the table, flipped the report to the last page, and stared at the small print. He looked at it for a long time before closing it and putting it in the drawer.

That factory in Tianjin took two whole years to build.

He Yuzhu didn't go to the scene, but Ma Yuejin kept changing the ashtrays on his desk. Every time he came back from Tianjin, before he even entered the office, the smell of sea breeze mixed with engine oil would waft in first.

For the first six months, the photos he brought back were full of scaffolding and foundation pits, with people standing inside looking like ants. Pointing to the steel and concrete in the photos, he said that Lao Zhou spent every day on the construction site, wearing out two pairs of shoes.

Six months later, the factory building in the photo was completed, and the blue and white wall panels were a bit dazzling in the sunlight. Ma Yuejin pointed to a figure tightening a pipe in the photo and said, "That's Lao Zhou. He hasn't been home for three months and has lost twenty pounds." He Yuzhu moved the photo closer to look at it. The figure was hunched over, and his work clothes were empty, like they were hanging on a clothes hanger.

The third trip, the photo shows the equipment hoisting site. A pressure vessel, over ten meters long, was suspended in mid-air, with dozens of people standing below, all looking up. Ma Yuejin said that the wind was strong that day, and it swayed violently halfway through the hoisting; Lao Zhou's voice was hoarse from shouting. The workers used ropes to pull, and it took them half an hour to finally lower the equipment steadily onto the base. Lao Zhou sat down on the ground, unable to get up for a long time.

In the last photo Ma Yuejin brought back, the tap was turned on, and water was flowing freely. Old Zhou stood beside him, holding a handful of water in his hands, not drinking it, just holding it. The photo was blurry, and the expression on his face was unclear.

Ma Yuejin only recounted the events of the test run later. He said that when the valve was turned on, the equipment started, and the roar was deafening. But after waiting for almost an hour, not a single drop of water came out of the outlet pipe. Old Zhou's face turned pale. He pressed himself against the pipe, listening inch by inch. When he heard the third pipe, he suddenly stood up and shouted in his hoarse voice, "Valve number three is installed backwards! The inlet valve is installed at the outlet!"

A flurry of activity ensued. Some went to dismantle the valves, others to fetch tools. Old Zhou stood to one side, his hands clenched into fists, his knuckles cracking. For the dozen or so minutes the workers were dismantling the valves, he didn't drink a drop of water or utter a single word; he just stood there, like a stone statue.

The moment the valve was replaced, the equipment restarted. The water pipe first sputtered a few times, then a stream of clear water gushed out, splashing Old Zhou all over. He didn't dodge. He squatted down, cupped his hands to collect a handful of water, but didn't drink it. The water leaked through his fingers, dripping onto the ground with a soft patter. He just squatted there, his shoulders shaking, not getting up for a long time.

He Yuzhu looked through the photos one by one without saying a word.

He Yushui's letter arrived in the autumn.

The envelope was bulging, and when I opened it, a photograph fell out first. It was a black and white photo, a little blurry at the edges. The photo showed the courtyard of a traditional Chinese courtyard house, with a newly installed tin faucet in the middle, reflecting the sunlight. He Yushui stood next to the faucet, wearing her blue cloth jacket, her hair a little longer than last year, tied back with a rubber band. Uncle Yan Bugui, the third uncle, squatted on the other side, holding an enamel basin, his mouth wide open, a tooth missing, laughing like a child.

The letter was short, just one page. He Yushui's handwriting was neater than last year; each stroke looked like it had been practiced.

"Brother, they installed a water tap in the yard. No more fetching water! Uncle San is beaming, saying he's never had such a good life. Aunt Er is happy too, saying it'll be much easier to wash clothes now. Jia Zhangshi didn't say anything, but she came to get water too. Brother, when are you coming back to visit?"

He Yuzhu read the letter twice, folded it, and put it in the drawer with the letters from the frontline soldiers. He picked up the photograph and looked at it again. The old man's mouth was wide open, a dark, gaping hole. He Yushui stood beside him, not smiling, but her eyes were bright.

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.

"Dad, has Aunt Rainwater written to us?"

He Yuzhu nodded. "They're here. A water tap has been installed in the yard."

He Nianhua slid off his lap, ran into the inner room, and then ran out again, holding the photo in her hand. "Dad, is this Aunt Yushui?"

He Yuzhu took the photo and looked at the girl standing next to the faucet in the picture. "Yes. It's your Aunt Rainwater."

He Nianhua took the photo back and looked at it again and again. "Aunt Yushui has lost weight."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He stood up and walked to the window. It was dark outside, the streetlights came on, and the dim yellow light shone on the big-character posters on the courtyard wall. The edges of the paper curled up and rustled in the wind.

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 a stool, picked up her chopsticks, and popped a piece of egg into her mouth.

"Dad, when are we going back to visit?"

He Yuzhu picked up a piece of cabbage for him. "Wait until we're done with this busy period."

He Nianhua nodded, lowered her head, and continued eating.

That night, He Yuzhu lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), listening to the wind outside. He Nianhua turned over, her small hand resting on his face—warm and soft. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the room.

Old Zhou's report from Tianjin is still lying in his drawer. That line in small print—"The people are waiting for water, but they can't afford it"—is still swirling in his mind. A ton of water costs more than 50 cents, significantly more expensive than tap water. Old Zhou can afford to wait, but the people can't.

The next morning, He Yuzhu went to the archives room. The door opened after all three keys were turned simultaneously. He walked to the innermost row of cabinets and opened the one labeled "Minsheng Seawater Desalination." At the very bottom, there was a thin document with a thin layer of dust on the cover. He wiped it away with his hand, revealing a few faded pen marks underneath.

Reverse osmosis membrane.

He opened to the first page and stood in front of the cabinet for a long time. The formulas, the parameters, the processes—line after line. He knew this thing could reduce the price of water from fifty cents to twenty cents. But he also knew that to make it a reality, countless hurdles would need to be overcome, and countless amounts of money would need to be spent.

He closed the documents and walked out of the archives. The corridor was dark, except for the green light on the emergency exit. He walked past the archives door, paused, and saw that the door was closed and securely locked. The key was in his pocket, feeling heavy.

He continued walking forward, pushed open the office door, sat down at the desk, placed the document on it, and opened to the first page.

Outside the window, it was dawn.