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

When He Yuzhu took the book "Polyethylene Production Technology" from the archives, his finger paused on the cover. The kraft paper was worn smooth, the edges curled up, and he had already flipped through the drawings inside several times. The pipes on the flow charts stretched from the reactor to the separation tower, and from the separation tower to the granulator, like sections of intestines tangled together. He closed the book, tied it with a rope, and carried it out the door.

The car pulled up to the petrochemical plant gate; the sky was overcast. The gate was rusty and creaked as it was pushed open. Wang Desheng stood on the steps of the office building, wearing faded work clothes, his reading glasses hanging from his chest, swaying back and forth. He saw He Yuzhu, took two steps down, and extended his hand.

"Director He, Minister Zhou has already called."

He Yuzhu shook his hand. Wang Desheng's hands were rough, and the calluses on his hands were as hard as stone.

"How much do you know about polyethylene?" He Yuzhu asked.

Wang Desheng didn't answer immediately. He led him into his office, poured him a glass of water, and then spoke. "I know a little. Our factory now produces polypropylene; we've never worked with polyethylene. The equipment is different, and the processes are different too." As he spoke, he put on his reading glasses, then took them off and twirled them in his hand a couple of times.

He Yuzhu placed the document on the table and untied the rope.

Wang Desheng stared at the stack of papers without moving. "Director He, where did this come from?"

He Yuzhu did not respond.

Wang Desheng waited a few seconds, then reached out and turned to the first page. He read slowly, his finger tracing the flowchart before stopping at the equipment list page. He looked up, took off his reading glasses, and wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt.

"We have the equipment. The polypropylene system can be modified and used." He paused, closed the document, "but we don't have the raw materials. Ethylene needs to be refined from petroleum, and our plant doesn't have an oil refining unit."

He Yuzhu sat down in the chair. "I'll figure out a way to handle the ethylene issue. You guys focus on fixing the equipment first."

Wang Desheng looked at him, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back. He reopened the documents, turned to the page on the process flow, and studied it for a long time.

"Okay," he said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was steady.

Ethylene was transferred from the Lanzhou Refinery. He Yuzhu coordinated with the Ministry of Chemical Industry, the Ministry of Petroleum, and the Ministry of Railways, making phone calls all day. Yang Xiaobing came in to deliver documents and overheard him arguing on the phone; his voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail.

"I have the permits. Where are the freight cars?"

A few words were spoken on the other end.

"I can't wait. It has to arrive next month."

A few more words were spoken on the other end.

He Yuzhu was silent for a few seconds. "Then you name a date."

A date was given on the other end. He Yuzhu put down the microphone, sat down at the table, and placed the gloves on the corner of the table. Yang Xiaobing didn't leave; he stood in the doorway.

"Commander, is Lanzhou not giving any leeway?"

He Yuzhu shook his head. "It's over. The date is set."

Yang Xiaobing responded and turned to leave.

The equipment modification was only halfway done when it stalled. Wang Desheng called, his voice strained.

"The problem lies with the agitator in the reactor. The rotation speed is too low, and the material isn't mixed evenly."

He Yuzhu held the microphone. "What's the reason?"

Wang Desheng said, "The gears in the speed reducer are not precise enough. They are domestically made, and the tooth surfaces are rough, resulting in poor meshing."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He stood by the window, looking at the sky outside. It was gray and looked like it was about to rain.

"How long does it take for imported goods?"

Wang Desheng said, "Three months. Ordered from Germany and shipped over by sea."

He Yuzhu turned around. "It's too long. Is there any other way?"

Wang Desheng was silent for a while. "We have an old fitter in our factory, surnamed Meng, who has been doing this his whole life. He says he can do manual repairs, but he can't guarantee it."

"Let him fix it," He Yuzhu said.

Wang Desheng remained silent for a few seconds. "Okay."

The gear repair took ten days. He Yuzhu didn't go to the site, but Wang Desheng called every day. On the first two days, Master Meng said a layer of the gear surface had worn away, revealing the good steel underneath. On the fourth day, he said the gear meshed well, but the noise was loud. On the seventh day, he said they had ground it again, and the noise was less. On the ninth day, he said they had installed it and tested it; the speed was sufficient, and the material was well mixed. On the tenth day, Wang Desheng called, his voice weak and unsteady.

"Hey, it's time for the test drive. It's producing the materials."

He Yuzhu held the microphone but didn't speak.

"The product has been sent for testing. The purity is 98%, the same as the imported one."

He Yuzhu stood by the window, looking at the sky outside. The rain had stopped, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, shining on the courtyard wall. The edges of the big-character posters curled up and rustled in the wind.

When will the first roll of film be discontinued?

Wang Desheng said, "Tomorrow."

He Yuzhu went to the petrochemical plant. All the lights in the workshop were on, dazzlingly bright. The modified equipment hummed, not loud, but very steady. At the discharge port, a roll of plastic film slowly rolled up, transparent and thin, gleaming under the lights. Wang Desheng stood beside it, holding the freshly cut sample above his head, examining it against the light. Several workers gathered around, craning their necks. A young worker reached out, touched the roll of film, withdrew his hand, and then touched it again.

"Director Wang, can this thing hold grain?"

Wang Desheng nodded. "Yes. Waterproof, moisture-proof, and leak-proof." He handed over a sample. "Tear it open and see."

The young worker took the sample, pinched the edge with his fingers, and tried to tear it—but couldn't. He tried again, his face turning red, but still couldn't tear it. He returned the sample and smiled.

"nice one."

Wang Desheng unloaded the roll of film from the equipment, held it above his head, and walked around the workshop. The film fluttered in the wind like a transparent flag. The workers followed him, clapping and laughing. The young worker followed at the back, standing on tiptoe, reaching out to grab the roll of film, pulling back when he couldn't reach it, then reaching out again.

He Yuzhu stood in the corner, watching the people. Wang Desheng walked back, put the roll of film on the ground, and took a breath. His reading glasses were askew, and he didn't straighten them.

"Where it grows, it's done."

He Yuzhu nodded. "It's done."

He turned and walked out of the workshop. The sky outside had cleared, and the sun shone in the petrochemical plant's yard, gilding the rusty pipes and tanks with a golden hue. He stood at the doorway, took the gloves out of his pocket, clutched them in his hand, but didn't put them on.

He Yuzhu was home for the weekend, which was a rare occurrence. He Nianhua finished her homework, threw down her pencil, and ran over.

"Dad, let's go fly a kite."

He Yuzhu glanced at the sky outside. It was clear and windy. He pulled a butterfly kite from the cabinet; it was a year old, and the paper was a little wrinkled. He Nianhua snatched it and ran ahead, with him following behind. The child ran fast and stopped at the corner of the alley, peeking half his head out.

"Dad, hurry up."

The park was crowded. He Nianhua ran to the grass, held the kite above his head, and ran into the wind. The kite wobbled as it flew up, then crashed to the ground. Undeterred, he held it up again and ran. The third time, the kite stabilized, soaring higher and higher, the string taut.

"Dad, look!"

He Yuzhu stood beside him, watching the butterfly flutter among the blue sky and white clouds. He Nianhua tilted his head back, his knuckles white as he gripped the spool of string. The wind picked up, and the kite suddenly shot upwards, the spool slipping from his hand and rolling on the ground, the string still unfurling.

He Nianhua chased after it for a few steps but couldn't catch up. The spool hit a rock and stopped. He picked it up; the line was all gone. The kite struggled in the air for a few moments before plummeting down and getting caught on a tree branch in the distance.

He stood there, looking at the kite, without moving.

He Yuzhu walked over and squatted down. "Buy another one."

He Nianhua shook her head. "I want that one."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the tree, and stood on tiptoe, but couldn't reach it. He found a branch, poked at it a few times, and the kite broke off and floated down. He Nianhua ran over and caught it, holding it in his arms. The butterfly's wings were torn, and the paper had a rip.

"I'll go home and have some to eat," He Yuzhu said.

He Nianhua nodded, holding the kite, and followed him back. At the alley entrance, they met Uncle San, who was carrying a birdcage with a thrush hopping around inside.

"Zhu Zi, are you taking the kids to fly kites?"

He Yuzhu nodded. The third uncle looked at the tattered kite in He Nianhua's arms and squatted down. "Kid, want me to take a look?"

He Nianhua shook his head and hid the kite behind his back. The third uncle laughed, stood up, picked up the birdcage, and left.

Once inside the courtyard, Qin Huairu was busy at the stove, the spatula clanging against the iron pot.

"You're back? Wash your hands and have some dinner."

He Nianhua ran to wash his hands, turned on the tap, and water gushed out. He scooped up a handful and splashed it on his face. Qin Huairu watched from the side and laughed.

"Slower."

He Nianhua ignored her and splashed another handful of water. Qin Huairu pulled him over and wiped his face with a towel. He struggled a few times but couldn't break free, so he stood there obediently.

He Yuzhu sat down in a chair and looked at them. 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 stuffed a piece of egg into her mouth.

"Dad, I'm so happy today."

He Yuzhu picked up a piece of cabbage for him. "As long as you're happy."

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.

That night, He Yuzhu lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), listening to the wind outside. He Nianhua turned over, her little 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. He gently placed He Nianhua's little hand back under the covers and turned over as well.

Polyethylene production is underway, solving the packaging problem. However, penicillin exports still require packaging: glass bottles and rubber stoppers. The rubber stoppers need to be made from rubber sourced from Vietnam, but we don't have enough. We need to find a solution.