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

After Galaxy-4 was up and running, He Yuzhu sat in his office all night. It was pitch black outside the window, with only a few streetlights from the research institute still lit in the distance, illuminating the concrete road with a cold light. In front of him lay the communication satellite design documents retrieved from the archives, a kraft paper cover with the words "Communication Satellite Design" written on it in pen, each stroke deliberate. He turned to the first page, the satellite's configuration diagram: a rectangular body with solar panels deployed on both sides, the dish facing Earth. He looked at it for a long time, closed it, and then opened it again.

As dawn approached, the water in his teacup had gone cold, but he hadn't drunk it. The ashtray was overflowing with cigarette butts, several burned down to the filters, sticking out crookedly. He stood up and walked to the window. The sky outside changed from black to gray, then from gray to white. The locust tree in the yard had lost all its leaves, its bare branches pointing towards the sky. He stood there for a while, then picked up the phone and dialed the number for the Fifth Academy of Aerospace Science and Technology. A young voice answered, sounding sleepy. He Yuzhu asked for Director Sun, and the person on the other end said Director Sun hadn't arrived yet. He hung up, put on his coat, and left the office.

One of the corridor lights was broken, and the green light from the emergency exit illuminated his face, giving it a greenish glow. He went downstairs, pushed open the door, and a gust of cold wind rushed in, making him shrink his neck. Yang Xiaobing was waiting in the car, the engine still running, white smoke whirring from the exhaust pipe. He Yuzhu got in without saying a word. Yang Xiaobing glanced at him in the rearview mirror, also without speaking, shifted gears, and drove off.

The streets were still mostly deserted, the streetlights still on, their dim yellow light illuminating the dusty shops. Breakfast stalls had just started their fires, white smoke billowing from their chimneys, mingling with the smell of coal. He Yuzhu leaned against the car window, eyes closed, his mind racing with the blueprints. The satellite weighed three tons; the existing rockets could only deliver one and a half tons. A difference of a full two-thirds. Lost in thought, he only opened his eyes when Yang Xiaobing called him. The car stopped in front of the Fifth Academy; a few dusty buildings stood there, and several large trucks were parked in the courtyard, their surfaces covered in frost.

Dean Sun's office was on the third floor. He Yuzhu knocked on the door. A slow voice came from inside. "Come in." Dean Sun sat behind his desk, thin, wearing reading glasses, holding a document. He saw He Yuzhu, paused for a moment, put down the document, and stood up. "Director He, so early?" He Yuzhu placed the stack of documents on the table. "Communication satellite. Take a look." Dean Sun untied the rope, opened to the first page, looked at it for a few seconds, then flipped through a few more pages. He took off his reading glasses, pinched the bridge of his nose, and didn't speak. He Yuzhu didn't urge him.

After a long pause, Dean Sun spoke, his voice lower than usual. "Director He, back when 'Dongfanghong' was around, how many people across the country were working on it? And now? Go see how many people are left at the Fifth Academy." He pushed the documents back, pointing at them with his finger. "Developing communication satellites isn't just about enlarging a broadcast satellite. Transponders, antennas, power supplies, thermal control—you have to learn everything from scratch. I don't even have a proper lab." He paused. "This stuff, I can't do."

He Yuzhu didn't take the stack of documents. He looked at Dean Sun. "Dean Sun, tell me the truth. If you have enough manpower and money, can you do it?"

Dean Sun stared at him for several seconds. He stood up and walked to the window. In the courtyard outside, several workers were moving equipment slowly, one person carrying a box, followed by two others supporting it. He stood there for a long time before turning around.

"Yes. But five years isn't enough. At least seven years."

He Yuzhu said, "Five years. I want to see satellites in the sky in five years."

Dean Sun walked back to the table and sat down. He picked up the document, flipped through a few more pages, and closed it. "Okay. I'll give it a try. But there's one condition—Lin Jianguo has to give it to me. Even computer scientists need to understand satellites."

He Yuzhu said, "He's here, but can you make him understand?"

Dean Sun said, "You bring him here, and I'll make sure he understands."

He Yuzhu nodded, stood up, and extended his hand. Dean Sun grasped it, shook it, but didn't let go. "Director He, the satellite is settled. But what about the rocket? Our largest rocket right now can only carry one and a half tons. Your satellite will take three tons."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything. He withdrew his hand, turned around, and left.

The day Lin Jianguo was transferred to the Fifth Hospital, he stood at the door of He Yuzhu's office, carrying that old canvas bag. He didn't go in; he just stood there.

"Dean, I'm a computer scientist. I don't know anything about satellites."

He Yuzhu looked up. "If you don't understand, learn. Computers can calculate satellite orbits, communication links, and antenna pointing. Go there and combine computers with satellites."

Lin Jianguo opened his mouth, as if to say something, but didn't. He lowered his head, looking at his shoes. "Dean, I'm afraid I won't do a good job."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked over to him. "What are you afraid of? Wasn't Xinghe-3 your doing? Wasn't Xinghe-4 your doing? Satellites aren't that much bigger than computers." He paused. "Go. If you don't do a good job, come back. I still have a place for you here."

Lin Jianguo looked up, his eyes a little red. He nodded, turned and left.

The feasibility study took three months. On the day Lin Jianguo first presented the plan, He Yuzhu sat in the last row. The conference room was small but full of people, some in military uniforms, some in Zhongshan suits, and several elderly experts with gray hair, wearing reading glasses and notebooks spread out in front of them.

Lin Jianguo stood on the stage, his knuckles white from gripping the laser pointer so tightly. He tapped it once, but the PowerPoint presentation didn't move. He tapped it again, still nothing. Whispers began to circulate among the audience. He glanced down at the remote; the batteries were in backwards. He flipped it over and reinstalled them, and finally, the slides turned. He began to speak, his voice strained, the first sentence caught in his throat. He cleared his throat and repeated himself, his voice still trembling. An elderly expert in the audience shook his head. He noticed the sweat streaming down his face.

When he was talking about transponder frequency planning, the old expert raised his hand. "Xiao Lin, your frequency doesn't match the ITU's allocation." Lin Jianguo was stunned, flipping through several slides but couldn't find it. He stood on the stage, his face flushed red, his lips trembling, unable to speak.

A few seconds of silence filled the conference room. Dean Sun coughed. "That's enough for now. Take a ten-minute break."

Lin Jianguo stepped down from the stage, head down, and strode out of the conference room. He Yuzhu followed him out and found him at the end of the corridor. He was crouching in a corner, his head buried in his knees, his shoulders shaking. He Yuzhu didn't speak, but stood beside him for a while. One of the corridor lights was broken, and the green light from the emergency exit cast their shadows on the ground, making them appear dark.

Lin Jianguo looked up, his eyes red. "Dean, am I not good enough?"

He Yuzhu squatted down. "You didn't sleep last night?"

Lin Jianguo nodded. "It's been three days."

He Yuzhu patted him on the shoulder. "Go back and get some sleep. Come back tomorrow."

During the second review, Lin Jianguo stood on the stage, this time without trembling. He wore a faded Zhongshan suit, the collar buttoned tightly. He opened the PowerPoint presentation and proceeded to explain each slide. When he got to the transponder frequency planning, the old expert raised his hand again. Before he could speak, Lin Jianguo flipped to that page and projected the frequency table.

"This is the frequency band allocated to China by the International Telecommunication Union. I've been checking for three months. See, it matches up."

The old expert took off his glasses, wiped them, put them back on, looked at the screen, and said nothing more. Lin Jianguo continued. He talked about the satellite's configuration, the solar panel deployment mechanism, the antenna's pointing accuracy, and the redundancy design of the transponder. The people below stopped whispering; some nodded, and some took notes.

After he finished speaking, he stood on the stage, waiting for questions. Dean Sun asked a few questions, which he answered correctly. Another expert asked about the power margin of the power supply system. He flipped through the PowerPoint slides, found the relevant page, and read out the figures. The conference room was quiet for a few seconds, then people started applauding. At first, it was sparse, but then it grew louder and louder.

Dean Sun stood up, walked to He Yuzhu, and extended his hand. "Director He, Mr. Lin. It's rare to see someone in computer science who can understand satellites so clearly."

He Yuzhu grasped his hand. "What about the rocket? The satellite weighs three tons, but the rocket can only deliver one and a half tons."

Dean Sun's smile froze for a moment. He released his grip, walked back to his seat, and sat down. The people in the conference room gradually dispersed. He Yuzhu stood there, looking at the cross-sectional diagram of the rocket on the wall. Engine, fuel tank, interstage section—each stage was labeled with a number. He looked at it for a long time, then turned and walked out of the conference room. The lights in the corridor were still broken, and the green light from the emergency exit illuminated his face. He went downstairs, pushed open the door, and a cool breeze blew in.

Yang Xiaobing was waiting in the car. When he saw him come out, he opened the car door.

"Commander, shall we return to the research institute?"

He Yuzhu sat down. "Go back. To the records room."

Yang Xiaobing glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Commander, you haven't slept for three days."

He Yuzhu ignored him. The car drove off, the street scenes flashing past the window. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes closed. His mind raced with those numbers. Satellite three tons, rocket one and a half tons. A difference of a full 100%. The stack of "Heavy-lift Launch Vehicle Design Plans" in the archives had been sitting there for over half a year, the pages yellowed. He opened his eyes and looked out the window. It was getting dark; the streetlights had just come on, their dim yellow light illuminating the dusty houses.

The car stopped at the back gate of the research institute. He Yuzhu got out and walked into the dark corridor. The emergency exit light was on, glowing green. He walked to the door of the archives room and stopped. The key was in his pocket, feeling heavy. He took out the key and inserted it into the lock. Of the three keys, only two remained. The door opened, revealing a dark interior. He felt for the switch on the wall and pulled it. The light came on, casting a dim yellow glow on the rows of metal cabinets.

He stopped in front of the innermost row of cabinets and opened the one labeled "Rockets - High Thrust." Inside, a stack of documents was wrapped in kraft paper, with the words "Heavy-Duty Launch Vehicle Design Proposal" written on it, each stroke in pen. He took it out, holding it tightly. He tucked the documents into his coat, closed the cabinet door, and locked it. He left the archives, turned off the lights, and locked the door. The corridor was still dark, only the green light from the emergency exit illuminated his face.

He stepped out the door; the wind had picked up, scattering fallen leaves all over the yard. He got into the car, placed the stack of documents on his lap, and pressed them down with his hand.

"Commander, shall we go back?" Yang Xiaobing asked.

He Yuzhu nodded. "Let's go back."

The car drove off. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The documents in his arms felt heavy. He'd talk about the rocket tomorrow.