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

He Yuzhu stood at the gate of the courtyard, his hand on the door frame, but he didn't push it open.

The aroma of fried noodles with soybean paste wafted out, mingling with the slightly burnt smell of scallions being stir-fried in hot oil. The kitchen echoed with the clanging of spatulas against iron woks, just like always. A child's blue cloth jacket hung on the clothesline, its sleeves a bit too short, revealing the stitches. A gust of wind made the sleeves flutter.

He pushed open the peeling wooden door. The threshold was the same one, worn down from being stepped on. There was no one in the courtyard. The door to the west wing was open, and a small stool sat by the doorway, with an open textbook on it, weighed down by a pencil.

He walked over, bent down, and picked it up. It was a first-grade Chinese textbook, turned to the page of "Spring Dawn," and there was a red circle next to the character "啼" (ti, meaning "to sing") in the phrase "处处闻啼鸟" (chu chu wen ti ni, meaning "everywhere one hears birds singing"). The pencil lead had blurred the mark, as if it had been erased and redrawn repeatedly. He touched the mark with his finger and put the textbook back on the stool.

Footsteps came from the hanging flower gate, unhurried, with pauses at each step. He looked up and saw He Nianhua standing under the hanging flower gate, carrying a faded canvas schoolbag on his back and clutching a sharpened pencil in his hand.

The child didn't move; he just stood there watching him.

He Yuzhu didn't move either.

After a few seconds, He Nianhua took a step forward, then stopped. He switched the pencil to his left hand, rubbed his right hand on his trouser leg, as if he wanted to reach out but then withdrew it.

"Dad?" The voice was soft, tinged with uncertainty.

He Yuzhu squatted down. "Mm."

He Nianhua took another step forward, this time without stopping, and stood in front of He Yuzhu, looking up at him. He Yuzhu noticed that he had lost weight, and his cheekbones were more prominent than when they last met, but his eyes were very bright, almost dazzlingly so.

"Your hair has turned white," He Nianhua said.

He Yuzhu touched his temple. "Mm."

He Nianhua reached out his left hand, touched He Yuzhu's temple, and then withdrew it. He took his schoolbag off his shoulder, put it on the ground, and then took something out of the side pocket of the schoolbag, holding it out with both hands.

He Yuzhu took it and looked down. It was a tank with a spent cartridge case; the gun barrel was bent, two tracks were broken, and the two characters "Hunter Fox" on the hull were still there, but the strokes were covered with a thick layer of dust.

"Uncle Yang made it," He Nianhua said. "I've kept it all this time."

He Yuzhu flipped the tank over to look at the bottom. There was a deep scratch on the cartridge case, and he didn't know when it had been damaged. He returned the tank, and He Nianhua took it, wiped the cannon barrel with his sleeve, and put it back in the side pocket of his backpack.

"You can recite poems now?" He Yuzhu asked.

He Nianhua nodded, slung his backpack over his shoulder, took a step back, straightened his back, and put his hands behind his back.

"Spring slumber is so sweet, I don't even notice the dawn, everywhere I hear birds singing. Last night came the sound of wind and rain, I wonder how many flowers have fallen."

He recited it fluently, without uttering a single stumble. After finishing, he looked at He Yuzhu, waiting for him to speak.

He Yuzhu nodded. "Well done."

He Nianhua recited another poem. "The sun sets beyond the mountains, the Yellow River flows into the sea. To see a thousand miles further, climb one more story." When she recited "climb one more story," her voice rose, as if she were answering a question in class.

The sound of the spatula in the kitchen stopped. Qin Huairu poked her head out of the kitchen, her apron covered in flour, and wiped it with her hands. She saw He Yuzhu, paused for a moment, her lips twitched, then she pursed them.

"You're back?"

He Yuzhu stood up. "You're back."

Qin Huairu didn't say anything more, and pulled her back. The sound of a spatula clattering in the kitchen came again. He Nianhua pulled He Yuzhu's hand and walked quickly towards the kitchen. He Yuzhu was dragged by him as they crossed the threshold.

Steam rose from the kitchen, water bubbled in the pot, and noodles swirled in the boiling water. Qin Huairu stood in front of the stove, stirring the noodles with long chopsticks, very slowly, as if counting. Her movements were not as nimble as before; her shoulders and back were slightly hunched, and the firelight reflected on her face, clearly illuminating the fine lines at the corners of her eyes.

He Yuzhu noticed the white hair at her temples. It wasn't the few scattered strands he'd seen the last time they met, but a small tuft peeking out from behind her ear, dazzling under the incandescent light.

Qin Huairu didn't turn around. "The soybean paste is in the cupboard, and the vegetables are arranged on the cutting board. Help yourself."

He Yuzhu walked over, opened the cupboard, and took out a bowl of fried sauce. The rim of the bowl was chipped, smoothed with sandpaper so it wouldn't cut his hand. He used a large bowl to scoop out noodles, poured on the fried sauce, and topped it with shredded cucumber, mung bean sprouts, and chopped green garlic. He Nianhua stood on tiptoe, peering over the stove, craning his neck to watch.

"Dad, add more cucumber shreds."

He Yuzhu picked up a piece of food for him with his chopsticks.

The three of them sat at the table eating noodles. He Nianhua slurped his noodles, getting sauce all over his mouth. Qin Huairu wiped it with a towel, and although he flinched, it was wiped clean anyway. He Yuzhu ate very slowly, putting each noodle into his mouth one by one. Qin Huairu sat opposite them, not eating much, picking up a few noodles with her chopsticks before putting them down.

"What about the rainwater?" He Yuzhu asked.

Qin Huairu said, "She went to a meeting at the neighborhood committee. They said they were evaluating exemplary families and wanted her to be a representative."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He Nianhua finished his noodles, pushed the bowl away, ran to get a pencil and notebook, and lay down on the table to do his homework. He wrote slowly, each stroke deliberate, his head almost touching the paper. Qin Huairu walked over and lifted his head up slightly, but he twisted it and lowered it again.

When He Yushui entered, it was already completely dark. She was carrying a cloth bag containing several bright red tomatoes. Seeing He Yuzhu, she placed the bag on the table and pulled up a chair to sit down.

"Brother, you're back."

He Yuzhu nodded. He Yushui looked at him for a few seconds, then looked away, took a tomato out of her cloth bag, wiped it on her clothes, and took a bite.

"The courtyard has been quite peaceful lately. Uncle San still walks his bird every day, Aunt Er's legs hurt, so she doesn't go out much anymore. Jia Zhangshi is much more docile now, she smiles at everyone she sees, but it's not a genuine smile."

He Yuzhu waited for her to continue. He Yushui took another bite of the tomato, chewed it a few times, and swallowed it.

"Something's wrong with Yu Li."

He Yuzhu waited.

He Yushui placed the tomato on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Starting last month, she's been going out a lot. She said she was going to meetings at the neighborhood committee, but what kind of neighborhood committee meeting is that in the middle of the night? One time I got up in the middle of the night and saw her coming in through the back door, tiptoeing, her shoes covered in mud. The next day I asked her where she'd been, and she said she was at a meeting. I said, 'What kind of meeting can be that late at night?' She said, 'Is it any of your business?'"

He Yushui paused. "She wasn't like this before. She used to speak softly and always bowed her head to everyone."

"Where's Jia Dongxu?" He Yuzhu asked.

He Yushui shook her head. "Jia Dongxu argued with her a few times. Once, he broke something, making a lot of noise, which even alerted Uncle San. The next day, Jia Dongxu went to work with a bloody mark on his face. When asked how he got it, he said he did it while shaving."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything. Qin Huairu came out of the kitchen and cleared away the dishes. He Nianhua finished her homework, closed her notebook, and ran over to take He Yuzhu's hand.

"Dad, I'll recite a poem for you. A new one."

He stood in the middle of the room, hands behind his back. He recited, "The grass on the plain grows lush and green, withers and flourishes each year. Wildfires cannot burn it all, the spring breeze brings it back to life." After finishing, he looked at He Yuzhu, waiting for him to speak. He Yuzhu patted his head, and he grinned, then ran to wash his face and brush his teeth.

That night, He Nianhua lay on the kang (a heated brick bed), tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Qin Huairu tucked him in, but he turned over and kicked the blanket off.

"Dad, when are you leaving?"

He Yuzhu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed). "In a few days."

He Nianhua thought for a moment. "A few days is a few days, isn't it?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He Nianhua waited a while, but didn't get an answer. He closed his eyes, his breathing slowly becoming heavy. Qin Huairu turned off the light and lay down next to him. Moonlight shone in through the window, illuminating the room in a pale light. He Yuzhu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), looking at He Nianhua's face and at the white hair at Qin Huairu's temples.

Footsteps came from outside, very light, coming from the direction of the back door. He Yuzhu listened carefully. The footsteps stopped at the Jia family's door, the door creaked open, and then closed again.

He remembered what He Yushui had said. Yu Li came in through the back door, her shoes covered in mud. A meeting in the middle of the night? What kind of meeting? He kept this on his mind, thinking about it over and over. Qin Huairu turned over beside him, her back to him.

"Go to sleep," she said.

He Yuzhu lay down and closed his eyes. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds and shone on the courtyard wall. He couldn't sleep. Yu Li's face kept replaying in his mind. She used to be timid, always bowing her head to everyone. Now she was different. He couldn't quite put his finger on how. But He Yushui was right, something was wrong with her.