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

When the train arrived in Shijiazhuang, it was still dark. The platform lights were dim, casting long shadows of people carrying heavy bags. He Yuzhu's legs were stiff as he stepped on the concrete; the journey from Daqing had left him feeling like his bones were filled with lead. Ma Yuejin followed behind, the strap of his canvas bag digging into his shoulder, so he switched shoulders.

A woman in blue overalls jogged up from behind a pillar. She had a round face, short hair, and was panting as she ran.

"Where is the director? Chief Engineer Sun asked me to pick you up."

She didn't say her surname or introduce herself. He Yuzhu didn't ask. He'd seen this type of person before—efficient, quiet, and straightforward.

"How is Chief Engineer Sun's health?"

The woman opened the car door and waited for him to get in before saying, "He's healthy. He just won't listen to advice and keeps going to the workshop every day, even when he has a stomachache."

The jeep drove out of the station square and onto an asphalt road. Plane trees lined both sides of the road, their trunks whitewashed, their leaves just sprouting, a tender green. After driving for a while, a faint, acidic smell wafted through the air, mixed with the pungent odor of disinfectant.

"Have we arrived?" He Yuzhu asked.

The woman shook her head. "It's still ten miles away. That smell is coming from the wind. It's from the exhaust fumes from the fermentation plant."

The car turned onto a narrower road, with gray factory buildings appearing on both sides, their windows gleaming and chimneys belching white smoke. A bulletin board flashed past the window, displaying a slogan that read "Go all out and speed up the work," the red paper faded to pink. A guard peeked out from the gatehouse, glanced at the license plate, and then withdrew.

Deep within the factory grounds, a woman stood on the steps of an office building. She wore a white lab coat, buttons fastened all the way up, and her hair was neatly pinned back with hair clips. She saw the jeep, didn't move, and waited until it came to a complete stop before descending the steps.

Sun Xiuying. She was much thinner than she had been ten years ago, her cheekbones protruding, her eyes sunken, and her white coat hanging loosely on a hanger. She walked up to He Yuzhu, reached out her hand, and grasped it. His hand was cold, with large knuckles, and he gripped it tightly.

"Dean He, you've arrived."

Her voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against sheet metal. He Yuzhu noticed the dark circles under her eyes, even deeper than they had been ten years ago.

"Chief Engineer Sun, do you have a stomach problem?"

Sun Xiuying released her hand and waved it. "It's an old problem, nothing serious." She turned around, not giving He Yuzhu a chance to ask again, "Come on, let me show you."

The fermentation workshop was located at the far end of the factory area. A row of silver-white tanks stood from the ground to the ceiling, their pipes densely packed like blood vessels. The tank walls vibrated slightly, emitting a low hum. He Yuzhu walked to the nearest tank and reached out to touch it. It was cool, and the vibration traveled from his fingertips up to his shoulder.

"One hundred tons?" he asked.

Sun Xiuying stood beside him, not looking at the tanks, but at the pipes. "Ten years ago, it was ten tons. Now there are twenty tanks like this."

He Yuzhu recalled that year when she slammed her fist on the table in the archives. She had spent three days reading that book, "Optimization of Penicillin Fermentation Process," and after finishing it, she slammed her fist on the table and said, "It can be sold all over the world." At that time, He Yuzhu was standing at the door and saw that her eyes were red, but she didn't cry.

"What about production?" He Yuzhu asked.

Sun Xiuying said, "Twenty times. Exports to more than thirty countries brought in over a hundred million US dollars."

She spoke calmly, as if reading a report. But He Yuzhu noticed that her fingers, gripping the hem of her white coat, were white at the knuckles.

The extraction workshop was on the second floor. Centrifuges whirred, separating the fermentation broth into mycelia and a clear liquid. The clear liquid flowed through pipes into the extraction tank, where solvent was added, the mixture was stirred, and the layers separated. A young worker was peering through a viewing mirror, watching the changes in the liquid level, a notebook in hand, ready to take notes. He saw He Yuzhu, paused, and tried to stand up, but He Yuzhu pressed him back down.

"It's up to you."

The worker nodded and continued to stare at the sight glass.

The drying workshop was at the very back. White powder fell from the discharge port, piling up in the hopper, pure white like snow. He Yuzhu squatted down, dipped his finger in it, and rubbed it. It was fine, without any lumps.

"What is the purity level?"

Sun Xiuying said, "Ninety-nine point five percent. Ninety-nine percent of the export standards."

The packaging workshop was in another building. The assembly line operated automatically; medicine bottles came from one end of the conveyor belt, were filled, capped, crimped, and labeled—all in one smooth process. The bottles gleamed amber under the lights, and the labels read "North China Pharmaceutical Factory" in both Chinese and English. He Yuzhu picked one up and examined it against the light. The powder was uniform and free of impurities.

He remembered that year when Qin Huairu was sewing clothes under the lamp, saying, "The rainy season has brought news that food supplies are tight again." He spent three million points to exchange for the penicillin technology, which he later converted into foreign exchange to buy grain, fertilizer, and equipment. Where did all that go? He didn't know. Now it had turned into powder in a medicine bottle, lying in his palm.

"Dean He?"

He Yuzhu snapped out of his daze and put the medicine bottle back.

"Chief Engineer Sun, how are our medicines selling in Africa?"

Sun Xiuying didn't answer directly. She turned around, walked to the wall, and pointed to the world map. It was covered with red pins, stretching from China to Africa, Southeast Asia, and Latin America.

"Each needle represents a batch of goods."

He Yuzhu walked over and saw that there were also a few needles stuck in the Taiwan area. He pointed it out.

"Does Taiwan have it too?"

Sun Xiuying's expression changed briefly, but He Yuzhu noticed it. She remained silent for a few seconds.

"Yes. The distribution channels are questionable. It changed hands several times, and we can't find the final buyer."

He Yuzhu didn't ask any more questions. He thought of Pu Zheng, Chen Zhiyuan, and the secret telegrams sent from Taiwan. Had those medicines ended up in Pu Zheng's hands after they went to Taiwan? He didn't know. But he remembered them.

"How many people did you save?" He Yuzhu asked.

Sun Xiuying stared at the map for a long time. Then she turned around, walked to the window, and opened it. A breeze blew in, carrying the sour smell of the fermentation workshop.

"Last year, an African student knelt at the factory gate and kowtowed. He said his grandfather's generation had malaria and was dying, but they survived thanks to our medicine." She paused. "He didn't know who made the medicine. Later, he learned Chinese and searched for several years before finally finding it here."

She didn't turn around; her back was to He Yuzhu. He Yuzhu noticed that her shoulders trembled slightly.

"There are too many people to count."

He Yuzhu stood behind her, saying nothing. The sound of machines in the workshop filled the space.

Ma Yuejin poked half his head in through the doorway, then withdrew it.

They ate lunch in the cafeteria. Steamed buns, scrambled eggs, and cabbage soup. Sun Xiuying ate quickly, slurping loudly, and after finishing, she wiped her mouth and stood up.

"Dean He, I'll go to the workshop now. Please enjoy your meal."

She left. He Yuzhu sat there, looking at the half-eaten bowl of soup. Ma Yuejin sat opposite him, broke a steamed bun in half, and put an egg in it.

"Dean, Chief Engineer Sun is tougher than a man."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He finished his soup and put down the bowl.

"Let's go."

In the afternoon, He Yuzhu went to the packaging workshop again. He stood in front of the assembly line, watching the medicine bottles go by one by one. He picked one up, then put it down again. Ma Yuejin asked him if he wanted to take a few bottles back as souvenirs, but he shook his head.

Sun Xiuying saw them off to the factory gate. She stood on the steps, not coming down. He Yuzhu turned around and extended his hand.

"Chief Engineer Sun, thank you for your hard work."

Sun Xiuying held his hand; it was still so cold, still so tight.

"Dean He, please take care."

He Yuzhu nodded and got into the jeep. As the car drove out of the factory gate, he saw Sun Xiuying still standing on the steps in the rearview mirror, her white coat fluttering in the wind.

Ma Yuejin said from the side, "Dean, you've finished inspecting North China, are you relieved now?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The map, the red-tipped pins, and the few pins in Taiwan were all on his mind.

The train headed towards Shanghai. He Yuzhu leaned against the window, looking at the fields outside. The wheat was green, and the rapeseed flowers were yellow. Ma Yuejin was asleep across from him, snoring.

He Yuzhu wasn't asleep. He took out the list from his system space, flipped to the page of the North China Pharmaceutical Factory, and added a line after "penicillin": "Twenty times the production, exported to thirty countries. Sun Xiuying said she couldn't count how many people it saved. Taiwan has channels; that's not normal."

Once you've finished writing, put the list back.

The phone rang. It was Lao Sun calling.

"Old He, there's been a bit of trouble in Shanghai. A batch of chip export orders has been seized by customs, who say there's a problem with the technical parameters. After investigation, it turns out someone is deliberately sabotaging things."

He Yuzhu pressed his hand on his knee.

"Who?"

Old Sun said, "We're still investigating. But the methods seem like those used by people from Taiwan."

He Yuzhu looked out the window. The fields seemed to recede into the distance, one after another. He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.

Pu Zheng. It's him again.

Ma Yuejin turned over, mumbled something, and went back to sleep.

He Yuzhu closed his eyes. The train rumbled forward; next stop, Shanghai.