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

After the train passed Shanhaiguan, the sky outside the window finally began to brighten.

He Yuzhu leaned against the car window, watching the utility poles fall backward one by one. Ma Yuejin woke up and sat opposite him, holding the enamel mug in his hand. The water inside had long since gone cold; he hadn't drunk it, just held it there, lost in thought.

"Dean, is Wang Defa still at Ansteel?" Ma Yuejin asked.

He Yuzhu thought for a moment. "Yes. I broke my leg last year, but I was still running around in the workshop."

Ma Yuejin chuckled. "That old man, he's got a death wish."

The train lurched and slowed down to enter the station. The platform became crowded with people carrying luggage, holding children, and holding signs. He Yuzhu saw a middle-aged man in work clothes standing at the exit, holding a sign that read "Anshan Iron and Steel."

The man had a dark face and calloused hands. He saw He Yuzhu, ran over, and grabbed his hand.

"Director He! Chief Engineer Wang asked me to pick you up. He has a leg problem and can't walk fast, so he's waiting at the factory."

He Yuzhu followed him outside. A jeep was parked in the square; the paint on the "Anshan Iron and Steel" lettering on the door had peeled off, revealing rust underneath. As the car started moving, the street scene outside the window changed from buildings to factories, and from factories to chimneys. The smell of coking coal in the air grew stronger and stronger.

"How did Chief Engineer Wang hurt his leg?" He Yuzhu asked.

The driver said, "I fell in the workshop last year. There was oil on the floor, I slipped and fell, and my knee hit the rail. I rested for three months, but it wasn't fully healed, so I ran away again. Nobody could stop me."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He remembered the year Wang Defa learned how to use a grinding machine in Beijing. He would squat in front of the machine for half a day at a time, and he wouldn't get up even when his legs went numb.

The car drove for forty minutes before stopping in front of a blast furnace. As soon as He Yuzhu got out, a wave of heat hit him, making his face burn. Wang Defa walked out of the workshop, wearing faded work clothes with torn cuffs revealing cotton underneath. His hair was completely white, and he walked with a limp, but his steps were large.

He walked up to He Yuzhu, reached out his hand, grasped it, and said nothing.

He Yuzhu didn't say anything. The two of them just stood there, holding hands, neither of them letting go.

After a few seconds, Wang Defa released his grip, turned around, and pointed to the blast furnace. "Director He, take a look at this."

He Yuzhu followed him inside. The taphole opened, and molten iron flowed out, trickling down the channel, sparks flying and hissing as they landed near the safety line. He Yuzhu stood there, looking at the molten iron, remembering those years working on rocket engines, when the flames on the test stand were the same color. Those exploded engines, those burned-out test stands, those nights that turned his hair white—he thought those things were over, but now, standing before the blast furnace, they were back.

Wang Defa stood to the side, waiting for him to speak.

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He took a step forward, stretched out his hand, approached the molten iron ditch, and then pulled it back. It was scalding hot, even from several meters away.

"Be careful where you are," Wang Defa said from the side.

He Yuzhu withdrew his hand and turned around. "What about the output?"

Wang Defa pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. "Last year, it was 25 million tons. Eight times that of ten years ago. Look at this data."

He Yuzhu took it, glanced at it, folded it, and didn't return it. "What about the quality?"

Wang Defa pointed to the taphole. "The sulfur and phosphorus levels are both controlled below 0.005. We had it tested in Japan, and it's just as good as theirs."

He Yuzhu put the paper in his pocket. "Let's go check out the converter."

The converter workshop was even hotter. When the furnace door opened, flames leaped out, licking the furnace mouth and illuminating the entire workshop in a fiery red. A young worker, wearing a mask and holding a long pole, took samples from the furnace. Molten steel was ladled out and poured into molds, hissing and smoking. After cooling for a few minutes, it solidified into a silver-gray steel ingot.

After the inspector used a spectrometer to measure it, He Yuzhu nodded.

He Yuzhu walked over, picked up the steel ingot, and examined it twice, turning it over and over. The surface was smooth, without bubbles or cracks. He weighed it in his hand; it was heavy.

"Chief Engineer Wang, how many factories have implemented the new steelmaking method?"

Wang Defa said, "It's used all over the country. Larger blast furnaces, converter slag splashing for furnace protection, continuous casting and rolling, controlled rolling and controlled cooling. Ansteel did it first, and once it was successful, other plants came to learn from it. Now it's used all over the country."

He Yuzhu put the steel ingot back on the table, turned around, and looked at Wang Defa. Wang Defa stood there, his legs slightly bent, his weight on his good leg. His face was covered in sweat, which streamed down his wrinkles, but he didn't wipe it away.

"How much longer can your legs hold up?"

Wang De was stunned for a moment. "It's okay. I can still work for a few more years."

He Yuzhu didn't ask any more questions. He turned around and walked out of the workshop. When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back. The molten iron was still flowing, glowing red-hot, illuminating half of the workshop.

Ma Yuejin followed behind without saying a word.

They ate lunch in the cafeteria. He Yuzhu sat in a corner, bowl in hand. Wang Defa sat opposite him, eating quickly, slurping down a bowl of millet porridge in just a few mouthfuls. He put down his bowl, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and looked at He Yuzhu.

"Director He, those documents you had back then were really valuable."

He Yuzhu put down his chopsticks. "It's not the data value. It's the value of what you did."

Wang Defa lowered his head and looked at his hands. His hands were covered in calluses, and the rust under his fingernails was indelible.

"Director He, there's something I'd like to tell you."

He Yuzhu waited for him to continue.

Wang Defa was silent for a few seconds. "My son also works in the factory. He's a technician. He wants to go to the research institute for further studies, what do you think..."

He stopped halfway through his sentence, looked at He Yuzhu, and there was something in his eyes.

He Yuzhu nodded. "Let him come. Find Ma Yuejin."

Wang Defa opened his mouth, but no words came out. He picked up the bowl, drank the last bit of porridge at the bottom, and stood up.

"Mr. He, please enjoy your meal. I'm going to the workshop now."

He left, limping, but taking long strides.

He Yuzhu sat there, watching his figure disappear at the cafeteria entrance.

Around 4 PM, He Yuzhu left Ansteel. Wang De saw him off at the factory gate, but didn't go any further. He stood there, waved, and turned back.

Ma Yuejin sat in the car, holding the canvas bag in his arms.

"Dean, where's our next stop?"

He Yuzhu leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Zhoushan."

The car started moving, and rows of factory buildings outside the window rushed past. Blast furnaces billowed smoke, chimneys pierced the sky, and under the hazy sky, the smoke slowly dissipated, like someone sighing.

On the train, He Yuzhu opened the notebook. The first page read 1964, and the last page was blank. He picked up a pen and wrote a line in the blank space: Anshan Iron and Steel, production increased eightfold in ten years, Wang Defa's leg was lame, but he was still working.

He finished writing, put down his pen, and closed his notebook. Darkness fell outside the window, the lights came on, the fields disappeared from view, leaving only his reflection in the glass.

Ma Yuejin was asleep across the street, snoring. He Yuzhu didn't wake him; he leaned against the window, gazing at the darkness.

The train swayed, then swayed again. There were lights in the distance; I couldn't tell if they were villages or factories.

He remembered Wang Defa's words, which he hadn't finished saying. His son was coming to the research institute for further studies. Ten years had passed, and the sons of those who had come to copy materials back then were now working in the technical field themselves.