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

At night, the glow of the blast furnaces at Anshan Iron and Steel Group flickered on the windows of the guesthouse.

He Yuzhu wasn't asleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the report from the Zhoushan base in his hand. The handwriting was from ten years ago, in a fountain pen, the edges of the paper yellowed. The last page of the report read "Urgently Need Fresh Water," the pen strokes heavy, the back of the paper bulging like a scar. He put the report down and turned off the light. The night view of the steel mill outside the window gradually darkened, with only a few chimneys still emitting sparks.

He boarded the train before dawn.

Ma Yuejin was dozing off across from him, his head nodding. He Yuzhu leaned against the train window, watching the fields turn from black to gray, then from gray to green. The Northeast Plain receded, the North China Plain receded, the train crossed the Yangtze River, and the water outside the window began to increase—ditches, ponds, and tributaries, one after another. He thought, the water on that island is still salty.

The train arrived in Ningbo in the afternoon. A middle-aged man in a naval uniform ran over to the platform, his face tanned dark red, speaking with a heavy Ningbo accent: "Chief He? Staff Officer Lin from the Zhoushan Base. The Commander sent me to pick you up."

He Yuzhu followed him out. The jeep drove out of the city, the road became narrower and narrower, lined with orange trees, the fruit still green and unripe. Staff Officer Lin, a man of few words, drove for half an hour before finally remarking, "Now that the island has running water, the people are celebrating like it's New Year, setting off firecrackers."

The wind was strong at the dock. The landing craft was moored on the shore, the gangplank wet. He Yuzhu stepped onto it, slipped, and Staff Officer Lin steadied him. The boat set off, waves lapping against its hull. Ma Yuejin squatted by the gunwale, his face pale, clutching his canvas bag. He Yuzhu stood at the bow, watching the island slowly emerge from the horizon. It was gray and drab, like a crouching turtle. Ten years ago, when he came, the island was bare, with hardly any trees. Now there was a patch of green on the hillside, indistinguishable between trees and shrubs.

The landing craft docked at the newly built cement pier. A tall, thin man in an old military uniform stood on the pier, hatless, with a dark face and sunken eyes. He saw He Yuzhu, took two steps forward, reached out his hand, and grabbed it tightly.

"Director He, you've finally arrived." The voice was hoarse, as if it contained sand.

He Yuzhu looked at him. "Commander, the island has changed quite a bit."

The commander didn't reply, but instead took his hand and started walking up the mountain. The road was paved with cement, so it wasn't bumpy anymore. Eucalyptus trees were planted on both sides, not very tall, with grayish-green leaves that rustled in the wind. After walking for more than ten minutes, they arrived at the desalination station.

A cement house, white walls, blue roof. The door was open, and the equipment hummed. He Yuzhu went inside, squatted down to look at the old high-pressure pump, the factory nameplate still on the casing, dated 1964. He reached out and touched it; the pump body was hot, but the sound was steady.

"This pump is ten years old?" he asked.

The commander nodded. "It's still spinning. We've replaced the seals three times and the bearings twice. We can't bear to throw it away."

He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the water tap. He turned on the faucet, and clear water gushed out. The commander filled an enamel mug and handed it to him. He Yuzhu took it and took a sip. It was cool, not salty, not bitter, just like Beijing tap water.

"It's sweet," he said.

The commander also took a cup, but didn't drink it. He held it, looking at his reflection in the water. "The soldiers drank it for the first time and said it was sweet. There was a young soldier from Henan who cried after drinking it. When asked why, he said his mother had never drunk tap water in her life, and she wished she could have a sip."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He walked to the edge of the reservoir. The water was clear, and he could see the bottom. The cement walls were newly plastered, and the color was lighter than the old walls.

"The pool has been expanded?" he asked.

"It's been expanded three times. It used to be 20 tons, now it's 100 tons. The desalination plant can handle 500 tons a day, so a smaller one wouldn't be able to hold it."

He Yuzhu turned around and looked at the pipes laid from the seaside. The pipes were buried in the ground, with only the valves and joints showing. He squatted down, touched a valve—it was dry and leak-free. Just as he was about to stand up, he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

A soldier ran over, panting heavily. "Commander, the pressure in pump number three has dropped. The water's a bit salty."

The commander's face tightened. He Yuzhu stood up and followed the soldier to the workshop. Pump No. 3 had stopped, and the pressure gauge needle had dropped to zero. Several workers were gathered around, some tightening screws, some checking the instruments, and some squatting on the ground rummaging through toolboxes. An old worker stood up, his face covered in grease, and shook his head at the commander.

"Is the membrane clogged? Or is the pipe leaking?" He Yuzhu squatted down and shone a flashlight on the pipe joint. It was dry and leak-free. He walked behind the pump and looked at the inlet pipe. There was a small wet patch at the bend. He touched it with his finger; it was slippery and salty.

"Here. It's seeping in. Seawater is getting in here and mixing with the freshwater."

The old worker leaned over, glanced at it, and cursed. "A pinhole, the size of a pinhead, invisible to the naked eye." He took out some sealant from his toolbox, scraped off a clump, pressed it onto the pipe, and smoothed it out. He Yuzhu stood beside him, watching the sealant slowly solidify on the pipe wall. The old worker tightened the screw, opened the valve, and the pump started running again. The pressure gauge needle slowly climbed up; it was back to normal.

The old worker filled a cup with water, tasted it himself, smacked his lips, and handed it to He Yuzhu. He Yuzhu took it and drank a sip. It wasn't salty anymore.

"Okay," he said.

The old worker grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. "Director He, if you hadn't come, we don't know how long the investigation would have taken."

He Yuzhu returned the jar to him. "You guys fixed it yourselves. I only glanced at it."

The commander stood at the door, the tense muscles on his face relaxing. "Director He, this desalination station is the lifeblood of the island. If the pump breaks down, the membrane gets clogged, or the pipes leak, none of these things can be delayed. With you here, everything goes smoothly."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He walked out of the workshop and stood on the hillside looking down. Over at the dock, several soldiers were squatting under a freshwater tap washing clothes, foam floating all over the ground. An old woman was carrying a bucket of water, walking back unsteadily, water spilling out and splashing onto the cement road, leaving a wet trail. Children were running around in the splashing water, their pants half-soaked.

The commander followed him out and stood beside him.

"Director He, do you think this water will stay this clear forever?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment. "Pumps will get old, membranes will get clogged, and pipes will leak. But as long as someone is watching over them, they can fix what's broken, replace what's clogged, and patch what's leaking, and the water will stay clean."

The commander nodded and asked no further questions.

He Yuzhu turned and walked towards the dock. The commander saw him to the gangplank, holding his hand tightly. The ship set sail, and the commander remained standing on the dock, his shadow growing smaller and smaller. He Yuzhu stood by the ship's railing, the sea breeze carrying a salty, fishy smell. He remembered what the soldier from Henan had said. His mother had never drunk tap water. Now, the water on this island was even clearer than tap water.

Ma Yuejin poked his head out of the cabin. "Dean, where's our next stop?"

He Yuzhu looked at the sea. "Xinjiang."

"What are you looking at?"

"Microwave station. I heard there's a station with unstable signal; I need to go check it out."

Ma Yuejin retreated. The ship docked, and it was getting dark. He Yuzhu walked onto the pier, and Staff Officer Lin handed him an unsealed telegram. He pulled it out; it read: "Signal anomaly at Altay station, cause unknown. Please come immediately."

He folded the telegram and stuffed it into his pocket. He got on the train, which headed towards the station. Outside the window, the sea slowly receded, and the mountains surged up.