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

The train arrived in Beijing at four in the morning. The platform was deserted, with only the dim yellow light of distant streetlights. He Yuzhu got off the train, his legs a little stiff, and stood on the platform for a while. Ma Yuejin followed behind, switched his canvas bag to the other shoulder, and yawned.

"Dean, are you going back to the research institute or home?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment. "The research institute."

As the jeep drove into the alley, it was just beginning to get light. The research institute's gates were still the same two iron doors, their paint worn away, revealing the rust beneath. The gatekeeper, wearing an overcoat, came out, recognized him, and quickly opened the gate.

"Director He, you're back?"

He Yuzhu nodded and walked inside. The lights in the courtyard were still on, and light shone through the windows of the computer room. He stood there for a while and heard the machines inside humming steadily.

Someone is working overtime.

He walked into the office building. One of the corridor lights was broken, and the green light from the emergency exit illuminated the water stains on the floor. He walked to the computer room door but didn't go in. The door was open, and Lin Jianguo was leaning over the control panel with his back to him, his fingers typing something on the keyboard.

His hair was completely white. From behind, it looked like a clump of snow weighing down his shoulders.

"Nation-building".

Lin Jianguo's fingers paused for a moment. He turned around, saw He Yuzhu, and froze for a second. The pause was brief, but He Yuzhu noticed it.

"Dean." He pushed his glasses up and stood up. His movements were a little slow, as if his knees were stiff.

He Yuzhu walked over. The two stood facing each other, separated by a Galaxy V satellite. The fan whirred, and the indicator light flashed.

No one spoke.

After a few seconds, Lin Jianguo stepped aside. "Take a look."

He Yuzhu walked to the front of the server rack. Galaxy No. 5 was a size larger than No. 4, painted light gray, with rows of indicator lights that stood out conspicuously in the dim room. He reached out and touched it; it was cool and vibrated slightly.

"They've started running?"

Lin Jianguo nodded, walked to the control panel, and typed a command. The screen lit up, and data began to scroll. Line after line, it scrolled up rapidly, too fast to see clearly.

He Yuzhu stared at the numbers. "What about the speed?"

Lin Jianguo didn't answer immediately. He looked down at his hands, which were clenched in his pockets, his knuckles white.

"Thirty times faster than Starship 4." The voice was weak.

He Yuzhu didn't reply. Lin Jianguo took his hand out of his pocket and touched the server rack. His hand was trembling, not from fear, but the kind of trembling that comes with age.

"Now, a weather model can be calculated in minutes. It used to take several hours."

"What new stuff are you using?"

Lin Jianguo took out a notebook from his pocket, flipped through a couple of pages, and then closed it. "Parallel processors, 1024. The memory is 16 times larger than that of the fourth one. The disks have also been replaced; the magnetic drum has been replaced with a disk."

He spoke very quickly, as if afraid of being interrupted.

He Yuzhu walked to the back of the server rack and squatted down to examine the fans. The fan blades were spinning, whirring, and the air blowing out of the ventilation holes was hot. He stood up and patted the dust off his knees.

"What about the software?"

"The operating system has been rewritten. It can run Fortran, it can run assembly language, and it can even run the language we invented ourselves."

As Lin Jianguo spoke, he walked to the control panel and brought up a program. The code on the screen scrolled up line by line; compilation succeeded, linking succeeded, and the program ran. Data appeared and displayed on the screen.

"Where was it used?" He Yuzhu asked.

"The weather bureau uses it to forecast typhoons, heavy rains, and cold waves. The geological bureau also uses it to calculate seismic waves and locate oil."

He paused for a moment.

"The nuclear weapons research institute is also using it. To simulate a nuclear explosion."

He Yuzhu pressed a button on the server rack. "Is Galaxy-3 not enough?"

Lin Jianguo shook his head. "Too slow. It takes several days to calculate a single model. This one will be finished in a few hours."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He recalled the atomic bomb explosion that year, when the mushroom cloud rose, his old leader held his hand tightly without saying a word. Now, all those calculations, simulations, and data were running in Galaxy-5.

They are invisible and intangible, yet they determine the security of this country.

"Where's the processor? Where did it come from?"

Lin Jianguo walked to the front of the blueprints, pulled out a few sheets, and spread them out on the table. "We designed them ourselves. The instruction set, pipeline, and cache are all our own."

He Yuzhu looked down at the blueprints. The lines were dense, and the markings were crammed together. He stared at them for a long time before looking up.

"How much worse is it compared to other countries?"

Lin Jianguo thought for a moment. "One to two generations behind. Theirs is faster and consumes less power."

He paused, touching the server rack. "But ours is sufficient. For meteorology, geology, and nuclear weapons, we don't pursue the fastest speed, but stability. Our machines are resistant to interference, vibration, and temperature changes."

He Yuzhu nodded.

"Lin Jianguo, you've worked hard."

Lin Jianguo shook his head. "It's not hard work."

He Yuzhu looked at him. His white hair stretched from his ears to the top of his head, his cheekbones were prominent, and his eye sockets were sunken. That year, when he returned from Xishan, he had gained a little weight and his face had some color. Now he had lost weight again.

"Old Lin, you are a hero."

Lin Jianguo lowered his head, looking at his hands. He put his hands back in his pockets, clenching them.

Several seconds passed before he spoke.

"Dean, thank you for providing this platform."

The voice wasn't loud. He looked up, his eyes reddening.

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He patted Lin Jianguo on the shoulder, turned around and walked to the window. It was dawn outside, still gray and hazy. The big-character posters on the courtyard wall had been torn down, revealing the dusty gray paint underneath.

"I'll go check out the archives tomorrow."

Lin Jianguo responded from behind, "Okay."

He Yuzhu walked out of the computer room; the lights in the corridor were still on. He walked to the door of the archives room and took out his key. He tried several times before finally inserting it, his hands trembling. Not from fear, but from the cold. There was no heating in the corridor.

The door opened. He turned on the light, and the bulb flickered twice before turning on.

Thirty-seven metal cabinets, row upon row, gleamed dimly under the light. He walked to the cabinet labeled "Aerospace" and opened it.

The data from the communications satellites is still there. The data from the manned spacecraft is still there. The data from the lunar lander is still there.

He reached out and touched the topmost book. The paper was yellowed, and the edges were curled up. When he took it out of the system space that year, the paper was snow-white, and the ink was fresh. Now they were old.

But those things—satellites, spacecraft, lunar landers—haven't been launched yet.

He closed and locked the cabinet door. The key was in his pocket, feeling heavy.

He walked out of the archives; the lights in the corridor were still on. He took a few steps, stopped, and glanced back at the closed door.

I stood there for a long time.

Then he turned around and walked home.