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

The sky outside the window was still dark. He Yuzhu sat at the table, clutching the photograph in his hand, staring at it for a long time. Pu Zheng stood in a Brazilian rubber plantation, thin, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a dark suit. Ten years had passed; he had fled from Hong Kong to Thailand, from Thailand to Myanmar, from Myanmar to Taiwan, and from Taiwan to Brazil. He chased after the distance he had traveled. He shoved the photograph into the drawer, looked up, and saw the pale blue light floating before him.

Three lines of text.

Controlled Nuclear Fusion (Engineering Version) - 80,000,000 points

【Curvature Advancement Theory (Basic Version) - 60,000,000 Points】

[Eco-circulation ship design (deep space type) - 60,000,000 points]

Two hundred million. His finger hovered over the confirm button, but he didn't press it. He remembered the Battle of Chosin Reservoir that year, his first points, 800 points. Lying prone in the snow, his hands trembled so much he couldn't pull back the bolt. Later, at Shangganling, 10 million points, those black wings emerged from the clouds, turning half the sky into a sea of ​​fire. Then, at Jincheng, 55 million points, a mine, a recruit's leg, shrapnel lodged in his flesh, him using the system's surgical kit, his hands trembling violently, cutting away piece by piece. Those points, accumulated one by one, fought one battle after another. Now, to spend them all at once, he'd still owe 160 million.

He pressed it down.

[Redeem successful. Points consumed: 200,000,000. Current total points: -160,000,000. Points overdraft will be automatically deducted from subsequent task rewards.]

He closed his eyes, rested the back of his head against the chair, and his Adam's apple bobbed. "I'll owe you."

The phone rang. Old Sun's voice was hoarse.

"In Brazil, Pu Zheng is still in the rubber plantation, keeping a low profile. The overseas Chinese have been keeping an eye on him for three months but haven't noticed anything unusual."

He Yuzhu gripped the microphone. "Keep an eye on it. Send Yang Xiaobing. He's been chasing this for ten years; it's time for a resolution."

Old Sun was silent for a moment. "Yang Xiaobing alone?"

"Take a few people with you. Overseas Chinese will provide backup. Don't arrest anyone yet, just find out their background first."

"Okay. I'll arrange it."

He hung up the phone. He Yuzhu stood up and walked to the window. Dawn had broken, and the sun peeked through the clouds, shining on the gray plaster of the courtyard wall. He stood there for a moment, then turned around.

Yang Xiaobing stood at the door, carrying his old canvas bag. A dagger, gleaming, was tucked into his waistband. He wore a gray cloth jacket and a straw hat, looking like a merchant on the move. He walked in, stood before He Yuzhu, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but then he swallowed his words.

"Commander, I'm leaving."

He Yuzhu looked at him. "The overseas Chinese in Brazil will provide support. When you get there, find Lao Wang, he'll make the arrangements. Don't rush into action, find out the details first."

Yang Xiaobing nodded. "Understood."

He Yuzhu reached out his hand. Yang Xiaobing grasped it tightly.

"Commander, I've had him captured for ten years. This time I'll definitely bring him back."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He patted Yang Xiaobing on the shoulder. Yang Xiaobing let go, turned and left. He paused at the door, but didn't turn back. The door closed. The footsteps faded into the distance, and soon there was no sound. He Yuzhu stood by the window, his fingers tracing the glass, watching Yang Xiaobing's figure disappear through the courtyard gate.

In the afternoon, He Yuzhu called Lin Jianguo, Ma Yuejin, and Qian Zhiyuan to his office. The three stood in front of the desk, looking at the three stacks of documents. Controlled nuclear fusion, a thick stack. Warp propulsion theory, a thinner stack, filled with tensor analysis and differential geometry. Ecological recycling ship design, with cross-sectional diagrams of the spacecraft, layer by layer, from the cockpit to the living quarters, from the ecological compartment to the power module.

Lin Jianguo picked up the book on ecological recycling ship design, flipped through it, and looked up. "Dean, is this a spaceship?"

"An interstellar research vessel. It can fly in space for ten years, self-sufficient and without resupply."

Lin Jianguo paused his hand on the documents for a moment. He didn't ask any more questions.

Ma Yuejin picked up the book on controlled nuclear fusion, flipped through a few pages, and his expression changed. "Dean, this stuff… we haven't even mastered satellites yet, and we're already working on spaceships? Isn't that taking too big a step?"

He Yuzhu looked at him. "Satellites are eyes, spaceships are legs. Eyes can see the outside, but they can't go out. Only with legs can you go out."

Ma Yuejin put down the documents, opened his mouth, then closed it again. After a while, he spoke again. "Dean, it's not that I'm afraid of difficulties. Nuclear fusion hasn't been achieved anywhere in the world. Warp propulsion—even the theory isn't mature yet. These things—"

"It's ahead of its time. But if we don't do it, no one else will. The United States didn't do it, the Soviet Union didn't do it, Europe didn't do it. We did it, so we were the first."

Ma Yuejin lowered his head and rubbed his fingers along the seam of his trousers.

Qian Zhiyuan remained silent. He picked up the book on curvature propagation theory, turned to a certain page, and stared at it for a long time. His reading glasses perched on his nose, the lenses reflecting the light. He closed the document, took off his glasses, and wiped them clean.

"Xiao He, I don't understand these things."

He Yuzhu looked at him. "Director Qian, you don't need to understand it. You just need to get the materials out. Nuclear fusion requires first-wall materials that are resistant to high temperatures, radiation, and neutron bombardment. Ecological recycling requires high-strength, lightweight alloys."

Qian Zhiyuan put on his glasses and hugged the document to his chest. "I'll handle the materials. But give me time."

"We have time. We can bring in people from various departments and buy equipment from abroad."

Qian Zhiyuan nodded, picked up the documents, and left. His footsteps echoed slowly in the corridor, one step at a time.

He Yuzhu turned around and looked at Lin Jianguo and Ma Yuejin. "Lin Jianguo, you'll lead the design of the ecological cycle ship. Tackle each aspect one by one: closed ecosystem, water cycle, air regeneration, and food production."

"Okay. I'll organize a meeting to discuss this first."

"Six months. I want to see a preliminary plan in six months."

Lin Jianguo responded and left with the document in his hand.

Ma Yuejin remained seated, motionless. He looked at He Yuzhu, his lips moving slightly.

"Dean, it's not that I don't want to do it. I'm afraid we'll move too fast and stumble."

He Yuzhu walked to the window and stood there for a while. "Falling down isn't scary. What's scary is not moving forward. Ten years have passed. Oil from Daqing, medicine from North China, semiconductors from Shanghai, steel from Anshan Iron and Steel, water from Zhoushan, telephones from Xinjiang, computers from Galaxy-5—which of these hasn't stumbled?"

Ma Yuejin lowered his head. After a while, he stood up and hugged the book on controlled nuclear fusion to his chest. "I'll do it."

He left. His footsteps in the corridor were heavy, each step sounding like a thud on the ground.

He Yuzhu sat alone in his office, taking the list out of his drawer. Turning to a new page, he wrote a few lines: Interstellar research vessel, launched in spring 1974. Controlled nuclear fusion, Ma Yuejin. Ecological cycle, Lin Jianguo. Materials, Qian Zhiyuan. Warp propulsion theory, pending. Finished, he put the list back and locked the drawer.

The door was pushed open. Yang Xiaobing stood in the doorway, his expression grim.

"Commander, we've received news from Brazil."

He Yuzhu turned around. "What news?"

Yang Xiaobing came in and closed the door. "A stranger contacted Pu Zheng. He wasn't an overseas Chinese, nor a local; he was white and spoke English. He stayed in the rubber plantation for two days and talked to Pu Zheng several times."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not clear yet. But the overseas Chinese heard a term—'super soldier.' It seems like they're collaborating on the development of something."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He walked back to the window and looked at the sky outside. The sun was obscured by clouds, and the light dimmed. He stood there for a long time before turning around.

"Have Old Wang keep an eye on it. Find out who that white man is, where he came from, and what they talked about."

Yang Xiaobing nodded. "Okay."

He turned to leave. He Yuzhu called out to him, "Yang Xiaobing."

Yang Xiaobing stopped.

Be careful.

Yang Xiaobing nodded and left. The door closed. He Yuzhu stood by the window, looking at the sky outside. The clouds were getting thicker and thicker; it was going to rain.