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

Lin Jianguo stood at the door of He Yuzhu's office, the corners of the stack of blueprints in his hand rolled up and secured with a rubber band. His hair was completely white, and the wrinkles on his face were deeper than last year, but his back was ramrod straight. He walked in, placed the blueprints on the table, and untied the rubber band.

"Dean, I've been thinking about the Galaxy VI plan for half a month. Its computing speed is a hundred times faster than Galaxy 5, with a peak speed of 100 quadrillion calculations per second. It's enough for calculating fusion reactions."

He Yuzhu picked up the top sheet of paper. It was a processor architecture diagram, with hundreds of cores, densely packed with squares and arrows. He looked at it for a few seconds, then put it down and stared at Lin Jianguo.

"A hundredfold. With what?"

Lin Jianguo flipped open the blueprints and pointed to a page. "Multi-core. A processor with hundreds of cores, performing parallel computing. But the chip precision isn't enough; current lithography machines are stuck at 90 nanometers. The integration density at 90 nanometers is limited, so we can't produce that many cores."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. He stood up and walked to the window. It was gloomy outside, like it was about to rain. The big-character posters on the courtyard wall had long been torn down, and the wall was covered in a dusty gray. He stood there for a while, then turned around.

"I'll figure out the chip issue. You first finalize the overall plan and contact the Shanghai Radio Factory and the North China Computing Institute. Director Zhou has strong hardware capabilities, while the North China Institute has strong software capabilities."

Lin Jianguo nodded. "Okay. I'll be the chief engineer. I'll coordinate things in Shanghai and North China."

He Yuzhu walked back to the table and sat down. "Anything else?"

Lin Jianguo hesitated for a moment. "Number 5 uses cooling water. Number 6 consumes more power, so water cooling won't be enough; we'll need oil cooling. We've never worked with oil cooling systems before."

"Touch it. Make a list of what equipment and materials you need."

Lin Jianguo responded and left with the blueprints. His footsteps in the corridor were heavy, each one like a pounding on the ground.

In the afternoon, He Yuzhu sat alone in his office. He brought up the system interface, flipped to the "Computer" section, and scrolled down several pages. A line of text, grayed out, had never been lit.

[Starship Six supercomputer design proposal. Includes: processor architecture, storage system, internet, cooling solution, and operating system prototype. Redeemable points: 30,000,000]

He stared at the words, tapping his fingers twice on the table. Thirty million. He already owed two hundred and five million points; another thirty million would make it two hundred and thirty-five million. He remembered Qin Huairu's medical report, Sun Xiuying's words that "the animal experiments have all passed," and the photos Yang Xiaobing sent from Brazil—those muscular white men. He gritted his teeth and clicked "redeem."

The red text popped up, but he didn't look at it. He took out the stack of documents from his system space, two thick piles, and stacked them on the table. The cover was printed with "Design Scheme for the Galaxy VI Supercomputer". He opened to the first page, which showed the processor architecture, hundreds of cores, and densely packed interconnections. After looking at it for a while, he closed it and wrapped it in kraft paper.

Before dawn the next day, He Yuzhu boarded a train to Shanghai. Leaning against the window, he clutched the record of the deficit in his hand—two hundred and thirty-five million, written in black and white, like a knife. Rain began to fall outside, raindrops streaming down the glass, blurring the fields into a hazy blur. He recalled his first trip to Shanghai to set up an integrated circuit production line. Lin Jianguo was young then, his hair not yet gray, squatting in front of the lithography machine for half a day at a time. Now, Lin Jianguo's hair was completely white.

The train arrived at the station. Director Zhou stood at the exit, wearing a faded blue cotton jacket, his hair gray, and his back slightly bent. He saw He Yuzhu, took two steps forward, and extended his hand.

"Where does it grow?"

He Yuzhu grasped his hand. "Old Zhou, what's wrong with your back?"

Factory Director Zhou smiled. "An old problem, it hurts after sitting for a while." He took the stack of documents and weighed them in his hand. "This is the Galaxy VI project?"

He Yuzhu nodded. "Chief Engineer Lin Jianguo. Your factory is in charge of the hardware."

Factory Director Zhou opened the first page, looked at it for a few seconds, and his expression changed. "A hundred times faster? Number Five is already fast enough. A hundred times faster? What would we use?"

"Multi-core. A processor with hundreds of cores."

Factory Director Zhou paused for a moment on the documents. "Hundreds of cores? How many transistors would that require? Current lithography machines can only do 90 nanometers, and the integration density of 90 nanometers is limited; we can't do it."

He Yuzhu took out another stack of documents from his canvas bag, wrapped in kraft paper, with the words "Improved version of 45-nanometer lithography machine" written on it. He handed it over.

Factory Director Zhou took the drawing, turned to the first page, and his hand began to tremble. He put the drawing down, took off his glasses, wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt, and remained silent for a long time.

"Director He, do you know what the situation is like at our factory right now? The equipment is old, and the staff is old too. Six technicians left last year, all complaining about the low wages. You want me to work on 45 nanometers, I..."

He paused, not continuing.

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He looked at Director Zhou's gray hair and remembered the year they worked together on the integrated circuit production line. Director Zhou hadn't been home for three days and three nights, and his wife came to the factory to yell at him.

"Old Zhou, tell me the truth, is it even possible?"

Factory Director Zhou remained silent for a long time, then put on his glasses and opened the blueprints again.

"I can do it. But I need to ask you for a few things."

"explain."

"The new light source, the new objective lens, the new stage—all of these have to be imported. They can't be made domestically."

He Yuzhu looked at him. "Anything else?"

Factory Director Zhou held up three fingers. "Three years. From design to prototype, it takes at least two years. From prototype to mass production, it will take another year."

He Yuzhu shook his head. "Two years. I want to see 45-nanometer chips rolled off the production line in two years."

Factory Director Zhou opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back. He hugged the blueprints to his chest and nodded.

"Okay. I'll work three shifts; the machines will keep running even when people are resting."

He Yuzhu patted him on the shoulder. "You've worked hard."

Factory Director Zhou didn't say anything, turned around and left. He Yuzhu stood at the factory gate, watching his retreating figure. The streetlights weren't on yet, the sky was hazy, and Factory Director Zhou walked slowly, his back bent, but his steps were steady.

That night, He Yuzhu stayed at the factory's guesthouse. He sat on the bed and took the list out of the system space. Turning to the page for "Galaxy VI," he added a line after the words "supercomputing": Shanghai Radio Factory was responsible for the hardware, North China Computing Institute was responsible for the software, and Lin Jianguo was the chief designer. The goal was to develop a 45-nanometer lithography machine, with a two-year target.

Once you're done writing, put the list back and lock it.

Back in Beijing, it was already dark. He Yuzhu had just entered his office when the phone rang.

He answered the phone, and it was Yang Xiaobing on the other end, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn't drunk water for days.

"Commander, I'm back. I just got off the train."

He Yuzhu held the microphone. "It's good that you're back."

Yang Xiaobing didn't speak. He Yuzhu waited a few seconds, and all he could hear on the other end was heavy breathing, as if someone had run a long way.

"Commander, what's happening in Brazil..."

"Come to the research institute tomorrow. We'll talk when we meet."

Yang Xiaobing responded. The phone hung up, the busy tone ringing. He Yuzhu put down the receiver, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Those people were still training in the Brazilian rubber plantation, running, fighting, shooting. What were they waiting for? He didn't know. But he knew that Yang Xiaobing was back, and the special forces should get back to training. They were also working on neurotoxins, a 45-nanometer lithography machine, and Starship Six. Those things, those events, those people—they were all on their way.