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

On his drive home from the Chengshan Research Institute, He Yuzhu repeated Ma Yuejin's words over and over again. "That kid Nianhua wants to become an astronaut." He parked the car downstairs, leaving the engine running, the white smoke from the exhaust pipe swirling and dissipating in the taillights. He turned off the engine and sat in the driver's seat for a while. In the shadow of the dashboard, his fingers tapped a few times on the steering wheel, rhythmically, just moving.

He walked more slowly than usual upstairs. As he inserted the key into the lock, he heard Qin Huairu say from inside, "Don't rush, let's wait for your dad to come back." The door opened, and He Nianhua stood in the middle of the living room, his back ramrod straight, his hands pressed against his trouser seams.

"Dad, I want to apply to the aerospace class at Beijing No. 4 High School and become an astronaut in the future."

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He bent down to change his shoes, placed his briefcase on the shoe cabinet, walked into the living room, and sat down on the sofa. Qin Huairu sat opposite him, clutching a rag in her hand. The glass on the coffee table had been wiped three times and was so shiny it reflected light.

"What did your mother say?" He Yuzhu asked Qin Huairu.

Qin Huairu didn't look up, her voice muffled: "I told him, you're only sixteen, why are you thinking so far ahead? He said—" She paused, wiping the glass again with a rag, "He said you were already on the Korean battlefield at sixteen."

He Yuzhu turned his gaze to He Nianhua. His son stood still, his chin slightly raised, his Adam's apple bobbing above his collar.

"I'm asking you, are you afraid of dying?" He Yuzhu's voice wasn't loud.

He Nianhua was taken aback. He probably thought his father would ask about his height, education, and flight experience first, but he didn't expect this to be the first question.

"I'm afraid," he said, "but some things are more important than death."

"What is it?"

"Plant the Chinese flag on the moon. So that when future generations look up at the stars, they will know that our people live there."

He Yuzhu stared at his son for five seconds. The boy's eyes didn't look away; the pupils reflected the bright, almost blinding, incandescent light of the living room. He had seen that look before—on the battlefield, in interrogation rooms, and in photos of himself when he was young. People with that look couldn't lie, and they couldn't be persuaded otherwise.

Qin Huairu suddenly spoke, her voice not loud, but each word carried a weight that had been suppressed for a long time: "You two are alike. Back then, you told me, 'I'm going on a mission, I'll be back soon,' how long was that 'soon'? A year? Two years? Now Nianhua tells me, 'Mom, being an astronaut isn't dangerous,' how can I believe that?"

"mom--"

"Don't interrupt." Qin Huairu stood up, slamming a rag on the coffee table with a loud thud. "Where did your dad go when he was sixteen? North Korea. Minus thirty degrees Celsius, freezing cold. He was lucky he didn't die there. And you? Where do you want to go? Space. If something happens, you won't even be able to find your body."

Her voice suddenly dropped from its high pitch, like a broken string. She turned her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but no tears fell; only her eyes became red.

He Yushui came out of the kitchen carrying a plate of sliced ​​apples. She looked at her sister-in-law, then at her nephew, placed the plate on the coffee table, and sat down next to Qin Huairu.

"Sister-in-law, please sit down." He Yushui tugged at Qin Huairu's sleeve.

Qin Huairu didn't sit down, but she didn't stand up either. She leaned against the sofa armrest, half-sitting and half-reclining. He Yushui took a piece of apple and put it in her hand. She didn't eat it, just held it there.

"Nianhua, it's useless to lecture your dad with those grand principles," He Yushui said, taking a bite of her apple and chewing. "Your mom isn't unaware of what you're saying; she's just afraid. Aren't you afraid your mom is afraid?"

He Nianhua's lips moved slightly, but she didn't make a sound.

"Your dad went to war at sixteen, and your grandma cried for three days straight. On the fourth day, she stopped crying and started making shoe soles for him. Do you know why? Because she couldn't stop her." He Yushui threw the apple core into the trash can. "Your mom will try to stop you today, tomorrow, and even when you're seventeen next year and eighteen the year after, you'll still leave. Can't you ask her to stop you for a few less days?"

Qin Huairu turned her head to look at He Yushui. He Yushui didn't look at her; her eyes were fixed on He Nianhua.

He Nianhua was silent for a moment, then walked to Qin Huairu and squatted down. He placed his hands on his mother's knees, and Qin Huairu's body trembled.

"Mom, I'm not leaving tomorrow. I still need to go to high school, take the college entrance exam, and study my major. It will take at least six or seven years before I'm eligible to apply. In these six or seven years, if you feel that my grades in any subject are not good enough, my physical training is not sufficient, or my personality is not suitable for being an astronaut, just say the word, and I will immediately stop taking the exam."

Qin Huairu looked down at her son squatting in front of her, her lips trembling slightly, and finally she only managed to say one sentence: "Do you mean what you say?"

"Calculate."

Qin Huairu stuffed the crumpled apple into her mouth, chewed a few times, swallowed, stood up, and carried the fruit plate into the kitchen. The door wasn't closed tightly, leaving a crack. The tap was turned on, made a few splashing sounds, and then turned off.

He Yuzhu remained motionless. He watched his son stand up from the floor and watch He Yushui pick up the second piece of apple. The atmosphere in the living room gradually relaxed, like a rope twisted to its limit beginning to loosen.

"Nianhua, walk your own path. I don't care what you choose, but there's one thing—your grades can't drop. If you're not in the top ten of the grade in the final exam, don't mention this again." He Yuzhu stood up, walked up to He Nianhua, and patted his shoulder lightly, as if testing his sturdiness.

He Nianhua nodded vigorously, turned and ran upstairs. Her footsteps pounded, and she paused at the corner on the second floor, probably wanting to turn back and say something, but in the end she didn't, and ran straight into her room. The door closed.

Only He Yuzhu and He Yushui remained in the living room. He Yushui finished the second piece of apple, wiped her hands, and stood up.

"Brother, talk to your wife. I've talked to her for ages, but it's no use. One word from you is worth a hundred of mine."

"She listened to me for half her life and worried about me for half her life." He Yuzhu walked to the kitchen door and pushed it open. Qin Huairu stood in front of the sink, her hands on the countertop, her head down.

"Huai Ru".

"Don't try to stop me." Qin Huairu didn't turn around. "I know I can't stop you. I'm just feeling down for a little while, it'll be over soon."

He Yuzhu didn't say anything more, standing at the door, watching her back. The kitchen light bulb was a bit old, the light was yellowish, shining on the back of Qin Huairu's head, where a few white strands were mixed in with her hair.

She stood there for about a minute, then turned around. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying. "Go do your thing. I'll go check if Nianhua has finished her homework."

He Yuzhu stepped aside from the doorway, and Qin Huairu walked past him and went upstairs. Her footsteps on the stairs were very light, much lighter than He Nianhua's, as if she was afraid of crushing something.

He Yushui leaned back on the sofa, fiddling with a rag. "Brother, what are you planning to say to your wife?"

"I'm not going to say anything more. She's right, we can't stop her. I can't stop Nianhua either, and she can't stop me. It's pointless for the whole family to keep trying to stop each other."

"So you're just going to let her suffer alone?"

"She's not alone. Aren't I here?"

He Yushui paused for a moment, tossed the rag onto the coffee table, stood up, and stretched. "Alright, I'm going back inside. I won't interfere in your affairs. As for Nianhua, you know what's going on." She turned back at the door. "Brother, Nianhua is like you, but with a better temper. Your stubbornness when you were young could drive anyone crazy. At least Nianhua knows to kneel down and talk to his mother. You—"

Are you going back inside or not?

He Yushui smiled and left.

The living room fell silent. Suddenly, the phone on the table rang three times. He Yuzhu answered it.

"Dean, this is Lin Jianguo. The superconducting ring is installed, and the liquid helium has been poured in. Old Zhou from the Electrical Engineering Institute said all the joints have been tightened again, and the temperature has stabilized at 4.2 Kelvin for twenty hours without fluctuation." Lin Jianguo spoke breathlessly, as if he had just finished running. "The Fifth Academy asked what time you'll arrive for the experiment tomorrow?"

"Eight o'clock."

"Okay, I'll inform them."

After hanging up the phone, He Yuzhu sat back on the sofa without turning on the light. A bicycle passed by outside the window, its headlights flashing across the ceiling. He buried his face in his hands, his thumbs pressing against his temples. He was uncertain about tomorrow's experiment. Old Zhou had mentioned privately yesterday that the 3-meter ring connector was unstable during preloading in a 20-tesla magnetic field, requiring three attempts to tighten before it passed. Qian Zhiyuan's carbon nanotube wire uniformity was only 92%, three points short of the target. These thoughts weighed heavily on his mind, like a pile of unevenly stacked bricks, ready to collapse at any moment.

The sound of turning pages came from He Nianhua's room upstairs—very soft, but very frequent, like mice gnawing on something. The boy was reviewing high school physics, probably having read Newton's three laws of motion many times. Sixteen years old—he had plenty of energy.

He Yuzhu stood up, went into the study, and closed the door. He opened a drawer—actually, he secretly retrieved all the plan documents for tomorrow's experiment from the system space—and reviewed the parameters again. Twenty Teslas, three-meter rings, the first test run. Whether it succeeds or not, only heaven knows.