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

"Director He, the plan is ready. It's just... Sister Qin isn't quite agreeing."

Sun Xiuying stood in front of her desk, the stack of proposals in her hands crumpled at the edges. She opened her mouth twice, but only spoke on the third attempt.

He Yuzhu's pen stopped on the paper, ink spreading into a small blot. "What did she say?"

"She said the side effects were unclear, and people couldn't be used as guinea pigs."

He Yuzhu put down his pen and took the proposal from Sun Xiuying's hand. The cover was printed with "Huayuan No. 3 - Physiological Enhancement Program for Special Operations Personnel," and stamped with the red seals of North China Pharmaceutical Factory and Shanghai Pharmaceutical Group. He turned to the third page, which listed the core improvement parameters: the efficacy of the drug was extended from 72 hours to 120 hours, the injection dosage was reduced from 5 ml to 3 ml, three new anti-hypoxia cofactors were added, and the adaptability to high-altitude environments was marked as improved by 200%. He ran his finger under those lines of numbers, and the paper made a soft rustling sound.

"What about North China and Shanghai?"

"Zhao Deming from North China Pharmaceutical Factory said he could produce samples in eight months. Zhang Huizhong from Shanghai Pharmaceuticals Group said he could complete the formulation process in six months. Both companies were vying to do it."

He Yuzhu closed the proposal and tapped the cover lightly with his fingers. "Where will the volunteers for the human trials come from?"

Sun Xiuying pulled a list from her briefcase and handed it to He Yuzhu. He took it; the first name was Yang Xiaobing. The special forces had reported forty-two men, the border defense regiment over sixty, and the plateau rapid reaction force over one hundred. He put the list down, stood up, and walked to the window. The branches of the old locust tree outside the window rattled against the glass in the wind, one tap after another, like someone knocking on the door.

"Tell Zhao Deming and Zhang Huizhong that samples will be ready in eight months, and the Phase I clinical trial will be completed in twelve months. The special forces are waiting to be injected." He turned around, walked back to the table, picked up a pen, and signed his name on the last page of the protocol. The pen tip pierced the paper, and ink seeped out in a small dark blue stain below the signature.

Sun Xiuying took the proposal, flipped through it, looked at the signature smudged with ink, and hesitated for a moment. "Director He, Sister Qin said she wants to talk to you tonight."

"What are you talking about?"

She said, "Don't turn people into machines in order to win battles."

He Yuzhu didn't speak. Sun Xiuying stood there for a while, and seeing that he didn't react, she turned and left. The door closed behind her, and the footsteps in the corridor faded into the distance, finally being cut off by the iron door of the stairwell.

He Yuzhu didn't reach the courtyard gate until it was completely dark. The car was still running, the engine vibrations sending shivers down his spine from the seat. He looked through the windshield at the light shining from his own window; the warm yellow light seemed thin against the snow, as if it could be blown out by the wind at any moment. He sat in the car for a while, then turned off the engine and opened the door. The snow hit his face, sending a chill down his spine.

Qin Huairu had already prepared the meal. The food was laid out on the table, chopsticks resting on the rim of the bowls, all arranged neatly. He Nianhua wasn't there, so there were only two sets of chopsticks and bowls. He Yuzhu changed his shoes, walked to the table, sat down, and picked up his chopsticks.

Qin Huairu didn't touch her chopsticks. She picked up the proposal from her chair—she didn't know when she had gotten it from Sun Xiuying—and turned to page seventeen, pointing to a line of text on it with her finger.

"A nine-month long-term toxicity test on rats showed no organ damage. A six-month test on dogs also showed no abnormalities." She finished reading this and looked up at He Yuzhu. "Rats only live two or three years; nine months is more than half their lifespan. What about humans? What if problems arise ten or twenty years from now? Will you take responsibility?"

He Yuzhu put a piece of egg into his bowl, mixed it with the rice, chewed it a couple of times, and swallowed it. "So I don't force anyone. It's clearly written in the proposal, and I'll explain it three times before signing."

Qin Huairu slammed the proposal on the table, the paper making a crisp sound. "Aren't you afraid they're only signing up to curry favor with you?"

He Yuzhu's chopsticks froze in mid-air. He slowly put them down, placing them on the rim of the bowl, and looked at her.

"Yang Xiaobing was the first to sign. He had seen Soviet biological warfare soldiers running on the snow, faster than horses, and impenetrable by rifles. If you told him not to get the injections and to risk his life to protect them, would he be willing?"

Qin Huairu's lips moved a few times, but no sound came out. She lowered her head, her fingers stroking back and forth on the cover of the proposal, flattening the crease, then folding it up again, and flattening it again.

"Yuzhu, I'm not against No. 3. I'm worried that you'll ignore the side effects and sign the papers without your hand shaking. What if someone gets sick because of this drug in the future? You won't be able to sleep at night."

He Yuzhu finished the bowl of rice with egg, put it down, and wiped his mouth with a tissue. "So you're in charge of keeping an eye on things. You're a military doctor, you understand pharmacology, and you understand people. If you notice anything unusual during the experiment, stop it immediately without asking me."

Qin Huairu looked up, her eyes a little red. "If I stop the experiment, will you blame me?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He reached out, took the proposal from her hand, closed it, and placed it on the coffee table. Then, without withdrawing his hand, he left it resting on the cover of the proposal, his fingers slightly bent.

"Keep an eye on it. If it really comes to the point of calling a halt, we'll see if you're blamed then."

He Yuzhu was washing dishes in the kitchen. The tap was running, and the dish soap foam was piling up high. Qin Huairu sat in the living room without moving, flipping through the proposal document over and over, as if looking for some loophole.

The phone rang. He Yuzhu wiped his hands, walked back to the living room, and picked up the receiver.

"Dean He, it's done." Lin Jianguo's voice came from the other end, carrying the metallic quality characteristic of long-distance calls, but unable to suppress his excitement. "The miniaturization of the quantum communication prototype is complete. The height has been reduced from 1.8 meters to 0.6 meters, the weight from 340 kilograms to 18 kilograms, and the power consumption from 200 watts to 45 watts. Huang Shichang has doubled the coupling efficiency between the light source and the detector, and reduced the bit error rate from 3.7 percent to 1.2 percent."

He Yuzhu tightened his grip on the receiver. "When can it be loaded onto the ship?"

"Three months. Huang Shih-chang will conduct another round of environmental tests—vibration, high and low temperatures, vacuum—once they pass, they can be installed in the equipment compartment of the Kunlun."

"Tell him that there is a line printed on the outer shell: 'Yanhuang Project - Quantum Communication System'."

Lin Jianguo chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Dean He, are you saying quantum communication is doomed?"

"It's not 'GG,' it's a declaration. Every single component of what China makes hasn't been touched by foreigners."

The call ended. He Yuzhu stood beside the coffee table, still holding the receiver, not putting it back. Qin Huairu looked at him, closed the proposal, and placed it on her lap.

"Did it work?"

"It's done. Delivery will be in three months."

Qin Huairu stood up, stuffed the proposal into her handbag, and zipped it up. "Go upstairs and check on Nianhua. The child is asleep upstairs; the book isn't closed yet."

He Yuzhu went upstairs. The door to He Nianhua's room was ajar, and he pushed it open a crack. The child was asleep, slumped over the table, his face pressed against an open book, "Orbital Mechanics of Spacecraft," a small patch of pages damp with drool. The lamp was still on, the glass shade of the bulb hot to the touch. He turned off the lamp, pulled a blanket from the bed, and draped it over Nianhua.

He Nianhua stirred and mumbled something, but didn't wake up. He Yuzhu stood at the door for a few seconds, then gently closed the door and went back to his room.

Qin Huairu was already lying down, her back to him. He took off his coat, lay down next to her, and turned off his bedside lamp. The curtains weren't fully drawn, and the sunlight filtering through the gaps shone on the ceiling like a white river.

The phone on the table rang once and then went dead. That was the research institute's emergency code.

He Yuzhu sat up abruptly, his bare feet touching the cold cement floor. He listened to the now-faded ringtone in the darkness, his heart pounding so hard his ribs ached. Qin Huairu didn't move; her breathing was soft, it was unclear whether she was asleep or awake.