He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The school bell had just rung when the children, like birds released from their cages, poured out of the school, their cheerful laughter filling the alley. Xu Xiuli stood under the old locust tree at the school gate, clutching a blue cloth bag tightly in her hand, her knuckles turning white.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the locust tree leaves, casting dappled patterns on her light blue Lenin suit. She occasionally looked up towards the alley entrance, the ribbon at the end of her braid swaying gently in the breeze like a butterfly perched on her shoulder.

"Teacher Xu, aren't you leaving yet?" Colleague Teacher Li, pushing her bicycle past, jokingly asked, "Waiting for someone?"

Xu Xiuli's face flushed red, and she lowered her head and whispered, "Um, waiting for... an old classmate."

Teacher Li smiled knowingly and didn't ask any more questions. Over the years, everyone in the school knew that Teacher Xu had someone on her mind—He Yuyang, the volunteer soldier who went to the front lines. When the news of He Yuyang's "sacrifice" came, Xu Xiuli locked herself in her office and cried for an entire afternoon, her eyes swollen like peaches. The next day, she still stood on the podium on time, but the smile on her face was much fainter.

Familiar footsteps echoed from the alley entrance, unhurried yet treading on Xu Xiuli's heart. She looked up abruptly and saw He Yuyang, dressed in a faded military uniform and carrying a canvas bag, walking towards her. He was thinner than when he first returned, but even more upright. The sunlight shone on his face, highlighting the scar that stretched from his brow bone to his cheekbone—a medal from the battlefield.

He Yuyang saw her too, paused for a moment, then quickened his pace, a gentle smile on his face. These past few days he'd been busy spending time with his mother and canceling his "martyr" registration at the neighborhood office, and hadn't had a proper chance to talk to her. But Yushui kept saying, "Teacher Xu is definitely waiting for you," which warmed his heart while also making him feel uneasy.

"Have you been waiting long?" He walked up to her, his voice a hundred times gentler than it had been on the battlefield.

"No, I just got out of school." Xu Xiuli handed over the blue cloth bag, her fingers trembling slightly. "It's for you."

The cloth bag was tied with thin hemp rope in her best bow. He Yuyang took it; it felt heavy in her hand. After untying the rope, she saw a leather-bound notebook inside, its edges worn and rough, clearly indicating it had been used for a long time.

"This is..." He opened the notebook and froze instantly.

The room was covered with newspaper clippings, one after another, neatly glued together with almost no gaps. The newspapers were dated from 1950 to 1953, including the People's Daily, the Beijing Evening News, and even a few local tabloids, all about the Chinese People's Volunteer Army—frontline battle reports, heroic deeds, and sketches of soldiers' lives on the battlefield.

Next to each clipping was the date written in delicate small handwriting, and some were marked with place names he knew all too well, such as "Shangganling," "Changjin Lake," and "38th Parallel." Turning to a few pages in the middle, there was a report on the victory of a blocking battle by a certain unit of the Chinese People's Volunteer Army. Next to the title was a small five-pointed star, and the ink was a little smudged, as if it had been wetted.

"These past few years... I've been saving them up whenever I have free time." Xu Xiuli's voice was barely audible as she stared at the tips of her shoes. "I know you're definitely in there. Every time I see these, I feel... you're not that far away."

He Yuyang's fingers traced the yellowed newspapers, his fingertips feeling the fine wrinkles on the paper. He could almost see Xu Xiuli carefully clipping and pasting newspapers under the lamp every night—perhaps after grading homework, or perhaps after putting a sick student to sleep, as she gently pressed her concern for him onto these thin pages.

Turning to the last page, there was a faded photograph. It was taken at the entrance of Nanluoguxiang before he joined the army, wearing a brand-new military uniform with a big red flower on his chest, and standing next to him was Xu Xiuli, who had a shy smile. In the photo, he still looked a bit naive, and his eyes were full of anticipation for the future.

"This photo..." His voice choked with emotion.

"This photo was taken when I saw you off that day, you forgot?" Xu Xiuli looked up, her eyes sparkling. "I've kept it all this time, and I take it out to look at it whenever I miss you."

He Yuyang closed the book and hugged it tightly to his chest, as if holding the most precious treasure in the world. Over the past few years on the battlefield, he had wondered countless times if anyone back home still cared about him. When he lost his memory in the snow and huddled on the kang (heated brick bed) at Grandpa Pu's house for warmth; when he ate frozen cornbread on the front lines; when he charged towards the enemy with his gun, what sustained him, besides his longing for his family, was the smiling face of the girl before him.

"Xiuli," he called her name, his voice low and solemn, "I also have something for you."

He untied the canvas bag and took out something wrapped in red silk. He unfolded it layer by layer, revealing a pebble the size of a palm. The stone was polished to an exceptionally smooth surface, pure white, with a few natural dark lines on it, like stars scattered in the night sky.

"This is..." Xu Xiuli took it curiously, weighed it in her palm, and felt the cool touch coming from her fingertips.

"I found it in the snow in North Korea." He Yuyang looked at her, his eyes shining brighter than the gunfire on the battlefield. "That day, after a battle, we were resting in the snow when I saw this stone frozen in the ice. I thought it was pretty, so I dug it out. Look at the patterns on it, don't they look like the stars you taught the children to draw?"

Xu Xiuli leaned closer to take a closer look, and sure enough, those few crooked ink lines looked just like the five-pointed stars she taught the children to draw on the blackboard, only more scattered, like starlight blown away by the wind. She remembered that she always told her students, "The stars in the sky are transformed from the sacrificed heroes, and they are watching over us." Every time she said this, she was thinking of him.

"It's like it." She nodded vigorously, her eyes reddening. "It really is like it."

"I've been keeping this for a long time." He Yuyang's lips curled into a faint smile, a smile as warm as the spring sun, revealing a row of neat, snow-white teeth. "Ever since I found this stone, I've carried it with me at all times, whether on marches or in battle! Especially during combat, I'd keep it in the safest and most concealed place in my backpack. Because I always had one thing on my mind—when I returned victorious, I wanted to personally present this stone to you!"

However, there was one thing he didn't say aloud: during those three months of amnesia, although everything else had gradually faded from the depths of his mind, this small stone remained intact, never discarded. Perhaps it was because of this deep attachment? Whenever he held it tightly, a strange sense of peace and belonging would well up within him; it was as if as long as he held such an object of longing in his hand, he would feel exceptionally grounded… Until the moment he finally regained his memories, the first image that jumped into his mind was not anyone else, but his dearest family members, and then the stone and the question of who he should give it to!

At that moment, Xu Xiuli unhesitatingly stretched out her hands and gripped the stone tightly, as if afraid it would disappear if she let go. The icy coldness traveled through her palms, yet for some reason, she felt a warm current flowing steadily into her heart. Gradually, the originally icy stone seemed to undergo a miraculous change, slowly warming up from the heat emanating from her palms!

At this moment, all the memories she had shared with He Yuyang flashed before her eyes like scenes from a movie: she recalled the time they stood together under a blanket of snow, witnessing He Yuyang's focused expression as he intently dug for stones; she remembered the heartwarming scene of him gently tucking the precious stone he had finally found into his bosom, melting it with his body heat; and she couldn't forget his unwavering determination and fearless courage in protecting that stone during that harrowing gunfight, treasuring it as a priceless gem... Overwhelmed by these thoughts, tears finally streamed down her cheeks, unable to be held back any longer...

"Are you stupid?" She sniffed, laughing through her tears, "In such a dangerous place, you're still thinking about picking up stones."

"I'm not stupid." He Yuyang looked at her, his eyes so tender they could melt your heart. "Thinking about being able to come back and see you soon makes everything less bitter."

The alley gradually quieted down as the children went home, leaving only the rustling of locust tree leaves in the wind. In the distance, the smell of cooking smoke drifted from someone's house, mingling with the faint fragrance of locust blossoms, creating a sweet aroma in the air.

Xu Xiuli took a piece of fruit candy out of her pocket, unwrapped it, and handed it to him: "It was given to me by a student's parent. It's orange-flavored. Try it."

He Yuyang took it and put it in his mouth. The sweet taste spread on his tongue, sweeter than any supplies he had found in his space. He remembered that before he left, under this same locust tree, Xu Xiuli had given him a piece of the same candy, saying, "If you eat something sweet, you won't miss home."

"These past few years, Yushui has been so grateful for your care," he said. Yushui had told him more than once that Teacher Xu always tutored her and even saved her own food rations to buy her notebooks, treating her better than an older sister.

"Of course." Xu Xiuli shook her head, then, as if remembering something, took out a small rag doll from her bag. "This is for Yushui. I sewed it a few days ago. Doesn't it look like the little white rabbit she always talks about?"

The doll was pieced together from scraps of fabric; it had a white body, red eyes, and fine stitches, clearly showing how much effort had been put into its creation. He Yuyang took it, imagining Yushui's joyful expression upon receiving it, and felt a warm glow in her heart.

"By the way, the school is holding a 'Hero Storytelling Session' next week, and we'd like to invite you to tell the children about the front lines." Xu Xiuli looked at him with anticipation in her eyes. "The children all admire the volunteer soldiers very much."

"Great!" He Yuyang readily agreed. "It'll let them know that our good life now is hard-won."

He recalled the children he had seen in North Korea, some who had lost their homes, others who had lost their families, their eyes always filled with timid fear. But these children before him could run in the sunshine, sit in classrooms and read, and sing loudly, "We are the successors of communism"—this was precisely what they had risked their lives to protect on the front lines.

"Then I'll pick you up next Monday?" Xu Xiuli's eyes lit up, as if they were filled with starlight.

"No need to pick me up, I can go by myself." He Yuyang smiled, "It'll be a good opportunity to see you teaching."

Xu Xiuli's face flushed again, and she lowered her head, softly humming in agreement. The two stood under the locust tree, speechless for a moment, neither intending to leave. The sunlight slowly slanted westward, casting long shadows of them, close together.

"I should go back now, my mother is waiting for me to eat," He Yuyang said first, though she felt a little reluctant to leave.

"Okay, go back now." Xu Xiuli nodded and pushed the notebook containing the clippings into his arms. "Keep this safe, it's all... all my memories."

He Yuyang put the notebook and the stone into his canvas bag, and carefully tucked the little white rabbit doll into his arms. He looked at Xu Xiuli and suddenly remembered the scene when he was carving a statue in North Korea—at that time, he was always afraid that he would not be able to carve her like a real statue, and he recalled her eyebrows and eyes, the dimples at the corners of her mouth when she smiled. Now he realized that no matter how realistic the statue was, it could not be even one ten-thousandth as vivid as the person in front of him.

"Xiuli," he called her name, his tone incredibly earnest, "After I'm done with this busy period, I'll treat you to boating at Beihai Park, okay?"

Xu Xiuli suddenly raised her head, her eyes filled with surprise, and then nodded vigorously, her cheeks as red as ripe apples: "Okay."

He Yuyang smiled and turned to walk deeper into the alley. After a few steps, he looked back. Xu Xiuli was still standing under the locust tree, watching him. When she saw him turn around, she quickly turned away, her face flushed, but her shoulders trembled slightly, as if she was secretly laughing.

He felt as if he had a warm steamed bun just taken out of his spatial dimension, warm and cozy inside. He looked down and touched the notebook in his canvas bag, as if he could still feel the warmth left on it—it contained Xu Xiuli's sentiments over the past few years, three years late, but more precious than ever before.

When they returned to the courtyard, He Yuzhu was teaching his disciples "Taizu Changquan" at the martial arts school. His shouts shook the ivy on the courtyard wall. Liu Yan was sitting on a bamboo chair by the door, basking in the sun. Her complexion was much better than a few days ago. She was talking to Yang Shi and sewing shoe soles. Her stitches were much more steady than before.

"Brother, you're back!" Yu Shui ran out of the house, holding a red ribbon in her hand. "Teacher Xu said she would tie a red scarf for me. Look, did I fold it correctly?"

He Yuyang squatted down and helped his sister fold the red silk neatly, feeling a sudden sense of peace. The smoke of war had dissipated, his family was by his side, his lover was waiting for him, and life, like the old locust tree at the gate of the courtyard, stretched its branches and leaves under the sun, full of vitality.

He pulled the little white rabbit doll from his pocket and handed it to Yu Shui: "Look who brought you a gift!"

Yu Shui cheered and took it, hugging and kissing it repeatedly, saying in a childish voice, "It must have been Teacher Xu who made it! Teacher Xu is the best!"

Looking at his sister's radiant smile, He Yuyang recalled Xu Xiuli's blushing face under the locust tree, and a slight smile crept onto his lips. He knew that the time lost on the battlefield, the belated sentiments, would be gradually filled in the days to come—with the aroma of morning porridge, the chirping of cicadas at dusk, the laughter of children, and the companionship of those around him.

The notebook in his canvas bag poked him, and he reached out to touch it, as if he could still feel the warmth of the clippings. This belated sentiment, like a seed buried in the snow, had survived the coldest winter and finally sprouted tender green shoots in the spring.

But his and her story has only just begun.