He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The autumn heat of 1976 was fiercer than in previous years; the August nights were as sultry as a sealed jar. The cicadas in the military family compound chirped their long, drawn-out songs, making the air even thicker. Only the peach tree in He Yuyang's yard stood out indistinctly, its leaves still damp with well water from the evening watering. Occasionally, a drop of water would drip down, leaving a dark mark on the stone pavement.

He Yuyang had just finished revising the training summary under the lamp when his pen cap clicked shut. Suddenly, a muffled clap of thunder rolled across the window. It wasn't the crisp, clear thunder of summer, but a deep, resounding boom like a boulder hitting the ground, making the windowpane vibrate. He frowned, got up, and opened the window—the night sky was pitch black, without a single star, only the searchlights of the distant factory flickering in the clouds, casting pale streaks of light.

"This thunder is giving me the creeps." Xu Xiuli walked in carrying a plate of sliced ​​watermelon. The flesh was a bright red, a late-ripening variety stored in her spatial cellar, so sweet it could stick to your lips. She placed the plate on the table, then suddenly felt her feet sway, as if she were walking on cotton. "What's going on?"

Before the words were even finished, another violent shaking occurred! The ink bottle on the table crashed to the ground with a "bang," splashing ink all over the table; the family photo on the wall swayed violently, the corner of the frame hitting the brick wall with a dull thud; the peach tree in the yard shook violently, its branches and leaves clattering together as if crying out.

"Earthquake!" He Yuyang reacted quickly, pulling Xu Xiuli under the table and rushing out to bring Xiaoxuan, who was sleeping in the east room, to his side. He Shouye and He Yuanchao also ran out of their rooms, their faces pale, clinging to the doorframes: "Dad! What happened?"

The shaking lasted for a full half minute before stopping, and outside the window, chaos reigned. Dogs in the family compound barked incessantly, and someone shouted "Run!" in the alley. Flashlight beams swept haphazardly in the darkness like a swarm of startled fireflies. He Yuyang, his military trousers stained with ink, stood up, leaning against the doorframe, but his voice remained steady: "Don't panic! Shouye, go check on Aunt Zhang and the others. Yuanchao, move the water tank in the yard to an open area. Xiuli, pack some dry rations and water. I'm going to the army!"

He had just rushed out of the courtyard gate when he bumped into Staff Officer Wang, who was running towards him with his trousers pulled up and his military cap askew: "Deputy Commander! All the landline phones are down! Chief of Staff Li wants you to go to command post immediately!"

The military compound was brightly lit, the beeping of the radio piercing the night. Chief of Staff Li stood before a map, his brow furrowed. "Just received news: Tangshan! A massive earthquake in Tangshan!" He pointed to the red dot on the map. "The tremors have been felt throughout North China; the damage is estimated to be severe! Headquarters has ordered us to immediately organize a rescue team and depart at dawn!"

"I'll lead the team!" He Yuyang stepped forward, his military boots stomping on the ground. "I'm well-versed in wilderness rescue, and we have enough space...and supplies." He almost let slip the word "space," but quickly swallowed it and replaced it with "emergency supplies in the military warehouse."

Chief of Staff Li patted him on the shoulder: "I've been waiting for you to say that! I'll give you a company of soldiers, plus thirty trucks, load up as many supplies as you can!" He paused, his voice turning serious, "Remember, bring plenty of medicine, food, and tents. They're probably lacking everything over there..."

He Yuyang accepted the order and turned to run towards the warehouse by the moonlight. As he passed the family compound, he saw Xu Xiuli directing the neighbors to move things to the open space. Aunt Zhang was carrying a large bundle containing a newly sewn cotton coat, muttering, "We can't afford to shake it again." His heart warmed, but he didn't stop—this was not the time for sentimentality.

The iron gate of the warehouse was pulled open, the creaking sound particularly jarring in the night. He Yuyang said to the sentry on duty, "Open warehouse number three and load the trucks according to the emergency list!" While the sentry turned to get the keys, he had a thought, and the supplies in his space poured out like water: boxes of compressed biscuits piled up like small mountains, made from space wheat, with a shelf life three times longer than ordinary biscuits; bundles of tent fabric gleamed with moisture-proof oil, actually a specially made waterproof fabric from his space; and there were also boxes of medicine, penicillin, hemostatic powder, bandages... At the bottom were several boxes of anti-inflammatory drugs developed by his space, five times more effective than ordinary medicines.

"Vice Commander, isn't this a bit too much?" The sentry counted the boxes, scratching his head. "We don't usually have this much."

"These are combat supplies that were just transferred over a while ago," He Yuyang said calmly, closing the lid of the container. "Hurry up and load them onto the truck, don't waste time!"

As dawn broke, thirty trucks were already lined up on the parade ground. He Yuyang, dressed in his training uniform with a gun at his waist, was inspecting each vehicle. Suddenly, he saw Xu Xiuli running over with a cloth bag, stray hairs sticking to her sweat-dampened face. "I packed you some food, and this too." She handed him a small notebook with instructions on how to use various medicines from his spatial storage. "Those boxes of special anti-inflammatory drugs are only for seriously wounded soldiers. Don't let anyone notice."

"I understand." He Yuyang took the cloth bag, his fingertips touching the calluses on her palms—the result of years of needlework. He wanted to say "Don't worry," but then he saw Xiaoxuan peek out from behind Xu Xiuli, holding a pair of tiger-head shoes in her hand, the very pair Aunt Zhang had made for her last year.

"Dad, please take this to the children in the disaster area." Xiaoxuan's eyes were red, as if she had been crying. "The teacher said they might not have any shoes to wear."

He Yuyang felt a pang of sadness and took the tiger-head shoes. The tiger eyes on the shoes were nailed with black cloth, and they still gleamed. He squatted down and patted his daughter's head: "Daddy will definitely deliver them. You stay home, listen to your mother, and take good care of Grandma."

As the truck convoy departed, the residents of the family compound came to see them off. Aunt Zhang stuffed a bag of roasted peanuts into the cab, Sister Li handed over a few steamed buns, and Staff Officer Wang's wife, holding her newborn baby, said, "May this bring peace to the children." Xu Xiuli stood at the very front, watching the convoy kick up dust until it disappeared from sight, before turning to the others and saying, "We can't just sit idly by. Let's set up a soup kitchen; maybe some disaster-stricken people will be evacuated here."

Over the next few days, Baoding City was bustling with activity. Xu Xiuli led the women in her sewing group to set up a shed in an open space, He Shouye and He Yuanchao went to the grain station to help move grain, and Aunt Zhang mobilized the women in the family compound to cook. Every day, Xu Xiuli added some millet from her space to the porridge. The grains were plump, and the porridge was thick and fragrant. One bowl could keep you full for most of the day.

That afternoon, a woman carrying a child came to the soup kitchen. Her clothes were covered in mud, and the child's little feet were covered in blisters. "Sister, please have some soup," the woman said in a hoarse voice. "We escaped from Tangshan, and the child hasn't eaten properly for three days."

Xu Xiuli quickly scooped up a bowl of thick porridge and found Xiaoxuan's tiger-head shoes: "Put these on the child, the ground is cold." Looking at the child's feet, which were turning purple from the cold, she felt as if her heart was being pricked by needles—did He Yuyang also see many children like this in the disaster area?

The woman thanked them profusely, finished her porridge while holding her child, and said she was going to stay with relatives. Watching them leave, Xiaoxuan suddenly said, "Mom, I'll donate my flowery dress too. That little girl doesn't seem to have any new clothes."

Xu Xiuli hugged her daughter tightly, her eyes welling up with tears. She looked up at the north; the sky there must still be gray, right?

At this moment, Tangshan was shrouded in an atmosphere of mixed sorrow and hope. He Yuyang and his rescue team had been fighting here for three days and three nights. His hands were cut by steel bars, his military uniform was covered in blood, and his eyes were bloodshot. He directed his soldiers to use hydraulic shears from his spatial storage to cut the collapsed beams, and to treat the wounded with specially made anti-inflammatory medicine. When he was tired, he would lean against the truck and take a nap, muttering, "Dig quickly, there are still people down there."

"Lieutenant Commander! Signs of life detected over here!" a soldier shouted from the ruins.

He Yuyang immediately rushed over and lay down on the crack to listen—a faint, rhythmic, and persistent knocking sound came from below. "Quick! Use the jacks to hold it up!" He directed the soldiers to clear away the rubble, while he himself squeezed into the narrow crevice, clutching a bottle of spiritual spring water in his hand.

Deep within the crevice, an elderly man with white hair was trapped under a precast concrete slab, his right leg crushed and bleeding, yet he clutched a tin box tightly in his hand. "Old comrade! Hang in there!" He Yuyang handed him some spiritual spring water. "Drink some water first!"

The old man's cloudy eyes brightened, he took two sips, and said in a hoarse voice, "Comrade... I'm an engineer at the machine tool factory... This box contains blueprints... We can't lose it..."

"Don't worry, neither the blueprints nor you will be lost!" He Yuyang instructed the soldiers to carefully lift the precast slab while he carried the old man out. The old man's legs were necrotic, but he didn't utter a sound, only tightly clutching the tin box as if it were a priceless treasure.

As he put the elderly man into the ambulance, he suddenly grabbed He Yuyang's hand: "Comrade... what's your name? I have to remember you."

"My name is He Yuyang." He wiped the sweat from his face. "Please rest assured and recover. We will hand over the blueprints to the relevant departments."

The old man nodded, then suddenly looked behind him: "Is that... your son?"

He Yuyang turned around and saw He Shouye, who had arrived at some point, helping the soldiers carry a stretcher. His face was covered in dust, but his eyes were bright. The boy had secretly followed them, saying, "If Dad can save people, I can lend a hand too."

"That's my son, his name is Shouye."

"A good name," the old man smiled, revealing his few remaining teeth. "My name is Zhou Mingyuan. If I survive... I'd like to teach this child some skills." He shook the tin box in his hand. "These blueprints... someone has to keep working on them."

He Yuyang's heart skipped a beat, and he was about to say something when cries for help came from afar again. He patted Zhou Mingyuan's hand: "Wait for us, we will definitely get you out!" He turned around and rushed back into the ruins.

The setting sun dyed the ruins blood red. He Yuyang stood on a pile of rubble, watching the tents erected by the soldiers stretch out like an oasis in the desert. Medical teams were bandaging the wounded, cooks were preparing porridge, and children were chasing each other among the tents, holding tiger-head shoes donated by Xiaoxuan—it was unclear who had left the shoes there.

He took out the small notebook Xu Xiuli had given him and flipped through it in the last bit of daylight. Suddenly, he felt that although this disaster had torn the earth apart, it had also brought people's hearts closer together. Just like that peach tree in the family compound, even after experiencing wind and rain, as long as the roots are still there, it can always sprout new buds.

At night, He Yuyang sat in the truck cab, writing a reply to Xu Xiuli. His pen traced across the paper, writing, "All is well, don't worry," followed by, "Shouye has grown up." Gazing at the lights of the relief tents in the distance, he suddenly remembered Xu Xiuli's words: "Even in the darkest night, there are lights on."

At this moment, the soup kitchen in Baoding was still lit. Xu Xiuli was serving the last disaster victim porridge; the steaming millet porridge in the pot made her face feel warm. Aunt Zhang leaned over and said, "Sister, when do you think Old He and the others will be back?"

Xu Xiuli looked north and smiled: "It'll be soon. Look at the sky, it'll clear up soon."

In the night sky, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, revealing a few scattered stars. It was as if a breeze was blowing, carrying the scent of distant lands and the hope of rebirth.