He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

Spring in 1977 brought a refreshing coolness that cleansed the soul. The March wind swept away the remaining snow, and clusters of new green sprouted at the base of the walls of the military family compound. Wild shepherd's purse, topped with tender yellow flowers, pushed up the frozen soil, creating tiny holes. The peach tree in He Yuyang's family's yard sprouted new buds, and the brownish-red branches were adorned with tiny flower buds, like scattered jade, trembling precariously in the chilly wind.

That morning at breakfast, He Shouye was munching on a cornbread when he suddenly slammed his chopsticks on the table: "Dad, Mom, I want to go to university!"

Crumbs from the corn tortilla splattered on the table. Xiaoxuan reached out to grab them, but Xu Xiuli slapped her hand away. "Why are you suddenly bringing this up?" Xu Xiuli ladled him a bowl of millet porridge, a few lotus seeds from her spatial dimension floating in it. "Didn't you say you wanted to learn machine tools from Engineer Zhou?"

"Uncle Zhou said," He Shouye's eyes shone like spring water, "that going to university will allow us to learn more advanced technologies, so that we can build our own precision machine tools in the future." He pulled a crumpled newspaper from his bag, the front page bearing the bold words "Resumption of the Higher Education Entrance Examination," its edges frayed from his rubbing. "The radio also said that it's based on merit, not on family background!"

He Yuyang put down his bowl of porridge, his fingertips tapping lightly on the table. He thought of his regret at not being able to go to university when he was young, and then looked at the light in Shouye's eyes—a thirst for knowledge, like a peach tree's new bud breaking through the frozen soil, an unstoppable force. "If you want to take the exam, then take it," he suddenly said, his voice steady, "Dad supports you."

Xu Xiuli quickly put a piece of cured meat into Shouye's bowl. It was cured with pork from her spatial storage, and it was salty and flavorful: "Eat more, it'll help your brain. Do you need any review materials? I'll go find them for you."

"I have the materials." He Yuyang got up and walked towards the side room, where he found piles of old books he had "borrowed" from the army warehouse. Actually, he had found them in his spatial storage last night—several stacks of yellowed textbooks, from high school math, physics, and chemistry to university basic courses, along with a few blue-covered notebooks with neat handwriting, bookmarks soaked in spiritual spring water, and the pages still carrying a fresh, grassy scent. "These were left by an old comrade-in-arms. He didn't have time to take the university entrance exam and asked me to give them to children in need."

He Shouye held the textbook, his fingers tracing the blurred name on the title page, when he suddenly felt a heavy weight on his shoulders. "Dad, I will definitely pass the exam!" He opened the notebook; the formula derivations were clear and concise, and the difficult points were marked in red pen, even more thoroughly than the teacher's explanation. He didn't know that these were actually the lesson preparation notes of a physics professor in the space, which He Yuyang had "borrowed" for his son.

The news spread like wildfire throughout the residential compound. When Aunt Zhang came to deliver the sewn school uniform, she specially gave Shouye two boiled eggs: "This child is promising! He'll get into university and bring honor to our compound!" Staff Officer Wang's wife brought over her own child's old textbooks, saying, "It's never a bad thing to look at them more."

He Shouye buried himself in books, going to school during the day and studying late into the night by the light of a kerosene lamp. Xu Xiuli was afraid that he would ruin his health by staying up too late, so every night before bed she would bring him a bowl of white fungus soup from her space, so thick that it could stick to the spoon; Xiao Hu would move a small stool and sit next to him, either grinding his copper plates or helping Shouye sharpen pencils. The two did not speak, but there was an indescribable tacit understanding between them.

Not long after, Zhou Mingyuan arrived, leaning on a cane. The old man's leg wasn't fully healed, but he was in good spirits, carrying a wooden box. "Shouye, I brought you some good things." He opened the box; inside were gears, springs, and lenses. "I've been exonerated, and I'm leading a 'science and technology group.' You should lend a hand."

It turned out that after Zhou Mingyuan was rehabilitated, he was invited by the Science and Technology Commission to lead a research project, specializing in the improvement of civilian machinery. Remembering his talent for maintaining the family business, he specially applied to have this boy join the project, saying that it would allow him to "experience the university atmosphere in advance."

"Can I do it?" He Shouye looked at those precision parts and felt a little apprehensive.

"Why not?" Zhou Mingyuan tapped him on the head. "Your machine tool drawings are even neater than those of my students back then. It's just that you're missing a suitable tool—my tool set was buried in the earthquake, and the supply and marketing cooperative doesn't have any new ones."

He Yuyang listened from the side, and an idea formed in his mind. That night, he went into the space and selected a set of miniature tools from the laboratory: a vernier caliper with a scale accurate to the millimeter, a screwdriver tip smaller than a fingernail, and a miniature bench vise made of an alloy unique to the space, lightweight yet sturdy. He packed the tools into an old canvas bag and handed it to Shouye the next day: "A gift from an old comrade-in-arms, you can take it."

Shouye took his tools to the science group and, under Zhou Mingyuan's guidance, built an experimental model. The tools proved invaluable; the vernier calipers were incredibly accurate when adjusting gear clearances, and the small screwdriver tightened quickly and steadily when fixing lenses. The other group members were envious: "Shouye, where did you buy those tools? They're amazing!"

"It was given to me by my dad's old comrade-in-arms," ​​Shouye said with a smile, but he knew in his heart that his father must have taken it from his spatial storage. He worked even harder, making models quickly and well. Zhou Mingyuan praised him to everyone he met, saying, "This kid has the makings of a scientific researcher!"

Days passed like peach blossoms in the yard, blooming on the branches without anyone noticing. Pink and white petals drifted down onto the pages of books, tools, and even onto Xiao Hu's increasingly cheerful face. The child was still not very talkative, but he would take the initiative to help Xu Xiuli feed the chickens, help He Yuanchao chop firewood, and even quietly hand him a piece of hawthorn cake from his spatial storage while Shouye was doing his homework. It was so sour that it made people wince, but it was refreshing.

That evening, Xiao Hu squatted under the peach tree, drawing something on the ground with a twig. Shouye went over to look and found that he had drawn a lush peach tree with several people standing under it: the tall one looked like his father, the one wearing an apron looked like his mother, the eldest brother was carrying a gun, Xiaoxuan was holding a red ribbon, he was holding a book, and there was a small figure standing next to him, clutching a piece of copper.

"That's a really good drawing." Shouye patted his head.

Little Tiger lowered his head, scratched the ground with a twig, and said in a muffled voice, "I'm leaving."

Shouye was stunned.

It turned out that Xiaohu's distant uncle in Tangshan had found out about him and came to take him back. The uncle was a carpenter and said he would teach Xiaohu the craft so that he could have a livelihood in the future.

"When are you leaving?" Shouye's voice was a little hoarse.

"First thing tomorrow morning." Xiao Hu pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to him. "This is for you."

It was a drawing on a cigarette box, just like the one on the ground, only more clearly drawn with charcoal. Two crooked words were written on a peach tree branch: Thank you.

During dinner, Xiao Hu didn't say much, but kept putting food on He Yuyang and Xu Xiuli's plates. Xu Xiuli packed a bag of roasted peanuts from her space for him, and then folded the sheepskin vest and put it in his bag: "Wear this when it gets cold, don't get cold." He Yuyang gave him a fruit knife, which was made of stainless steel from her space, saying, "You'll need it when you learn a skill from your uncle."

That night, Shouye and Xiaohu squeezed together on the kang (a heated brick bed), neither of them sleeping. "I'll write to you when I get there," Xiaohu whispered, "about what skills I've learned."

"I'll write it for you too," Shouye said. "Write down how many points I got on the test, and whether the science group's model was completed or not."

The peach blossoms outside the window had fallen to the ground, like a layer of powdery snow. Moonlight shone through the window, casting soft shadows on their faces, like a quiet painting.

The next morning, before dawn, Xiao Hu's uncle arrived in his donkey cart. Xiao Hu, carrying his bag, walked to the peach tree and touched the "Peace" wooden plaque on the trunk one last time. The red paint on the plaque had faded a bit from the rain, but it was still very noticeable.

"Father, Mother, I'm leaving." He bowed to He Yuyang and Xu Xiuli, then waved to Shouye, Yuanchao, and Xiaoxuan. "Goodbye, Brother, Sister."

The donkey cart rumbled out of the courtyard gate. Little Tiger sat on the cart and looked back several times until he could no longer see the peach tree. Then he buried his face in the sheepskin vest in his arms—it still held the warmth of the stove at home.

Xiaoxuan sobbed in Xu Xiuli's arms, "Will Brother Xiaohu come back?"

"Yes, he will," Xu Xiuli said, stroking her daughter's head and looking at the peach tree. "He might come back when the peach blossoms bloom again."

He Shouye carefully tucked the drawing into his textbook. The edges of the paper were stained with the pink of peach petals, like a stamp that would never fade. He looked up at the window, where sunlight fell perfectly on the peach tree. The newly sprouted branches were a vibrant green, and he could almost hear the sound of the new buds breaking through the soil.

He Yuyang stood in the courtyard, watching Shouye's back as he buried himself in his studies, and looking at the experimental model brought back by the science team—the model was exquisitely made, the gears meshing perfectly when it turned, like a miniature miracle. He suddenly felt that this spring had not only brought out the peach blossoms, but also awakened many dormant hopes, just like the family's life, just like this land, all holding back a strong will to grow better.

A breeze rustled through the peach branches, carrying the sweet fragrance of blossoms, and made the pages of the book rustle. Shouye looked up and suddenly the formulas in the book became clear, like the road ahead—rough and bumpy, yet leading to a bright future. He gripped his pen and wrote on the draft paper: Goal—University. The pen tip traced a determined line across the paper, like planting a full seed in the spring soil.