He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The summer of 1977 was unbearably hot. The July sun scorched Baoding City, making it smolder. The cement ground of the military family compound was so hot that you could bake a pancake on it. Only the peach tree in He Yuyang's family spread its lush green canopy, casting half of the courtyard under its shade. The dew on the leaves, shining like crushed diamonds in the sunlight, rolled onto the bluestone slabs, leaving small wet marks.

On the day of the college entrance examination, before dawn, Xu Xiuli was already busy at the stove. Lotus seed porridge simmered in a clay pot, and two hard-boiled eggs sat in a white porcelain bowl, their whites as tender as tofu—cooked with spiritual spring water from her spatial storage, said to have calming properties. She poured the porridge into a thermos and added a piece of lemon pickled in her spatial honey; the tangy aroma mingled with the lotus fragrance, spreading through the sweltering air.

"Mom, I'm not nervous." He Shouye was wearing a faded blue cotton jacket with the cuffs rolled up neatly. He was clutching a canvas bag in his hand, which contained the fountain pen given by Zhou Mingyuan and the eraser given by He Yuyang. Although he said he wasn't nervous, his ears were as red as ripe cherries, and his fingertips had pinched several white marks on the bag strap.

"Don't be nervous," Xu Xiuli straightened his collar and handed him the thermos. "Don't run around after the exam. Dad will be waiting for you outside the exam hall. Drink this porridge while it's hot to cool down." She had deliberately hidden a mint leaf from her spatial storage at the bottom of the thermos, so the porridge would have a cool and refreshing aftertaste that could help suppress the summer heat.

He Yuyang had already changed into a crisp military uniform, his cap pulled low to conceal the concern in his eyes. He patted Shouye on the shoulder, his military boots making a steady thud on the ground: "Remember what your father said, don't be careless with the questions you know, and don't get bogged down in the ones you don't know. No matter how you do on the test, your father won't blame you." He had a small metal box in his uniform pocket containing cooling balm from his spatial storage space. The balm was bright green and had a strong, pungent smell; it was specially prepared for people suffering from heatstroke.

The exam was held at the local middle school, where a long queue had already formed. Most of the examinees wore patched clothes, clutching textbooks with tattered edges, their young faces a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He Shouye followed the flow of people inside, but when he reached the school gate, he suddenly turned back and saw his father standing under the big locust tree, his military green figure standing out conspicuously among the throng of people, like a guiding star.

He Yuyang waved to him and turned to move towards a more shady spot. A number of parents had already gathered under the tree; some were craning their necks to look inside, some were encouraging each other, and one middle-aged woman was clutching her chest, panting heavily, her face as white as paper. "Hey girl, what's wrong?" He Yuyang quickly went over, took out some mentholatum from her pocket, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to her. "Smell this; it might make you feel better."

The pungent smell of the mentholatum filled her nostrils, and the woman sneezed violently. After catching her breath, she said, "Thank you, comrade... My son is from the 'Old Three Classes' (a term referring to students who graduated from high school in the late 1960s and early 1970s), and he's waited ten years for this exam. My heart is pounding even harder than his." She took the mentholatum and handed it to someone else, saying, "Auntie, you should smell it too. Look how red your face is."

Before long, the small tin box had been passed around among the parents. Some pulled out crumpled cigarette paper to wrap some up, while others dabbed some on their temples with their fingers, the cool air dissipating some of the tense atmosphere. He Yuyang leaned against the locust tree, looking at the blue brick building inside the school gate, and suddenly thought of his days on the battlefield when he was young—back then he was fighting against the enemy, now he was fighting against himself to maintain the school's reputation, but they were actually the same, he had to stay calm.

As the sun climbed directly overhead, the exam bell rang in the examination hall, like a stone thrown into water, making the parents' hearts leap into their throats. He Yuyang saw a young woman holding her child, who was crying from the heat, but she couldn't comfort him, her eyes fixed on the direction of the exam hall. He walked over and handed her his military water bottle: "Give the child some water, it's cool." The water in the bottle had been drawn from the space well in the early morning and still had a refreshing coolness to it.

The young woman paused, took the water bottle to feed her child, and tears suddenly welled up in her eyes: "Comrade, my husband... if he were still alive, he would be taking the exam too. He used to be a high school student, and he always said he wanted to go to university..."

He Yuyang didn't say anything, but simply slipped a mint candy from his spatial storage into her hand. The candy melted in her mouth, its cool sweetness spreading like a refreshing spring watering her heart.

While everyone on the exam side was on edge, things were bustling in the family compound. Aunt Zhang was directing people to move sewing machines into the warehouse; the canvas shed was far from enough—orders from the foreign trade factory were pouring in like snowflakes, including not only trousers but also floral shirts for export to Southeast Asia. They needed to expand their operations to keep up with demand.

"Beautiful girl, do you think this warehouse is suitable?" Aunt Zhang wiped her sweat and pointed to the cobwebs in the corner. "I asked your Uncle Zhang to come and clean it this morning. Move that pile of wood in the corner, and you can fit eight machines here."

Xu Xiuli had just returned from delivering something to the examination hall, her forehead still damp with sweat. She looked around the warehouse; the floor was swept clean, and new paper was pasted on the windows, letting in sunlight that cast soft dappled patterns on the floor. "Okay," she said with a smile, "but we need to install a ceiling fan, otherwise it'll be unbearably hot in the summer." She thought to herself, then turned around and "got" an old electric fan from her spatial storage, saying it was one the army had discarded—it would be both cooling and inconspicuous.

"I'll take care of the ceiling fan!" Staff Officer Wang's wife walked in carrying a bundle containing her new apron and blue cloth hat. "I told Staff Officer Wang I quit my factory job to work for Aunt Zhang!" She put the bundle on the table, her eyes shining. "Aunt Zhang said she'd make me the deputy team leader, in charge of bookkeeping and material handling!"

It turned out that Staff Officer Wang's wife had long complained about the rigid work at the factory. When she heard that the sewing group had received foreign trade orders, which would allow her to earn money and take care of her family, she persuaded Staff Officer Wang to agree. Aunt Zhang was worried about who would manage the accounts, and seeing that she was literate and meticulous, she immediately decided to make her the deputy group leader.

"From now on, we sisters will fight side by side!" Aunt Zhang held Wang's wife's hand, her smile deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. "I've already spoken with Manager Zhang at the Foreign Trade Bureau. If this batch of shirts turns out well, we'll have export orders to Europe in the future!" She pulled a piece of floral fabric from the closet, printed with large peonies—dyed with dye from her spatial dimension, the colors so vibrant they seemed to glow. "This fabric that Xiuli gave us will definitely be in high demand internationally!"

Xu Xiuli smiled without saying a word. She had used plant-based dyes from her spatial dimension to test-dye the fabric; the colorfastness was much higher than ordinary dyes, and it wouldn't fade no matter how many times it was washed. Aunt Zhang took the sample to the Foreign Trade Bureau and immediately placed an order for 500 pieces, at a price 30% higher than ordinary shirts.

Soon, the warehouse was filled with the rhythmic clatter of sewing machines, like a lively song. Aunt Zhang was sewing collars, Staff Officer Wang's wife was keeping accounts at the table, and Sister Li was sewing buttons onto shirts; her fingers flew across the fabric, and the white buttons were arranged neatly like pearls. Xu Xiuli sat in the corner, trimming loose threads with scissors, but her ears kept drifting towards the examination hall—shouldn't Shouye have finished his first exam by now?

As the sun began to set, the exam bell finally rang. He Shouye emerged with the flow of people, his face betraying neither joy nor sorrow, though his steps were slightly unsteady. He Yuyang greeted him, not asking how the exam went, but simply handing him a military water bottle: "Drink some water, go home and eat. Your mother made pork ribs."

"Dad," Shouye took a sip of water, then suddenly smiled, revealing two rows of white teeth, "the last physics problem is based on the same principle as the model Uncle Zhou taught me!" The nib of the pen he was holding was still stained with ink, gleaming confidently in the sunlight.

He Yuyang felt a huge weight lift from her heart. She reached out and ruffled his hair, her fingertips brushing against her son's sweaty forehead. "Okay, let's go home. I'll ask your mother to add some dishes to your meal."

Just as Xu Xiuli placed the ribs on the table for dinner, Staff Officer Wang rushed in holding a letter. The envelope bore the red seal of the border troops, and there were still grains of sand stuck to the edges. "Old He! A letter from Jianguo!"

He Yuyang opened the letter, and inside fell a bright red application for Party membership, along with a neatly folded sheet of paper. The handwriting on the application was more solemn than ever before, the strokes straight and even, as if measured with a ruler, each stroke conveying a heavy sense of seriousness. In the letter, He Jianguo wrote that he had joined the Party while on the border. On the day of the oath-taking ceremony, a blizzard struck, and he and his comrades stood in front of the boundary marker for a full hour, their lips turning purple from the cold, but their hearts burning with passion.

"This kid didn't let us down." He Yuyang smoothed out the application form, walked to the cabinet, and opened the bottom drawer—inside were his military medals, gleaming gold under the light. He carefully placed the application form inside, placing it side by side with the medals, as if he could hear the heartbeats of two generations separated by thousands of miles, echoing loudly in the sweltering summer night.

Xu Xiuli served Shouye a bowl of pork rib soup with yam from her spatial storage. The yam was soft, sweet, and flavorful. "Eat up and replenish your strength. You still have two exams tomorrow." She looked at the family photo on the wall. In the photo, Jian Guo was wearing a military uniform and smiling, showing his white teeth. Suddenly, she felt that even the summer breeze carried a sweetness—whether it was the pens in the exam hall, the guns on the border, or the threads in the sewing machine, everything was steadily moving towards a better future.

At night, He Yuyang sat under the peach tree, stroking the small tin box that held the cooling balm by the moonlight. The shadow of the peach tree was reflected on the lid, and a small wooden plaque hung among the branches, bearing the two characters "如愿" (meaning "as you wish") newly written by Shouye, the ink still slightly damp. In the distance, the sound of sewing machines from the sewing group working overtime drifted in, "clack-clack," like a rhythm for the summer. He suddenly realized that the waiting inside and outside the examination hall, the vow made thousands of miles away, and the busy work of sewing, were all the same: living life to the fullest and planting hope deep within, just like this peach tree, whose roots are firmly planted so that it can stand straight in the wind.

Moonlight fell on the windowsill, illuminating Shouye's open textbook, with the drawing Xiaohu had given him tucked inside. The drawing depicted a lush peach tree, and the figure beneath it laughed heartily, as if saying: Don't worry, what's meant to come is on its way.