He Yuyang: The tough eldest brother of the courtyard house

The autumn of 1977 carried a heavy joy. The September wind turned the threshing floor golden, and the first withered leaf fell from the poplar tree in the military family compound, swirling and drifting into He Yuyang's yard, landing at the base of the peach tree—a tree symbolizing the passing of imperial examinations.

The peach leaves were covered with a layer of brownish-red, but a late-ripening peach still hung on the branch, as red as a small lantern, swaying gently in the wind.

That afternoon, the postman rode his green bicycle into the residential compound, his bell ringing urgently: "A letter for He Shouye's family! His university acceptance letter!"

He Shouye was helping Xu Xiuli turn the soil in the yard when the hoe in his hand clattered to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust. He ran to the postman, his fingers trembling so much he couldn't tear open the envelope. Xu Xiuli took the letter and gently scratched it open with her fingernail—a gold-embossed notice fell out, the words "Department of Mechanical Engineering, Military Industry University" printed prominently, with the gear pattern from the school emblem printed on the corner.

"We passed! We passed!" Xu Xiuli held the acceptance letter high, tears streaming down her face, dripping onto the letter and spreading into small wet patches. He Yuyang came out of the house, took the letter, and repeatedly stroked the three characters "He Shouye" with his fingertips. Suddenly, he called out to the courtyard, "Aunt Zhang! Staff Officer Wang! Come and see!"

The shouts were like a stone thrown into water, and the neighbors quickly rushed into the yard. Aunt Zhang, holding the acceptance letter, her reading glasses slipped down to her nose: "My goodness! A military academy! This is where great engineers are trained!" Staff Officer Wang's wife counted the words on the letter: "The first college student in our compound! Shouye, that boy, is truly outstanding!" Xiaoxuan didn't understand what a university was, but seeing her brother beaming, she clapped her hands: "Brother is amazing!"

When the news reached Zhou Mingyuan, the old man was hunched over his desk drawing blueprints. He rushed to the family compound, leaning on his cane, and shouted as he entered, "Shouye! Let me see your admission notice!" He held the notice up to his eyes, looking at it closely, and suddenly pulled a cloth bag from his pocket. Inside was a gleaming fountain pen with the words "Seeking Truth" engraved on the cap. "I bought this when I was studying abroad. Here you go. Remember, when learning a skill, you have to be down-to-earth. There's no room for pretense."

On the day he was sent off, Zhou Mingyuan insisted on going to the train station with him. He was wearing a newly made Zhongshan suit, his hair was neatly combed, and he was carrying a wooden box containing the mechanical blueprints he had compiled for Shouye, as well as several original foreign language books, which he had bought with his back pay after his rehabilitation. "Don't be afraid to ask questions when you get to school," the old man repeatedly instructed on the platform. "Write down anything you don't understand, and ask me when you get back. You can also write to your father—your father knows more than you think."

He Yuyang stood beside him, carrying a dark blue canvas bag filled with clothes for Shouye. He suddenly pulled a palm-sized box from the bag; its silver-gray metal casing had a matte finish, and the handles were wrapped with non-slip fabric strips. "Take this with you."

The box was opened, revealing a set of miniature tools: seven different screwdriver heads, a wrench that folded to the size of a pen, and a vernier caliper hidden at the bottom, its markings so clear you could see the millimeter-level lines. "This is made of special materials," He Yuyang said softly, "It's from the space... leftovers from my old comrade's factory, lightweight and durable." Shouye knew that his father must have used alloy materials from his space; ordinary blacksmith shops simply couldn't achieve such precision.

As the train whistled, Zhou Mingyuan grasped Shouye's hand, his cloudy eyes gleaming: "Remember these eight words—apply what you've learned to serve the country. Don't be like those who only know how to read books; make the things on paper truly stand up and run."

Shouye nodded vigorously, engraving the old man's words in his heart. As the train started moving, he looked out the window and saw his father and Uncle Zhou standing on the platform, their figures stretched long by the morning mist, like two old trees standing side by side.

The train was packed with students heading to Beijing, their accents from all over the country mingling as they discussed their respective majors. The boy sitting opposite Shouye caught sight of the toolbox on his table and his eyes lit up: "Hey, where did you buy that toolbox? It looks sturdy." The boy, a precision instrument student, was fiddling with a disassembled alarm clock, its parts scattered across the table.

Shouye tucked the toolbox into his arms and said with a smile, "My dad made it for me; there's nowhere to buy one." He took out a small wrench from inside and helped the boy put the gears of the alarm clock back in place. The curve of the wrench fit perfectly into the groove of the gear, and it was locked in place with a gentle twist.

"Wow! This tool is amazing!" The boy leaned over to look. "It's even better than the precision wrenches in our factory. Is your dad a blacksmith?"

"He's a soldier." Shouye's voice carried a hint of pride. "He said that mechanics need the right tools, just like you need a good gun to fight a war."

The boy marveled and inquired about Shouye's major. The two hit it off immediately, discussing everything from machine tool models to new technologies from abroad. Even as the train pulled into Beijing Station, they were still debating the details on the blueprints. Shouye suddenly realized that what Uncle Zhou meant by "applying what you've learned" might just be like this—turning what you've learned into a force you can actually hold in your hands.

After Shouye left, Xu Xiuli cleared out a small plot of land in the yard, fenced it off, and turned it into an "experimental field." She picked out some ordinary-looking tomato seeds from her spatial storage, soaked them in spiritual spring water, and planted them in the soil. In less than half a month, the sprouts grew very tall, the leaves were dark green, and the branches were soon covered with small green tomatoes, like strings of green beads.

That day, Aunt Zhang came to borrow a needle and thread. Peeking through the fence, she was so surprised that she dropped the spool of thread in her hand: "Beautiful girl, how come your tomatoes are growing so densely? My plant doesn't even have half as many as yours." She looked closer and saw that the tomatoes had a shiny, oily skin and felt firm to the touch, unlike ordinary tomatoes that are soft and limp.

"These seeds were given to me by my family; they said they've been improved." Xu Xiuli picked a ripe red tomato, wiped it with her sleeve, and handed it over. "Want to try some?"

Aunt Zhang took a bite, and the sweet and sour juice exploded in her mouth, carrying a refreshing fruity aroma. It was even crisper than the sandy tomatoes she bought at the supply and marketing cooperative. "Oh my! This tastes amazing! It's even better than the ones I ate in the countryside when I was a kid!" She smacked her lips. "Young lady, can you save me a few seeds? I'll try them next year."

The news spread, and neighbors came to ask for seeds. Staff Officer Wang's wife carefully took a coin-sized seed from a small paper packet: "My husband always says the tomatoes at the canteen are tasteless, so I'm planting some of these to improve his meals." Sister Li simply brought over a flowerpot: "I don't have any land, can I plant them in a flowerpot?"

Xu Xiuli simply picked the ripe tomatoes and let everyone collect their own seeds. She squatted by the experimental plot, watching her neighbors leave happily with their seeds, and suddenly felt even happier than if she had grown tomatoes herself. He Yuyang returned from the army and, seeing the lively scene in the yard, laughed and said, "Your experimental plot is practically a seed station!"

"That's right," Xu Xiuli picked the biggest tomato and stuffed it into his hand. "Try it, the ones watered with this spiritual spring water are really different. Next year, I'll try planting some cucumbers and green beans so everyone can have a taste."

He Yuyang bit into a tomato, looking at the lush tomato vines in the fence, and suddenly remembered what Shouye had said before he left: "Dad, when I learn a skill, I'll come back and design an automatic watering device for our yard so that Mom can grow vegetables without any effort." He felt a warmth in his heart—this child not only had blueprints in his heart, but also the warmth of home.

At night, Xu Xiuli packed the dried tomato seeds into a small cloth bag and wrote labels under the lamp. He Yuyang sat beside her, wiping the leftover materials from making a toolbox for Shouye; the metal fragments gleamed coldly in the lamplight. "Shouye sent me a telegram from the train," he suddenly said, "saying that the blueprints Uncle Zhou gave him came in handy, and when he discussed them with the professor, the professor even praised the blueprints for being professionally drawn."

"That's because Uncle Zhou taught us well, and it's also because we're willing to learn and keep up with the family business." Xu Xiuli put the seed bag into the drawer. She had already collected several seeds inside, including tomatoes, green peppers, and corn seeds from her secret space. The kernels were a size larger than ordinary corn kernels and looked like small gold ingots.

The peach tree outside the window cast a sparse shadow in the moonlight, and a late-ripening peach still hung on the branch, as if waiting for someone from afar to return and taste it. He Yuyang gazed at the shadow and suddenly realized that the joy of passing the imperial examination was not just Shouye's alone—it was like the tomato vines in the yard, spreading hope to every corner; and like this peach tree, bearing fruit and losing leaves, yet its roots had grown deeper, waiting for next spring to sprout even stronger new buds.

The next morning, Aunt Zhang knocked on the door, holding a freshly steamed tomato and chicken cake: "Xiuli, try this. It's made with the tomatoes you gave me. My husband says it's even more delicious than meat!" Xu Xiuli took a bite, and the sweet and sour taste spread. Suddenly, she wished that winter would pass quickly so that these seeds of hope could take root more deeply in the soil in the spring.