Siheyuan (traditional courtyard house): Starting with the Korean War, returning home to take charge

The day the exercise plan was approved, a wind picked up in Beijing.

He Yuzhu emerged from the conference room, clutching the approval document stamped with a bright red "Approved" mark. People bustled down the corridor; he stepped aside to let two young men carrying documents pass, heading towards his office. Reaching the door, he pushed it open, about to sit down, when that voice echoed in his mind.

[Update on the completion status of the "Rise of Yanhuang Plan" activation conditions]

[Condition 1 (National Development Level Project): 3/3, Completed.]

[Condition Two (Civilization Preservation Consumption): 13,300,000 / 20,000,000, Progress 67%.]

[Remaining points required: 6,700,000.]

He stood there, his hand still on the doorknob.

Six million seven hundred thousand.

He did the math. Five months until the end of the year. If he didn't raise enough money before the end of the year, some of the technology exchange options would expire.

He closed the door, walked to his desk, and sat down. He set the approval document aside, pulled up the system's redemption list, and flipped through it page by page. Technical, knowledge-based, industrial, medical categories. He flipped through slowly, looking at each item carefully, silently noting the points in his mind.

After flipping through it once, he found a piece of paper, picked up a pen, and began to write.

Semiconductor-grade silicon purification process. This needs to be replaced. The domestic semiconductor industry is still in its infancy; this technology can be used for many years. Points: 220 million.

Improvement plan for artillery steel metallurgy. The military industry is constantly urging us to replace it, saying the service life of current artillery barrels is insufficient. This needs replacing too. Points: 180 million.

Early warning radar architecture principles. It's an Air Force project; he'd heard Qian Zhiyuan mention it briefly, saying someone was working on it. Points: 150 million.

Introduction to Elementary Computer Architecture. He thought for a moment, wrote it down, and then circled it. Points: 170 million.

加总：220+180+150+170=720万。

It exceeded 500,000.

He placed the paper on the table and stared at it. The wind outside picked up, rattling the window. He stood up, closed the window tightly, sat back down, and looked at the paper again.

Do all four items need to be replaced?

Silicon purification must be replaced. Gun steel must be replaced. The Air Force is indeed working on radar, but he doesn't know its progress. Computers—

He crossed out the line for "computer".

It's not that it's unimportant. It's that before 1960, it was very difficult to find places in China that used this kind of equipment. Even if it were replaced, it would just sit idle, so it was better to replace it with something that could be used immediately.

Cross out the computer, saving 170 million. Now he needs to raise 670 million, and he still has three projects totaling 550 million. He's still short 120 million.

He continued scrolling down the list.

He stopped when he flipped to the "Medicine" category.

[Advanced Battlefield First Aid Manual (1955 Medical Edition)]. Redeemable Points: 60.

Modular surgical instrument kit (sample grade, per set). Redeemable points: 3.

He stared at the two lines of text, his pen hovering over the paper. The mine from the night before the ceasefire in Jincheng resurfaced—the stench of blood mingled with gunpowder smoke, the light from the gas lamps blinding. The recruit lay on the stretcher, his face as white as paper, shrapnel embedded deep in his leg. He knelt down, his hands trembling violently, and painstakingly sliced ​​open the flesh, pulling out the shrapnel. The recruit bit down on a towel, not uttering a sound, only making hoarse noises from his throat.

He closed his eyes, then opened them again.

Write on the paper: Medical manual, 60. Medical equipment kit x20, 60. Total: 120.

Four items: silicon purification 220 million, artillery steel 180 million, radar 150 million, medical 120 million. Total 670 million.

He folded the paper and put it in the drawer.

From March to April 1955, He Yuzhu's life became a monotonous routine: office, intelligence station, office again. The intelligence station was on the second floor, and he was on the third, making several trips up and down each day. Comrade Sun had gotten used to it; whenever he saw He Yuzhu come in, she would look up and wait for him to hand her something.

The first batch of materials was sent out in mid-March. It was about silicon purification technology, over two hundred pages long. He spent three nights rewriting it—using traditional Chinese characters and the engineering terminology commonly used at the time, replacing the modern vocabulary one by one. Late into the night, his fingers became stiff, so he stood up, walked around a bit to stretch, and then sat back down to continue copying.

After copying it, I put it in a brown paper bag, sealed it, and wrote "Classified Technical Intelligence" on it. I went downstairs and handed it to Comrade Sun.

Comrade Sun took it, glanced at the cover, and asked nothing. He wrote a few lines in the register, then paused, his pen pausing.

"Where is this batch sent, Director He?"

He Yuzhu thought for a moment.

"Institute of Physics, Chinese Academy of Sciences. Don't write my name."

Comrade Sun nodded. His gaze lingered on the cover for a moment before returning to it.

Points deducted: 2,200,000.

Current balance: 55,000,000 - 2,200,000 = 52,800,000 points.

The second batch was about gun steel technology. It was over a hundred pages long, and he spent two nights copying it. When he delivered it, Comrade Sun was making tea. Seeing him come in, he put down his teacup and took the paper bag.

"Should we not write our names?"

"right."

Comrade Sun didn't ask any more questions. He put the paper bag into the cabinet and locked it. He squeezed the key in his hand for a moment before putting it back in his pocket.

Points deducted: 1,800,000.

Balance: 52,800,000 - 1,800,000 = 51,000,000 points.

The third batch was about radar architecture. This one was the thinnest, only sixty-odd pages, and he copied it all in one night. When he took it downstairs, Comrade Sun wasn't there. He placed the paper bag on the table and weighed it down with a teacup. He turned around, took two steps, glanced back at the paper bag, and then pushed open the door to leave.

Points deducted: 1,500,000.

Balance: 51,000,000 - 1,500,000 = 49,500,000 points.

The last batch was in mid-April.

The first aid manual was 600,000 words long. He couldn't copy it, so after three days of thinking, he came up with a solution: under the guise of "translation," he asked a young woman in the ministry's typing room to help him type it. He said it was translated from Russian materials. The young woman believed him and typed a little every day for half a month.

For the next two weeks, he went to the typing room every night to pick up the manuscript and brought it back for proofreading. The young girl typed slowly and made many mistakes, so he corrected them one by one with a red pen. When he got to the chapter on "Indications for Amputation Surgery," the pen nib lingered on the paper for a long time. Only when the red ink bleeds into a small dot did he come to his senses and turn the page.

He redeemed twenty sets of medical equipment from the system, unpacked them, and packed them into twenty wooden boxes. He labeled each box with a white sheet of paper that read "Medical Device Sample." When he got to the last one, he picked up a hemostat and weighed it in his hand. It was stainless steel and very light. If only he had had that hemostat that night in Jincheng—

He put the pliers back and closed the cap.

On the evening of April 15th, he carried two large boxes from his office to the intelligence station. The boxes were heavy, and he paused to catch his breath on the second-floor platform. The hallway lights were out, and it was pitch black. He caught his breath and continued walking.

Comrade Sun was still working overtime. The door was open, the light was on, and he was sitting at his desk rummaging through something. Hearing footsteps, he looked up.

When he saw He Yuzhu come in carrying a box, he paused for a moment, put down what he was carrying, and stood up.

"Where is the head of the household, this is...?"

"The last batch." He Yuzhu put down the box and took a breath. A layer of sweat covered his forehead, which he didn't wipe away. "The manual, the one from the typing room. Twenty sets of equipment. To be distributed to two medical device factories in Shenyang and Shanghai."

Comrade Sun walked over, opened the boxes, and looked inside. The box of manuals had neatly stacked manuscripts, their edges pressed flat. The box of equipment contained twenty wooden crates packed tightly together. He closed the lids, stood there, and didn't move.

He Yuzhu waited for him to speak.

After a few seconds, Comrade Sun looked up. The corridor was dark, except for the light from this room, which cast long shadows of the two men.

"He Chang," he said, his voice lower than usual, "don't worry about these things. The channels are clean."

He Yuzhu looked at him. In the lamplight, Comrade Sun's face was not very clear, only a glint of light could be seen in his eyes.

He didn't speak.

After a few seconds, he nodded.

"Know."

He turned and walked out. As he reached the door, he heard Comrade Sun say behind him again, "Take care."

He didn't turn around, but closed the door.

April 15th, 11:59 PM.

He Yuzhu sat alone in his office. The lights were off, and only the light from the streetlights outside shone in, making everything in the room appear blurry. The map on the wall, the telephone on the desk, and the enamel mug on the cabinet were all just outlines.

He brought up the system interface.

[Current total points consumed: 20,030,000 points.]

[Condition 2: 20,000,000 / 20,000,000, Completed.]

[All prerequisites for activating the "Rise of Yanhuang Plan" have been met.]

[Starting up...]

The progress bar has started moving.

1%, 2%, 3%... very slowly, climbing up one step at a time.

He Yuzhu stared at the progress bar, feeling nothing. No excitement, no fear, just waiting. As he waited, he thought, these past five years have passed just like that. Sixty million points, exchanged for a pile of paper, a pile of numbers. Was it worth it? He didn't know.

The wind outside the window has stopped. The spring night in Beijing is so quiet you can hear your own breathing.

The progress bar has reached 99%.

It paused for a moment.

Then jump to 100%.

The screen went dark for a second. When it lit up again, the entire interface had changed. The previously grayed-out icon was now lit, and a line of text appeared below it—text he had never seen before:

[Civilization Mentor privileges have been activated.]

He Yuzhu stared at that line of text for a long time.

Then he closed the interface.

He stood up and walked to the window. The courtyard outside was pitch black, with only a few lights flickering on in the distant buildings. Everyone was asleep. The whole of Beijing was asleep.

Five million is still short.

He did the math. From 1950 to now, five years have passed, and his total points are over 60 million. He's still 5 million short of 100 million.

Where do five million points come from?

There are no more battlefields. There are no more enemies. The points in the system will no longer be earned battle by battle, as before.

He stood by the window and reached into his pocket. Inside was the unopened letter; the envelope was so soft it was practically limp, and the edges were frayed. He touched the letter but didn't take it out.

Outside the window, the Beijing night is very quiet.