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

The letter was sent by someone sent by Qin Huairu.

He Yuzhu opened the kraft paper envelope in her office; the edges were already frayed. Inside was just one sheet of paper, folded neatly. The ink had smudged slightly along the edges, revealing her usual delicate handwriting.

He watched it three times.

I read the contents the first time. The second time, I stared at that line of text. The third time, I just looked at the paper and didn't think about anything.

There was a knock at the door. He folded the letter, then unfolded it, then folded it again.

Ma Yuejin pushed open the door and came in, holding a report in his hand, and saw him standing there in a daze.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

He Yuzhu raised his head.

"fine."

Ma Yuejin glanced at him but didn't ask any further questions. He put the report on the table and turned to leave.

"Leap Forward," He Yuzhu suddenly spoke.

Ma Yuejin turned around.

"Keep an eye on that meeting tomorrow for me."

Ma Yuejin paused for a moment, nodded, and went out.

After closing the door, He Yuzhu sat for a while longer. He picked up the calendar from the corner of the table and flipped through it. The page for tomorrow read "Agricultural Machinery Station Coordination Meeting," with a circle next to it.

He put the calendar down.

It was dark outside. Dust settled on the office lampshade, casting a dim, yellowish light. He held the letter up to the light; the edges of the paper were slightly warm from the heat. His shadow was cast on the wall, motionless.

He took the day off early the next morning.

Old Sun was taken aback when he heard that he wanted to go back to the courtyard house.

"What's the rush?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

Old Sun glanced at him but didn't ask any more questions. As he left, he slipped two steamed buns into his pocket, saying, "Eat these on the way."

The courtyard house still had the same two doors, but the paint had chipped off, revealing the grayish-white wood underneath. A red cloth strip was tied to the door knocker, left behind by someone's wedding, and faded to pink from sun and rain.

He Yuzhu pushed the door open and went in.

He Yushui was squatting in the yard washing clothes, her hands covered in soap suds. Hearing the door open, she looked up and paused for a moment. Then she threw the clothes in her hands into the basin, splashing water all over herself, and ran over with her bare, wet hands, grabbing his sleeve.

"Brother! Why are you back?"

Her eyes were frighteningly bright, and then she suddenly looked behind him.

"Are you alone? Is everything alright?"

He Yuzhu pulled out his sleeve and walked into the house.

Qin Huairu was sitting on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), sewing shoe soles. The needle pierced the thick cloth with a slight "hissing" sound, and the thread was pulled taut between her fingers. Hearing the door open, her hand trembled, and the needle pricked her finger.

She didn't say anything, but put her fingers in her mouth and licked them.

He Yuzhu walked up to her and sat down on the other side of the kang (a heated brick bed).

There was a sewing basket between the two people.

He Yushui poked half her head in through the doorway, her smile impossible to hide. She didn't come in, then pulled her head back in. The sound of her splashing water came from outside—a loud splash, followed by the crisp sound of the ladle hitting the rim of the basin.

Qin Huairu lowered her head, her fingers gently rubbing the sole of the shoe, making the stitches shine.

He Yuzhu took the letter out of his pocket and placed it next to the sewing basket.

Qin Huairu glanced at it but didn't say anything.

After a long while, she spoke.

"Why are you back at this time?"

He Yuzhu didn't reply. He looked at her hand; there was a needle mark on her finger, from which a small drop of blood had seeped out and clotted.

"Are you still going to throw up?"

Qin Huairu shook her head.

"Make soup with rainwater every day, and you'll feel better after drinking it."

The sound of He Yushui tending the fire came from the kitchen outside. The firewood crackled, and a little smoke seeped in through the window cracks, carrying the smell of wood ash.

The deaf old woman, leaning on her cane, shuffled out of her room. She sat on the doorstep, holding a piece of red cloth with white flowers, and gestured in the sunlight. It was a small garment, no bigger than the palm of her hand, with dense, intricate stitches.

Qin Huairu saw this through the window and blushed again.

He Yuzhu followed her gaze.

The old lady picked up the little garment, looked at it against the light, and nodded in satisfaction.

Three days.

For three days, He Yuzhu didn't go anywhere. He brought Qin Huairu water when she vomited, tended the fire when He Yushui was making soup, and handed her needle and thread when the old lady was making small clothes. Yan Bugui passed by and called him to play chess through the window, but he didn't go.

Lying on the kang (a heated brick bed) at night, Qin Huairu was next to him. The quilt smelled of sunshine mixed with the scent of soap on her body.

"Leaving tomorrow?"

He Yuzhu hummed in agreement.

She didn't speak. After a long while, she said softly:

Will you be there when the baby is born?

He Yuzhu did not respond.

She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, her voice muffled:

"I know you're busy. I was just asking."

On the evening of the third day, someone came to the courtyard. It wasn't someone sent by Old Sun; a jeep parked directly at the entrance of the alley.

He Yuzhu heard the car horn inside the house but didn't move.

Qin Huairu looked at him.

"Go."

He Yuzhu stood up, walked to the door, and then turned back.

Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), still holding the shoe sole in her hand. He Yushui stood beside her, and the deaf old lady sat on the doorstep, all watching him.

He went outside.

After taking three steps, I suddenly heard footsteps behind me.

Qin Huairu caught up with him, clutching something in her hand, and stuffed it into his palm.

It was an egg, still warm from her body.

"Eat on the way."

After she finished speaking, she turned around and went back without looking back.

He Yuzhu stood there, clutching the egg, not moving for a long time.

There was a tiny crack on the eggshell, probably from being squeezed too hastily.

On the way back, he didn't eat the egg. He held it tightly the whole time, his palms sweating.

By the time we got back to the research institute, it was completely dark.

Old Sun was waiting for him in the office, with three or four cigarette butts stubbed out in the ashtray in front of him. When he saw He Yuzhu come in, he pushed the document in his hand towards him.

He Yuzhu took it and glanced at it.

"The Yasukuni Shrine is being rebuilt, and a visit is scheduled for September 18th this year."

His hand pressed down on the document. The paper was cold, with sharp edges.

Old Sun looked at him.

"The higher-ups take this very seriously. You know what day September 18th is."

He Yuzhu nodded.

Old Sun continued.

"Japan might use this opportunity to cause trouble. We need to be prepared."

He Yuzhu put the document down.

"What do you need me to do?"

Old Sun was silent for a while. He took out a cigarette from the pack, but didn't light it; he just held it there.

"Not for now. But you should be prepared."

He Yuzhu nodded.

Old Sun stood up, walked to the door, and glanced back at the documents on the table. He seemed to want to say something, but in the end, he didn't, opened the door, and left.

He Yuzhu was the only one left in the room.

The lamp on the table was still on, illuminating the letter beside him. The letter was folded neatly, the edges slightly curled from being pinched. Next to it was the egg, which he hadn't eaten on the way; the crack on the shell was now more pronounced, a thin line, like a slit.

He picked up the letter, wanting to open it again for another look.

He stretched his hand out halfway, then put it down again.

Outside the window, the moon was obscured by clouds. It was pitch black, and nothing could be seen.

He sat in the dark for a long time.