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

The office was filled with smoke as He Yuzhu spread out the records from that year, page by page.

From the traitor at the beginning of the year, to the steel in spring, to the Yasukuni Shrine in summer, to the missiles in autumn, to the son in winter. The pages are yellowed, the edges are curled up, like a stack of battle maps that have been turned over and over again.

Ma Yuejin picked up the page about the Yasukuni Shrine, then paused. He looked up, as if to say something, but his lips moved and he swallowed his words.

Lin Jianguo asked in a low voice, "Dean, were those things... worth it?"

He Yuzhu did not answer.

He looked out the window. The sky was overcast and the light was dim. In the distance, smoke was billowing from chimneys, the white smoke rising and dissipating in the wind.

Whether it's worth it or not depends on whether we can keep it.

Ma Yuejin put the page down.

Lin Jianguo clenched his fist.

He Yuzhu stopped halfway down the alley leading to the hospital entrance.

It's too quiet.

At this hour, there should be the sounds of stray cats rummaging through trash cans, insects chirping, and the coughs of a night shift nurse as she comes out for a smoke. But there's nothing there. Two streetlights are off, and the remaining one is hissing and flickering.

He deliberately used a bit of force when he closed the car door, making a loud bang.

The alley remained deathly silent.

He Yuzhu put his hands in his pockets, gripping the dagger.

He walked a dozen steps forward when he heard movement behind him. He didn't turn around and quickened his pace. Several tricycles were parked by the roadside; he slipped behind one and crouched down.

Five people emerged from the alleyway.

Not three. Five.

They spread out, walking close to the wall, their movements practiced and experienced, like someone who had killed someone. The leader had a scar on his face and was clutching a photograph, which he pointed in He Yuzhu's direction.

The photo shows himself.

Scarface put the photo away and walked towards him.

He Yuzhu stood up.

"Dean He, someone asked me to pass on a message."

He Yuzhu didn't move.

Scarface took a step forward.

He said that what happened last time wasn't over.

He Yuzhu stepped out from behind the tricycle.

All five people moved at the same time.

The first man who rushed forward was clutching a stick. He Yuzhu dodged to the side, the knife slicing across his arm. The man screamed, the stick slipping from his grasp and crashing to the ground. The second man pounced, kneeing the man in the abdomen, causing him to double over and fall backward.

The third knife came at him, and He Yuzhu was a little too slow to dodge. The knife grazed his left shoulder, leaving a gash. It stung terribly.

He slashed back with his knife, and the man clutched his neck and staggered back, blood oozing from between his fingers.

There are two more.

And there are scars on the face.

Scarface didn't move, but took something out of his pocket.

The fuse is smoking.

He Yuzhu's heart tightened, and he rushed over and kicked the man's wrist. The thing flew out and rolled into the alley.

boom--

The explosion was muffled, followed by a flash of light, and a crater was blown open at the other end of the alley.

Scarface was knocked to the ground by the shockwave, but he got up and ran.

Those two ran away too.

He Yuzhu leaned against the wall, panting. His left shoulder ached terribly, and when he touched it, it was covered in blood. He glanced down—the flesh was torn open, but thankfully the bone wasn't broken.

The sound of a car approached from outside the alley.

He held onto the wall and moved out step by step.

When he reached the alley entrance, he saw a jeep stop, and Yang Xiaobing jumped out of the vehicle.

"Commander!"

He Yuzhu waved his hand.

"fine."

Yang Xiaobing's expression changed when he saw the blood on his shoulder.

"I'll take you to the hospital."

He Yuzhu shook his head.

"I came to the hospital."

The ward smelled strongly of disinfectant.

The old leader lay on the bed, his face as white as paper, an oxygen tube in his nose. Seeing He Yuzhu enter, he removed his mask and gasped for breath.

"Don't come any closer, I smell bad right now."

He Yuzhu stopped at the foot of the bed.

The old leader was watching him.

"Did you run into someone outside just now?"

He Yuzhu didn't say anything.

The old leader leaned against the pillow, looking at him.

"Those people have been watching you for a while now. You need to keep a close eye on your wife and daughter."

He Yuzhu had his hands in his pockets, clutching the gloves.

The former leader continued.

"There's been little snow this winter, so next year's harvest is uncertain. Telegrams are pouring in from the south. Your research institute needs to keep working on it."

He Yuzhu nodded.

The old leader closed his eyes.

"Go ahead. I'm fine."

He Yuzhu stood there for a while, then turned and left.

When he got to the car, he realized something was wrong.

The tire is flat.

Both front tires were punctured.

He crouched down and took a look; the cut was clean, it wasn't an accident.

I stood up and looked up at the hospital building. The light in my old boss's ward was still on, and I could see a shadow on the window; I couldn't tell if it was a nurse or himself.

A night breeze blew by, making him shiver.

The wound on his left shoulder was still bleeding, soaking a small patch of his cotton-padded coat. He pressed it with his hand, wincing in pain.

Turn around and walk towards the street corner.

They walked very slowly.

The whole street was deserted, not even a dog was in sight. The streetlights cast his long shadow, swaying back and forth on the asphalt.

After walking for almost twenty minutes, he finally saw a tricycle. He waved, and the driver stopped and glanced at him.

"Comrade, your body..."

"Go to the hospital, the People's Hospital."

The driver didn't ask any more questions and started pedaling away.

When I pushed open the courtyard gate, the lights were still on inside the house.

Qin Huairu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), holding He Nianhua in her arms. The little one was asleep, nestled on her shoulder, her little mouth moving slightly.

Qin Huairu looked up, saw him, and was stunned for a moment.

"What's wrong?"

He Yuzhu shook his head.

He came in and sat down on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed). His left shoulder ached terribly, but he didn't utter a sound. He simply reached out and touched He Nianhua's face. It was soft and warm; her little face stirred slightly in her sleep.

Qin Huairu stared at him.

"You have blood on you."

He Yuzhu glanced down. There was a dark patch on his cotton-padded jacket; it was dry and scabbed over.

"It's nothing, just a scrape."

Qin Huairu remained silent.

She gently placed He Nianhua on the kang (a heated brick bed), covered him with the quilt, stood up, and walked to him. She reached out and pulled open his cotton-padded coat, seeing the gash; the blood had already congealed, the wound was exposed, and it looked gruesome.

Her hand trembled slightly.

He Yuzhu took her hand.

"It's really nothing."

Qin Huairu looked at him, her eyes reddening.

He Yuzhu stood up and hugged her.

"We need to get on with the satellite project next year."

Qin Huairu leaned on his shoulder without saying a word.

After a long time, she said softly.

There's something in your eye.

He Yuzhu did not answer.

He looked out the window.

It's almost dawn.

Outside the courtyard, the scarred man stood in the shadows, smoking. The red glow of his cigarette butt flickered.

He threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out.

He glanced at the door, then turned and disappeared into the alley.