Chapter Eight: Homecoming

The Imperial Capital Station had arrived. Passengers were asked to disembark, and as the crowd flowed forward, they slowly made their way out of the platform.

“Changqing, we’ve arrived in Beijing. We’ll have to part ways now. Who knows when we’ll meet again?” Yang Hui said to Liu Changqing, his voice tinged with melancholy.

Liu Changqing helped Yang Hui retrieve his luggage and accompanied him off the train.

“We’ve said all there is to say. Just do your best, and we’ll meet again someday.”

“You’re right. Then I’ll be off,” Yang Hui replied, hefting his bag and turning to leave the station.

This guy, choosing not to continue his studies and starting work so early—I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. I just hope he’ll be as successful in the future as he was at school. Liu Changqing watched Yang Hui’s figure fade into the crowd, sending silent wishes for his future.

Outside the station, Yang Hui stared blankly at the long-lost imperial capital. It was nowhere near what it would be thirty years from now. But who could have imagined the splendor Beijing would one day achieve? No one would have dared to guess. There was still a long road ahead.

He got into a vehicle and headed home. The hurried stream of bicycles along the roadside was a hallmark of this era, a defining feature of Beijing’s cultural landscape. If, thirty years later, people still commuted so diligently by bike, there would be no smog. With traffic jams so common these days, driving isn’t even that efficient anymore.

Arriving at his stop, he saw the sign: “Committee for the Scientific and Technical Equipment Family Compound.” It was a name soon to vanish, but also the place where he grew up. Yang Hui walked in.

“Hey, what are you doing here? This area is under military jurisdiction—a restricted zone. Outsiders keep away.” Suddenly, a middle-aged man, nearly fifty, emerged from the guardhouse, blocking Yang Hui’s path.

Restricted zone. Those words brought a surge of emotion as he looked upon the sign: “Committee for the Scientific and Technical Equipment,” usually shortened to the Military Commission’s Equipment Committee. The name sounded grand, but it would soon cease to exist; this committee, under the jurisdiction of the Military Commission, was on the verge of being merged with the State Council’s Office of National Defense Industries to form the new National Defense Science and Technology Industry Commission.

“Uncle Chen, it’s me, Yang Hui. I’m back,” Yang Hui said with a smile to the middle-aged man.

“Oh, it’s Xiao Hui from Old Li’s family. No wonder. It’s been four years since you’ve been back; you’ve really grown up. I almost didn’t recognize you,” Uncle Chen said, examining Yang Hui more closely and finally placing him.

“Four years—who doesn’t change in that time? Even you’re older now,” Yang Hui replied.

Uncle Chen had been in charge of security for the entire compound since Yang Hui’s childhood. There had never been any trouble, and rumor had it he’d even served in Korea. Whenever Yang Hui got into mischief as a child, it was always Uncle Chen who brought him home.

“Enough talk, go on inside. Your grandfather’s probably been waiting for you,” Uncle Chen said, waving Yang Hui in.

Yang Hui shook his head, picked up his luggage, and continued inside.

Soon he reached the end of the compound, where a three-story red-brick building came into view. Yang Hui climbed to the second floor. The dim, narrow staircase and corridor might look like a slum decades later, but in this era, it was considered quite upscale—a proper apartment building, after all.

Yang Hui raised his hand and knocked on the dark red wooden door. “Grandpa, I’m home!” he called out, excitement in his voice.

At last, he would see the elderly man who had raised him with such hardship. Yang Hui’s heart brimmed with anticipation.

With a click, the door creaked open from within, revealing a face weathered by years. “Ah, Xiao Hui, you’re back! Come in, you must be tired from the journey,” the old man exclaimed, joy evident on his face.

“Grandpa, I haven’t been home in four years. I missed you so much,” Yang Hui said, voicing his longing. But when it came to expressing his feelings, he found himself at a loss for words. That one sentence was all he could manage.

It had always been just the two of them. The old man had raised Yang Hui single-handedly. It wasn’t easy. Originally, Yang Hui was supposed to attend university in the capital, but he had unexpectedly chosen to go out west to dig sand instead.

“Ah, I’m just an old man. There's nothing for me to miss. What matters is that you study hard and build the nation in the future,” his grandfather replied, affecting a tone of nonchalance.

But his expression betrayed him. The two of them relied on each other—how could he not miss his only family?

“By the way, isn’t it still term time? Why have you come back now?” his grandfather asked with a hint of worry, afraid Yang Hui might have gotten into trouble.

“No, I’m in my final year. Once I turn in my thesis, everything’s done. I’ve even been assigned a job, but I don’t think it suits me,” Yang Hui explained honestly.

“What’s this about? Weren’t you planning to go to graduate school? How come you’ve already been assigned a job? Did you not get in?” his grandfather pressed.

“I could have gotten in, but I just don’t think it’s necessary to keep studying. Starting work early—practical experience is the best teacher,” Yang Hui replied.

His grandfather pondered this for a while. “Well, if you’ve made your choice, so be it. Starting work early isn’t a bad thing.” Suddenly, his face clouded with sadness as he recalled the past.

“Ah, your parents were both still students when they answered the country’s call and went to work in the northwest. They achieved so much, but who could have known… Ah!” His grandfather shook his head, sorrow in his eyes.

Yang Hui bore the surname Yang, not Li, because he wasn’t the old man’s biological grandson. Both his parents were university students who, in 1959, went to the northwest to work on the atomic bomb project. During that time, Yang Hui was conceived. Before he was born, his father died in an accident, and his mother soon followed after Yang Hui’s birth. In 1962, when Marshal Nie visited Malan and learned of their story, he arranged for his childless secretary, already over forty, to adopt Yang Hui. That secretary became his grandfather.

“What’s left to say? It’s been so long. They sacrificed their lives for the nation’s defense. Now I must carry on their legacy and continue to contribute to our country’s defense,” Yang Hui said. In truth, he had no memory of his parents—only two black-and-white photographs. He was long accustomed to it.

“There’s no use dwelling on it. We have to look forward. Their efforts weren’t in vain—their goals have been realized. They should be at peace now.”

Composing himself, Yang Hui glanced at the time and saw it was getting late. He called his grandfather to go to the cafeteria. With only the two of them at home, cooking was never an option—they always ate at the dining hall.

The pair shut the door and headed out.

“By the way, you said you’re not happy with your job assignment. What’s wrong? Wherever they send you, you should go!” his grandfather said sternly.

“I just don’t think the Xi’an Flight Test Center is right for me. All they do there is test aircraft according to regulations. There’s nothing pioneering about the work.” After a pause, Yang Hui explained.

“Oh? So what’s your plan? You’re not thinking of working in Beijing, are you? That’s not a good idea. Anywhere is fine, just don’t stay in Beijing—listen to your grandfather,” the old man insisted.

He shook his head, clearly unwilling for Yang Hui to work in Beijing. After so many years in the capital, he knew all too well how treacherous the city could be. Knowing his grandson’s temperament, he was certain Yang Hui wasn’t suited for life here—no good could come of it.

Having lived through so much, Yang Hui understood perfectly well what his grandfather meant. Beijing had its allure; it must, to attract so many people. But for those who truly wanted to accomplish things, few were willing to stay in Beijing. After all, how many of the most influential companies in later China were actually born in Beijing?

“Grandpa, don’t get the wrong idea. I never said I wanted to work here. What I studied is of little use in Beijing—probably less than at the test center.” Yang Hui quickly clarified. He had no desire to work in Beijing.

“That’s good, then. I—”

“Hey, Old Li, you’re here! I was just looking for you. My daughter wanted me to ask when Yang Hui would be back—it’s been four years now. Any news?” A voice from behind interrupted their conversation.

Hearing that voice, Yang Hui’s mind immediately recalled someone, and his heart sank.

“Oh, Old Yang? Tell your daughter not to worry—Xiao Hui just got back today. They can meet up when there’s time; as long as the misunderstanding is cleared, all’s well.” His grandfather was cheerful, readily giving up Yang Hui’s whereabouts. Not that it mattered—he’d be found out soon enough.

“Really? Xiao Hui, now that you’re back, why not just stay in Beijing and work here?” Old Yang, noticing Yang Hui nearby, immediately started making arrangements for his future.