Chapter 315 A Secret Maneuver

The first day after the investigation team left, He Yuzhu sat in his office, his hand on the drawer, not opening it. Outside the window, someone was putting up posters; the sound of paste being applied to the wall was like a tongue licking something. He heard it, but didn't get up.

The next day, he went to the archives. Lin Jianguo stood at the door, his key hanging around his neck, his hand on it. The two looked at each other, neither speaking. He Yuzhu pushed open the iron door and stood for a long time in front of the innermost row of cabinets. Those iron cabinets, thirty-seven in total, ranging from energy to ecology, stood there coldly in rows. He reached out and touched the cabinet labeled "Aerospace - Manned Spacecraft." The metal was cold, and his finger left a shallow mark on it. He stood there for a while, then turned and left.

On the third day, the sound of slogans echoed into the research institute. Closer and louder than the day before, it surged in from outside the walls, filling the entire corridor. He Yuzhu stood by the window and saw a group of people rushing past from the alley entrance, red armbands on their arms, their steps hurried, as if they were rushing somewhere. They passed by, and the sound faded into the distance, but the buzzing echo lingered in his ears, refusing to dissipate. He stood there until the echo completely disappeared, then turned around.

Yang Xiaobing squatted at the door, clutching the dagger in his hand, the scabbard leaving a red mark on his palm.

"We'll move tonight," He Yuzhu said.

Yang Xiaobing stood up, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his Adam's apple bobbing. After a few seconds, he spoke, his voice hoarse.

"Commander, are we really going to touch those things?"

He Yuzhu didn't answer. He stood by the window, looking at the gray sky outside. The clouds were very low, like a dirty wad of cotton covering the sky, not letting in a single ray of light.

Yang Xiaobing waited for a while, but received no reply, so he turned and walked out. When he reached the door, he put his hand on the doorknob but didn't turn it.

"Commander, those things belong to the country."

He Yuzhu's voice came from behind him, very softly, as if he were talking to himself.

"I know."

The door opened, footsteps echoed a few times in the hallway, then fell silent. He Yuzhu stood by the window, his hands in his pockets. The key weighed heavily on his palm.

When the door to the archives room opened, the hinges clicked sharply, like someone had stepped on a cat's tail. He Yuzhu walked in, his flashlight sweeping across the metal cabinets, arranged like a chessboard. He stopped in front of the innermost row of cabinets and pulled open the one labeled "Aerospace - Manned Spacecraft".

The stack of documents was wrapped in kraft paper, the edges worn. On the top sheet, the word "Top Secret" was written by himself in fountain pen, each stroke deliberate. The ink had faded considerably, but it was still legible. He pressed his hand against it; the pages were cool, and as he pressed down, he could feel the thickness of each page beneath. He picked it up; it was heavy, heavier than he had expected.

Yang Xiaobing had brought the cart in that afternoon; the wheels were a bit crooked, causing it to veer to the left when he moved. He stacked the stack of documents on it, and the wheels wobbled slightly, but he braced them with his knees to steady them. He then opened the cabinet labeled "Aerospace & Space Station" and took out another stack. He opened the cabinet labeled "Aerospace & Lunar Landing Module" and took out another stack. He opened the cabinet labeled "Military & Nuclear Submarine" and took out another stack. The documents on the cart piled higher and higher, the top one with a curled corner; he pressed it down with his chin and pushed the cart to the door of the abandoned storage room at the end of the corridor.

The paint on the door was peeling off, and the lock was rusted; it opened with a twist of the wrist. Inside, there were broken chairs and tables piled up, covered in dust. Stepping on them sent dust billowing up from the floor, making one's throat tighten. He pushed the cart inside, closed the door, and unloaded stacks of documents from the cart, piling them in the corner. Spaceflight - Manned Spacecraft. Spaceflight - Space Station. Spaceflight - Lunar Lander. Military Industry - Nuclear Submarines. Military Industry - Radar. Military Industry - Missiles. Stacked six times.

He stood in front of the documents, stretched out his hand, and placed his palm against the top one.

The screen flickered in the darkness. The stack of documents lowered. He reached out again, and they lowered again. Stack after stack disappeared into the darkness, hidden away in a place where no one could see them. The last stack vanished too. He stood in the empty storeroom, the coolness of the papers still lingering in his palm. He clenched his fist, trying to dispel the coolness.

The cart was empty, but the wheels were still crooked, causing it to veer to the left as it moved. He pushed the cart back to the archives and put it back in its original place. The metal cabinets were still standing there, row upon row, just as before. But six compartments were empty. He closed the cabinet doors and locked them.

In the back alley, Yang Xiaobing sat in the driver's seat, the engine still running, white smoke billowing from the exhaust pipe. His hands were gripping the steering wheel, he didn't move. Seeing He Yuzhu emerge from the back door, he pushed open the car door, his voice hoarse.

"Commander, where are the supplies?"

He Yuzhu got in, leaned back in the seat, and closed the car door.

"They've been seen off."

Yang Xiaobing didn't ask any more questions. He shifted gears, drove out of the back alley, and turned into a lane. Streetlights shone in through the car window, casting streaks across his face. His lips were pursed, his jaw clenched tightly, as if he were biting something. He Yuzhu leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The keys were in his pocket, two more, digging into his thighs.

Before dawn the next day, a commotion broke out outside. By the time He Yuzhu sat up from the kang (a heated brick bed), the noise had already poured in from outside the courtyard wall, filling the entire alley. People were shouting slogans; it wasn't just one person, but many voices mixed together, buzzing and indistinguishable. Qin Huairu also woke up, standing at the doorway of the inner room, her hands gripping the doorframe, her knuckles white.

"Don't go out." She said in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing something.