Chapter 443 Huayuan No. 3

Amnesia?

He Yuzhu's hand froze in mid-air, the words on the report piercing his eyes like needles. Sun Xiuying stood in front of the desk, her lips moved slightly, but no sound came out. She pushed the report forward again, but He Yuzhu didn't take it.

"Whose?"

"Number 008. Wang Tiezhu."

He Yuzhu grabbed the report, the paper crumpling in his hand. He stared at the words "short-term memory impairment, duration 4 hours," feeling as if something was stuck in his throat.

"What did he forget?"

"On the afternoon of the third day after the injection, he didn't remember having lunch. He folded the blankets and folded them again, repeating this three times. He didn't remember talking to anyone five minutes earlier." Sun Xiuying's voice grew softer and softer. "The neurologist said it was because the medication affected the hippocampus. Director He, he recovered in the fourth hour. After 72 hours of observation, there was no relapse."

"And now?"

"Everything is normal now. Wang Tiezhu is in the dormitory, and he said he wants to return to training. But according to regulations, volunteers who experience adverse neurological reactions—" Sun Xiuying paused, biting her lip, ""must be observed for at least a month."

He Yuzhu slammed the report on the table, his knuckles turning white. He stood up, his chair sliding back a bit before hitting the wall with a dull thud.

I'm going to see him.

Sun Xiuying did not come along.

The special forces barracks were located on the east side of the research institute, across the road. When He Yuzhu crossed the training ground, training was in full swing. Some were climbing ropes, sliding down after reaching the top, then climbing again. Others were practicing hand-to-hand combat; the sound of boxing gloves hitting protective gear was muffled, like drumming. He passed the equipment area, where a soldier was doing pull-ups, doing over thirty in one go. When he jumped down and saw He Yuzhu, he stood at attention and saluted.

He Yuzhu returned the greeting without stopping.

Wang Tiezhu's dormitory was on the first floor, the door open. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding an enamel mug in his hand; the water inside had long since gone cold. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, trying to stand up, but his leg trembled and he couldn't support himself, so he sat back down. The mug bumped against the edge of the bed, spilling a few drops of water.

"Don't move." He Yuzhu pulled over a chair and sat down opposite him.

The two men were separated by a cot, neither speaking. The sounds of battle shouts drifted in from outside the window. Wang Tiezhu tilted his head to listen, his eyes brightening for a moment before dimming again.

"Director He, that day..." Wang Tiezhu placed the jar on the table and rubbed his hands on his knees. "I can't remember what I had for lunch. Then I remembered, braised pork. That's all."

When you can't remember, do you know who you are?

Wang Tiezhu didn't answer immediately. He lowered his head, rubbing his thumb back and forth along the rim of the jar, round and round. After a long while, he finally said something in a muffled voice.

"Yes. I am Wang Tiezhu, from Cangzhou, Hebei. I joined the army in 1975 and was the squad leader of the first squad of the special operations team. I have an elderly mother and a younger sister who is in junior high school in the county town." He raised his head, his eyes reddening. "Director He, I remember all of this. I can forget everything else, but I can't forget these things."

He Yuzhu took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to Wang Tiezhu. Wang Tiezhu hesitated for a moment, then took it and put it in his mouth. He Yuzhu lit one for himself, took a drag, and the smoke filled the space between the two of them.

Are you scared?

Wang Tiezhu didn't light a cigarette; he took it out of his mouth and held it between his fingers.

"I was scared. When I first woke up, I couldn't remember what I had for lunch, and my heart started racing. Then I remembered braised pork, and I kept repeating it over and over—braised pork, braised pork, braised pork. I was afraid I'd forget again." He paused, his voice lowering slightly. "My mother had a stroke last year, and half of her body is paralyzed. I took care of her in the hospital for a month, cleaning her up, feeding her, and cleaning her up. During that month, I realized—people aren't afraid of death, they're afraid of living a life that doesn't feel like their own. Director He, Huayuan No. 3 will allow me to fight and run again; I'm not afraid of the side effects."

He Yuzhu stubbed out his cigarette and put it in the ashtray, the tobacco still emitting a last wisp of smoke.

"Observe for another month. If everything is fine after a month, I will approve your return to the team."

Wang Tiezhu tried to stand up and salute, but his legs bent, and he couldn't stand straight. He used his hands to support himself on the edge of the bed before he could stand up. He stood still, gave a military salute, and He Yuzhu returned the salute and turned to leave.

Stepping out of the dormitory building, the training on the parade ground was over, and it was empty. He Yuzhu stood at the edge of the field, looking at the gray sky in the distance. The wind was strong, making his clothes flutter. He recalled that night on the Xinjiang border, the figure of the Soviet bio-warrior running across the snow, his strides inhuman, his footprints suspiciously shallow. At that time, he only had an electromagnetic rifle, not the Huayuan-3. Twelve enemies, fought all night, five killed, one captured alive, the prisoner dying on the snow. If the special forces had been injected with Huayuan-3 back then, perhaps they wouldn't have had to wait until dawn.

He took out a cigarette, pulled one out, and tried to light it with the lighter, but the wind was too strong. He crushed the cigarette and threw it on the ground.

Back in the office, Old Sun was already waiting. He held a manila envelope in his hand, his face expressionless, but his lips were tightly pursed.

"Photos sent back by Yang Xiaobing from Antarctica. This time it wasn't aerial photography; it was taken with a telephoto lens at the edge of the ice sheet."

He Yuzhu took the envelope, poured out the photos, and laid them out on the table one by one. A cluster of gray concrete buildings peeked out from under the ice sheet; the portion above ground was small, but the entrances were large enough for heavy trucks to pass through. Ventilation vents, like the nostrils of a giant beast, extended segment by segment from the ice. Several photos showed workers unloading goods in the open air; the markings on the boxes had been painted over, making the contents illegible.

"What did he say?" He Yuzhu picked up a magnifying glass and brought it close to a photograph.

Old Sun opened his notebook. "Yang Xiaobing said the underground facility is at least tens of thousands of square meters in size. It contains laboratories, living quarters, and training grounds. He suspects it's not an ordinary research base, but a production line for biological warfare weapons."

He Yuzhu put down the magnifying glass, pressed his fingers against the edge of the photo, and his fingertips turned slightly white.

"Notify the Navy to send a reconnaissance plane for a flight. Under the guise of scientific research. Don't get close, just take a few pictures from a distance."

"Director He, that place is too far from us. The Navy doesn't have long-range reconnaissance aircraft."

He Yuzhu looked up at Lao Sun. "Then let Yang Xiaobing continue filming. Let him find a way to get the layout map of the underground facilities."

Old Sun jotted it down in his notebook, then hesitated. "Director He, regarding Wang Tiezhu's situation... should we continue with Huayuan No. 3?"

"Continue." He Yuzhu put the photos into the drawer. "Equip the border patrol teams first. The Xinjiang Border Defense Regiment and the Tibet Military Region. They face the greatest pressure from American and Soviet biological warfare troops. Explain the side effects to every soldier. Short-term memory lapses, a 2% probability, are recoverable. Let them choose for themselves."

Old Sun nodded and left.

He Yuzhu sat alone in his office, the sky outside the window completely dark. He took the photos of the Antarctic base out of his drawer and looked at them again. The gray buildings were half-hidden on the ice sheet, like a crouching giant beast, only its back visible.

He recalled Wang Tiezhu's words: "You can forget everything else, but you can't forget these."