Great Power Reclamation

Before dawn in the military reclamation city, all the lights in the research institute were already on.

The test run of the fourth prototype was scheduled for 9:30 a.m. At 5:00 a.m., Ye Hai was already standing in front of the test bench.

This isn't nervousness, it's just a habit.

For each test drive, he would arrive four hours early to inspect the engine from start to finish.

It's not that he doesn't trust others, it's just what his mother said—

You only feel at ease where your hands have touched.

He was wearing his faded work clothes and holding a flashlight, shining it on the fan blades one by one, starting from the blades themselves.

As per design requirements, the bypass ratio of the fourth prototype was increased from 8 to 9, which means that the airflow in the outer bypass duct increased by more than 10 percent.

Bypass ratio—the ratio of air mass flow rate in the outer bypass duct to that in the inner bypass duct of a turbofan engine—is just a dry number to the layman.

But in his eyes, this number means efficiency, fuel consumption, and that when it is installed under the wings of the C919, it can burn less fuel and fly farther.

Ye Hai walked to the combustion chamber section and opened the inspection port.

The flashlight beam shone on the inner wall of the flame tube, and the third-generation single-crystal high-temperature alloy gleamed with a faint blue luster under the cold light.

This material was a tough nut to crack that he and his father had spent seven years grappling with in their Boston lab.

It can remain stable at temperatures approaching 1,700 degrees Celsius, while ordinary steel becomes as soft as noodles at 1,500 degrees Celsius.

The second-generation single-crystal turbine could withstand 1,600 degrees Celsius, but the third generation pushed that number up by another 100 degrees Celsius. In the field of aero-engines, this means that the turbine inlet temperature has increased by nearly 7%, and thermal efficiency and economy have risen accordingly.

Why is it so important?
According to thermodynamic principles, for every 100 degrees Celsius increase in turbine inlet temperature, the engine's thrust-to-weight ratio and thermal efficiency will increase significantly.

The power-to-weight ratio and fuel consumption rate are key indicators for measuring whether an engine is qualified and good enough.

He reached out and touched the inside of the flame tube; it was cool, smooth, like silk.

"Ye Hai".

Aygul's voice came from behind him. He turned around. She was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit, her hair tied in a ponytail with a red hair tie. She was holding two cups of coffee.

Why are you up so early?

"Weren't you earlier?"

She handed him the coffee and squatted down next to him:
"The coating inspection is complete. The microstructure of the new formula is denser than the previous generation, and no microcracks were found."

"Where's the data?"

"It's on the computer. Go see for yourself."

Ye Hai stood up and walked into the control room. The screen displayed a dense array of data.

He looked at each line carefully, from the fan's intake airflow to the low-pressure compressor's boost ratio, from the high-pressure compressor's outlet temperature to the combustion chamber's air-fuel ratio, from the high-pressure turbine's inlet temperature to the low-pressure turbine's exhaust temperature—every parameter was within the design range.

His eyes were fixed on the numbers, his lips moved slightly, as if he were silently reciting something.

Aygul stood behind him, silent. She gazed at his focused profile—

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his eyes were fixed on the screen, and his fingers were typing rapidly on the keyboard.

She remembered the first time she met him. He jumped off the lab bench and bumped into her. Without looking up, he said "sorry" and tried to walk around her.

At that time, she thought this person was really interesting, like a machine that only knew how to run and never knew how to stop.

But she now knew he wasn't a machine. He was a heart-driven engine. His heart burned hotter than the turbine blades.

Outside the research institute, dawn was breaking. Sunlight streamed in from the Tianshan Mountains, turning the Gobi Desert into a golden expanse.

Ye Yuping stood at the entrance of the research institute, wearing a dark gray jacket, his hair was gray, but his back was straight.

He looked at the distant Tianshan Mountains, their snow-capped peaks gleaming white in the sunlight, like a silver crown.

Helena walked over and stood beside him. Her blonde hair had turned gray and was tied in a low ponytail. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, but her blue eyes were still bright.

He has a slight limp in his right leg, but he stands very straight.

"Yuping, do you think this engine will explode?"

Ye Yuping looked at her. "No."

Are you so sure?

"Because you are here."

Helena paused for a moment, then smiled. She placed her hand on the back of Ye Yuping's hand, a rough, calloused hand.

The two stood at the entrance of the research institute, neither of them speaking.

The parking lot outside the research institute was full before dawn. The license plates came from the provincial capital and Beijing. There were official black sedans, commercial vehicles, and several television broadcast vans.

The reporter stood next to the broadcast van, talking to the camera, with the red brick building of the research institute in the background.

"Dear viewers, this is the Aviation Propulsion Research and Development Center of Junken City. In less than an hour, the much-anticipated fourth 'Tianshan' engine prototype will undergo a new round of testing."

"If successful, this engine will enter the aircraft testing phase, marking another important milestone in China's independent development of aero engines..."

Police tape was put up at the entrance of the research institute, and several uniformed security personnel were maintaining order.

Reporters were kept outside the cordon, carrying cameras and microphones, and craning their necks to peer inside.

A young man in a dark suit emerged from a black sedan, a badge pinned to his chest, and strode into the research institute.

The old gatekeeper glanced at his ID, said nothing, and stepped aside.

He is the deputy director of the Equipment Industry Department of the Ministry of Industry and Information Technology. His surname is Zhou. He is in his early forties, wears gold-rimmed glasses, and speaks slowly and deliberately, but every word he says is to the point.

He's not here to inspect; he's here to "take a look."

Last night, we received a notification that the test data from the fourth prototype engine may have a significant impact on the international aero-engine market, and all parties are watching closely.

He flew to Junken City overnight, arriving at 2 a.m. After sleeping for less than four hours, he got up and rushed to the research institute.

A Toyota Coaster minibus appeared in front of the research institute. The door opened, and several people got out.

Leading the way was an elderly man in his sixties, wearing a dark blue jacket, with gray hair, but in good spirits.

He is an academician of the Chinese Academy of Engineering, surnamed Zhang. He has dedicated his life to aero-engines and is one of the most authoritative experts in this field in China.

"Academician Zhang, what brings you here?" Deputy Director Zhou quickly went to greet him.

Academician Zhang took off his glasses, wiped them, and put them back on. "I can't sleep without coming."

Deputy Director Zhou smiled but didn't say anything. He understood Academician Zhang's feelings.

Academician Zhang participated in the review of this engine from the project's inception, offering hundreds of suggestions, some of which were adopted and some were rejected, but he never gave up on his work.

He knew that once this engine was successful, China would become the fifth country, after several major powers, to be able to independently develop high-bypass turbofan aero engines.

This is a day we've waited far too long. From the Premier's question in the 1960s about whether China's aircraft were suffering from "heart disease" to today, the aero engine—the "jewel in the crown of modern industry"—is finally about to be plucked off by the Chinese people themselves.

The door to the research institute was pushed open from the inside.

Ye Hai walked out.

He stood on the steps and glanced at the crowd outside. Deputy Director Zhou, Academician Zhang, reporters, security personnel, television broadcast vans, and photographers with their long lenses and tripods. He didn't speak, but turned and went inside.

The control room was packed with people. Ye Yuping sat in the first row, with Helena next to him. Academician Zhang sat in the back row, with Deputy Director Zhou next to him.

The core team of the research institute sat around the perimeter—Ivan, Kevin, and a dozen or so engineers.

Ye Hai stood on the test bench, less than three meters away from the engine.

The enormous, silver-gray machine stood before him, nearly three meters tall and weighing over two tons, covered with a dense array of pipes, sensors, and interfaces.

According to the design parameters, its maximum thrust will reach about 13.5 tons, which is comparable to the performance of mainstream international products, and even surpasses them in some indicators.

He put the earplugs in his ears and said into the walkie-talkie, "Control room, test bench ready."

In the control room, Ye Yuping pressed the button on the walkie-talkie. "Start."

Ye Hai took a deep breath, walked to the engine, and pressed the ignition button.

The engine emitted a deep roar, like a sleeping beast being awakened.

The sound grew louder and louder, making the windows of the control room rattle.

The numbers on the screen started changing. Intake air temperature: normal. Fuel pressure: normal. Lubricating oil pressure: normal.

“Thirty percent thrust,” Ivan reported.

The engine roared even louder. The metal frame on the test bench began to tremble slightly.

"Fifty percent."

Aygul stood in front of the window of the materials laboratory, and through the two layers of glass, she could faintly hear the roar of the engine.

She didn't go to the control room, not because she didn't want to, but because she was afraid to. She was afraid that if she stood there and saw the data fluctuating, she would become so nervous that she couldn't breathe.

She preferred to stand there, looking out the window, listening to the sounds, and counting the time in her mind.

"Seventy percent."

In the control room, everyone's eyes were fixed on the screen. No one spoke; only Ivan's voice was calling out numbers.

"Ninety percent."

Ye Hai stood beside the engine, his body trembling—not from fear, but from the vibration of the engine.

Three meters away, that behemoth weighing more than two tons was spinning wildly at a speed of more than 10,000 revolutions per minute.

The temperature in front of the turbine has exceeded 1,700 degrees Celsius. What does that mean?
The exhaust gases from the combustion chamber, carrying flames reaching thousands of degrees Celsius, violently blasted against the turbine blades. These blades were cast from third-generation single-crystal high-temperature alloys, a material challenge that took nearly ten years to overcome.

It is the most stressed part of the engine, rotating tens of thousands of times per minute, with temperatures higher than volcanic lava, and stress that can break ordinary steel like noodles.

But it just keeps going, it just won't melt.

He stared at the fluctuating data, his lips moving slightly. He was silently reciting, praying, and talking to the engine.

From childhood to adulthood, he always did this during test drives.

He considered himself part of the engine, breathing and operating in sync with it. The rhythm of his heartbeat was synchronized with the engine's speed.

“One hundred percent.” Ivan’s voice trembled slightly.

The roar of the engine reached its peak. The entire research institute trembled.

The control room was deathly silent. Everyone was staring at the numbers—temperature, 1720 degrees Celsius; pressure, normal.

Engine speed: 12,300 rpm. Fuel consumption rate: 0.29% – 3% lower than the design target.

One minute, two minutes, three minutes.

The data is stable. No anomalies are found.

"Maintain 100% thrust and try for another 15 minutes."

Ye Yuping's voice was calm, but Aygul could hear what was pressing down beneath that calm.

Fifteen minutes have passed. The data remains stable.

Ye Hai's voice came through the walkie-talkie, tinged with a hint of amusement. "It's done."

The control room erupted in chaos.

But no one shouted, no one jumped, no one clapped. Everyone was laughing, and as they laughed, tears started to fall.

Ivan took off his glasses, wiped them with his sleeve, and put them back on. Kevin, a grown man in his thirties, had eyes that were red and swollen like a rabbit's.

Academician Zhang took off his glasses and wiped them; his hands were trembling. Deputy Director Zhou sat down in his chair and let out a long sigh.

Helena bent over, covering her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling slightly. She didn't cry out, but Ye Yuping saw that the back of her hands was covered in tears.

He reached out, put his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her into his embrace. Helena leaned against his shoulder, her body trembling slightly.

Her knee hurt, but she stood up. Her lame right leg supported her entire weight, like an old tree that had stood in the wind for decades.

She remembered that winter in the 1980s. In Hamburg, those who ostracized, suppressed, and threatened her said, "You woman, you'll never amount to anything."

She remembered the first day she came to the military reclamation city. The wind and sand on the Gobi Desert stung her face, and Ye Yuze sat in the study, saying something she would remember for the rest of her life—

"Since you're here, stay here as long as you like."

She lived there for over a decade. Until her hair turned white, her knees became lame, and her son grew up. Until she sent the engine of the Chinese people into space.

It wasn't because of hate, it was because of love.

Reporters had already received the news at the entrance of the research institute.

There wasn't much information, just one sentence: The fourth prototype of the "Tianshan" engine successfully completed its test run and met all design specifications.

That one sentence is enough.

The streetlight at the entrance of the research institute was still on, appearing superfluous in the sunlight.

A young reporter squatted by the roadside, holding a laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

He wanted to release the news before anyone else because he knew what the message meant.

This means that China's large aircraft no longer needs to be beholden to the West and can fly wherever it wants.

This means that the hands that were gripping the necks of the Chinese people are being pried open, one by one. It means that Chinese airplanes are finally going to be fitted with their own engines.

He typed the last word and pressed send.

Not far away, Academician Zhang stood at the entrance of the research institute, looking at the Tianshan Mountains in the distance.

The snow-capped peaks gleamed white in the sunlight, and the wind blew from the Gobi Desert, carrying sand and gravel that stung my face.

But he didn't hide; he stood there, like a tree.

“Academician Zhang,” Deputy Director Zhou walked up to him, “how many years have you been waiting?”

Academician Zhang thought for a moment. "If we start counting from the 1960s, it's been fifty years. If we start counting from the Yangtze River Project, it's been more than ten years."

"Fifty years, is it worth it?"

Academician Zhang smiled. "It's worth it. How could it not be worth it? I've waited my whole life for this, it's all worth it."

He turned around and looked at the red brick building of the research institute. In the sunlight, the building seemed particularly silent, like a mute old man.

But as you get closer, you can hear a heartbeat inside. A deep, steady rumble, like snowmelt from the Tianshan Mountains flowing beneath the Gobi Desert.

Military reclamation town, Ye family villa.

Ye Yuze sat in his study, a chess game in the middle of the board in front of him.

Yang Geyong sat opposite him, holding a bowl of milk tea in his hand, slurping it down loudly.

The phone rang. Ye Yuze answered it without saying a word.

On the other end of the phone, Ye Feng's voice was a little hoarse. The engine test run was successful, and all the data met the standards.

German media have already begun reporting on it, with headlines such as "China Achieves Breakthrough in Aero Engines," and claiming that this is the first time since the jet age that Western aero-engine hegemony has been truly challenged.

Ye Yuze held his phone and remained silent for a long while.

“Dad,” Ye Feng said again, “Boss Liu called.”

"say what?"

"He said he was very happy. He said that with the success of the Tianshan engine, his son's company should close down. He wouldn't let Liu Zixuan touch anything related to aviation again."

Ye Yuze placed the chess piece on the chessboard with a snap.

"Boss Liu is a pragmatic person."

After hanging up the phone, Yang Geyong looked at him. "Old Ye, why are you crying?" Ye Yuze reached up and touched his face; it was wet. He hadn't even noticed it himself.

"The sand and dust got into my eyes," he said.

"You're sitting inside, where did the sand and dust come from?"

Ye Yuze didn't speak. Yang Geyong didn't press further. The two sat in the study, neither of them uttering a word.

Research institute, materials laboratory.

Aygul stood by the window, looking outside. The roar of the engine had stopped, but her ears were still ringing.

The door was pushed open. Ye Hai walked in, wearing his faded work clothes, his face covered in sweat, his eyes bloodshot, but the corners of his mouth were turned up.

"It's done," he said.

"I know."

"Aren't you going to go and take a look?"

"not going."

"why?"

Aygul looked at him. "Because you came."

Ye Hai walked over and pulled her into his arms. He held her so tightly that she felt her bones were about to break, but she didn't struggle. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest.

His heart was pounding. Not because of the engine, but because of her.

The two hugged for a long time, so long that the sun outside the window moved from the east to the south.

Aygul's legs went numb from standing for so long that she had to change positions several times.

So long ago, Ye Hai carried that red hair tie in his pocket—

He bought it at the best jewelry store in the military reclamation city. It was a pure silver hairpin with a red agate at the top, and it cost him almost a month's salary—it hurt his thigh.

He hesitated all night. He hesitated again when he woke up in the morning, hesitated again before the test drive, and hesitated again after the test drive.

He was always a man of few words, never hesitating when drawing blueprints, setting parameters, or igniting a fire. But this hairpin made him hesitate hundreds of times.

What if she doesn't like it? What if she thinks it's too expensive? What if she says it's too expensive and then doesn't want the person? What if she thinks it's too fast? What if she thinks it's too slow?
He took the hairpin out of his pocket and held it tightly in his hand. He was so gripped that his hands were sweating, and the red agate became hot from his grip.

“Ayiguli”.

"Ah."

"I have something for you."

He opened his hand. In his palm lay the silver hairpin, gleaming silver, the red agate shining like a tiny, beating heart in the light.

Aygul was stunned and stared at the hairpin for several seconds.

Then he reached out and picked it up. The silver hairpin was not heavy, but it was finely crafted. The head of the hairpin was carved with a small snow lotus from the Tianshan Mountains, with layers upon layers of petals, each one clearly visible.

When did you buy it?

"Last week."

Who picked it out for you?

"Myself."

"By yourself?" Aygul glanced at him. "You went to the jewelry store alone, stood in front of the counter, and spent an hour choosing items?"

Ye Hai scratched his head. "How did you know it was an hour?"

"Because I was right across the street. I was buying milk tea and saw you go in. I finished my milk tea and you still hadn't come out."

Ye Hai's ears turned red, from the tips all the way to the base of his ears.

"You...you're on the other side?"

"Yeah. I'm over there. I saw you spend ages choosing, and then you picked this one."

She tucked the hairpin into her hair, the red agate standing out strikingly against her black tresses. She turned to face him. "Does it look good?"

"nice."

"real or fake?"

"real."

"Swear it."

Ye Hai raised his right hand, his expression as serious as if he were signing a technical document.

"I swear. The turbine blades may explode, the snow on the Tianshan Mountains may melt, but this hairpin on your head will always look beautiful."

Aygul was amused by his strange way of making an oath, and laughed so hard she bent over. After laughing, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the corner of his mouth.

"This is a reward for you. A reward for getting the engine working."

Ye Hai touched the spot where he had been kissed; the warmth of the kiss seemed to linger on his lips, as if he couldn't bear to wipe it away. He smiled and said:
"It was a collective effort. It wasn't something I did alone."

I know. But you are the most important one.

Ye Hai didn't know what to say. He reached out and took Ayiguli's hand. Their hands clasped tightly together.

Outside the window, the sun is shining brightly.

Junken City Sanatorium, on the same afternoon.

Ye Wancheng sat in his wheelchair, looking out at the sky.

The sky was blue, the clouds were white, and sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating the gray blanket on his lap.

Plum Blossom stood behind him, holding a comb in her hand, and was combing his hair.

The comb moved through the gray hair, making a soft, steady sound, as if turning the pages of decades one by one.

"Wancheng, Yuping called. He said the engine test run was successful."

Ye Wancheng's eyes lit up. "How's the data?"

“All the data is within the design range. Ivan said this is the smoothest test run in over a decade.”

Ye Wancheng nodded. "This kid is like his father. All he knows is data."

Mei Hua laughed. "Just like you. You only know data."

"When did I only know the data?"

"When you were planting trees, you measured their height and how many centimeters they grew every day. Wasn't that data?"

Ye Wancheng thought for a moment, then a faint smile slowly curved his lips. "It's data."

Meihua squatted down in front of him, just like the young girl who had just arrived in the Gobi Desert decades ago. She looked up into his eyes, her cloudy eyes reflecting the blue sky outside the window and the slowly drifting white clouds.

"Wancheng, do you think Yuping's engine can be installed on an airplane?"

"can."

Are you so sure?

"Because he is a member of the Ye family."

Ye Wancheng's voice was not loud, but it was very steady, like a stone on the Gobi Desert that had been polished by wind and sand for decades. Its edges were still there, but its weight had become heavier.

"The Ye family's words are like water spilled; they cannot be taken back. The vows made and the debts incurred will be repaid with their lives. The Ye family has unyielding bones and straight spines. If the sky falls, they will hold it up. If the earth collapses, they will cushion it. When the sandstorm comes, they will stand in a row, and no one will shrink back a single step."

Plum Blossom did not respond.

He simply looked out the window. The snow-capped peaks of the Tianshan Mountains shimmered white in the sunlight, dazzlingly white. The light was clean and cold, as if it had been there since ancient times, witnessing countless sunrises and sunsets, and witnessing the transformation of the military reclamation city from a barren Gobi desert into a vibrant city.

"Plum Blossom, help me up."

What are you doing up?

"Stand up. Stand for a while."

Mei Hua bent down, supporting his waist with one hand and pulling his arm with the other, slowly straightening his body from the wheelchair.

Ye Wancheng's legs were trembling, his knees bent into a labored arc, and a few drops of sweat rolled down his face, which was etched with the marks of time and hardship—but he stood still.

He stood by the window, gazing at the Tianshan Mountains. Those snow-capped peaks had stood there for millions of years.

The wind and sand cannot blow it down, nor can it be destroyed by lightning. In spring, the snow melts and rushes down from the mountaintops, forming rivers that flow across the Gobi Desert, through the poplar forests, and into every field, every canal, and every household's water tank in the military reclamation city.

The snowmelt was cold, but it warmed up by the time it reached the military reclamation town.

Outside the research institute, the street lamp was still on, appearing superfluous in the sunlight.

The old gatekeeper came out of the guardhouse, looked at the streetlight overhead, and reached out to turn it off.

Inside the research institute, the engineers were still busy. Engine data needed to be processed, reports needed to be written, and the next phase of installation testing needed to be planned. No one stopped.

Because this is not the end, it is the beginning.

As the sun set, Ye Hai pulled Ayiguli up to the rooftop of the research institute.

The wind was strong on the rooftop, blowing Ayiguli's hair wildly. The red hair tie tied to her braid swayed gently in the wind.

She removed the silver hairpin from her hair, carefully held it in her hand, and then tightened the hair tie again—

He held one end in his mouth and skillfully tied a knot with his fingers.

Ye Hai leaned against the railing of the rooftop, squinting at the distant Tianshan Mountains.

The snow-capped peaks were dyed orange-red by the setting sun, like icebergs on fire. Aygul stood beside him, neither of them speaking.

“Ayiguli”.

"Ah."

"Do you think anyone will still remember today, a hundred years from now?"

Aygul thought for a moment. "I don't remember."

"why?"

"But the engine remembers. The plane remembers. The people who fly on the plane don't remember who made the engine, but the symbol on the plane will always be there."

Ye Hai took her hand, their fingers intertwined. "That's enough."

It's faint and steady, like the minerals that have been sleeping for hundreds of millions of years beneath the Tianshan Mountains.

The night in Junken City is pure black. The lights in the research institute are still on.

At the foot of the Tianshan Mountains, on the Gobi Desert, the wind howled, and the stars overhead were densely packed, like a bag of loose silver had been spilled. The apricot trees hadn't blossomed yet, but they would soon. (End of Chapter)