Great Power Reclamation

Three days after the successful test drive, the excitement at the research institute had not yet subsided.

It wasn't the kind of noisy, celebratory event. The people at the research institute weren't good at that.

Ivan can't bang a gong, Kevin can't play a drum, and Ye Hai is even a beat slower than others when clapping.

Their liveliness is a different kind—

People were talking louder than usual while eating in the cafeteria.

When we bumped into each other in the hallway, we greeted each other with more smiles than usual;
Even the old gatekeeper's radio was turned up a notch, playing "Our Northern Xinjiang is a Wonderful Place," with the hand drums thumping loudly, making your feet itch.

But the most direct change is that Ye Hai is finally willing to leave work on time.

This was big news at the research institute. Ivan announced the news in Russian in the cafeteria, his voice booming like thunder:
"Comrade Ye Hai left the laboratory before 10 p.m. for three consecutive nights. This is the first time I have seen this since I have known him."

Kevin added insult to injury: "That's because Aygul comes to wait for him every night at 9:30."

Ivan added insult to injury: "Ye Hai's face turned red. Everyone, look!"

Ye Hai, holding his tray, was indeed blushing. The blush spread from the base of his neck upwards, like a time-lapse photograph of crystal growth under an electron microscope.

He wanted to say something in rebuttal, but when he opened his mouth, he realized that he really had nothing to say in rebuttal.

Because he did indeed go downstairs at 9:30 every night, and Ayiguli did indeed wait for him downstairs. They did indeed go to the naan shop in town together to buy a freshly baked naan, break it in half, and eat it as they walked, leaving crumbs all the way.

Aygul sat opposite him, picked up a piece of mutton with her chopsticks, and ate it slowly, pretending not to hear Ivan's words.

But the tips of her ears turned red. The redness spread slowly from her earlobe to the tip, like a drop of ink falling into clear water.

Ye Hai saw it and wanted to say, "Your ears are red too," but he felt it would be even more embarrassing to say it, so he kept quiet. He lowered his head and shoveled rice into his mouth.

The meals at the research institute were much more plentiful than usual. The head chef, surnamed Ma, was from Gansu and was an excellent cook.

These past few days, he's been adding different kinds of extra food for everyone. He added extra cumin to the braised chicken, extra raisins to the hand-pulled rice, and even upgraded the free soup from seaweed and egg drop soup to mutton soup.

Master Ma didn't say anything grand or ambitious; he simply posted a note on the window that read:

"Eat well and drink well, so we can build even better engines."

No one knows who posted the note, but everyone saw it.

After finishing his meal, Ye Hai took his tray to the recycling area and hesitated for a moment.

Master Ma leaned out of the window and glanced at him. "Is that enough? If not, I'll give you another spoonful."

Ye Hai shook his head, said thank you, and turned to leave. After taking two steps, he stopped and turned back.

"Master Ma, the soup is delicious."

"Of course. I cooked for three hours." Master Ma grinned, revealing a gold tooth.

Ye Hai walked out of the canteen, and Ayiguli was waiting for him at the door.

She was wearing a red windbreaker today, which stood out in the drab courtyard of the research institute.

The research institute's buildings are gray, the ground is gray, and the engineers' work clothes are gray.

She stood there, like a red apricot blossom—no, apricot blossoms are pinkish-white, not red. She was like a red rose, but roses don't grow on the Gobi Desert.

She is like a snow lotus on the top of Tianshan Mountain, but a snow lotus is white. She resembles nothing else; she is simply herself.

"Are we going to the Ye family's old house today?" Ayiguli asked.

“Go. Uncle said the apricot blossoms are in bloom today.”

"It's open? Wasn't it supposed to be the day after tomorrow?"

"It might be earlier than expected. Flowers don't wait for anyone."

The two men walked out of the research institute. The news of the successful test run of the "Tianshan Engine" spread throughout the country and the world.

Inside a gray building on Chang'an Avenue, several elderly people sat together looking at a briefing. They didn't speak, but there was a light in their eyes—

That was the light we had waited for so long, the light we had finally received.

At a regular press conference, a foreign journalist asked:

Does China intend to use the 'Tianshan' engine technology for military purposes?

The spokesperson's response was only one sentence: "The Tianshan engine is a civilian product, mainly used in domestically produced large aircraft. As for other uses, I have no further information to share."

This sentence, translated into foreign languages, was simultaneously reprinted by Reuters, AFP, and AP.

The titles varied: "China calls Tianshan engine a civilian product," "Beijing: Engine not for military," and "China's new engine civilian use only."

But one comment was pushed to the top of the comments section; it was just one sentence: "Do you believe what they say?"

The people at the R&D institute don't care about these things. What they care about is the next phase of installation and testing. This is yet another completely new challenge—

Just because an engine runs well on a ground test bench doesn't mean it will run well on an aircraft. The environments in the air and on the ground are two different things.

Temperature, humidity, air pressure, vibration, icing, bird strikes—they must overcome every obstacle.

Just like Ye Yuze said, "I'm glad you guys have developed the engine. But it hasn't taken to the skies yet. I'll be really happy when it does."

Ye Hai walked on the main road outside the research institute, with Ayiguli holding his arm. They walked quickly, not like they were going to admire the flowers, but like they were rushing to finish a task.

But people who have spent a long time in the research institute tend to walk fast; it's an occupational hazard.

Two rows of poplar trees, towering into the clouds, lined both sides of the main road outside the research institute. Their trunks were straight.

The leaves have all fallen in winter, leaving the branches bare, but something seems to be moving on the branches—upon closer inspection, it's buds.

They're plump and round, like millet grains. In another two weeks, the poplar will sprout new leaves.

Tender green and translucent, it rustles in the wind like applause.

The research institute is not far from the Ye family's old house. Turn into a small alley from the main road, and walk another 300 meters.

The alley was a dirt road, with old houses on both sides, earthen walls, wooden doors, and door thresholds worn smooth and shiny.

Some doors still have last year's Spring Festival couplets pasted on them. The red paper has faded to pinkish-white, and the characters are blurred, but the character "福" (fortune) is still recognizable.

An elderly Uyghur man was squatting in front of his house, basking in the sun. He was wearing a faded military overcoat, and his eyes were closed, as if he were sleeping or listening to the wind.

Hearing footsteps, he opened his eyes, glanced at them, and said something in Uyghur.

Aygul replied in Uyghur. The old man smiled, revealing his bare gums, nodded, and continued to bask in the sun with his eyes closed.

The gate to the Ye family's old house was open. Pushing it open, it creaked; the hinges were stiff and needed oiling.

The apricot tree in the yard has indeed blossomed.

It wasn't the kind of blossoming where the tree was covered in flowers; rather, a few blossoms opened scattered here and there. Most were still buds, their pinkish-white petals translucent in the sunlight, like cicada wings.

But those few that had already bloomed shone like tiny lamps in the light.

Sunlight shone on the petals, and the petals reflected on Ye Hai's face. Ye Hai was mesmerized. He had never really looked at apricot blossoms before.

In Boston, flowers bloom in the spring, but he doesn't have time to see them.

There were trees outside the window in the laboratory, but he never looked up.

His world consists only of engines—engines on blueprints, engines on test benches, engines in flight.

He had never imagined that something other than an engine could be so beautiful. Aygul released his arm, walked to the tree, and looked up at the flowers. Sunlight filtered through the branches, dappling her face.

The silver hairpin was stuck in her hair, and the red agate glittered in the sunlight, like someone winking.

"Ye Hai, come here."

Ye Hai walked over and stood beside her. He looked at the apricot tree; its trunk was as thick as a bowl, and its bark was dark brown, covered with cracks and bumps.

This is an old tree, planted more than 20 years ago. More than 20 years ago, Ye Hai had not yet been born.

The person who planted the tree is gone. But the tree remains. Every spring, it blossoms, whether anyone sees it or not.

"Ye Hai, you're saying this tree was planted by your grandfather?"

"Yes. My uncle said so."

What kind of person was your grandfather?

Ye Hai thought for a moment. "My uncle said he doesn't talk much, but every word he says is true. He said he'd settle down here, and he did."

He said he'd make the trees grow, and they did. He said he wanted future generations to see apricot blossoms, and we saw them.

Aygul was silent for a while. From outside the wall came the sounds of children's laughter, off-key whistling, and adults talking.

A woman's voice called out, "Balangzi, come back for dinner!"

A little boy's voice drifted back from afar:
"Coming, coming!" The footsteps clattered away into the distance.

“Ye Hai,” Ayiguli leaned on his shoulder, “do you think this tree will still be there a hundred years from now?”

"exist."

"how do you know?"

"Trees live longer than people. People live for decades, trees live for hundreds of years. Twenty years from now, we will be gone, but this tree will still be here. A hundred years from now, we will be gone, but this tree will still be here. Every spring, when it is time to bloom, it will still bloom. Regardless of whether anyone sees it."

He thought for a moment, then added, "The trees my grandfather planted will live on in his place after he's gone. They will watch over the military reclamation city and the next generation."

Aygul didn't speak. She buried her face in his shoulder. A breeze blew, and the apricot petals swayed gently, but didn't fall. The flowers had just bloomed; it wasn't time for them to wither yet.

Footsteps echoed in the courtyard. Ye Yuze emerged from the house, dressed in a dark gray Zhongshan suit. He walked to the apricot tree, looked up at the newly opened apricot blossoms, and stood there without saying a word.

"Uncle," Ye Hai called out to him.

Ye Yuze turned his head, looked at him, and then looked at Ayiguli beside him.

His gaze swept back and forth between the two people, his face expressionless, but his eyes softened.

He nodded. "It's open. Three days earlier than last year."

He walked to the apricot tree, reached out, and touched the trunk. It was rough and cold, yet possessed an indescribable warmth.

He's been touching it for decades, ever since it was just a sapling.

Touch it as it grows, touch it as it blossoms, touch your own hands as they change from smooth to rough, touch your hair as it turns from black to white, touch your cane as it goes from optional to indispensable.

“Ye Hai,” Ye Yuze said, “when your grandfather planted this tree, you weren’t even born yet. He said something when he planted it:”

"What?"

He said, "People don't live for themselves. They live so that those who come after them can find shade under the trees."

Ye Hai looked at the apricot tree. The shade wasn't very big yet, but in a few years, when it grew a bit bigger, it would be able to cover half the yard.

By then, the fourth and fifth generations of the Ye family will be running around under the tree, reaching out to pick apricots, and grimacing from the sourness.

Aygul walked up to Ye Yuze and bowed deeply.

"Uncle, thank you."

Ye Yuze looked at her. "Thank me for what?"

"Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for giving my mother a home. Thank you for leaving the 'Tianshan' engine in China."

Ye Yuze paused for a moment, then smiled.

“Your mother wasn’t taken in by us. She came on her own. She didn’t bring anything with her, just a suitcase.”

"The box contained blueprints. Blueprints that we had never seen before."

He looked at Aygul and said, "Your mother is the toughest woman we've ever met."

Aygul's eyes reddened. She lowered her head, trying not to let the tears fall.

Ye Yuze turned around and slowly walked into the house. After taking two steps, he stopped and didn't look back.

"We'll have dinner here tonight. Your mom and dad will come too. It'll be a family reunion dinner."

Aygul raised her head, and tears still fell. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

Ye Hai took out a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it but didn't wipe her tears; instead, she blew her nose first.

The sound was loud, like a trumpet playing a low note. Ye Hai suppressed a laugh, and the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

"What are you laughing at?" Aygul glared at him.

"I didn't laugh."

"The corners of your mouth are turning up."

"That was blown by the wind."

"There's no wind."

Ye Hai's lips continued to curl up, refusing to come down.

Aygul reached out and pinched the corners of his mouth, pulling them to the sides, making his face look like a grinning toad.

Ye Hai didn't dodge, just let her pinch him, his eyes curving into two crescent moons.

Looking at his helpless state, Aygul couldn't help but laugh out loud, her laughter clear and crisp, like icicles falling on a stone, tinkling and clanging.

Through the courtyard wall, a child in the alley called out, "Mommy, who's laughing? They're laughing so loudly!"

Another voice said, "Never mind that. Let's go. It's time to eat!"

Life in the R&D institute, in essence, is all about waiting. Waiting for the engine to ignite, waiting for the data to stabilize, waiting for the test drive to succeed.

After waiting for one time, you wait for the next.

After the fourth test, we wait for the installation and testing. After the installation and testing, we wait for the airworthiness certification.

After the evidence is collected, we wait to load it onto the plane. We wait for the plane to take off, for the passengers to board, and for the engines to run smoothly at an altitude of 10,000 meters.

But it wasn't all just waiting. While we waited, the vegetables simmered in the pot, and the flowers slowly bloomed on the branches.

The lights on the roof of the research institute go out and come on again, repeating the same rhythm every day.

But engines are different. Once an engine starts running, it can't be stopped.

A few apricot blossoms have bloomed in the courtyard of the Ye family's old house. Not many, but enough.

Enough for those who have waited a lifetime on the Gobi Desert to sit under a tree, drink a bowl of tea, glance at the flowers, and say—"They're blooming." And another—"They're blooming. We've waited for them." (End of Chapter)