Great Power Reclamation

The apricot blossoms in Junken City were seventy percent in bloom, filling the courtyard with pink and white clouds. Ye Yuze sat under a tree, holding a cup of tea, watching the flowers sway gently in the wind.

Occasionally, a petal would fall into his teacup, but he wouldn't scoop it up. He would drink the tea along with the petal, finding it slightly astringent with a hint of sweetness.

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

The three-way battle between China, the US, and Europe over airworthiness certificates has begun simultaneously in Beijing, Washington, and Brussels.

This is not the first time the Tianshan engine has faced resistance, but this time it is the largest and most aggressive, many times faster and more formal, systematic and ruthless than the underhanded tactics of Liu Zixuan and his gang back then.

The phone rang. Ye Yuze answered it without saying a word. On the other end of the line, Ye Feng's voice was hoarse, indicating that he hadn't slept well for several days.

Boeing, together with General Electric, formally submitted an objection to the U.S. Federal Aviation Administration, arguing that "the core technology of the Tianshan engine is suspected of infringing on General Electric's patent rights, and no form of airworthiness certificate should be granted until the infringement issue is resolved."

Airbus and Rolls-Royce were also busy, jointly submitting similar opinions to the European Aviation Safety Agency. Their wording was not as strong or aggressive as Boeing's, but the meaning was the same—"Not approved."

"Patent infringement?" Ye Yuze chewed on those four words, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They hired several law firms in the United States and produced a more than 400-page infringement analysis report."

From fan blades to turbine discs, from combustion chambers to control systems, every single component was listed, claiming we infringed on more than twenty of their patents.

Ye Yuze was silent for a moment. "Really?"

Ye Feng paused for a moment. "Whether it's true or false isn't important. What's important is that the report has been submitted. Now it's not us fighting them in court, it's them talking to the FAA."

"The FAA's airworthiness certification standards are set by them, the experts are their people, and the procedures have been going on for decades. If we want to get in, it's like playing on someone else's field, with someone else's referees, and using someone else's rules. Only if we win can we truly win."

Ye Feng lowered his voice, "Dad, this isn't a technical issue. This is a political issue."

Ye Yuze leaned back in his chair, looking at the apricot blossoms overhead. The petals shimmered in the sunlight, like cicada wings, thin and delicate.

His mind was no longer clear; it was a mess, like a crumpled piece of blueprint that couldn't be smoothed out.

"Ye Feng, what do you plan to do?"

"Two paths. The first is to sue them. Hire the best law firm and fight them to the bitter end. Fight them until they can't produce any evidence, fight them until they reach an out-of-court settlement, fight them until the FAA dares not refuse to approve."

"And the second one?"

"Secondly, don't fight them. Divide the airworthiness certification of the Tianshan engine into two steps. First, obtain the certificate from the Civil Aviation Administration of China."

"The large aircraft belongs to China and flies in China's airspace, so it doesn't need the FAA's approval. We need to develop the domestic market first, increase the volume, and accumulate enough data."

"When the data is solid enough, the facts are plentiful enough, and no one can silence us, then we can go back and knock on the FAA's door. At that point, whether or not it gets certified won't be up to them, but up to the market."

Ye Yuze remained silent.

Yang Geyong held his milk tea bowl, looking at his face. This face had been with him for sixty years, a sixty-year-old brother; he recognized every wrinkle. This was Ye Yuze's expression when making a decision—not like he was choosing, but like he was gambling.

Choose option two.

Ye Yuze's voice wasn't loud, but it was steady. "We won't sue them. Lawsuits are their home turf. Gathering evidence is our home turf. If we can't win at home, we're even less likely to win away."

Ye Feng said, "The second path is slow. Not just a little slow, but much slower. It takes at least three years to build up the domestic market. Once you have enough data, it will take at least five years. And if you try to knock on the FAA's door after five years, they might not even open it."

Ye Yuze smiled. It was a faint smile, but it was genuine.

"Five years is a long time. I'm 65, so I'll wait five years until I'm 70. I can still play chess at 70, it won't be a problem."

Yang Geyong muttered from the side, "You always steal my knight when you play chess."

Ye Yuze ignored him and continued to say to Ye Feng, "Go and get to work. Make the calls you need to make in Washington, and meet with the people you need to meet. But don't rush. If you rush, things will fall apart. And if things fall apart, you'll lose."

"understood."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Yuze placed his phone on the stone table, picked up his teacup, and found the flower petals still settled at the bottom.

Yang Geyong put down his milk tea bowl, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, tore off a corner of the Reference News, rolled one up, and lit it.

The smoke swirled among the apricot blossoms, then dissipated in the wind, wisps of smoke like memories scattered by the wind.

"Old Yang, do you think the Tianshan engine will eventually get FAA certification?"

Yang Geyong exhaled a puff of smoke. "Yes. But not now."

When was that?

"When they beg us to take it."

Ye Yuze was taken aback for a moment, then laughed. "You're even more arrogant than me."

"It's not madness. It's faith."

Yang Geyong stubbed out his cigarette, leaving a small scorch mark on the bluestone pavement.

"Trust our products. Good products will always be recognized. Isn't that how the Warrior engine went global?"

Washington, D.C., FAA headquarters. An unassuming building, without a nameplate or flag, dusty and unassuming, like an ordinary government office building.

But aircraft manufacturers worldwide know that the people sitting in this building hold the power to gain access to the world's largest civil aviation market.

Without their approval, even the best airplanes cannot fly into US airspace, and even the best engines cannot be sold to American airlines.

The conference room was packed with people: representatives from Boeing, General Electric, lawyers from the Aeronautical Industries Association, and FAA airworthiness certification experts.

On the table was a document, over four hundred pages long, with the cover reading: "Analysis Report on Tianshan Engine's Alleged Infringement of General Electric's Patent Rights."

The Boeing representative was a white man in his fifties with gray hair. He spoke slowly and deliberately, but every word he uttered carried weight.

"The FAA's airworthiness certification standards are the highest in the world. Any product with intellectual property disputes should not be granted airworthiness certification. This is not targeting China, but a matter of procedural justice."

The GE representative added, "We're not against competition. We're against unfair competition." The FAA representative sat at the head of the table, slowly flipping through the report, page by page, his expression blank.

After the meeting, in Susie Wharton's office, she sat in her chair, the four-hundred-page report spread out in front of her. She had already read it three times.

I watched it several times, and the more I watched it, the funnier it became—not just funny, but so funny that I wanted to curse. It was the kind of funny where you know the other person is being a scoundrel but you can't do anything about it and can only stand there and watch them do it.

The report lists more than twenty patents, each of which seems reasonable at first glance, but upon closer examination, each one is untenable.

But this isn't a courtroom; it's an FAA hearing. They set the rules, and they hold the reins.

She says you're guilty, but you don't need to actually commit a crime; they say you've violated a law, but you don't need to actually violate a law. As long as they are the judges, their word counts.

The phone rang. Ye Feng.

"Susie, have you finished reading the report?"

"finish watching."

"How about it?"

"It's beautifully written. Even more beautiful than my speech."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Susie, don't get too involved in this matter. You're a congresswoman, not a lawyer for the Warriors Group."

“You can speak for the warrior group in Congress once or twice, but if you do it too often, someone will use it against you. Your opponents are always looking for something to do with you, and you can’t hand them the knife.”

Susie held her phone, silent. She knew better than you what Ye Feng had said. But knowing was one thing, doing was another. She couldn't stand idly by and watch those people bully Ye Feng.

"Ye Feng, which path do you choose?"

"Secondly, obtain the CAAC certificate first."

Susie paused for a moment. "Slow. Too slow."

"Slow, but steady. Steady, you won't lose."

Susie leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. One of the light bulbs on the ceiling was broken, flickering on and off like it was blinking.

"Ye Feng, you're always like this."

"how?"

"Steady. As steady as a mountain."

"Isn't the mountain nice?"

"Okay. But the mountain won't move. It will just stand there, waiting for someone to climb it."

Ye Feng's voice was very soft. "I am not a mountain. I am a person standing at the foot of the mountain."

Susie asked, "Will people at the foot of the mountain also be seen?"

Ye Feng didn't answer, remaining silent for a long time. The silence was so long that Susie thought the call had been disconnected.

“Yes,” he said. “People standing at the foot of the mountain can only see the mountain when they look up. But people on the mountain can also see him when they look down.”

After hanging up the phone, Susie sat in her chair, looking out the window. The sky over Washington was overcast, devoid of sunshine. But her heart wasn't cold, because someone stood firmly in her heart, like a mountain.

Military reclamation city, research institute. Before dawn, Ye Hai was already standing in front of the test bench.

The test data for the fourth prototype needs to be compiled, the installation test plan needs to be modified, the materials group's report needs to be reviewed, and the coordination with COMAC needs to be confirmed.

Things lined up one after another, like rows of camel thorns on the Gobi Desert, densely packed and seemingly endless.

Aygul walked in, carrying two cups of coffee. She placed one cup next to Ye Hai, who, without looking up, said "thank you" and continued staring at the screen.

"Ye Hai, do you know what's going on in the United States?"

"know."

Aren't you worried?

Ye Hai finally raised his head and looked into her eyes. There were bloodshot eyes and dark circles under her eyes, but the light in those eyes was steady.

“Worry. But worrying is useless. Make the engine good. Make it perfectly, and get it flying. Let those people see that our stuff is no worse than theirs.”

Aygul looked at him, and the corners of her mouth slowly turned up. They curved like the crescent moon in the sky before it set.

"When did you become so eloquent?"

"Probably after I met you."

Aygul reached out and gently punched his arm, her eyes reddening, but she didn't let the tears fall.

Spring comes earlier in Washington than in Military Reclamation City. By mid-March, the cherry blossoms were already in bloom, their pink and white petals carpeting the Tidal Basin. A breeze would blow, and the petals would fall onto the water, floating like a thin layer of snow.

But the atmosphere inside the FAA headquarters building was colder than winter.

The second hearing was scheduled for March 20th. Boeing and General Electric submitted their supplementary materials a week in advance; this time, it wasn't 400 pages, but 600 pages.

The newly added two hundred pages are crammed with more "evidence" and "expert opinions," even digging up a paper Ye Hai published during his doctoral studies in Boston, cutting off the beginning and end, and taking it out of context.

This paper claims that the core technology of the Tianshan engine began to "borrow" from research results from the United States many years ago.

A reporter from CBN retrieved the original text of the paper from the database, compared it word by word, and wrote an in-depth report overnight. The title was very restrained.

"The Truth Behind the Tianshan Engine Patent Dispute" is not at all restrained in its content. It refutes Boeing and General Electric's accusations one by one from beginning to end, with data against data, facts against facts, and arguments against arguments.

The report garnered over a million views in less than an hour, and the comments section was filled with criticism—not for the Tianshan engine, but for Boeing and General Electric.

Susie Wharton's office is on Capitol Hill, not far from the FAA headquarters, about a 15-minute drive away.

She sat at her desk, a CBN (China Business Network) report playing on her computer screen, a cup of now-cold coffee in her hand, her eyes fixed on the screen, a faint smile playing on her lips.

She thought of someone—Ye Feng. This report wasn't written by Ye Feng; he wouldn't be so straightforward. But there must be Ye Feng's shadow behind this report.

Brothers Group owns a medium-sized financial media outlet, registered in the US, operating in Hong Kong, and distributed in Europe. Its influence isn't huge, but it's reliable in crucial moments. The phone rang. It was Ye Feng.

"Susie, did you see the report?"

"I saw it."

"what do you think?"

Susie thought for a moment. "The force is enough. But the direction is off."

"The direction is off?"

“You’re telling Americans the facts. But this isn’t a matter of facts. It’s a political matter. Political matters can’t be solved with facts. They have to be solved with politics.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone. "Then tell me, how do you plan to resolve this politically?"

Susie stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dome of Capitol Hill. The afterglow of the setting sun shone on the dome, making it gleam like a giant crown.

"Next month, the Senate Commerce Committee will hold a hearing on the topic of 'The Competitiveness and Future of the U.S. Aerospace Industry'."

“I’ve already spoken with my fourth uncle, and he’ll give me a chance to speak. I will mention the Tianshan engine at the meeting. Not to speak for it, but to speak for American airlines—”

"If the FAA doesn't issue an airworthiness certificate for the Tianshan engine, Boeing and Airbus will have no competitors, aircraft prices will rise, airline costs will increase, and passenger ticket prices will be higher. In the end, who will suffer? The American people will suffer."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Are you helping them?"

"No. I'm helping myself. Helping myself win the support of voters, helping myself get re-elected. And incidentally, helping you."

Ye Feng's voice was very soft. "Susie, you're always like this."

"how?"

"You're saying I'm helping you when I'm actually helping myself."

Susie smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was genuine.

"Because helping you is helping yourself. We're in the same boat."

After hanging up the phone, Susie stood by the window, looking out at Capitol Hill. The sun had set, and the gold on the dome had turned dark gray.

The street below was bustling with traffic, the headlights forming two long lines, one heading east and the other west. No one knew where the other was going, but no one stopped in the middle of the road to argue.

Beijing, Chaoyang District, Civil Aviation Administration of China. The lights were still on in the office of the Airworthiness Certification Department.

Director Zhou was in his early fifties, with gray hair and wearing black-rimmed glasses. He spoke slowly, but every word he uttered carried weight.

He has been in this position for almost ten years, handling the airworthiness certification of countless models, from the ARJ21 to the C919, from regional jets to mainline jets, from turbofan engines to turboprop engines. He has been present at every step of China's civil aviation industry over the past ten years.

A document lay open on the table, its cover bearing the title "Application Form for Tianshan Engine Type Certificate." It was a thick stack of several hundred pages, produced by the R&D staff working overtime, with every piece of data checked countless times.

Old Zhou opened the first page, read a few lines, and then closed it again.

"Director Liu, come here for a moment." Director Liu was his deputy, in his early forties, quick and efficient, walking with a brisk pace, and speaking like a machine gun. She walked over, stood in front of the table, and waited for Old Zhou to speak.

"You'll lead the certification process for the Tianshan engine. Bring over the best experts from our company, and if that's not enough, borrow from outside. Borrow from COMAC, Aero Engine Corporation of China, Civil Aviation University of China—borrow as many as you can."

"This project cannot be delayed in our hands. But we also cannot rush it, nor can we lower the standards in order to speed it up. No delays, no compromises."

Director Liu nodded. "Director Zhou, have you heard about what's happening in the US?"

Of course, Lao Zhou had heard about it. Boeing and General Electric submitted hundreds of pages of infringement reports at the FAA hearing, and even Ye Hai's doctoral dissertation was brought up as "evidence".

This is not an academic dispute; this is a commercial war. The battlefield is not in the courts, but in the public sphere, in regulatory agencies, and at every crucial juncture—not in the United States, not in Europe, but in China.

Why should we wait for the Americans to nod when we have our own planes, engines, and airworthiness certificates?

The Tianshan engine isn't meant to fly across the Pacific Ocean, but to fly over the skies of China, carrying Chinese passengers, taking off from Chinese airports, cruising in Chinese airspace, and landing at Chinese airports—the skies of China are determined by the Chinese people themselves.

Old Zhou took off his glasses and slowly wiped them with the corner of his clothes. There was no dust on the lenses, but he wiped them very carefully, as if he were cleaning an old object that had been used for decades.

"Director Liu, go and make preparations. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you to the military reclamation city."

"To the military reclamation city?"

"Go and see that engine. Only after you've seen it will you feel at ease. Only when you're at ease can you sign off."

Director Liu paused for a moment, then smiled. "Director Zhou, are you going to work on-site?"

Old Zhou put on his glasses and picked up the application form on the table. "How can you conduct official business without inspecting the site?"

Military Reclamation City, Research Institute. Ye Yuping stood in front of the test bench, looking at the silver-gray engine.

The fourth prototype of the Tianshan engine is a behemoth weighing several tons. Its outer shell is silver-gray, gleaming coldly under the lights, like a stunned steel giant, lying there motionless, but you know how much power it holds—

With a rotation speed exceeding 12,000 revolutions per minute and a temperature exceeding 1,700 degrees Celsius, it's like locking the center of a thunderstorm inside an iron shell, allowing it to work quietly.

The day after tomorrow, the review expert group from the Civil Aviation Administration of China will be here. Director Zhou will be leading the team personally, and there will be more than a dozen people, including those specializing in materials, mechanics, flight, and airworthiness management.

They will spend three days at the research institute. They will disassemble the engine and examine it thoroughly, inside and out.

The blueprints are retrieved and checked thoroughly from the first to the last; the data is exported and verified from the first to the last. Every rivet, every line of code, and every person who signs off on it must be scrutinized.

People who work on engines aren't afraid of being inspected; what they fear is discovering, during an inspection, that they haven't done things properly.

Helena stood beside him. Her blonde hair was completely white, her face was etched with deep wrinkles, and she had a limp in her right leg, but she stood very straight, like an old tree that had been bent by the wind and snow but still clung to the ground.

"Yuping, do you think Director Zhou will sign it now that he's here?"

Ye Yuping thought for a moment. "Yes."

Are you so sure?

"Because our stuff is genuine."

Helena laughed, her eyes crinkling into wrinkles that resembled a folding fan.

“You’ve always been the one who says ‘it’ the truth’ your whole life.”

Ye Yuping smiled too. "Because what we're doing is real."

Helena didn't speak, but reached out and took Ye Yuping's hand. His hand was large and rough, with thick, deformed knuckles and calluses all over his fingertips.

These hands have held wrenches for decades, kneaded blueprints for decades, and signed their names for decades—Ye Yuping. These three words, signed on blueprints, represent responsibility.

Standing behind them, Ye Hai looked at his parents' backs and felt a strange, indescribable feeling welling up inside him.

He recalled his childhood, when his mother would stay up late in the lab while he did his homework beside her. His mother's hands would type on the keyboard, and his hands would write in his notebook. Neither of them spoke, but both felt at peace.

That sense of security is like the roar of an engine. When the engine is silent, you feel uneasy; when it's running, you feel calm.

Aygul walked to his side. "Your dad and your mom, standing together, look like a painting."

Ye Hai looked at the blue sky and white clouds outside the window, then at the reflection of his parents standing side by side in the window. "What painting?"

Aygul thought for a moment. "Two old people stood on the Gobi Desert, with an engine behind them and the Tianshan Mountains in front of them. They held hands, neither of them letting go."

Ye Hai reached out and grasped Ayiguli's hand, neither of them letting go.

The next day, on a flight from Beijing to the provincial capital, Old Zhou sat by the window, next to Director Liu, and behind him were the experts from the review team. The plane flew above the clouds, and everything outside the window was a vast expanse of white.

Director Liu took out a document, flipped through it, and then closed it again. "Director Zhou, have you met Ye Yuping?"

No. We've spoken on the phone a few times.

What kind of person is he?

Old Zhou thought for a moment. "He's not good with words, but every word he says counts."

Director Liu chewed on the phrase "every word counts" for a moment, then swallowed it.

The plane has begun its descent; we've arrived at WLMQ.

Junken City, the Ye family's old residence. Ye Yuze received a call from Ye Feng. Boeing and General Electric had submitted a supplementary document, their third such document to the FAA. This time, it not only addressed patent infringement but also included a "national security" clause.

If the Tianshan engine obtains FAA certification, it will threaten the foundation of the US aviation industry and, consequently, US national security.

Ye Yuze asked, "National security? How can an engine threaten U.S. national security?"

Ye Feng's voice was hoarse. "They said that if the technology of the Tianshan engine were used for military purposes, the United States' air superiority would be challenged."

Ye Yuze remained silent for a long time. Then he laughed, a soft but deep laugh. He said, "General Electric's turbine disks, aren't they made of single-crystal alloy?"

Rolls-Royce fan blades aren't even made of composite materials? They don't threaten national security when they use them. But when we use them, they become a threat.

Ye Feng remained silent on the other end of the phone. He was a businessman, not a diplomat. All he could do was exert influence on Wall Street, defend himself legally, and speak out in the media. But the concept of national security was a wall that no one could bypass.

Ye Yuze said, "No rush. Let them talk. They can't control their mouths. But we can get things done. Once we've accomplished something, no one will listen to them anymore."

After hanging up the phone, Ye Yuze placed it on the stone table. He stood up, leaning on his cane, and walked to the apricot tree. Most of the flowers were in bloom, their pink and white petals shimmering in the sunlight like cicada wings.

Yang Geyong caught up. "Old Ye, are you alright?"

"It's alright. Just stand there for a while."

The apricot blossoms swayed gently in the wind.

Research institute, materials laboratory. Aygul stands in front of an electron microscope, observing a coating sample of a turbine blade.

Old Zhou and his team will arrive the day after tomorrow, and all the coating data must be compiled before then. She has been spending several days in the lab, not returning to her dormitory until almost midnight every night.

Ye Hai pushed open the door and came in. He was carrying a bowl of wontons. They were made by Chef Ma from the cafeteria, with a chicken broth base, seaweed and dried shrimp, and sprinkled with cilantro.

"have eaten?"

"No."

"Then let's eat first."

She pushed the bowl of wontons aside. "I'll eat after I finish this."

Ye Hai brought the bowl of wontons back and handed her the chopsticks. "Eat. I'll get you some more after you're done."

Aygul looked at him. His eyes were bloodshot, and the dark circles under them were horribly deep; he looked even more worn out than she was. But he stood there, holding a bowl of wontons, insisting she eat. She picked up the bowl, took a bite of a wonton, and hissed as it was scalding hot. The savory flavor of the chicken soup and the seaweed's aroma spread across her tongue, warming her stomach. Her nose stung, as if something was stuck in her throat—not because the wontons were delicious, but because someone had brought them to her.

"Is it tasty?"

"good to eat."

"Master Ma made it. He said he's been using this meat filling recipe for twenty years."

"Twenty years? Why didn't he cover it up before?"

“Nobody was worth his money before.”

Aygul paused for a moment, then lowered her head and finished the bowl of wontons, bite by bite. She also drank the soup, not leaving a drop.

Ye Hai watched as she finished the last drop of soup in her bowl, took the empty bowl and placed it on top of her own before going to the sink to wash it.

He's not a romantic person; he doesn't say sweet nothings, doesn't send flowers, and doesn't play guitar under the moonlight.

But he will bring you a bowl of wontons when you are hungry, take off his coat and give it to you when you are cold, and quietly take over your work when you are busy to help you.

This is enough.

(To be continued)(End of this chapter)