Reborn in 2011, I am the chief designer of aerospace.

Chapter 93 The Strictest Substitute Teacher at Jiaotong University

However, it's not his turn to make that suggestion yet.

Moreover, the Long March 5 series is mainly managed by the First Academy, with the East China Academy playing only a supporting role. As for the troublesome coking problem, let the First Academy figure it out first.

Right now, Song Xingye is facing another unexpected situation: his doctoral supervisor, Professor Xu, is experiencing some health problems.

During a routine physical examination organized by the school, the elderly professor was found to have a heart problem.

Song Xingye rushed to the hospital, listening to the doctor rattle off a bunch of medical jargon while looking at the test results. He only understood one word in the end—

Coronary heart disease.

It's not exactly serious or fatal, but hospitalization for observation is necessary, and if required, a coronary stent procedure may be needed.

Song Xingye finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Then I remembered that the old man had indeed been sick in his previous life, but he remained healthy until his peaceful death.

It seems that Lao Xu will be able to turn his life around and recover and be discharged from the hospital soon.

So, during this period, in addition to being busy at the East China Institute, he also had to substitute for Professor Xu every week to teach several basic aerospace engineering courses to first-year undergraduates.

When Song Xingye strode into the undergraduate classroom for the first time, the students below were somewhat surprised.

They noticed that the temporary substitute teacher didn't seem to be much older than them.

But soon, they learned a great deal why others could stand on the stage while they could only sit in the audience.

Song Xingye had never been a teacher before, and his teaching style was rather rigid. He would often call out everyone's names in a whirlwind-like manner, and then mark all those who skipped class as failing students for the entire semester. Only after he had made an example of them would he begin the lesson.

This tyrannical style of teaching forced students to take the course seriously. They stopped reading novels, put away their phones, and focused their attention intently on the podium.

After class started, Song Xingye began writing furiously on the blackboard, and even the students sitting in the back row could hear the screeching sound of the chalk.

His lectures weren't humorous, but they were certainly hardcore.

There were four interlocking blackboards hanging on the wall at the front of the classroom. Song Xingye didn't even need to look at the textbook before he quickly started writing formulas on them.

Line after line of equations, until the blackboard is full.

In order to keep their credits, the students had no choice but to frantically copy as much as they could keep up with the substitute teachers, until their wrists ached and became stiff.

Whenever Song Xingye teaches a class, the blackboard is always densely covered with mathematical and physical symbols.

The most disheartening thing is that sometimes when he pulls down the third blackboard, some students are still struggling to copy the contents of the first blackboard.

They didn't even dare to stop, because once Teacher Song filled the fourth blackboard and found there was nowhere left to write, he would ruthlessly erase the first one and start the second round of frantic writing.

Occasionally, Song Xingye would stop halfway through writing to give his students some explanations.

For example, how does one jump from the sixth formula to the tenth formula?

His explanations are often concise, simply stating that they are achieved through integration or differentiation.

If a bold student takes the opportunity to ask about the derivation process, Song Xingye will coldly retort, "Were you listening carefully just now?"

""

"Of course, I never dare to lose focus in Professor Song's class."

"Now that you've heard it, you should understand how it was derived."

Then Song Xingye would continue his story.

He never needed to look at the textbook; he could write furiously from the start of class until the end, imparting knowledge to his students for a full two hours without interruption.

Over time, the students developed an almost instinctive sense of awe for this young man.

They had never seen a teacher like this before, and were even somewhat afraid of him.

What's even worse is his in-class assignments, which are ridiculously difficult.

Unless you're a very bright student, you simply can't see through the tricks he's playing with the questions.

As a result, students in the aerospace engineering department even held a private discussion group, trying to have a few smart students review the writing on the blackboard and understand the meaning of those scribbles.

But this trick doesn't always work.

Even when students take their notes to a professor they know for help, the professor, holding a notebook full of symbols, often hesitates and looks embarrassed.

The students' collective discontent finally erupted during the final exams.

On a test paper with a maximum score of 100, the students, who had worked hard all semester, only achieved an average score of 12.

The highest score is 22 points.

It is said that the person who achieved this score was the top science student in a certain province last year.

This caused quite a stir, with students complaining everywhere, and the news eventually reached the hospital ward.

After listening, Professor Xu smiled helplessly and said, "Little Song, you really aren't cut out to be a teacher!"

Inside the ward, Song Xingye sat on the edge of the bed, skillfully peeling an apple with a fruit knife in his hand, but he still complained, "I'm doing this to help you train more people. So that they won't complain about their lack of basic skills after they get their doctorates. Back in the day, I got scolded by you a lot, and I would stay up until midnight every day with a stack of books."

Old Xu glanced at him: "You think you can be like everyone else? You clearly have room for improvement, but you just like to slack off. If I don't whip you from behind, you won't have any self-discipline at all."

Song Xingye chuckled, handed over the peeled apple, and casually changed the subject, asking about the surgery.

After being diagnosed with coronary heart disease, Professor Xu underwent a period of hospitalization and expert consultation. His condition quickly became clear: the atherosclerotic plaques in his coronary arteries showed signs of rupture, posing a high risk of thrombosis.

Once a thrombus forms in the coronary artery, it will quickly block the blood vessel, leading to ischemia and necrosis of the myocardium.

Therefore, the doctor recommended that Professor Xu undergo coronary intervention.

The procedure is not complicated. After coronary angiography, the existing blood clot is dissolved, a stent is placed to open the blood vessel, and then the myocardial blood supply to the coronary artery is restored.

Although Song Xingye knew that Lao Xu's surgery would definitely be fine, it was still a heart operation, not a minor procedure.

Lately, he's been going to Zhongshan Hospital every few days with a fruit basket.

"Did you have any rejection reactions after the surgery? If anything seems wrong, say so immediately. Don't let a minor illness turn into a major one. At your age, you need to be careful; you can't afford any more complications."

While tidying up the bedside table, Song Xingye gave careful instructions.

Professor Xu waved his hand and smiled, "Don't worry, everything's fine, the surgery was a success. If there had been any problems, the doctors would have noticed them long ago."

"That's good."

Before he could finish speaking, Professor Xu suddenly glanced furtively towards the door, then winked at Song Xingye: "Hey, that thing—did you bring it?"

Song Xingye looked helpless and, feeling guilty, glanced at the door. Still not at ease, he got up and made sure to close the half-closed door tightly.

As they walked, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and said in a low voice, "You just had surgery and aren't fully recovered yet. Did the doctor recommend smoking these?"

"I don't smoke from morning till night, it's just one cigarette, what's the big deal? Give it to me, I haven't smelled cigarettes for over a month."

Professor Xu couldn't wait to pull out a cigarette from the pack, light it, take a deep drag, and a look of ecstasy instantly appeared on his face.

He then held up the cigarette pack and gestured to Song Xingye, "Want one too, kid?"

Song Xingye shook his head.

He was a heavy smoker in his past life, so it's best to avoid nicotine in this life before he gets addicted.

Seeing that he wasn't smoking, Professor Xu didn't stand on ceremony and focused intently on puffing away on the hospital bed, enjoying this rare "forbidden moment."

Suddenly the ward door was pushed open, startling the master and apprentice.

Old Xu hurriedly hid the cigarette butt in his sleeve, while Song Xingye quickly raised his hand and waved it in front of his eyes, trying to disperse the smoke.

The door opened, and a strange head peeked in—it turned out to be a family member who had wandered into the wrong ward.

Old Xu finally breathed a sigh of relief, took the cigarette out again, brought it to his lips, and took a comfortable drag.

Song Xingye found it amusing and was about to speak when Old Xu pointed to the pillow.

Song Xingye was puzzled. When he walked over and turned over the pillow, he was stunned for a moment.

Under the pillow was an empty cigarette box and a medical publication with curled edges.

As soon as he took out the empty cigarette pack, Old Xu expertly poked the cigarette butt out of it and stuffed it into his apprentice's pocket, saying, "Please throw this away for me when you go downstairs later."

Song Xingye deliberately put on a stern face and instructed, "This is the only pack this month, so be careful. If I catch you buying from someone else or finishing it off early, I'll cut off your supply from now on."

"Okay, okay, I know. You're so young, yet you're more talkative than my wife."

Old Xu muttered to himself as he deftly hid the new cigarettes deep inside his pillow.

Song Xingye ignored his complaints and instead pulled out the medical publication, curiously flipping through it.

"You're quite diligent, aren't you? You're secretly digging into medicine, are you planning to become a doctoral supervisor in medicine?"

"Nonsense. This is a brochure the doctor gave me before my stent surgery, to let me understand the risks and such. I flipped through a few pages but didn't understand it. Basically, it's about an internationally leading medical technology that can quickly break up blood clots, and it's even covered by medical insurance—"

As Professor Xu continued his rambling, drowsiness crept in, and the old man yawned repeatedly.

Just as he was about to send his apprentice away, he noticed that Song Xingye was engrossed in reading the medical book, his brows furrowed, as if he was seriously thinking about something.

Professor Xu asked, "Little Song? Little Song?"

Song Xingye snapped back to reality and quickly replied, "What's wrong, teacher?"

"What are you pondering so intently? You can't believe how much you're finding in a lousy magazine! Are you thinking of changing careers? Heh heh—"

"No----"

As Song Xingye stared at the diagrams on the page about "thrombus fragmentation technology," a bold idea suddenly popped into his mind.

But the idea flashed by in an instant, and was quickly extinguished by Lao Xu's interruption.

He rolled up the book and magazine, making a gesture as if to put it in his pocket. "You probably don't want to read this anymore, right? I'll borrow it and read it."

""

Old Xu didn't suspect anything and casually waved his hand, "What's this about lending? I've already had my surgery, it's just a piece of paper to me. If you have nothing else to do, get lost, I'm going to sleep."

Song Xingye helped Professor Xu lie down, tucked him in, and closed the window until only a crack remained for ventilation before quietly leaving.

Stepping out of the hospital building, a wave of heat hit me, and the scorching sun made me feel restless.

Looking at the lush greenery all over the street, Song Xingye sighed at how fast time flies; another semester has come to an end in the blink of an eye.

His graduation defense had already been successfully completed. The defense committee was quite impressive, with five academicians present, all of whom came because of Academician Li Difeng's reputation.

Just like my roommate Qin Rui said, for someone as talented as Song Xingye, the doctoral defense is just a formality.

Of course, the dissertation committee also gave his thesis, "Concept and Key Technology Prospects for the Construction of a Manned Lunar Base," a genuine and high evaluation, rather than just going through the motions.

Next, Song Xingye only needs to wait for the two certificates to be obtained before he can receive the first research funding from Dongyu Group.

The only unlucky thing this semester was that all the undergraduate students he taught failed their courses.

Considering the students' dissatisfaction, the academic affairs office had to temporarily assign another teacher to prepare the make-up exam questions and hinted that they would "go easy" on the poor students and let them pass the make-up exam.

When Song Xingye returned to the doctoral building with the medical publication, his roommate Qin Rui had already packed his luggage.

Large and small bags piled up like mountains, leaving only an empty computer desk.

When Qin Rui saw him return, he couldn't help but laugh and said, "I heard that all the students you taught this semester failed their final exams? You're too ruthless! Now the whole city is saying that Jiaotong University has produced a devilish teacher."

Song Xingye pursed his lips. "I thought I explained the basics enough, but who knew they couldn't even understand this."

"You're just not cut out to be a teacher," Qin Rui complained while typing on his computer. "Sometimes what you say is so confusing that even we students are completely lost, let alone first-year undergraduates. I can just imagine the bewildered expressions on their faces when they attend your class; it's probably like they're listening to gibberish."

Song Xingye pursed his lips. "Whatever, I've already retired honorably. They won't have to face this devil anymore for the rest of the year."

As he spoke, he sat down on the edge of the bed and unfolded the curled-up magazine back into its original shape.

Qin Rui typed on his computer and asked, "Hey, I've bought the bid documents for you to grab the license plate number. It cost two thousand yuan. Remember to reimburse me later."

""

"This thing costs money?"

"The two thousand is a deposit, which is refundable. After I leave, go to the National Auction Center to get your refund yourself, don't forget."

"Alright."

"There are so many license plates displayed here, why don't you come and pick one?"

Song Xingye didn't have any particular thoughts and flipped through the books and magazines with little interest, saying, "You can help me choose. Just pick whichever is the cheapest. Anyway, there aren't any triple numbers."

"Hmm, the auction prices are all about the same, around forty or fifty thousand. Can you accept that price?"

Song Xingye complained, "A metal sign costs forty or fifty thousand yuan, which is equivalent to half of my car."

"You should be content. This is a Shanghai license plate; countless people would kill for one. The most expensive one this year sold for over ten thousand yuan, so forty or fifty thousand is practically a steal."

Qin Rui patted his chest and assured him, "But don't worry, with me here, I'll definitely snag a Shanghai A license plate for you. I even wrote a special script to block those scalpers' bidding channels as soon as the auction starts, making them furious!"

"Well, I'm leaving everything to you."

Song Xingye nodded, holding the magazine, his mind no longer on the license plate.