I started with a ship full of max-level veterans, and I'm just a complete noob.

More than ten days later, in mid-April in Beijing, a meeting room on the second floor of the administrative building in the backyard of the Third Electronics Factory was temporarily converted into a mourning hall, with only an internal condolence registration book placed outside the door.

Jiang Ming handed over his identification, signed his name in the name column, and entered the room. A white cloth was spread on the table, and an enlarged old black and white photo was placed in the center.

In the photo, Lei Ming is twenty-six years old, wearing a dark suit he bought before going to England. His hair is neatly combed, and his brow bone and jawline are clearly defined in the frontal light.

The wreaths on both sides came from the Ministry of Machine Building, the Air Defense Headquarters, the Third Electronics Factory, and the 502 Research Laboratory, respectively, and the white ribbons all read "Eternal Rest in Peace for Comrade Lei Zhenbang."

The mourning hall is only open to the old case task force, former colleagues and relevant technical personnel. The list of those included is approved by the security department item by item. Offices outside the administration building will continue to operate as usual.

Old Sun stood directly in front of the photo, his right hand clutching the work cap he had taken off, the fabric of the cap worn smooth by his palm, leaving several crooked creases.

He opened his mouth three times, but couldn't get the words out. In the end, he just pulled the brim of his hat up to his eyes, and his shoulders and back started to tremble.

Da Liu reached out from the side to support his arm, but Lao Sun pushed his apprentice away with his other hand, while still firmly standing in the same spot.

"Let me stand on my own. When he was alive, he hated it most when people treated him like a patient, and it's the same today."

Director Zhang stood at the innermost part of the mourning hall, his back against the gray wall, a lit cigarette between his fingers that he never put to his lips again.

The cigarette paper slowly shortened along the sparks, the ash column curved below the cigarette, and finally fell onto the surface of his old military uniform shoes. He only glanced down at it.

Jiang Ming stood in the second row, his gaze passing over the shoulders of the people in front of him, but always landing on the young face in the photo.

He had seen a partial outline of that face in fragments of the Tongtian Records; the dim warehouse light only illuminated the bridge of the nose, the brow bone, and half of the profile.

Now, the complete photo is displayed in the center of a white cloth. The width of the forehead, the depth of the eye sockets, and the angle of the jawline can all be found in the mirror that Jiang Ming sees every day.

If you only look at the static outline, the two faces overlap by more than 70%, and even the downward curve of the right eyebrow tail is consistent.

Jiang Ming was about to look away when an old work ID card lying beneath the photo drew his gaze back to it.

The name on the work permit reads Lei Zhenbang, but the technical position section is faded, with the last few words legible being "radar device research".

Director Wang stepped out from the side of the table, unfolded the decision document stamped with the seal of the review task force, first checked the number and the list of people on site, and then began to read it aloud.

"The characterization of Comrade Lei Zhenbang in 1949 on the grounds of leaking secrets and defection has been confirmed upon review to be the result of others deliberately fabricating evidence and tampering with the review records."

As he read half of the four words "deliberate forgery," Old Sun's work hat fell to the ground, the brim flipped up to reveal the faded lining inside.

Da Liu bent down to pick it up, but Lao Sun pressed down on the brim of the hat with his foot, braced his palm on the edge of the table, and stared down at the old photo on Lei Ming's work ID.

Director Wang and others straightened the pages and continued reading the follow-up examination conclusions.

"All false accusations are hereby revoked, his reputation is restored, he is posthumously recognized as a technical personnel who sacrificed his life in the revolutionary work, and his relevant technical files are re-filed according to his original position."

The only sound in the room was the rustling of pages turning on the decision document. Jiang Ming saw that the cigarette in Director Zhang's hand had burned down to the tip of the filter, and sparks were close to his fingers.

Director Wang then read out the list of evidence, which included the old material requisition form, Zhang Shouzheng's inspection stamp, missing pages of Lightning No. 7, transportation records, and Meng Dechang's confession, each item corresponding to a case number.

The details involving the transnational technology line and Personnel No. 5 were obscured by the confidentiality clause. It was only confirmed on site that Lei Ming opposed the westward transport of the problematic insulation materials and had also requested a suspension of equipment transfer.

The original review opinion from 1949 was replaced; Lei Ming's handwritten dissenting opinion was removed, and the responsibility for the transfer was reassigned to him.

After the decision was read out, everyone took turns bowing in front of the photo. Old Sun was first in line, but before bending down, he picked up his work cap from the ground.

He brushed the dust off his hat, clutched it back in his hand, looked up at the photo, and finally managed to utter the words that had been stuck in his throat.

"Old Lei, the factory has found your name again, it's six years late, don't think it's too late."

Factory Director Zhang turned around, pressed the burnt-out cigarette butt into the sand tray by the door, wiped his fingers along the seam of his military uniform trousers, and then walked to the photo and bowed.

As Jiang Ming followed the group forward, when he stood in front of the white cloth table, the photo was only an arm's length away from him, and the oppressive feeling brought by the similar outline was even more obvious.

The photo is marked with the year it was taken in 1948. Lei Ming was about to go to England, and his eyes still retain the focus of a young technician facing a new field.

After bowing, Jiang Ming straightened up and saw a cleaned red clay personal seal placed on the edge of the white cloth, with the three small characters "Lei Zhenbang" engraved on the seal face.

That seal was once pressed on the back cover of the Lightning Seven manual, and now it remains in the funeral hall as an identification item. After the ceremony, it will be put back into the safe.

Old Sun stood by the seal for a long time, then turned to Liu and said, "Find a good piece of copper later, I'll make a box for it. Wood gets damp easily, and iron rusts easily."

Da Liu nodded in agreement and reached out to pick up the coat that his master had placed on the back of the chair. This time, Lao Sun took it from him.

The security department began collecting the temporary mourning certificates, and the wreaths were to be transported away after the people left. Just as Jiang Ming reached the stairwell, Director Zhang called him from behind.

"Jiang Ming, come with me to the office. We have a batch of old files to hand over to 502."

The curtains in the factory director's office were only half drawn. On the table were the transfer documents signed by the Fifth Academy and Lei Ming's review case file. The two documents were separated into different areas by red lines.

Factory Director Zhang walked around the desk, took out a rectangular file box from the bottom of the metal safe, placed it on the table, and pushed it in front of Jiang Ming.

The tin box has several dents and scratches on its surface, the lock has been replaced, and there is a faded label on the upper right corner of the lid with Lei Zhenbang's name written in the name column.

"Old Lei's things, taken from the safe after the review, consisted of his private research manuscripts, calculation papers, and three notebooks."

Factory Director Zhang placed the handover list next to the box and asked Jiang Ming to check the seal numbers item by item.

"The organization has decided to hand it over to 502 for safekeeping. You can take a look first. Organize the parts with academic value and include them in the factory history and technical volume later. The parts related to Lightning No. 7 will continue to be sealed separately."

Jiang Ming signed his name, took the file box with both hands. The metal box was heavier than it looked, and the pages inside made a slight rubbing sound as he moved.

He did not open the lock on the spot, but only checked the corner seal of the box. His hand, which was about to be withdrawn, stopped next to an exposed old label.

The label belonged to the notebook at the very top of the box, with most of the title on the cover peeking out from the gap in the metal box.

Amplification device development trends, initial exploration of the possibilities of semiconductors, March 1949.

After reading the line of text, Jiang Ming pushed the exposed label back into the box, fastened the belt handle, and bid farewell to Director Zhang.

As he carried the metal box through the corridor, the secret vehicle delivering wreaths downstairs had already driven into the backyard, and workers were carefully collecting the white ribbons one by one.

The door to the factory director's office was still open. Director Zhang stood by the window, watching Jiang Ming walk from the administration building toward Research Room 502, and then turned to ask the head of the security department who remained in the room.

"Old Lei has been gone for more than six years. Look at that back view, doesn't it look like the way he walked in from the factory gate back then?"

The head of security nodded, his lips moved, but he kept the words in his throat.

The classified vehicle drove along the stone-paved road, and a few white petals fell from the edge of the wreath, which were swept by the April wind to Jiang Ming's feet, following him all the way to the threshold of the 502 Research Lab.